#i would explain it in the tags but it is so much.

[tallysgreatestfan]

It also comes across much more as "neurodivergent people should not exist and especially should not see anything positive or part of their identity in their disability" than "worried about teens diagnosing themselves with something inaccurate".

Best way to explain this is to use autism as an example. It is very difficult to get an autism diagnosis if you aren't a small child anymore and/or belong to literally any minority, and even getting a diagnosis doesn't necessary mean that you get any accommodations or actually useful therapy (diagnosed at eight, if anything this harmed me rather than help me). It is also something popular media and most neurotypicals perceive as purely negative outside of absurdly unlikely savantism, with close to no accurate portrays in fiction or even nonfiction googeling it for information.

Now, of course on TikTok, or other social media, misinformation spread my autistic people themselves does exist, but the bulk of the #ActuallyAutistic movement is centered around explaining the actual lived reality of autistic people, pointing out discrimination, and treating autism not as something shameful in need to be fixed, but a part of someones identity that has both positive and negative sides.

Popular culture and even most therapies wants us to look at our mistakes, flaws and weaknesses and blame ourselves for it, the Actually Autistic movement seeks to explain where this comes from and how the way all these systems are set up makes these problems worse, or sometimes even entirely creates them.

Can you see how threatening this can be for neurotypicals who need to believe that the way their brain works is the perfect and ideal one, that the way these systems are set up is ideal instead of unfair, and that they have it easier because they are more virtuous, more determined and overall better?

Have you seen all this talk about "glamorizing" and "glorifying" of neurodiversity the moment a neurodivergent person openly talks about their reality instead of whatever dehumanizing, inaccurate cliches they think would apply and doesn't hate themselves?

I was in autism therapy for almost ten years. I learned the most basic basics about what autism is there, framed in "this is why you are wrong and worthless". I learned to understand myself better, and learned more useful and in depth things about being autistic in one year of finding the Actually Autistic tag on tumblr than these almost ten years there.

This affects not just teens, but as first OP said, teens suffer the most of it because of their restrictive life circumstances, lack of money and power and just the general dismissive attitude towards them.

Hope this is not derailing first OPs point, but I think this takes a huge part in the general publics view on this and also why this feels so necessary for so many teens even additional to the already brought up points.

it's so funny to me when i see pearl-clutching articles about how "teenagers are diagnosing themselves with mental disorders via tiktok" because like. this is not happening in a vacuum. teenagers are severely and i mean severely medically neglected. i cannot stress this enough. teenagers do not have free access to medical care. those same news outlets would be clowning on women with housewife psychosis in the 1950's.

i sometimes go pale when listening to some of what my friends have gone through in their childhoods and teenagehoods. they talk about it so nonchalantly, things that would be considered straight up torture if done to an adult, can't fathom the effect this has on children. they are on multiple anti-psychotics and several antidepressants and anxiety meds now that they are adults. medical neglect has legally and effectively disabled them. a timely diagnosis and intervention could have saved them. of course teenagers are self-diagnosing using tiktok. if your knee-jerk reaction is to scoff at the idea and dismiss it as dumb teenager shit instead of being radicalized because the best shot young people have at attaining the mental health support they need is a fucking dancing videos app, you're categorically a political enemy of the youth.

[amara-scott]

Never been loved.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Slytherin!female Reader Tags: Angst, Angst, Angst

Prompt: "You've never been loved, I can tell."

It would have been a beautiful spring day in the courtyard of hogwarts. But standing before Mattheo—you knew this was possibly a turning point about to happen. Your best friend. Having built that trusting relationship with him was hard. On both sides. But you stuck together and knew each other well.

But now the tension between you and Mattheo is thick, like a storm ready to break. You can feel it in the air, the unspoken words that hang between you both, electrifying the space. And yet, the weight of it all crashes down with the finality of your words, words that you didn't even realize held so much truth. "You've never been loved, I can tell." You don’t know why you said it, why the words slipped from your lips like a confession, an accusation. But the moment they leave your mouth, they settle over him like a shadow, dark and unavoidable.

You watch him, frozen, as his gaze falters, as if a part of him dies with your words. His shoulders drop, and for the briefest moment, he looks almost… human. Vulnerable. The walls he so carefully constructed around himself seem to crack, and for the first time, you see the weight he’s been carrying—the one he’s never let anyone see.

But Mattheo doesn’t speak. Not right away. His lips tremble, just slightly, as if the words he wants to say are too much to bear. His breathing is shallow, uneven. It’s a quiet sort of pain, the kind that threatens to swallow him whole, but he refuses to let it. “You don’t know what you���re talking about,” he mutters, the harshness in his voice an attempt to mask the tremor you caught. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, but they can’t hide the flicker of something deep within them.

You wish you could take back the words, erase the hurt you’ve caused him, but you can't. The damage has been done, and now all you can do is watch him retreat behind that mask again.

“You don’t know me,” he snaps, cutting your thoughts off. The rawness in his tone pulls at your chest, makes your heart ache for him in a way you hadn’t expected. He’s breaking, but he won’t let you see it. His walls go back up, taller and colder than before, as he presses his lips together, trying to maintain control.

“You don’t know my name,” he continues, but it’s not the name he’s referring to. It’s something deeper, something that has been built over years of pressure, expectations, and burdens no one should ever bear.

You reach for him, words forming on your tongue, but they choke you as he takes a step back. The tears that threaten to spill seem to freeze in your throat. You want to apologize, to explain yourself, but the words are too heavy, the apology too fragile.

He shakes his head then, and you feel the weight of his emotions like a physical blow. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “You don’t have the right to talk about me. Talk about love. You don’t know anything about me.” His voice raises, and you flinch, a tiny part of you bracing for the anger that you know is coming. But then—then his eyes soften, and a single tear escapes, rolling down his cheek, tracing the path of all the years of grief he’s kept locked away.

The world tilts as you see that tear. It shatters everything you thought you knew about him. The bravado, the indifference—it all crumbles. He’s not invincible. He’s not the cold, untouchable boy he’s shown everyone.

You want to reach out, to take his face in your hands and promise him that it doesn’t have to be like this, but the fear that grips you—fear of what he’ll do, of what this moment will mean—paralyzes you.

When he speaks again, his voice is low, but it cuts through you like a knife. “I think it’s best if we part ways from now on.” The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything goes still. The wind dies, the distant sounds of the castle fade. His voice is the only thing that matters now.

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s turning away from you, walking toward the castle with a speed that leaves you breathless, leaves you empty. You stand there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

Your feet move before your mind catches up, and you grab his arm, forcing him to stop. “Mattheo, no—don’t say that.” But he doesn’t even look at you. His body stiffens, his hand brushes yours off as if it’s a weight he can’t bear.

“I’m only saying what you would expect of me. Your image of me is quite apparent. Since you know me so well.” His words are cruel, but they are truth. And it cuts deeper than anything he’s said before. You step back, your heart sinking with the realization that he’s right.

With one last glance over his shoulder, he’s gone, leaving you standing in the shadows of the evening, alone.

Days pass. You bury yourself in your studies, pretending like it doesn’t matter. You let the ache settle in your bones, telling yourself that you’re stronger than this, that you’re better off without him. But every time you close your eyes, you see him—his face, the way his eyes softened for the briefest moment before he pulled away from you, the tear that marked the end of everything.

Pansy finds you in the library, but even she can see the storm brewing inside you. She drags you out, forces you to confront what you’ve done, and somehow, you find yourself standing at the threshold of the common room, looking at Mattheo across the room.

You stand frozen at the entrance to the common room, your breath shallow, heart pounding. The noise around you seems to fade into a dull hum as you lock eyes with Mattheo. He’s sitting there, looking as casual as ever, but there’s something in his gaze that stops you cold—something colder than you’ve ever seen before. It’s like he’s trying to shut himself off from you, a wall rising in the space between you that feels miles wide.

Pansy’s grip on your sleeve is the only thing keeping you tethered to the present, but even her silent pressure on your arm doesn’t make your feet move. She knows what’s going on in your head, even if you’re too caught up in the chaos to say it.

Mattheo’s face remains unreadable as his eyes flicker between the fireplace and the others in the room, but the tension in the air is thick. You can’t tell if he’s angry, hurt, or simply indifferent—but the chill in his expression tells you enough. It’s the same kind of look he’s given you every time you’ve pulled away, each time you’ve said something wrong, like you’ve been a weight dragging him down.

“I think I should go,” you mutter to Pansy, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You can feel your hands trembling, the nervousness creeping up your spine.

Pansy doesn’t let go of your sleeve. Instead, she gently pulls you forward, her usual playful tone gone, replaced with a sharp, no-nonsense edge. “No. You’re not running away this time. Not from this.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you feel like you might suffocate under the weight of it all—the fight, the guilt, the fear that he’ll never forgive you. But Pansy is already moving, leading you towards the fire where the others are seated. The firelight flickers in your eyes as you step forward, your body feeling heavy, like you’re walking through quicksand.

Mattheo doesn’t look up right away, but when he does, you feel the full force of his gaze. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you how you’re doing or what you’ve been up to. It’s like the space between you has grown into something vast and impenetrable, and no words can bridge that gap. You wonder if that’s what you deserve after what you said, after what you did.

“You don’t have to do this,” Pansy says softly, but there’s a firmness beneath her words. “But if you don’t, you’ll never know if things could be fixed.”

You can’t breathe for a moment. Everything in you screams to just leave, to hide away again, but you know she’s right. You’ve never been good at facing what you’ve done. But if you leave now, you might lose him forever. And you can’t do that.

You stop in front of Mattheo, the words stuck in your throat. For a long moment, you don’t know where to start. It feels like you’ve already said everything you could say, yet nothing at all. But it’s different now. You’re standing here, staring at him, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not running.

"Can we- talk?" You don't hear your own words as you speak and hold your breath while you wait, still contemplating if you could make a run for it—but Pansy is right. Mattheo doesn't spare you a glance as he simply stands up and walks past you, toward a secluded corner in the common room, two armchairs next to each other, a dim lit candle and tall bookshelves rising to the ceiling. You join him as he sits, fiddling with my robe until you take a deep breath, finally looking up at him.

“I—I’m sorry.” The words feel like they’ve been stuck in your chest for so long. You swallow hard, voice cracking slightly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

He stares at you in silence, his jaw tightening, but there’s something there now—a flicker of recognition in his eyes, something that tells you he’s listening. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. You don’t know if that’s a good thing, but it’s a start.

“I know I fucked up. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I—” You pause, unsure of what to say next, your chest tightening with the weight of all the things you should have said before. “I care about you, Mattheo. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

He doesn’t speak for a long while, and for a moment, it feels like the world has frozen around you both. But then, slowly, his lips part. His voice is low, almost like it’s coming from somewhere deep inside him, a place he’s been hiding for too long.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” His gaze is soft, almost vulnerable, and it shakes you to your core. “You don’t have to say anything you think I want to hear.”

“Then what do you want to hear?” you ask, almost desperately. “Because I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix it. Just… be here. With me. No more walls.”

Your heart beats faster at his words. It’s not perfect, it’s not the answer you hoped for, but it’s something. Something you can work with.

And when he stands, taking a small step toward you, you feel the knot in your chest loosen just a little bit, so you stand as well. His arms, warm and familiar, slide around your shoulders, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel so alone.

