#if they have any humanity left at this point

[crocodiletransformer]

just like how we've already passed the point of no return for saying the human race and we're slowly headed towards the species' inevitable death with no longer any way to stop it due to the terrible decisions of the entire human race over the last 3 years and now they just gotta enjoy what little time they have left before they all go extinct.

that line from the sonic 3 movie …… u know the one.

“ some of those stars have died but their light still shines ”

[lilybug-02]

I'm gonna THEORY CRAFT for a second about Animator vs Animation 11. Because there's something SUPER WEIRD I've noticed about the way camera shots are orchestrated in recent animations. Specifically about -

THE LAPTOP SCREEN.

And even more specifically what Alan (and the real world) may look like to the stickmen.

We've known for a while now that 3D space was possible outside of the Laptop since AvA 7 (March 11, 2019).

But the camera angle on the Laptop has always been in 2D space until very recently!

Our first introduction to a 3D environment in Alan's Desktop was Green's Influencer Arc (Uploaded Sept 7, 2024).**

(Look how insanely massive the inside of the laptop looks now.)

But throughout the entire Influencer Arc the camera was NEVER pointed towards the outside of the laptop, to the real world. It is always tilted so that we can't see it.

((And even more weird in this Green's video, is which the left most wall is covered a solid white, whereas, us - the audience - can see through this wall when looking through the screen. wth is happening))

--------------

Our most recent scene of a 3D Laptop space (as of writing this) is in AvA 11, where Victim is drawn and killed.

Again, the outside world, through the screen, is never shown. Although we do get extremely close with Mitsi's Creator. But it's coincidentally obscured by the internet explorer window.

--------------

And last of all- the thing that got me really questioning this camera choice - is something I noticed back in AvA 10 (Nov 4, 2023). When The Chosen One is having his memory scanned, he purposefully causes the screen to blur as he enters Alan's Laptop. (You have to put it in .5 speed to really notice.)

And guess what The Chose One does the second he gets to Alan's laptop. He stares daggers at Alan.

--------------

So what does this mean?

It means the camera is being specifically shot at angles to never address how the Stickfigures see Alan and the rest of the world.

And what does that mean???

I HAVE NO IDEA. But I kinda hope it's leading up to a scene where we DO see the stickfigures addressing it. BECAUSE HOLY HELL THAT WOULD BE SO SICK.

..........

Wait-**

Wait wait wait wait wait-

This ACTUAL SHORT from August 2023 shows the screen??? Are you fricking serious.

I am going to explode now <3. --------

Nah, in all seriousness, I would still LOVE to see the camera angle change for dramatic effect in the "main series". Because it just feels like the hints are leading up to it. ❤️❤️❤️ I'm really enjoying the series either way and was having fun theorizing here :)

_______________________________________________

And don't even get me started on why almost all animations/stickfigures are oblivious to Humans or strait up don't know about them. LIKE- wtf are all these posters

"Are We Being Watched?", "Tiles in the Sky", "What's Beyond Our World?", "Origins of the Stick Figure"

DUDE WHAT THE HELL. Are Alan's stick figures the only ones who've seen humans??? Do any other stickmen know humans created them? Ahhhhhhh

[yoonjae20]

Danny deeply distrusts the Justice League

Based on the wonderful @saltymarshmall0w 's prompt.

I really feel like they aren't enough fanfics or prompts where Danny dislikes the Justice League — and continues to dislike them even after everything (Anti-Ecto Acts) is revealed and taken care of. (Or maybe I'm not looking in the right places — if you guys have any recommendations put them in the Tags or Comments!)

Read on ao3. Masterpost

After many years Danny has finally retired — sure he had to leave everything he loved and that was familiar to him behind for it, but it was worth it. He had a small little house that was his own, he would water his plants every morning and make small talk with his neighbors. Everything was fine. 

Everything turns not so fine, when there’s a sudden knock on his door. Expecting it to be one of his neighbors — for example needing eggs or flour (a neighbor’s kid had needed eggs to bake one of her parents a cake and Danny had been more than willing to spare the few she needed) — he opens the door without a second thought.