“Let’s not do this again,” he murmurs against your hair, pulling you close as you clutch his dress shirt, shutting your eyes tightly.

And you nod, knowing that no matter how long it takes, you’ll keep trying. You’ll keep showing up, even when the storm inside you feels too strong to bear.

For him. For you.

For what you both deserve.

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @ironheartwriter @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @annoyingcloudearthquake @strandnreyes @henrygrass and @whatsintheboxmh 😘

From Somewhere in a Song chapter 13, posting tomorrow :)

TK follows Andrea down a hallway and around a corner into a bright, sunny kitchen. Gabriel trails just behind him, and the words Southern hospitality spring to TK’s mind as he’s asked how the tour is going and what it was like to grow up in New York City and handed a tall glass of sweet tea all before either of them have asked him what the hell he’s doing here. If TK were in their shoes, he doubts he would have even answered the door, if he’d checked through the peephole and didn’t know the man on the other side of it.

He wonders how long the polite, avoidant conversation would continue, as he looks at Carlos’s father across the round kitchen table and cuts to the chase. “Our tour resumes tomorrow in Miami but I thought I’d stop off here first because there’s something I wanted to tell you. A couple things, actually.”

“We’re all ears,” Andrea says with her eyebrows raised.

“The first thing,” TK begins, “is that I’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s been almost 10 years since my band’s first album came out. I’ve seen the ins and outs of the industry, so many different artists and bands come and go. Your son is really, really talented. He has something special that not everyone in this business has.”

“Oh.” Andrea puts her hands up to her chest. “Thank you, mijo, it’s so sweet of you to tell us that.”

Gabriel gives TK a discerning look, and TK is reminded so vividly of Carlos – of the way it always felt like Carlos was x-raying TK with his eyes. “I imagine you didn’t travel all this way just to tell us that our Carlitos is talented?”

“I …” TK’s about to answer, and then he smiles. “Carlitos?”

“Our nickname for him, since he was a baby,” his mother explains.

TK nods. There were pictures hung in the hallway, TK only caught a glimpse of what looked like a young Carlos in a soccer uniform. He’ll have to try to get a better look on his way out.

Unsure exactly how to bring it up and annoyed that he hadn’t used his time on the plane to prepare a speech, TK swallows and decides being blunt and honest is the best course of action. He curls his hands around his glass, wet with condensation in the summer heat, and says, “Carlos told me you haven’t seen him perform that many times.”

He watches, wincing internally, as their expressions turn to discomforted ones.

“I’m not judging. I know life is complicated. My relationship with my dad is complicated, too. But …” TK pauses, uncertain as to whether he’s offended them as two sets of brown eyes look back at him. “I think he would be embarrassed to tell you this, but it would really, really mean a lot to him if you came to a show. A lot.”

Andrea blinks a few times in quick succession, her eyes going a little shiny. Gabriel is still frowning but he doesn’t look angry, so TK continues.

“We’re playing a show in Dallas, in about a week and a half. We’re playing one in Austin, too, but that one is sold out already.” He reaches into his wallet, pulling it from his back pocket so he can remove two printed tickets. “I got these for you. It’s at a cool old theater called the Majestic. You should come.”

“The end of August is – ” Carlos’s father begins, but his mother interrupts with a gentle whack to her husband’s shoulder.

“Gabriel! We can shirk our duties around here for one night to see our Carlitos play.”

Gabriel looks at her, and then turns his face back to TK.

With his heart racing just a little, TK tells him, “Your approval means so much to him.”

“It does?” Gabriel asks, eyebrows raising.

TK reads instantly in his face that he isn’t acting – he really didn’t know how much Carlos craves his support, and the thought of it fills TK with sadness.

He wonders how many important things are laying dormant and unspoken between him and his own father, things that TK hasn’t realized are significant yet. His mom is gone. If there was anything he needed to say to her, he can’t anymore, and it makes TK want to phone his dad the moment he leaves this house, even if just to say I love you.

Tagging @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlos-in-glasses

@bonheur-cafe @actual-sleeping-beauty @herefortarlos @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo

@goodways @lightningboltreader @emsprovisions @freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21

@reasonandfaithinharmony @ladytessa74 @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript

@lemonlyman-dotcom @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce @hereghostslive

@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

@butchreyes @anactualcaseofthetruth @ditheringmind @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh

@irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89 @nancys-braids

@carlossreaders @denizoid @everlastingday @rangersoup @ambernotember

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍

The Red Thread of Fate… To your surprise, it turns out Hotch believes in it.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader || tags: fem!reader, bau!reader, soulmate AU || wc: 1.2k || navigation

You put the cup of coffee on the table in front of you, then pick up the Cosmo you left open. Out of the corner of your eye you see the small half-smile that appears on Hotch’s lips at the sight, but he doesn’t say a word, he just returns his attention to the report in front of him.

“I hate these articles so much,” Emily suddenly says in the seat next to yours, pointing at the page you’re currently reading. You send a questioning look her way, and she turns in her seat to face you. “I once took their “signs he’s into you” piece seriously, made a move on the guy, and it turned out he was into men.”

Somehow Derek heard this story over the music he was listening to, because he pushes the headphones down to his neck as he laughs. “Don’t tell me you actually used to believe what they write. It’s all stupid,” he says.

After briefly wondering if you should kick his shin under the table, you decide it’s not worth the fight. “It temporarily shuts down my brain,” you begin to explain. “That’s more than enough for me.”

Suddenly, Hotch lays the report on the table and raises his gaze to look at you. “Good thinking. I would have been disappointed if it turned out you’re the type to consider this magazine as some sort of a Bible for women.”

Derek and Emily exchange glances, and even you raise your brows in surprise. Why is he paying attention to a conversation about such a magazine? Not like you mind, of course, which sometimes truly bothers you. You shouldn’t want his attention this badly, your dreams shouldn’t be plagued with thoughts of him being with you.

It all began when the first signs of troubles with his marriage began to show. You saw that something was eating him, so one day after work you went to his office and started a conversation to figure out why he always stayed late. For some reason, he decided to tell you the truth, going into details that were none of your business.

Is it an emotional affair? Maybe.

Is it bad? Probably.

Are you happy to have even a scrap of his attention? Surely.

“Did you really think that’s a possibility with me? That I’m like that?” you ask hesitantly.

Hotch’s gaze is fixed on you, as it was just the two of you on the plane. “No,” he admits softly.

The way you’re looking at each other piques the interest of your colleagues, and not just Emily and Derek’s, but JJ and Rossi’s too. Lucky to you, Spencer is sleeping peacefully on the couch. To make sure your boss finally stops, you tear your gaze away and gently bump your foot into his leg.

Sadly, Hotch takes this as a challenge and hooks his legs around yours while returning his attention to the report. The others lose interest eventually, hopefully letting this go for now. It’s bad enough that the man across from you is playing some stupid game with you.

This is the first time he makes such an obviously flirty move, which leads you to an uncharted territory. Is he planning to take whatever is going on between you to another level? Because if he is, you’re not really sure if you’re ready for it. He’s still married, even if Haley wants a divorce, you can’t jump into a relationship with him.

When you try to untangle your legs, he subtly glances over at you with a disapproving look, one which tells you he’s not letting this thing between you end anytime soon.

You know for a fact that he and Rossi had a glass or two of whiskey at the airport while you waited for the jet to be ready, but after this case, you honestly couldn’t blame them. Maybe it’s the alcohol that gave him the courage to make a move on you, but you’re afraid he’ll regret it the next day when he sobers up.

It’s your responsibility to be smart, to help him without making him believe you want something from him. He’s handsome, intelligent, competent, and yes, every woman would be happy to have him for herself, but the timing just isn’t right.

Less than two hours later the plane lands and the team disperses to finally head home, and sadly Hotch uses this opportunity to catch you alone. He gently grabs your wrist to make you come to a halt, and when you give him a questioning look, he just shakes his head and pulls you in the direction of a place in the hangar that’s far away from everyone.

“You need to stop,” you tell him right away.

He lets out a sigh and takes a step closer to you, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. That pull, that goddamn force every time we’re close to each other. Hell, it’s even present when we’re apart, trying to get me to see you again.”

It’s insane; he’s insane if he honestly believes this. “And what is this… pull exactly?”

“It was a mistake to make you forget it,” he whispers when he rests his forehead against yours. “If I hadn’t done that, we would be together now. Maybe Haley and I would have never gotten married, because I would have been waiting for you to be old enough.”

Making you forget? “What are you talking about, Hotch?” you wonder, the conversation making less and less sense to you.

His hand drops to his side and he takes a few steps back. “You wouldn’t believe it, it’s better if you don’t know. Forget I mentioned it,” he says with a small, sad smile.

But there’s no way you’re letting that slide now, you need to know what’s happening, so you reach out for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly. A move that makes him take a sharp breath, as if your touch sent a wave of electricity through his body.

“What wouldn’t I believe?”

“That we belong together. You always found me when you were little, you were honestly getting on my nerves sometimes,” he says with a short laugh. “But… I got scared of what this was, what this could be, so I asked someone to make you forget about me, about that string that connects the two of us.”

This rang a bell in your head. “Like the Red Thread of Fate or something?” you ask him quietly, unsure about the whole thing. He nods, but remains silent, so you go on. “Hotch, it’s… Why would I believe you?”

“You don’t have to. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe you really did forget about this for good, and in that case I'll have to accept that you will never love me back. Unless, of course, you’re willing to give me a chance,” he says softly.

Blowing out the air you’ve been holding in gives you time to think it through. It must be the alcohol, there’s no other reason for this stupid story. But in that case, why doesn’t he look drunk? After another few seconds of waiting, you let out a sigh and give him your answer, hoping he will come to terms with it eventually.

[okkinannah]

peace - satoru gojo

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/comfort, gojo snaps, okay ending

written with my friend @h0rr0rmlm in mind, happy late birthday :)!! (yes he has two more fics coming, shut up, I love him)

You heard the door open before you saw him. Finally. Finally, he was home. The sound of the door creaking echoed, and your heart stuttered. You rounded the corner, your pulse quickening in the same rhythm of relief, only to freeze when you saw him.

He was wrecked. A ghost of the man you knew. His hair—wild, untamed—fell in a disheveled mess around his face. His eyes, usually burning with that fierce intensity, were dim, hollowed out, weighted with exhaustion. There were bags under his eyes that you’d never seen before. Not like this. His posture slumped, shoulders heavy in a way you were far too familiar with. And you—you—didn’t know how to breathe again until you were standing before him.

Without thinking, you reached out, hands trembling slightly, cupping his face. Your thumbs brushed his cheeks, desperate to feel his warmth, but also hoping—praying—that you could do something to take that burden from him.

“Oh, ‘Toru,” you whispered, barely audible. A gasp, really, of relief and concern, one that trembled with so much love and ache. “What happened?” Your voice cracked at the end, betraying the knot that had formed in your chest.

He shrugged you off. The action was absent, automatic, like he hadn’t even noticed it. His eyes refused to meet yours, staring off into the space between you two instead. "It’s nothing, really," he muttered, but the lack of conviction in his voice was deafening. A lie. And he knew you knew it.

Still, you didn’t push. Not yet. You could see the walls rising between you again, that invisible fortress of isolation he built around himself every time he got too close to feeling vulnerable. And that hurt more than anything. The faintest flicker of disappointment burned in your chest, but you masked it with a forced calm. With a softness that was beginning to feel like a weight.

“I made some mochi, if you want some,” you offered, your voice gentle, a small, simple act of kindness.

He shook his head, eyes still distant.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered. His voice was flat, tired, as if even speaking required more energy than he could give.

Your frown deepened. "Satoru…" You tried again, but he was already moving past you, climbing the stairs without another word. A quiet frustration stirred inside you, but you swallowed it. No use pushing him now.

Still, you followed. The familiar tread of your footsteps on the stairs felt out of place, like a reminder of how far apart you two were despite being so close.

You reached the bathroom door and stopped short, your breath catching in your throat when you saw it. The gash. The wound. Raw and red, long and ugly, bleeding freely onto his skin, the dark stain spreading over his shirt like a warning.

His breath caught as you took a step closer, and you saw him flinch, his hand attempting to hide the injury, as if covering it up would somehow make it go away. You saw the tremor in his fingers, the slight break in his calm, the first crack in his mask.

“Satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. The word itself felt too soft, too fragile to hold the weight of the fear and concern surging through you. Your boyfriend—your strong boyfriend—who never seemed like anything less than invincible, was standing here before you, broken in a way you couldn’t fix.

You didn’t wait for him to protest. You moved, slow but steady, pulling out the first aid kit, your fingers working automatically as his protests started.

You dabbed the antiseptic over the gash, and he winced, his breath sharp in the air between you. The sight of him, of this, cut deeper than you could explain.

“You’re not invincible, Satoru,” you whispered, as much to yourself as to him. “You should’ve let Shoko take a look. This—this is not nothing.”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as though it didn’t matter. “Aren’t I?” His voice was rough, edged with something dark. “Besides, she’s busy. I didn’t need to bother her.”

And that was it. That was where it broke. The soft words you tried to offer, the helplessness that echoed through your every action—it all spilled over, out of your control.

"I just—I don’t understand," you began, your words shaky, your hands suddenly trembling with the weight of everything unspoken. "Why didn’t you tell me? You think I wouldn’t have wanted to help?"

“It’s different,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

And there it was—the real reason for all of this. The real fight. It wasn’t just about a wound. It was about the distance he always put between you, the armor he wore so tightly that you couldn’t break it no matter how hard you tried.

More words tumbled out—louder, sharper, more frantic as the frustration in you mounted. “I tell you when I’m injured, don’t I? Why do you have to be so… so fucking stubborn?” The words were bitter, burning with a desperation you weren’t ready to face. You couldn’t stop the anger from rushing out, but there was so much fear buried beneath it, buried under the surface where it stung and rattled.

For a moment, everything went still. And then, the dam broke.

His jaw clenched, his eyes hardening in a way you’d never seen before. And suddenly, the weight of the world was on him, pulling at his chest. You watched as everything he’d kept buried surfaced—anger, fear, frustration—and all of it was too raw, too real.

“I didn’t want you to worry!” He shouted. His voice cracked as the anger bled into something else—something desperate. “I didn’t want you to look at me like I’m weak. Like I’m just some fucking broken thing that needs fixing. I don’t need your pity, okay?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the words landing like a punch. You stood there, stunned, trying to grasp the enormity of what he had just admitted. But that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop the surge of emotion, the need to push past all the layers he built between you.

“You think I don’t care?” The words exploded from you, trembling with raw emotion, shaking like a fever pitch. “If something happens to you, I—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Because you couldn’t face the truth. You couldn’t tell him how much losing him would destroy you.

There was silence.

And then, he softened, just barely, his gaze falling. His eyes—those eyes—drained of the storm that had just passed. He exhaled, the breath heavy, like he was giving up something he couldn’t hold anymore. And then, with a quiet murmur, he spoke.

“Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate, moving into his arms as he pulled you close. His grip was tight—too tight—but it was the kind of tightness that begged for comfort, that reached for something he couldn’t put into words. His body trembled slightly, and you felt the strain of everything he’d been carrying—everything he had refused to show you until now.

He didn’t say sorry. Not yet. But that wasn’t what you needed. Not tonight.

Tonight, you held him. 

graphics: @//saradika-graphics

[markantonys]

new wording from rafe on the reasoning for moving mat to tanchico: in the waste mat would have felt like "an appendage to rand's story" but in tanchico "he gets to have his own POV in the story, he gets to have his own emotional arc, he has new characters to interact with"

poor mat crying in the corner because all he wants is to be an appendage to rand's story djkfjg born to be a sidekick but forced to be a main character! the mention of mat having new characters to interact with in tanchico absolutely could have meant just elayne and nynaeve since they are new characters in terms of mat interactions, but i can't help but think it might be a hint to brand-new tanchico-based characters (i.e. tuon, or some other seanchan at least) that mat gets to interact with. rafe also did start this sentence by saying this was "a big part of the reason" for moving mat, so maybe not the WHOLE reason for moving him! and mat having his own emotional arc in tanchico certainly does make it sound like there's a mat-specific story being told there, not just him tagging along with the nynaeve story of hunting liandrin and moggy (and a mat-specific story that isn't solely the finn trip, since he would've had that story in the waste storyline too, so that alone wouldn't explain why tanchico offered him a greater individual emotional arc).

we have seen VERY little from the tanchico storyline so far, just non-specific shots that show off the ambience, and ryma is reported to be returning but wasn't present either during the shredding or during the falme group's tar valon inn scene, which could mean she didn't get freed by the gang in falme and is still with the seanchan. so i really think there's going to be a seanchan presence of some kind in tanchico (as is the case in the book) which they want to be a surprise and that's why they're being so careful not to show off much of the tanchico trip, and if there's a seanchan presence in tanchico and mat and min are both going there, it feels almost wasteful for that presence to not include tuon. but only time will tell! mat and min at least meeting a general seanchan character like egeanin would still be helpful for their future, but tuon would be the most helpful.

[anchorandrope]

Hiya! Do you think 28 is a Larry number or just a Louis number? I feel like cuz Louis is the one who has it tattooed and a brand named after it then maybe it’s a Louis number but idk. Harry has made subtle references to it through the timing of his music but it’s definitely more associated with Louis nowadays. Just curious on your thoughts!

hey!!

i think it's a larry number, but i also think louis made it very much his own over time because if that number symbolizes something related to harry (like whatever it symbolizes for them and also personally for louis - i.e his relationship, sexuality, etc; stuff that he's proud of but a lot of people told him otherwise yk "wonder what they'd think if they could see us now") it's something i think he took from 2015 onwards with everything that happened as a symbol of resistance/love/self-identity at a certain point.

what i mean is that the 28 was consolidated as a "louis' thing" in 2015 because until that year it was something, i'd say... quite fully larry (especially after 28/09/2013 - which is debunked) but it was something that even many antis said was "ours" (larries) and had nothing to do with louis. but when he got it tattooed in 2015, exactly 3 years after getting the ship and compass tattoo with harry, that started to became his own thing.

i think the 28 must mean something about them to each other but that must be a couple of things, and im also quite inclined to think that the "section 28" (01/02/1991-18/11/2003) plays a part in the significance as well. for me 28 clothing is further evidence of it. louis has always been known in the fandom for communicating through his clothing - to give clear messages on many topics not just sexuality, and that he has named his clothing brand designed by him "28" is very symbolic. not only because of the trajectory of that number in the fandom and his life - but also because its a unisex clothing brand whose isologotype is a "white rose of york" (symbol of yorkshire... his home... again "home" and "28" hand in hand). besides... "official programme" really? seems to be a mockery of "clause in official governmental act". and while we're at it, pride is a 28.

the posts and tags show why we think 28 is a larry number. i think it's a harry thing too because come on...why else would he put 28 boops in sunflower vol6, por example? 😅

what i mean is that i understand why people are inclined to think in recent years that it's a "louis only" thing, as he was much more obvious than harry in terms of his references (ahem... a tattoo is no small thing hahshs) but i see his winks quite present. also i think the number started out as something they both created, so if it's something they wear proudly to this day - surely it must still be meaningful to both as a couple in some respect. maybe not necessarily a romantic-couple-thing, but as gay-men-going-through-a-situation-where-they-suffer-from-homophobia-together, you know?

i think louis as he had and has a very tough closeting situation (i mean he is the one who usually goes out to deny it, he has the bbg and had the beards for a long time, etc) he took it as something very much his own because he just knew it was something obvious. he knew that we fans were going to relate it easily with something larry/lgbt because from the first moment it meant that. i always believed (and i believe) that he uses it so much because it is one of those little things that he can use without anyone "noticing"... no one except us. that's why he uses it so much and for so many things. he links so many things with that number, it helps him to explain stuff because that's what it's for. his old playlist, for example, we started to analyse it strongly because it was called "28 songs". place where that number is, place where we fans put our eye very carefully and with a lgbt lens.

i think at this point i would go as far as to say that is his own pride symbol, because that's what i see when i hear him using it that much and talking about it. it's very him and i love that!

[artificialharmony]

A little (long) deep dive into Seunghyun's weed scandal

I don't like talking about this but I'm doing an effort here cuz I've been seeing so much wrong information around this topic, so since I've been a fan of this man since I was a wee 13 year old (shit that was so long ago), I don't like people spreading fake stuff about him and smearing his name, Seunghyun has enough problems to deal with as it is, he doesn't need more to his plate.

This is the only time I'm talking about this too cuz I hate to remember that shitshow so much its insane.

[Before starting, just a fair warning that this post will skim over subjects like severe depression, suicide and other mental health issues. You've been warned.]

I know that in the past 7 years, a whole wave of new fans entered this wretched kpop scene and I realised that a lot of them know don't really know who Seunghyun is and why he is so hated by the general public in Korea. So allow me to paint the whole picture of his scandal and how it uncovered the heinous underbelly of the korean entertainment industry since I've watched it all.

In 2017, right after TOP's very emotional farewell to the fans as he was the first to be enlisted within the group, he finished the first two weeks of training and a photo spread around of him wearing his name tag in the other side of his uniform, unlike his colleagues. It was really the first legitimate controversy he's ever been and hate comments started to slowly pour in.

Of course, I'm not korean and I have never been in the army, and to a degree I agree it was a mistake on Seunghyun's part, but at the same time I find hate comments a rather immature and aggressive way of correcting a simple mistake like that. Anyways, he then chose the route of being a public servant and a police officer, a choice many koreans found as almost cowardly, as if he was weak for choosing 'an easy job' for his mandatory elistement. They even accused the army of giving Seunghyun special treatment (the same accusations were later thrown at GD when he enlisted) because he was a member of Bigbang.

After a couple of weeks of being a police officer is when a nightmare would ensue for the following decade. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was a nightmare and this is from a fan's perspective, so I can't even imagine how it for Seunghyun and his family.

During his service, news broke out that he had tested positive for weed and that he had smoked it at least four times in the past 5 years. Of course the number of times was his own admission during the investigation so there's no denying that he did smoke weed and that he did break the law. Aside from the criminal charges, another important detail should be mentioned which is also the reason as to why Seunghyun was suspected of doing drugs in the first place.

In 2015, a female trainee was contacted by Seunghyun, presumably romantically at first, but after some time, she started supplying him weed. Whether he had asked for it or she had offered it to him, it's really a matter of he said, she said and no one really knows the truth but themselves. Even the nature of their relationship is guesswork at best. Whether he really contacted her looking for a lover or whether he knew of her drug dealing and contacted her for that and that developed into something more is unknown.