Only to almost immediately want to close it again. 

Because that’s the Justice League standing in front of his door. And that can mean nothing good.

Before Danny can slam the door closed, Superman‘s shoe slides in between the door frame, blocking his escape. The smile the man shoots him is probably meant to be reassuring, but the only thing Danny feels is dread. 

To most civilians the Justice League is seen as a beacon of hope — but to Danny? He knows the bitter truth. When he needed them the most they turned his back on him before chasing him across half the globe calling him a villain without even hearing his side of the story. They handed him over the GIW for Ancient’s Sake. He would have died if it weren’t for Tucker and Sam. (He may not have scars to show for it but he can still feel his chest burn when he thinks back to it.) Not that they can remember that though. He still doesn’t trust them. 

“You are Danny Fenton, correct?” Superman asks and Danny stiffens. 

Fenton — not Nightingale like he has changed his surname into to escape his parents influence and leave everything behind. 

“Yes,” he says warily — seeing no point in lying. Considering Batman is lingering behind Superman the Detective would figure it out instantly. 

“And you used to be Amity’s Park’s vigilante Phantom?”

Danny grips the door frame, knuckles white. What’s their point? Are they trying to intimidate him?

“Yes,” he grits out. 

“We were told that you are the one we should seek out in matters involving Ghosts and the Infinite Realms,” Superman continues, but Danny doesn’t let him finish.

“I’m retired,” he interrupts. “Find someone else.”  

“There’s a world-ending event,” Superman says like that would convince Danny. Like Danny hadn’t lived though so many of them — had to prevent them from happening without anyone’s help every single time. Guilt-tripping much? “Even if you don’t want to fight — we need you as an advisor.”

Danny snorts, shaking his head. 

“Go take up the matter with the Justice League Dark then.” 

Danny moves to close the door, but still Superman’s foot doesn’t budge. He could probably brute-force his way through this — but Danny’s tired and he’s not in the mood to explain to his neighbors why his door is broken and he needs to do repairs.

He glares at them and to his surprise Superman actually takes a step back — but still not enough to be able to close the door. 

Danny hasn’t transformed into Phantom since he left Amity Park. Had kept that part of himself locked away — would have separated his Ghost Self from himself if he didn’t know he would be selfish for that. Had ignored his Obsession even if it screamed at him — had pushed it away in his Human Form even if it muted all the colors around him and it meant that every breath was a painful wheeze.

Faced with this situation he almost wants to break the promise he made to himself — but he can’t.

There is no GIW anymore —  Danny had made sure of that. He had wiped all of their files and his parents published research with the help of Technus. He had dismantled both portals to the Ghost Zone and made sure no one would be able to replicate it. But Danny also knows the Justice League — knows how much Superman’s punches hurt, how it feels to get mind controlled — they could overpower him in an instant if he twitched as much as into the wrong direction.  

He really doesn’t have a choice here, doesn’t he? If he doesn’t go out of his free will — they will force him with any means necessary, of that much he is sure. 

His gaze trails to his neighbor’s house and the swing in their backyard. And if they are right and he turns them away — is he sure he won’t feel any guilt if something happens that he could have prevented? Sometimes Danny really hates his Martyr Complex. 

Danny sighs, defeated.

“What do you need my help for?”

They had liked their new neighbor despite the fact that he barely left his house other than to water his plants. They had known that the young man was sickly. He looked like death wormed him over and was weak on his feet— his ice-blue eyes dull. His smile barely held any warmth in it.

Still they invited them over after he had given their daughter eggs to bake the cake for their birthday. They learned that he was kind and had escaped to their small village to live a quiet life. 

When the young man came to tell them that he would be out of town for a few days and to please water his plants if they could, they were worried.

“Are you sure that you are fine, son?” they asked and touched the man’s forehead — but it was icily cold like the rest of their skin had always been. “You look even paler than usual.”

The young man had only given them a half-hearted smile and affirmed them that he was fine

Their daughter's excited steps had hurried behind them and she tugged on their pants after the man had left. 

“Was that Uncle Danny?” the girl asked. “Can I play with him?”

They gave their daughter a weak smile. 