Seunghyun did say that she was an ex girlfriend and she did say some unsavoury sexual comments about him shortly after his scandal that hinted at them being more than just acquaintances, though both accounts are highly unreliable. Seunghyun said she was an ex girlfriend to the press before his sentencing since it probably would’ve been even worse for him if she wasn’t.

And she… well, she is Han Seo Hee.

A little bit on Han Seo Hee for the people who only got into kpop just now, to explain my distaste at her antics and to avoid any accusations that I'm just blindly defending a grown ass man who was misled into crime because of an evil woman as if he isn’t responsible for his own actions and decisions.

She has been proven time and time again that she lies, blackmails and is ought to destroy specifically male kpop idols. She spreads rumours and threatens to release dirt on them but backs down once asked for evidence. She is a malignant force that enjoys wreaking havoc and is rarely punished for it because of her father’s high position and bags of money. She was even found to abuse actual meth but only got a slap on the wrist for it because of her father. She is not some innocent lady, she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s a lot of controversies regarding her that this long post would turn infinite and I bet I don’t even know all of them, but if you want to check for yourself, it’s out there on the internet.

Though before continuing, I need to mention the fact that YG (Seunghyun's ex-boss) knew that she smoked weed with Seunghyun and sent her to America until he enlisted, and maybe that’s why she exposed him, though who knows. As much as I detest her, YG is also a cunt in his own right.

Anyways, for some unknown reason, maybe due to a lull in terms of scandals during that time, but the news about Seunghyun exploded. There wasn’t a single person active in kpop during that time who didn’t follow the story.

But it wasn’t really a story, it was a tragedy.

Seunghyun was swarmed with hate comments that reached thousands and thousands of likes in Korean media. They were spitting straight venom and it was so intense that I genuinely started to fear of the repercussions and my fears unfortunately did come true eventualy.

There's this pic of him in a police uniform exiting the police station he was stationed in with a small smile on his face that many of new fans swoon over everywhere on Tiktok and here too. But I remember how hate comments jumped at the opportunity of dragging him through the mud because of that smile. But to us VIPs, it didn’t feel like the smile of someone unapologetic of what he did, it was the smile of someone genuinely struggling and almost giving up.

It was something felt among the fans but not said. Shortly after that, news broke out that Seunghyun was found unconscious in his room and was sent to the hospital, entering the ICU.

Look, corrupt police officers are not really news anywhere in this world, that's all I'm gonna say.

After Seunghyun was sent to the hospital, they released a statement that more or less said that Seunghyun couldn’t sleep and he took more sleeping pills than recommended and was found drowsy. Nothing serious. This single statement not only distorted the truth, it unleashed an even bigger wave of comments receiving 10k+ likes basically telling TOP that if he wants to kill himself, he should do it properly and that no one is falling for his dramatic antics.

Netizens everywhere said that he was just a little sleepy and him going to the hospital is just to garner sympathy. At the same time these comments were made, Seunghyun was in the ICU and in a coma, his oxygen levels much lower what is considered healthy or even functioning.

We got genuinely really close to losing him. Really fucking close.

The lies spread by the police and the comments getting even more disgusting led the hospital staff themselves to release a statement in a press conference where they confirmed that Seunghyun was not conscious at all and that the pills he took weren’t even sleeping pills, they were strong anti anxiety medications. The damage had already been done though and a swarm of reporters could be seen day and night outside the hospital trying to get a glimpse of him. The comments continued being as inhuman as mentioned above.

At one point it got so bad that his mother, his actual mother, stood outside the hospital doors begging the reporters and people to leave her son alone. Tears in her eyes, just begging for them to leave and to not believe the police who lied about his condition and made it look less severe than it actually was.

Truly a horror show to witness.

As a fan during that time before he woke up and after his mother’s appearance, things were rough. It was very difficult to see a manhunt so fierce over something so little even if it was a crime. After all, Seunghyun made a mistake that only harmed himself. It was just surreal and incredibly sobering to see that happen in real time in front of my eyes.

I completely jumped ship from kpop during that time, I just wanted Seunghyun to be okay again but I didn’t want anything more to do with this industry because real life and kpop had never appeared more grotesque than in 2017.

It was truly nasty.

Seunghyun eventually woke up and then was transferred to a mental health facility, he was in a wheelchair and of course, he got hate for that. Not only did he get hate for it, he was also almost mobbed by the reporters camping outside the hospital. There was no bodyguards, there was no police, there was no YG, there was nothing.

(I'm not even gonna talk about the people who use the video of this moment to make sad edits of Seunghyun or I'll turn nasty, but just know that this is no way "support" of him, you're just reminding the traumatized guy of one of the most traumatic moments of his life, that's not good behavior)

He then went on hiatus and after seeing he was at least physically okay, I bailed completely on kpop and ceased all consumption, only checking in on him and the other Bigbang members.

Anyway, he paid his dues to the law (he was sentenced to 10 months in jail but the sentence got suspended after he pleaded guilty and sought leniency), got discharged from military in 2019 and went on with his life.

Every once in a while there’d be news about him getting backlash because he posted ice cream on instagram after his scandal, or him seen with friends by some passerby, or him taking photos with GD before and after his enlistment. The comments were the same and time did nothing to lessen their hatred. Fans were asking Taeyang about how TOP was, and him being the sweet man that he is would give us words of comfort every now and then but other than that, Choi Seunghyun was never mentioned and was blurred on TV until recently, after almost a decade.

Seunghyun was over there on instagram though, doing his own thing and doing his best to ignore the hate comments he would receive daily, while fans tried to bury them out with positive stuff. He would post silly stories at his house, photos with his artists friends, going to museums or art studios, travel...Living his life, the best that he could and seemed to be doing well, all things considered.

But sometimes...Just sometimes...He let it slip that things weren't as going well as they seemed for him.

I still remember this one post of him from 2019 (I won't remember the month or the date) that still sort of haunts me. It was a homage to his friend Matthew Wong who had ended his own life, and I'm still pretty sure Seunghyun wrote the caption in the spur of the moment of his emotions because he ended up admiting this:

He quickly edited off that part out of the long text he wrote and eventually deleted the post all together, but you can still find the full post out there on the internet. And if you know him like I do, he suffers from depression since he was very young, so I wasn't...really surprised by his admission but I still think about this to this day and I often worry about him because of it.

A couple of years after his scandal, he went on IG live, swearing that he’ll never perform in Korea again, and he of course got backlash for it, proving exactly his point.

After the Burning Sun scandal, he posted a pic and rotated it to cut Seungri out, with the captions “i love my fans” and “i love my band” which was so funny at that time because of how deliberate his action was but it got him hate, from Seungri fans this time.

His last song with the group was released a couple of years ago and TOP officially left Bigbang. He got backlash because he blocked fans pestering him with Bigbang comments after he left the group — though he recently explained his reasons. A lot of fans and people found it crass and ungrateful but personally, he had already stated he was moving on from Bigbang and perusing his own goals approximately 100 times prior to this and people still didn’t seem to get the point, so can you really blame a man for snapping?

Of course as a result people thought he had a falling out with the members and honestly? Who even knows. I didn’t take offence because in a way, it is kind of funny and seems on par with the sort of things he’d do even before any scandal.

He’s unpredictable and often gets caught in strange things, I've seen it happen so much over the years by having his insta notifications on my old account. He’s also kinda dumb (affectionate) for almost going to the moon in a rocket that had an approximately 90% chance of blowing up midway becoming the space version of those rich people in the submarine. Thankfully, it got cancelled, much to his disappointment since he had a physical connection to the moon or some similar stuff he claimed.

*Sighs* I love you so much, Seunghyun, you fucking weirdo.

Like this is the man who didn't even have an official statement for leaving Bigbang, he just announced it himself on his insta by screaming in capslock about it in his comment section. I didn't even get sad about it cuz it was so funny, like why sir are you screaming? LMFAO

Now on to more serious topics, he revealed in an interview for PRESTIGE MAG in 2022 that what happened in 2017 was indeed an attempt at ending his own life. There was back and forth way back on whether it was intentional or accidental but he confirmed it was intentional. He talked about how mentally damaging the industry is and that he hopes he can create a label where trainess can go to become artists in their own way instead of being trained to fit the kpop trends and boxes.

Of course he got hate for it but this time from international fans since they didn’t like him comparing idols who were trained to the smallest detail to robots, and there I went in the trenches to fight in his honor again.

Seunghyun has been open about his mental health struggles since the very beginning. In their book released in 2009 he talked about how sensitive he can be and how isolated he felt as a child. He turned to rap and hiphop for comfort and it eventually became his life work.

He also revealed that he was fat as a child and that YG had refused to give him an audition due to his weight. He returned 40 days later after losing 20 KG. He revealed that he mainly starved himself and even afterwards, he felt uncomfortable showing his skin and his body — luckily he got a lot better with it as he turned into an adult, he even celebrated on his insta being able to handle wearing a short sleeved shirt for the first time in 10 years, it was cute to see even though he was all shy about it.

Before his enlistment, he struggled so much with anxiety that he had to take medications just for an interview and had lost so much weight it was noticeable. His group members also commented on how depressed he can be at times. He cried so much during his last tour especially when the members gave him letters of love and encouraged him. Even they were surprised and concerned (all it took was for him to call and say he felt down/sad and Daesung would show up at his house, that's how things were concerning back then, he and Daesung talked about this on Bigbang's last appearance on Weekly Idol). And after the scandal, he kept calling GD who was doing a world tour and struggling himself just to apologise to him. Taeyang visited him once in the hospital and told GD that he just kept apologising. His old interviews and lyrics especially are very honest and open about his struggles and they’re worth a read.

He can be so inspirational at times, a lovely soul truly, even though he is blunt at times and it comes across as rude to a lot of people.

Now he's back with Squid Game despite the backlash he received from the day and year he joined the cast, and I'm making this for the people who just got to know this beautifully complicated man that I love so much. Y'all have no idea how many fights I got into over people calling him a criminal and a drug addict.

But really, I personally don’t care what randos on the internet think of him. We’ve all waited too long to let some loser dudes living in their mom’s basement dictate how someone should live their life over smoking weed when predators and abusers are glorified on korean TV and are forgiven in a heartbeat just because they’re good actors and artists. I will not take a world where punishments are handed out depending on the mood of public and not the actual crime seriously. Getting upset over some loser who hates Seunghyun for smoking weed but loves the abuser who just won an award is absurd and truly, their opinion is worthless.

At this point, I'm just here for whatever Seunghyun decides to do with his life as long as it makes him happy. Want to become a full time actor? Go for it, babe, we'll be watching. Want to be T.O.P again and release music? Ok, go for it, my guy. Want to do neither of these two and just live off your wine company and your art collection investments? Fine by me, if it makes you happy then go for it dude, go enjoy your vineyard in Argentina and sell your wine.

He isn’t perfect, he has his moments, but who is perfect in this world? No one. But he deserves the world anyway, he's been through a lot in his life and I just hope he heals and gets to live a long and happy life in whatever way happiness might look like for him.

That's all I want, to see his name somewhere in the future and see that he's happy.

(I also really hope Korea's weird aversion to weed ends one day. It sounds like they could really use some and chill out anyway. Better than getting drunk nearly daily.)

One of my most beloved memories as a VIP was when Seunghyun was officially discharged from the military. Of course, the press was ready to bombard him with invasive questions but K-VIPs helped plan a switcharoo. Half the fans became sacrifices by pretending that Seunghyun would arrive near the station, the other half waited near the Han River where his true meetup would take place. When he arrived, the smile that was on his face, he was so happy and grateful that people stuck around for him despite everything. Although the true satisfaction came from seeing the reporters scramble about and by the time they arrived, he was already gone.

This is someone who's dealt with severe mental health struggles since very early in his life. He once talked about before that growing up his best friends were literal toys (he used to collect them up until the early 2010s, Be@rbricks especially). He lost two of his best friends to traffic accidents during his teens, and he effectively had to break up with his girlfriend so he could pursue his musical career (whom he wrote one of his first solo songs, Act Like Nothing's Wrong/Pretended, about). This is someone who's made it very clear, for a long time, that he's always struggled and that life has always been throwing things at him.

He did once say that he felt like he was born to be sad and it's really no wonder that he thinks like this. It's why I stand by him, because I know what it's like to have life hitting you in the head since you were way too young to even understand fully why everyone else seem to have it easier than you.

He gets it and I see him.

Choi Seunghyun might be weird and seem rude to kpop fans today who have a very particular image of what an idol is, but he was always genuine, especially with his fans. He's rebellious, and his bluntness sometimes can come out wrong but he's not a bad guy at the core. As I say, he has his moments and he's not perfect so it's fine, if you get him you get it, if you don't...well cest la vie.

That's all.

(Shit this got long. If you read this all the way down here, I'll award you a lollipop. Here 🍭)

[calypsolemon]

right here my friend! I failed to explain anything about it because i posted it at like 3am when i had no energy, but here's the deets

Post-game, Click Clack finds himself a bit perturbed by... himself. It's his job to edit the story of the world, but the part of himself responsible for that job (the one that manifests as the narrative voice) still allowed for the Inspekta situation to occur, and kept himself ignorant of how he was hurting Thespius with his actions. He knows he could have edited the Story to be more pleasant, if he really wanted to, and he's not fond of the fact that his own self would ignore the pain and suffering of his loved ones for the sake of the world's narrative satisfaction.

So, he begins to edit the problems he and his loved ones experience out of the picture. At first, he simply rationalizes it as all of them needing a break after the Inspekta incident - who wants to deal with life's little inconveniences right after a huge disaster? But as time goes on, he begins to meddle more and more, trying to fix every little thing to be ideal and flawless. Hobbyhoo becomes rather boring in an odd way; every play they put on goes without a hitch, every story idea flows to the page without a need to think, every relationship is in a state of stale bliss. His own relationship with Thespius is seeming just... too perfect, none of those previous miscommunication problems ever boiling to the surface again! (←lying). Slowly, he is bringing the Story of the world to a grinding halt, in order to ensure his friends never get hurt again.

Well, his narrator half is not all too happy with himself for that. It's his job to edit the story of the world, what's the point of his existence if he has no story at all? So, he formulates a test for himself. A small edit is made, a string of Thespius's guitar snaps, sad but easily fixed through mundane means. But this edit is made permanent, etched into the fabric of the world's story. All Click Clack has to do is leave it alone, give up on it when he realizes he can't edit out this tiny hiccup in an otherwise perfect day.

He can't leave it alone.

Increasingly desperate and frustrated, with all his fears reaching a crescendo, Click Clack lashes out at the part of himself who could be so cold as to only care for the Story and not the people within it. He reaches inside, and pulls himself from himself, attempting to wrench control from himself. Instead, what he succeeds in is very nearly severing himself in twain.

Two parts of Click Clack now exist as separate entities in the world, only connected by a single fragile thread. One of them loses his connection to the Story, left devoid of nearly everything he's supposed to embody as a god. The other is being consumed by it, no longer able to regulate how much of the Story leaks out to the mortal world. The latter runs away very quickly in an attempt to keep the Story safely contained, leaving the former to deal alone with the horrified reactions of his loved ones when they find out.

aaaaand thats basically most of what I have so far! feel free to send questions if you want more information, I call this "Pen and Ink au" and will tag any further posts about it as such.

saw everyone was posting their split-up clickers so I'm throwing my hat in the ring

[fanfic-scribbles]

Flowers For

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You give Bucky flowers, because friends can give each other gifts and it doesn’t have to mean anything. This time, though, it ends up meaning everything.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff!, background Steve/Sam/Natasha, everybody’s a little shit

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS (though while I do make allusions to the MCU “Civil War” we’re familiar with…it didn’t happen like that. I mostly just wanted Ned and MJ and Peter around for a cute mention.)

Words: 2787

A/N: I badly needed fluff and this just sort of happened. Enjoy <3

~

Bucky seems…sad, lately.

You don’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t look any different than he normally does. He doesn’t speak any different than he normally does. But there is an air around him that feels almost melancholic, and though most of your other friends treat him the same as always, you do catch Sam and Steve looking at him a few more times than normal, which confirms your suspicions. You just don’t know what to do about it. Sam and Steve are both closer to him than you are. Surely they can fix whatever is wrong, and you should just butt out. …Right?

The first flower is a fluke.

You find it by the curb of the sidewalk. Dropped in a rush, a few of the rose’s petals have been pulled off by whatever event cast it aside in the first place, but it is still overall lush and gorgeous. You pick it up– carefully, because curiously there are a couple of thorns– and dust it off. You carry on to the park where you’re going to meet up with Bucky.

And there he is, looking almost lost as he casts his gaze out to some unknown point. It’s pointless to follow– you get the feeling that, whatever he’s looking for, isn’t even here. And to further cement your worry, he doesn’t even notice you until you’re almost within arm’s reach. He leans back to cover the small flinch, and he smiles at you, in a way that if you were only able to see his eyes you wouldn’t even be able to tell. “You made it,” he says gently.

His focus moves down to your hand and his expression takes on a tinge of curious wonder. It’s not out of place or character– Bucky has a lot of little plants he tends to. Some herbs, a little vegetable seed he’s experimenting with, some–…flowers…

“Whatcha got there?” he asks and tilts his head to one side.

If it didn’t have the thorns, you’d be tempted to put it behind his ear. It would look beautiful– more beautiful. Because it’s him, and he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever known, inside and out. But you can’t say that. You can’t risk not having him around.

You lift the flower towards him and say, “It’s for you.”

His eyes light up, but he looks between you and the flower a few times. “How come?”

“Just because,” you say firmly, and hold it higher. It feels right, and it feels even more right when he takes it and his face relaxes, showing some of the tired lines of the age that doesn’t yet show, but there’s a small genuine smile that bends the edges of his eyes, and makes your heart bloom into a flower all its own.

~

The next time you meet up, you’re more prepared. Buying a whole bouquet seemed…silly? Too much? But you got what you could find and so most of the flowers are stashed at your apartment, looking pretty in a cup, and you have a select few in hand, tied with a little ribbon you had lying around. The price tag hurt so bad it almost feels insulting these flowers don’t actually have any thorns, but, stupid expensive idea or not, you want to see how this goes.

Bucky is sitting on a ledge outside the museum, shaking his leg absently, but when he senses you nearby, he stops, sits taller, and turns. His eyes go immediately to the flowers and he smiles, but quashes it down almost immediately again.

“Seriously,” he says as you approach and hand them over. His eyes squint at you with some suspicion. “What’s the occasion?”

“Flowers are pretty,” you say without thinking. “And soft. And nice.”

“So why give them to me?” he huffs, derision shading his words as he casts his gaze down again.

You put the flowers in front of him, insistent enough that he finally takes them. “Because they’re pretty, and soft, and nice, and you like them,” you say. And I like you, you think but do not say. And when he lifts them to his face, getting lost in a thought, the soft petals graze his skin, and briefly touch the corner of his lips, and it’s so beautiful you think this is all very, very worth whatever price tag comes with it.

~

But you do find a florist that sells flowers by the stem. You actually find more than one, because, after a few times of coming in, the comments they made were…not mean, no, certainly not, but pointed. And you just can’t deal with that right now. Because Bucky is such a good friend, and he has enough to deal with without also worrying how you’d take his rejection– or, worse, that you’re just another person to want something from him. He’s had so much stress, and pain, and it just doesn’t do to imagine you contributing to more of that. Besides– flowers are, in fact, nice, and pretty, and soft, and fully capable of being utterly platonic.

Even if the way Bucky smiles every time he receives one (or two, or five,) makes your stomach do a flip.

“You know, bringing a fella flowers when you’re out to dinner with him is gonna give people some ideas,” he says, a smirk playing at his mouth as he flips the menu over.

“Not when they see the person giving you the flowers,” you say, trying to match his teasing tone. But as you go for your menu, he catches your hand. You stop and look at him. He stares at you for a few moments that almost make you squirm, but then he lets go, his hand sliding slowly, (so wonderfully slowly), away from yours.

“Then they’re idiots,” he says decisively, as if daring anyone to actually say that to his face. He even scowls a bit and looks around. Before you can apologize for your bad joke, he adds, “No one talks to my bestie like that,” and goes back to his menu.

It surprises a laugh out of you, and he’s smiling again. “We might need to cut down on your hangout time with Peter,” you say, and pick up your menu for real this time. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on yours, and you savor the memory of it. He doesn’t…touch, like that. It was nice.

“MJ,” Bucky says. He glances at you a few times and pulls some of his hair behind his ear. “She helped me cut my hair.”

“She did a great job,” you say earnestly. It’s not super short, still falling down enough he could ostensibly put it in a tiny ponytail, but it had been getting quite long, before. While it had looked nice, supplying one with many fantasies of running fingers through the full length, or braiding, or– …well, ultimately, you know the maintenance of it had annoyed him, and that’s what really matters.

“I want it shorter, but this was as much as I could manage,” he admits. He brightens. “Those are good kids.”

He tells you about his day, and how the three-man “Spidey-crew” somehow made an absolute wreck of one of Tony’s training rooms despite only one of them actually being enhanced, and as much as you’re riveted by the story, you can’t help but notice how Bucky’s right hand keeps drifting over to pet the flower petals throughout the night.

~

“Hey.”

You look up– and squint at Steve. You don’t know exactly what that look on his face is, but you know trouble when you see it. Not bad trouble, like someone’s dying, but that Captain “The Biggest Little Shit In The World” America is going to make trouble. “Hey,” you say cautiously. You look around. You’re supposed to be meeting someone else today. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says, and there it is– that grin that means you are going to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next– about zero point three seconds before he adds, “He seems to be collecting enough flowers to be able to open his own shop though. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“Mm, no,” you say, because Steve Rogers is not the only little shit in the area. God, at this point Bucky practically collects them.

“Interesting,” Steve says, with a little too much…well, interest.

You bristle. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, feigning innocence. “I just said it’s interesting.”

“And what would your boyfriend think about that?” you ask. You then try not to actually think about what Sam would have to say about it.

Of course, you don’t get away that easy. “He’s also wondering when you’re going to make an honest man out of Bucky,” Steve says, dropping the pretense.

You scowl. “He already is an honest man.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve says, gently, but…it’s true. He’s the one who took on the world for him. And won. “Hey,” he says and sits next to you. “It’s fine, just…you know Buck’s going to wonder about all this.”

You swallow. “He won’t bring it up,” you say. You hope. “Even if he kn–… He wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.” He’s so good. He’s too good.