“Uncle Danny is busy for a few days,” they explained. “Later, okay? How about you draw him a picture while we wait for him to come back? So he has something to look forward to?” 

Their daughter nodded and raced back to the living room, searching for supplies, while they continued looking out of the window. They can’t help but have a bad feeling about this.  

It’s unnerving how quiet the young man is. 

There are no easy smiles, sassy quips and puns like from the few shaky phone videos they had pulled from the internet about Phantom. 

He’s meticulous. Probably even more than Batman — and that is a statement. There had been a deep mistrust in the eyes when they had located him and asked him to help them. It’s evident in every step he makes. He double-, even triple-checks every single evidence, every single sentence, every single word they say. 

Nothing is left unturned as he works the way though the situation like if he is dealing with a case. He never stops moving, always doing something — reading through heavy leather-bound books or through their reports. His heart rate is so slow that Clark sometimes wonders if the boy is still breathing at all. 

When the young man had asked them if they spoke to the leader regarding the war declaration and the reasons behind them, he had clicked his tongue when they told him no.

He hadn’t let anyone help him when he drew out the summoning cycle — it looked even more intricate and complicated than they had seen from Zatanna or Constantine. When he had spoken the words for the spell,  his words had sounded ancient and undescribable — hushed whispers following every single word. He clasped his hands and only opened his eyes when he spoke the last word, his eyes burning a deep green. 

The cycle goes up in green fire before a form appears — Clark recognizes the Ghost from the declaration. 

The man’s cold gaze sweeps over the Justice League before it stops on Phantom. He smirks, bowing his head slightly.

“I greet the Prince of the Infinite Realms.”

“Cut the crap Fright Knight,” Phantom's voice is steel-hard. “We both know I refused that position.”

The man tilts his head but nods.

“Very well,” he says. “I greet Phantom, savior of the Infinite Realms.”

Phantom grits his teeth like he wants to refuse that title too before he shakes his head. He gestures to the Justice League.

“Explain.”

“We are just paying back what has been done to us,” Fright Knight claims. “Vita brevis, ars longa, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, iudicium difficile.”

“Life is short, art is long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult,” Diana translates for them. 

“I see the Daughter of the Queen of the Amazons knows her arts,” the man’s voice has a hint of mockery. “Humanum genus est avidum nimis auricularum. Ignorantia legis non excusat:”

Diana’s eyebrows knit together as she listens. 

“Mankind is too greedy for lies. Ignorance of the law does not excuse,” her voice is almost a whisper. 

“I would have thought you would know of this Phantom,” Fright Knight addresses the young man again. “But now seeing your state, you probably didn’t feel the call for the announcement either. Is there a reason why you are starving yourself?”

Phantom doesn’t meet any of their eyes as he answers.

“That is unimportant to this situation.”

Fright Knight’s lips twitch back into a grin. 

“If the savior of the Infinite Dreams claims so, then I have no choice but to accept it.” He turns back to the Justice League. “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”

“If you want peace, prepare for war.”

“When have we been ignorant?” Batman finally steps in. 

Fright Knight huffs out a dark laugh.

“When has mankind not been ignorant?” Fright Knight questions. “When your government captured my brethren and tortured them, where were you? When they declared us as non-sentient and staged war against us, where were you? When they threatened to destroy our home, where were you?”

The man’s eyes seem to burn as he repeats himself.

“Where were you?”

Clark and the rest of the League are shocked to silence. 

“Now that the danger has passed, why should we just forgive you? Why should we forget?” Fright Knight continues. “If we are not worthy enough to be counted towards mankind that means we just have to rewrite the rules. And since we were never given the chance to negotiate, that means by force.”

“The Meta-Protection Acts-” 

“Only count towards those that are alive.” Fright Knight interrupts Batman. “After all, how can the dead feel any emotions such as pain? I’m sure if you ask your government they will hand you a lot of pretty reports on the biased experiments that prove so.” 

“But that’s-” Clark starts but Fright Knight doesn’t let him finish.

“Despicable? When has that ever stopped mankind?” Fright Knight asks. “We can talk if there isn't a law that states that we can be eradicated without any consequences.”