“He might also not bring it up because he’s as afraid of rejection as you are.” Steve squeezes your shoulder, then stands. “But from here on, it’s not up to me– it’s up to the two of you.” You don’t even get a chance to fully absorb all that before he adds, “That said, you should be more concerned about what my girlfriend thinks about all this.”

You immediately feel your blood go cold.

~

The knife of Natasha hangs silently over your head. Silently, because she made sure to stop by just to stare at you a little too intensely and a little too long. At this point, you’re not sure who’s actually more protective of Bucky– Steve or Natasha. You’re pretty sure the latter is the scarier of the two, though. Only pretty sure though, because Steve probably only backed off because he knew she was going to step in.

You sigh, and watch the rain fall outside your window. Maybe you never should have– but, no, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. It made Bucky happy. It makes Bucky happy. Overprotective friends or not, it’s worth it.

…And if you do get dead and buried, you’ve probably bought enough flowers for Bucky that he won’t even have to buy any arrangements.

There’s a knock at your door and you scramble up, but at the quiet, familiar, “It’s me,” you relax again. And then you scramble to go hit the light. Bucky can’t see you yet so he doesn’t know you’ve been brooding in the dark, but it suddenly feels a lot sillier, all told. Then you answer the door, and he’s smiling, and oh boy, you really are in trouble, aren’t you.

“I got something for you,” he says, and unzips his jacket, bringing out…

…A small bundle of flowers.

You freeze. You should have expected this– Bucky is the kind of guy to get and then give in equal (or more) measure, but there’s something about Bucky, with his nice new haircut, showing up at your door, giving you flowers, that makes your heart ache. But the longer you stand there, the more his smile starts to wilt, until he finally says your name in such an uncertain tone that you snap out of it.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” you say, and take them to go get a tall cup or something to put them in.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts pulling off his jacket and shoes. “Thank God; I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you like, but I put those together and they just felt right, you know?”

You nod agreeably, even though you think if Bucky showed up with them half-rotted and smushed with most of their petals gone, you’d still have been equally choked up. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say gently and turn to face him, and oh, he is suddenly very, very close.

“I wanted to,” he says, and doesn’t back down. His eyes flick from place to place, though, and he swallows. “Just…because. That’s good enough, right?”

“It is,” you agree, because it is, and you stand by that. But the way Bucky is looking at you is searching, and you feel your chest clench. What is he looking for. Did Steve snitch. Natasha wouldn’t (she loves leverage a little too much for anyone’s full good) but if you have to kill Captain America for being a bitch you will–

“What if it wasn’t just because,” he blurts out. And there’s no other way to describe it; the words fall right out of his mouth like they didn’t even mean to. But you both freeze, and Bucky stands tall, and he doesn’t take them back. He looks right at you and says, “What if…what if they meant something?”

It’s so quiet. Rain pats against glass in waves, but even it is softer now, and you swallow. “What would…they mean?”

And, because there is no hiding the hope in your voice, Bucky relaxes, and once again becomes the kind of person who would look at an angry chihuahua of a man and think befriending him was a good idea. “Well,” he drawls, leaning into you more, but your lower back is against the counter and he rests his hands on it, on either side of you. “It’s not your birthday…it’s not a holiday…”

“And what kind of holiday would you get me flowers for?” you ask, deadpan, because he– he wouldn’t actually make fun of you for this. He’s not that cruel. So this has to be going one place, and you think you know what it is.

Right?

“Valentine’s Day?” he suggests. But his eyes are intense, and for a few moments neither of you say anything, but his mouth is right there, and yours opens just a bit in a Pavlovian response you absolutely should not have but that you desperately want a reason to develop.

“Seems like that might be kind of a statement,” you say softly. You swallow again. “If you. Did that.”

“Yeah?” he asks and leans in, somehow, impossibly closer.  “Maybe I just wanted you to have something nice. And soft.”

His lips are almost touching yours, so close, so close. “Maybe I’d like something else,” you say, more breath than words, and then there he is, there he is closing the distance at last and his lips are on yours and your lips are on his and his chest presses hard against yours and the counter is digging into your back. But his arms wrap around you, and no flower petal can hold a candle to his lips, you think deliriously, wrapping your arms so tight around him that if you had enhanced strength, you think you’d crush him. His lips are mostly soft, but you can feel the little ridges, a hint of a split that must have happened in training this morning, and his tongue and yours. When you finally separate, it’s slow, and while you both take a moment to breathe, you try to wrap your head around…all of this.

“Man,” you murmur. “If I knew all it would take is some flowers…”

Bucky lets out a hoarse laugh, and passes the tips of his fingers gently across your cheek. “What can I say?” He smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. “I’m a cheap date.”

You smile too, and say, “We’ll see about that.”

~

When you go to meet with Bucky for your first official date, you bring flowers– and so does he. He hands you your little bindle, but you go about sticking your selection right in his coat breast pocket– and find something familiar about the new broach he has. It’s a little pin containing three rolled dried rose petals in resin, it looks like.

“Is that…” you ask, and he nods.

“I wanted to keep it,” he says, and adjusts the fresh flowers in his pocket. You didn’t plan it like this, but they look so perfectly at home, and when he smiles at you it nearly makes your knees weak. “You look amazing,” he says, gently, and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

In one hand you hold firm stems and soft petals. Your other hand, you slide into his– against skin calloused and creased and warm and, despite all of its supposed imperfections, better than any flower could ever hope to be. You grip tight, and say, “We shall.”

~

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

all aboard the angst train! ominis finds out from sebastian that he and mc are courting and goes to mc like what the hell i know you love me what are you courting sebastian? and mc just says I want a family I want children you will never give that to me. it's best for us to stop now before we really hurt each other. choo choo the angst train is leaving the station!!

What We’ll Never Have | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

this was just... so much pAIN. my HEART.

Words: ~2,200

Tags: Post Hogwarts, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Sebastian had been fidgeting all evening, a nervous habit he’d never quite shaken. Ominis had learned long ago to recognize the tells—shifting weight between his feet, the repeated cracking of his knuckles, the way he rapped his fingers against any available surface.

He knew Sebastian had something to say long before the words left his mouth, but nothing could have prepared him for what he finally said.

"I just thought you should hear it from me first," Sebastian had muttered. "She and I are courting."

Ominis had stood so still in that moment, his fingers curled around the rim of his tankard, that he might have been mistaken for a statue.

"You're what?" he’d asked, though he had heard perfectly well.

"Courting," Sebastian repeated, as if the word wasn't a knife twisting into Ominis’s ribs. "It's nothing dramatic. We just… figured it makes sense."

Ominis didn't even remember leaving the bar, his mind roaring with thoughts he couldn’t quiet. And now, here he was, standing outside your flat, barely aware that his knuckles had rapped against the wood until he heard the latch slide free and the door swing open.

A pause.

He knew you were looking at him. He knew, in that way he always knew you, that you understood why he was here, that you were already bracing yourself for the confrontation neither of you had ever been brave enough to have.

"Ominis," you greeted, your voice careful, neutral.

That only infuriated him more.

He shoved past you. The scent of parchment and tea clung to the air, but there was something else beneath it—something distant and wrong. It was the awareness that this was no longer his place to be, no longer a space where unspoken words could linger between you two, waiting to be plucked from the air like ripened fruit.

When the door clicked shut behind you, he turned sharply, his voice low but unrelenting. "What the hell are you doing?"

You sighed. "I take it you saw Sebastian.”

“Oh yes, I saw him,” Ominis snapped. “Had a very illuminating conversation, in fact. Imagine my surprise when my best friend tells me he and you—” His voice caught, and he hated that it did. He swallowed hard. “You are courting.”

Silence.

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you said, “We’re happy, Ominis.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think you’ll be happy. But you and I both know that’s not the same thing as actually being happy.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t say ‘you’re wrong’. And that silence spoke louder than anything else.

"I don’t understand," Ominis said, turning toward where he knew you stood. "Why are you doing this?!"

"It’s what makes sense, Ominis," you said, so softly, so gently, like you knew this would wound him and yet were trying to dull the blade.

Makes sense.

Such a simple phrase. So small and neat, as if it could explain away everything that had come before it—the glances you and Ominis shared across dimly lit rooms, the conversations that had stretched past midnight, the way your hands always lingered a second too long when they brushed his. The way Ominis had felt you, like a gravitational pull just beneath his skin, and known he would love you until the day he died.

He had spent years—years—telling himself there would always be more time. That whatever simmered between the two of you, whatever hung in the spaces of your conversations, whatever made you linger a little too long, press a little too close, would still be there when the timing was right.

Except now, he realized, the moment had passed without him ever knowing it.

His breath was ragged as he took a step forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “Sense?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re choosing him because it makes sense?

“I had to make a choice, Ominis.”

He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” you countered, stepping closer. “And I—” You hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing yourself to say it again. “And I chose Sebastian.”

Ominis let out a quiet, humorless laugh, "You just woke up one day and decided to be with Sebastian?”

You flinched, but your voice remained steady. “It wasn’t like that. It's not like I decided on a whim. You act like Sebastian and I didn't talk this through first."

Ominis stilled. This was planned. Considered. You and Sebasrian had discussed it, picked apart the logistics of it together, laid out the path forward.

Of course, you wouldn’t have rushed into something blindly. You had always been measured, deliberate. You thought through your choices, weighed them carefully before committing. And you had done the same with this.

Ominis felt his stomach turn but he forced himself to breathe through the pressure mounting in his chest. "How long?" His voice was sharp, brittle. "How long have you been considering it?"

You hesitated.

Ominis felt something cold settle in his ribs. "How long?"

"...A while."

Ominis let out a slow breath, his hands curled into fists at his sides. "But why him? You could have picked anyone else. Anyone. Some Ministry official, a bloody Healer. Of all people, why my best bloody friend?!"

You exhaled sharply. "Because he’s my best friend too, Ominis."

"You don't love him though!"

The words were out before Ominis could stop them, raw and sharp, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Yes, I do."

“No, you don’t.”

"Maybe not in the way you mean, but we will learn—”

"Is that honestly what you think?” Ominis interrupted, his voice low and fraying at the edges. “You think you can just learn to love him like that?”

“Yes.”

Ominis shook his head, laughing bitterly, though nothing about this was funny. “You can’t force love.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” you countered. “It might not ne romantic love but that doesn’t mean it’s less.”

“It’s not real,” Ominis bit out.

“It is,” you said, voice thick with something unreadable. “It’s real in the ways that matter. It’s trust, it’s choosing someone because they’ll be there at the end of the day. It’s knowing that we’ll make each other happy, even if it isn’t some grand, burning thing.”

Ominis shook his head again. “You’re settling.”

You flinched, and for a fleeting moment, Ominis felt something like satisfaction. But then you exhaled sharply, something flashing in your eyes. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have waited.” Ominis argued, throwing his hands on the air.

“For what?” you snapped. "You say what Sebastian and I have isn’t real but at least we acknowledge it."

Ominis stiffened.

"At least it’s something named, something that isn’t hiding in the dark," you continued, stepping closer, your frustration mounting. "At least we’re honest with each other."

Ominis felt like he had been struck.

"You think you get to stand here and tell me what is or isn’t real?" You shook your head. "I waited, Ominis. I waited for you."

His stomach twisted, but he stayed silent.

"For years," you emphasized, your voice trembling now, edged with something like grief. "Years, Ominis. Hoping that one day you’d—" You exhaled shakily. "That you’d just say it. That you’d choose me."

His throat tightened.

"But you never did."

The words hung between you, the weight of them pressing against his ribs, curling around his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"You never said it," you whispered. "Not once."

Ominis swallowed, his hands shaking now. "I—"

"You let me wait. You let me sit in that silence, let me hope while you stood there, doing nothing." Your voice broke, just slightly. “and after all that time, after years of waiting, you have the audacity to come here and tell me this isn’t real?" You scoffed, shaking your head. "What Sebastian and I have might not be what you think it should be, but at least it's something."

Ominis swallowed hard. He had spent his entire life being careful. Measured. Controlled. He had learned restraint before he had learned kindness, had learned to bite his tongue before he had ever learned how to wield it. He had spent years—a decade—walking this impossible, agonizing line with you, balancing on the edge of something neither of you had dared to name.

But standing here, knowing you were choosing someone else—choosing Sebastian—when he knew you loved him, when he knew, down to his very bones, that this wasn’t just some unrequited fantasy, that you had spent just as many years aching in silence as he had…

It broke something in him.

His breath shuddered as he stepped closer, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin, the uneven rise and fall of your chest.

"Fine." His voice was sharp, ragged at the edges, but he didn’t care. “You want me to say it? Fine." He let out a sharp breath, his voice rough with something raw and unrelenting. "I love you."

The words hung between you, vast and consuming, but Ominis wasn’t finished.

"I love you," he said again, the confession pouring from him like a wound finally splitting open, ten years of restraint breaking apart in an instant. "How many times do you want to hear it?"

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting slightly, but he didn’t let you speak.

"How many times will it take to change your mind?"

Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body going still, but he knew—he knew—that this wasn’t news to you.

He took step forward, his voice hoarse now. "I know you love me too."

You shook your head once, a small, broken movement. "Ominis—"

"Don’t lie to me." His voice cracked on the last word. "Don’t.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your jaw tightening, but you didn’t deny it.

Before he could think better of it, Ominis's hand lifted, fingers brushing along the line of your jaw before he cupped your cheek.

Your breath hitched beneath his palm.

Ominis exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less desperate. "Tell me I’m wrong."

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me you don’t love me." His thumb ghosted over your cheek. "Tell me, and I will leave. I will let you go. I will walk away, and you will never hear another word of this from me again."

Silence. A silence so heavy, so vast, it felt like it might crush him. Because you couldn’t say it. Because you did love him and you always had.

Ominis’s breath left him in a slow, aching exhale. "Then why are you doing this?" His forehead almost rested against yours now as tears burned behind his sightless eyes. "Why are you choosing him?"

You swallowed. Your hand lifted slowly, curling over his wrist, as if you meant to pull him away, except you held him there instead.

“I want a family, Ominis,” you admitted, voice barely more than a breath.

Ominis's grip on your cheek slackened, the certainty that had carried him through this breaking apart all at once.

Ominis had never wanted children.

In all the late-night conversations between you that had stretched toward dawn, in all the quiet moments when the world had felt like it existed only for the two of you, he had admitted it freely. He had sworn, sworn, that he would never be a father. That he would never bring another Gaunt into this world, never risk continuing a bloodline so poisoned, so irreversibly rotted with cruelty, that he feared any child of his would inherit it, that they would open their eyes and see the world the way his father had seen it.

He had vowed it.

Because the truth was, Ominis didn’t know what fatherly love was even supposed to look like. He didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t know what it meant to be the kind of person who could raise a child properly.

But now—now, standing here, the truth of it lodged itself deep into his chest: you wanted a family, and from the very start, Ominis had always refused to give you one.

"I don’t want to wait forever for something that will never happen," you murmured, your voice heavy with something close to grief. "I don’t want to wake up years from now and realize I let the chance slip away because I was waiting for you to change your mind."

Ominis exhaled sharply, his breath coming out ragged. "You think I wouldn’t have tried?" His voice cracked, something desperate clawing at his throat.

You pressed your lips together, and when you spoke again,your voice wavered. "That’s the problem, Ominis. I don’t want you to try. I want you to want it."

Ominis stepped back suddenly, his hand falling away from your cheek like the finality of it had just settled in his bones.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "And Sebastian does?"

You swallowed hard. "He—" You hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. "Yes, he... wants a family. A life that I want, too."

Ominis let out a bitter, shaking breath. "A life you wanted with me." His throat ached with the weight of it, with the unbearable truth of knowing that you had imagined this future—children, a home, a life filled with warmth—and once upon a time, you had pictured him by your side.

But not anymore.

[villainsapologist]

the interview

Summary: You’re the newest member of the band and you’re doing your first sit down interview with James – who is definitely in love with you.

Warnings/Tags: James Hetfield x Reader, RPF, load era james, fluff, mutual pining, explicit language, sexually suggestive content, no smut though, still intended for 18+

Wordcount: 1.97K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell us how you first got in contact with these guys.” The interviewer asked. You are sitting beside James on the couch with barely any space between the two of you. The interviewer faces you both, his recorder resting on the arm of the single seater with a pen and notepad in his hands.

“Well we actually connected through my friend Brandon who worked as an assistant producer on one of the records on the album.” You spoke calmly, acutely aware that everything you say, every movement and miniscule expression will probably be written about by the interviewer. And to add to that you could feel his eyes staring into the side of your face. James had his arm slung across the back of the couch, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. 

“Yeah it’s actually really interesting because our newest member here was only supposed to come in for one day.” James spoke up.

“Brandon and I had been friends for a long time and together we would make little things here and there for fun.” You had often spent your Saturdays with him playing and writing together. When he told you about the opportunity he had gotten to help produce a Metallica album you were so excited for him. 

“He has a studio in his house so we would hang out and just come up with stuff, you know.” You glance upwards in James’ direction, a tight lipped smile playing across your face. In response he gives you that familiar grin, the one where basically all his teeth are on display. 

“And one day we stumbled upon something that he thought the guys would really like and could get some inspiration from.” You answered, turning back towards the interviewer. “So I went in one morning and was basically only supposed to be there for a couple of hours. But before we knew it we had spent the entire day working together.” 

“By the end of the week we had completed one of the tracks and she was so ingrained in the whole thing that there was no way we could play it without her.” James explained.

“That’s the one you guys played during her debut right?” The interviewer questioned. Less than twenty-four hours ago you played your first show with them. An experience that you are still reeling from. You would never have believed anyone if just a year ago they would have told you that you would be onstage playing with one of the greatest bands of all time. 

“Yes, and wasn’t she amazing” James answers, never missing an opportunity to go on about how talented you are. “I mean the crowd loved her solo so much, I just knew they would.” He beamed, thinking back to the day before. You were beyond nervous, the entire thing almost a blur. The smoke machine, the crowd, the music, it all blended together. You only remember James saying your name over the mic and the wind between your fingers as you pulled at the strings of your guitar.

— — — 

“What about the dynamic between you all? How has it been working with these guys as not only the newest member but also the youngest.” The interviewer asked as he perched up in his seat, eyes glancing between the two of you. “Is it a sibling thing or are they more like your daddies?” 

Your head slowly turns to James who couldn’t help himself as he burst out laughing. “My daddies? What…” An air of confusion in your voice. 

“Right, huh?” James agrees with your confusion, his eyebrows furrowed with a smile on his face. Although to be totally honest he seemed more amused than confused.

“Definitely more of a sibling dynamic I would say. I mean they’re all really cool and have been very welcoming. We’ve also been hard at work so…”

“So who would you say is your favorite so far, if you would dare?” The interviewer cuts in, eyebrows raised, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Definitely not Lars.” James cheekily admits. “I'm just kidding, she hates us all now.” You shake your head at James’ comments. 

“I wouldn’t say hate, but I definitely liked you guys more in the beginning.” you add, only half joking. “No, but seriously Kirk’s a sweetheart and we got some time to bond over our guitars. James and I both write and with the album I also got some vocals in, as you probably heard.”

“I know she seems like a sweet little thing, but she’s actually very strict.” James tells the interviewer. “What's the word you used again?” he turns back to you.

“Boundaries.”

“Yeah that. Boundaries. No touching without permission. And when those headphones go on, you would be an idiot to disturb her.” James tells the interviewer. 

“I know it seems odd but I promise if you spend almost every waking moment with these guys for months on end you would see that it’s necessary.” You added to your defense. Truthfully you weren't really bothered by them touching you. It was fun and you enjoyed being silly with them. You just had to come up with something to stop James specifically from touching you. Reason being well…the body does have a mind of its own and whenever he would so much as brush past you, your breath would begin to waver and your body would heat up in a flash.

Case in point that one late night at the studio when it was just you, James, and a few others from the tech team. He sat beside you holding a photo album he found with an assortment of early days Metallica photos, excitedly showing off and recounting stories from the time period.

He had seemingly… unknowingly snaked his free arm around your waist as he used his other hand to turn the pages of the album. At that point your mind became so fogged that you couldn't even comprehend anything he was saying. You were holding your breath so silently beside him. And then it got worse, you were wearing a thin fitted baby tee with nothing beneath it and of course your nipples had to start getting visibly hard. 

“Have some fucking self control.” You scolded yourself internally. It was so embarrassing, but if James had noticed he never said anything. You really didn't want to be that person. You wanted it to remain as friendly as possible with the guys. The thought of everything becoming awkward and the judgement you feared you would face if people found out that you were romantically involved with one of your bandmates, made you recoil.

You feared that you would not be taken seriously and that your hard work of getting into the band and creating such amazing art that meant so much to you would be summed up to you just fucking the guys and getting what you wanted. So you took the opportunity one day when the guys were being playful with each other and consequently you, to act increasingly annoyed with their antics. 

“Get off! New rule, no touching me without permission. Where are the boundaries in this group? Damn.” You didn’t mean it but you had to come up with something. 

— — — 

“You said that you guys have been hard at work. Is that all you guys have had time for – no bonding moments outside of that?” The interviewer continued. Considering that James only looked at him when he was asking him a question, coupled with the fact that he was staring holes into you – the interviewer was sure he had an idea of the dynamic budding between the two of you.

“Well James is a bit of a redneck, I’m not sure if a lot of people know that. So he took me fishing and hunting for the first time. It was definitely an experience…” You trailed off, recounting that day.

“More so fishing, there was very little hunting done. Someone started crying so we had to wrap that up quickly.” James remarks in a teasing tone. 

“I so didn't cry.” You rolled your eyes.

“You so did cry.” James rebutted, side-eyeing you with that grin.

“Maybe a little. If the animal also had a gun then I would feel much better and maybe then I would call it a sport. But on a brighter note I caught a really big fish! That was fun.” James couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he watched you talk about the time you spent together – just the two of you. Honestly from the first moment he saw you he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since. Every minute of every hour, now consumed with you. 

When he suggested you two do an outdoorsy activity you were elated to finally be doing something other than music, just for a little while. Plus you would get to know another aspect of who James is. 

There is always more to James than meets the eye. It was something you had suspected before you really knew him but now you know for sure. His exterior suggested a more hardened individual but as you spent more time with him, you were met with this incredibly attentive and caring person. More times than not if you looked at James you would find his eyes already on you. At first it made you shift a bit nervously on the spot and made a certain shyness creep up on you. But now it brings you comfort. Now it feels like you have someone who sees you, and for the most part likes what they see.