Before either of them can stop him, Fright Knight swishes his cape made out of purple fire and disappears. Clark faintly asks himself if that is how other people feel when Batman does that in front of their noses. 

Seeing no other option the entire League turns back to Phantom who hasn’t said a single word since the Ghost went on his tirade.

“Phantom-” Batman tries, but the young man’s eyes burn with so much hate that the normally stoic man stocks in his words. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Phantom seethes. “You heard him. Now finally do your jobs right for once.”

Then he leaves the room without a single glance back.

Clark gulps as they look at each other.

“I feel like we made a mistake.”

When the news declares the Anti-Ecto Acts as abolished, Danny feels nothing but exhaustion. The Justice League barely managed to avoid a large-scale — and very justified war. 

Danny leans back tiredly on his sofa. His eyes trail to the drawing his neighbor’s daughter had given him and the first genuine smile in months graces his lips.

“What I don’t do for mankind,” he sighs before he closes his eyes. 

[alchemistc]

Listen I know @cecilyv and @liminalmemories21 are slow cooking an absolute masterpiece of a Mummy AU that I am going to eat like a gourmet meal, but I just watched The Mummy again and spent the whole time thinking about this, so here have a completely different take:

"No, Maddie, absolutely not. Do you remember what happened last time? There were boils, Maddie. Boils. On this face? Never again."

Maddie mumbles something that Buck can't quite parse but one word sounds vaguely like a name he's spent seven years trying to forget, and it's only when Chim pops up behind her like the freakiest Jack-in-the-box he's ever seen that things kind of become inevitable. "They took Jee, Buck."

---

It's not that he doesn't love this shit. He does. He loves it despite the fact that it's a hand me down interest from parents he's still struggling to have any sort of relationship with. He loves it despite the literal boils this particular special interest have caused him. He loves it despite the fact that he's pretty sure he met the love of his life on one of Maddie's little expeditions, and then the guy had disappeared into the wind. Not before a mind-blowing celebratory night and the most tender forehead kiss he's ever experienced (and he's including Maddie, here, so that really should say something) with the hazy dawn light filtering into Buck's hotel room.

He'd thought he was getting breakfast in bed. A coffee, at least.

Instead he'd been ghosted.

Which is incredibly ironic, considering.

The point is. The point is coming back home with a bunch of gold and maybe a broken heart hadn't killed his enthusiasm for digging into this stuff, following the research trails until every literal and metaphorical stone was turned. He loves it.

He would absolutely not be here if this were anything but family.

"Oh good, you made it," says a familiar voice from somewhere to his left, and Buck tries to give Maddie the evil eye, but she's too busy grinning at her husband.

Buck twists just enough to get a good look at the cleft before he's stomping his way back towards his suite.

---

Tommy is, of course, flying the fucking plane that's going to get them where they need to go.

Buck will admit he'd done a deep dive into piloting during one of his lamer spirals. He knows all sorts of facts about every helicopter known to man and quite a few of the planes.

"We're going to crash," Buck says, when the engine to his left makes another sputtering noise and then starts blowing smoke behind them.

Tommy frowns. "We're not going to crash," he mutters back, and then tips his chin, calls out loudly over his shoulder. "Maddie, Howie, you two strapped in?"

Buck isn't a fan of the tenor of his voice.

Who is he fucking kidding? He's a huge fan of that voice. He's been hearing it moan his name in his dreams for more than half a decade. Any version of that voice is something Buck wants to latch onto and never let go.

"We're not going to crash," Tommy repeats, and glances over at Buck like he's trying to drink in the sight of him.

---

They manage to salvage a good two-thirds of the water, two of Bucks suitcases ("You don't pack light, do you?" Tommy had asked, getting the bag that was almost entirely books over his shoulder like it weighed next to nothing. "Sorry my baggage is such an inconvenience." hadn't been his wittiest rejoinder of all time but it had made Tommy flush an interesting shade of purple.) and about twelve guns from the wreckage.

"Guns are notoriously not great at stopping ghosts."

Tommy glowers and continues cleaning his gun. In the firelight, his eyes have taken on a shade of blue that Buck absolutely isn't trying to memorize.