— — —

“Nice. I’m sure your family, friends and partner are thrilled for you. Although now you probably won’t see them much. You’re going to be on the road for quite some time from now on. How have you been navigating this new change with them?” The motive for the interviewer's line of questioning wasn't lost on you. Both you and James had caught it, “partner”. You debated whether or not you would address that particular part or just ignore it. 

“Yeah they can’t believe it, honestly I’m still coming to terms with it myself. But they are very supportive, I’m lucky to have them.” You ignored it. But as it turns out the interviewer had no intention of letting you off the hook that easily.

“Ah so your boyfriend is very supportive then. That’s great considering how much time you have to now spend so closely with a group of men who aren’t him”. There it was, probably the first of many pushy press interactions to come. You chuckled nervously and as you were about to speak up, James did it for you.

“I don’t think I recall her saying anything about a boyfriend just now. Did I miss that?” His smile is gone as he turns to the interviewer, a puzzled look on his face. James knows he should pull it back, he shouldn’t be so negatively affected by this question but he really couldn’t contain it. He was an emotional and impulsive person to begin with, and when it came to you everything went into overdrive. 

“I didn’t, but it’s alright.” You assured James, acutely aware of his growing frustration. The interviewer on the other hand seemed to get exactly what he was hoping for. A barely audible “hmm” comes from him as he scribbles something in his notepad. 

“Well just a couple more questions.” He closes his notepad and looks between you and James. Thankfully the questions that followed were routine. Although you were only giving him half of your full attention. James had now moved his arm from the back of the couch to rest behind you. His fingers brushing your elbow.

He made up his mind, after this he had to let you know how he felt. No more subtle suggestions. He’ll do it tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: first of all i need him. second i have another idea for these two - the confessions and the ******* part.

Also please don't be shy, tell me what you think! my inbox is open :)

<3

[thetepes]

Let's get one thing clear, you have no idea what my opinions on addiction in general are.

I am talking specifically about someone who is an admitted child abuser who seeks out child and animal abuse content for pornographic use and has been escalating in just how open they are about it and the material they are looking for.

My tough love approach is reserved for this abuser and abusers of children and animals like them. This isn't about theory.

I live with addiction inside and out. I've lost people to addiction. I've dealt with it, my family has dealt with it, my friends have dealt with it, and I have shown nothing, but patience and support to them because in my community there is no support from any governmental body that we have access to because Roma don't get that privilege. You don't get to take that from me because you decided to make assumptions about me and my person. You don't get to take my years of not just dealing with it, but the years I spent studying the psychology of it to better help me, my family, and my community. The words I used are the same words my therapist used for me when I was getting addiction treatment and treatment for dealing with family who have addiction. It's outdated, yes, but sometimes you really do have to put yourself first and realize you can't be the person to save them.

You could have taken the time to look at what I was actually talking about and why I'm so severe about it, but you didn't. It was one click away and everything about them is tagged. You didn't look because it doesn't matter to you. You cared about getting to be right and getting to be that person in the reblogs that educates some woefully uninformed person on Tumblr dot com.

I am not a native English speaker, I used the word that I knew people would understand. That is the best I can do. The people I need to reach out to and get to understand that this person can not and will not stop this behavior and will not click automatically to the words compulsive sexual behavior disorder and I would have to sit here and explain what that is and then I'd get accused of diagnosing someone and the entire point of my commentary would be completely lost, like it is to you even though I know about the addiction model and I know about CSBD and I know they're still arguing over whether or not addiction plays into it. It's also wrong to diagnose someone like that, isn't it? Isn't that also harmful? Or does that not matter here?

Sometimes to communicate effectively with one another we don't use the specifically correct word, especially when nonnative speakers are in play, we use the best words even if they're a tad general that we have and now you've come in, policed the language, spoken down to us, spoken over us and admitted you're trying to drive a wedge between us - two POC trying to get eyes on an active predator who has already harmed children with a platform and connections. I used the words I knew, I gave the advice I have been taught. I'm sorry that isn't good enough for you.

Your response is bad faith because you came in and made assumptions about me and my person without so much as considering there was a reason I was being so severe and now I have to sit here and watch you parade like a peacock and get reblogs with the most inane mind numbing takes in the tags while my actual message and the damage this person is doing goes completely ignored and I am once again spoken over because I didn't choose just the right words to soothe your semantic ego enough to let me speak.

So you got to be right, I guess. Congratulations. This isn't a debate.

Addiction is a disease that destroys the body and mind. They need mental health support from a professional. It is not my or your place to treat them with gentle hands when they demand we enable them.

The only thing you can do for people suffering from addiction realistically as a layman is take care of yourself and encourage the person to get help.

Enabling them makes it worse and that's what these people want. They don't want help, they want enablers.

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

Okay so I’ve tried looking and maybe I’m just bad at finding where everyone else in love with this niche is hiding but like. Carlton Lassiter/Burton Guster from Psych (2006) is an underrated ship. Like I thought maybe in the OT4 people would utilize their dynamic a bit more but no!! They’ll do literally every combo of the ship and leave Gus and Lassie like… never or barely interacting?!? And I’m like guys!!!! There’s so much to be used between those two!!!!

- they both are looking for commitment

- They both are really weird about their cars

- The tap dancing episode!!

- Gus being more serious but still going along with Shawn’s antics. Could help Lassie loosen up a little

- Carlton being more serious and reliable and while weird Gus has his own quirks and is best friends with Shawn. I highly doubt Lassie’s own interests would be much of a turn off.

- I truly think Gus would freak out and go even harder on his ‘Lassie is weird’ thing, trying to get rid of his crush by spending more time with Carlton, being horrified he’s finding his quirks endearing. To the giving in a flirting.

- I think Lassie wouldn’t be as horrified more just ‘really?????? Idiot #2??????’

Like yeah there will definitely be issues like Lassiter always putting his work first and staying late but they’re both romantics and Gus will follow Shawn and like listen. They’d have to work through a lot but so does literally every other pair in the OT4!!!! So I don’t see these as bad things just issues to play with!! Fun angst!!

Maybe I’m not explaining this well at all but I truly think Gus/Lassie is a such a fun little rare pair and underrated dynamic. A lot of what makes Shawn/Gus (specifically not wanting to mess up the current dynamic and one dragging the other into antics) and Gus/Jules (strangers to coworkers to friends to lovers) and Shawn/Lassiter (idiots and denial and fuck ur hot why are you hot) such fun and interesting pairs is what makes Gus/Lassiter fun too!! Strangers to enemies(?) to coworkers to friends to lovers! Denial! Angst! Internal crises!! It’s just so good and I want more.

To further the Gus/Lassiter agenda I recommend the following two fics to everyone. Both are on ao3.

i wanna wake up with your weight by my side by under_the_silk_tree

A Gus sick fic where Lassie has to take care of Gus. Very cute. 8k+ words. One shot

Last Week Gus by under_the_silk_tree

The tags and summary kinda give it away but it’s so !!!!!!! 3k+ words. One shot

[ollypopwrites]

Weekly WIP Preview

Got tagged by the wonderful @razildor to share some WIP goodness.

This is a (very rough first draft) bit from a fic I’m working on called Grace and Fervor, which highlights Emmrich’s perspective on falling in love with Mourn Watcher Rook. I’m undecided if it’s going to be explicitly about Vanya Ingellvar.

It features some fun head canons i have about magic and mourn watch stuff!!!

As usual, pls forgive how rough this is. I’m a firm believer in First Drafts just being about getting the words on the screen.

no pressure tagging @flightlessangelwings @bankabb (ART WIPS IFYOU FEEL UP TO ITTTT) and @aldisobey

“Got a bit sidetracked there,” Rook said as they made their way back towards the Veil Jumper camp and the eluvian. “Sorry, Bel.”

“No,” the elf said quickly. “No, that was good! I think I get it now, the Mourn Watch stuff.” She smiled genuinely but sadly, “thanks for doing all of that, I’ll let Irelin know where to find the bodies.” Then she jumped as if she had been shocked by her own electrical magic, “oh! I did want to grab something from the artifact vault, I completely forgot! Damn, and we were just there!” She groaned, “I’m sorry. Can we go back? It’ll be quick!”

“Of course we can,” Rook said easily.

Bellara hurried forward, leading the way back towards the vault. Emmrich stayed a few steps behind with Rook, hands behind his back.

“You did wonderfully with that spirit, Rook,” he complimented. “It pleases me that we can enlighten others on how to prevent Spirits from getting into those knots that make them lash out.”

Rook smiled, genuinely this time. “Me too. There are a lot of spirits here in Arlathan that I think could be set back on their course. The business with the Gods and the Veil, it doesn’t just affect us.”

“Very true.” He agreed. “You know, you would have done well in my Spirit Calling course.”

“I thought about taking Spirit Calling,” she said, “but I didn’t really think I needed to be taught how to do it. And it interfered with a course on Bone-Throwing.”

“I had no idea you dabbled in the divinatory!”

“I haven’t done a good divination ritual in a while. There’s a lot I’ve had to put on the back burner, recently,” she sighed. “Y’know Varric and Harding still think I majored in fortune telling.”

He paused, not wanting to put too much emphasis on her slip up with Master Tethras. The grieving mind sometimes did mix up the semantics, not used to adjusting to the absence.

“Divining is as widely a misunderstood subject as Necromancy,” he said with a sigh. “Yet it is so easily explained, it’s not the future we seek, but traces of messages in the unknown of the Fade. What is your preferred method of throwing?”

“I use my own baby teeth.” Rook grinned. “And any little bits and pieces I find. Arlathan has so many animal bones, I’ve had to restrict myself to one keepsake a trip.” Digging into the bag at her hip, she procured a mesh bag, dozens of little teeth and small bones inside as she shook them.

“Delightful!” Emmrich grinned. “You must show me some time, I admit, I was only ever very talented in scrying.”

“I could never sit still long enough for scrying,” she said, tucking her collection back in her bag.

“You do have a natural way with the Spirits, though, Rook. You ought to hone it. Spirit Calling does not always need to be taught to a mage, but there is something to be said about nurturing natural talent.” He said.

“Right.” She smiled, another tight lipped one that was more out of politeness than anything else. “But… they’re your specialty. That’s what we have you here for, isn’t it?”

He had done something wrong. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what. But he felt it as she pushed ahead, the ease of conversation abruptly ruined as she avoided looking back at him or engaging in any further discussion.

It was no wonder the others found his presence unsettling, when Rook herself seemed to be unable to decide whether she was comfortable with him being there or not. She flipped wildly from eagerly discussing home with him to seeming as if she couldn’t be as far away as possible. A brick in the wall would wiggle, slip out of place so he could peer through and then she would swiftly turn tail and run.

He had hoped her presence and influence would be a comfort to him, another Watcher so far from home when most never wandered too far. That had not been the case, thus far.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Ryoko and the Old Gods.

Blasted by Sarah Kane / Intimacy and Midnight All Day: A Novel and Stories by Hanif Kureishi / @/seravph / Elektra by Sophocles, trans. Anne Carson / Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan by Ilya Repin / The Elektra Complex by Joan Tierney / The Great 1x10, ‘The Beaver’s Nose’ / The Last Days of Judas Iscariot by Stephen Adly Guirgis