"Good thing human men took your niece, then, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that was great, no."

Chim whispers something to Maddie that makes her grin, and Buck scowls at them both.

---

"I'm so goddamn tired of boils, Maddie!"

"It's - you look fine. We just have to send Billy back where he came from and they'll clear right up. Just like last time."

"And if they don't? Your brother's going to die loveless and alone because no one's gonna want to kiss a face full of boils!"

Tommy hums to his left, shuffles, checks his watch, which definitely got broken in the crash. Buck is absolutely not thinking about the full-on make out they'd had in the middle of a graveyard full of fucking murderous ghosts while the boils were still definitely there on his face.

---

Apparently he should have brought a gun to a ghost fight, he thinks, when he glances down and catches sight of the red stain steadily growing on his shirt.

"Evan!"

Maddie's doing her chant thing over by the dias, and Jee's safely tucked in Chim's arms, and -

"Tommy," Buck manages, when Tommy catches him mid-fall and leans him back against the side of a truly hideous mausoleum.

"Hey. Evan, hey. You're - Maddie's just gotta finish up a few more lines and then you'll be good, okay? No more boils. You'll get thousands more kisses from however many people you like, alright?" He sounds a little panicked. Which is fair, considering. Ghost bullets fucking hurt.

"God, you're an idiot," Buck manages between wheezes. Things are - things are looking a little blurry around the edges. Buck lowers himself to a sit and sinks hands into the earth beneath him. "I'm gonna die still in love with the stupidest man who ever lived."

"You're not going to die," Tommy says, and he's eye level now, pressing at the spot where Buck's life is leaking out of him. Blue eyes, cleft chin, that stupid curl that never failed to release itself to settle over his forehead.

"Perfect time to completely miss the point," Buck manages through clenched teeth, and when Tommy's eyes catch his they look - terrified.

He's expecting it, maybe, a little, because he's being a little shit and that had always driven Tommy a little wild. Still. The press of lips against his is nice, and the tongue and teeth are even better, right up until he can't hold in the cough any longer and spits up blood right into Tommy's mouth.

"You're not gonna die," Tommy says, desperate now, as the world starts to tilt on its axis, and Buck curls a hand over Tommy's forearm and smiles.

---

Death isn't great. Kinda boring, actually. He's been here for five minutes or maybe an eternity when things start to go a little wonky. The endless nothing is either shrinking or expanding and Buck can't quite figure out if it's black or white or maybe just nothing and then it's shattering and shaking and gone.

---

"Ow," Buck says, and blinks open his eyes to find blue ones staring back.

They stay like that for a moment.

"So, you're O for two," Buck says, and Tommy immediately starts crying.

---

Tommy shifts a hand over Buck's jawline, calluses catching on a bit of scar tissue the boils left behind this time. Apparently they only clear up completely if you're still alive when the curse is broken.

"So there's a job," Tommy says, grooves on his face deepening, leg shifting restlessly over top of Buck's thigh. It's a trick - he knows it is, but he's still coming down off the high and Tommy's smile could probably make him do anything even if he hadn't just given Buck a Top Ten orgasm.

"No mummies. No ghosts. I swear to god Tommy if it's anything haunted I'm going to get those thousands of kisses somewhere else."

Tommy's grin is a little smug for his liking. "Have you ever heard of a Dybbuk box?"

Against his better judgement, Buck immediately begins spewing every bit of knowledge he's ever retained about them.

[gossipgurlingursht]

@nagillim79

In the UK we used to call this theoretical leftist activism "sixth form politics", ie politics as conceived of by 16-18 year olds who have never had to be self-supporting and have an overly rose-tinted view of human nature because they've been protected from reality by parents and teachers all their lives. Generally it tends to shatter when it bashes up against reality and the fact that most humans don't give a damn about each other and can't be forced to care. Not even by socialist governments. What you're asking about is praxis but the left in the west avoids praxis. They prefer utopian delusions and theories to actually having to sacrifice their personal comfort on the altar of getting things done.

Ignoring what any movements are currently doing, I think these unrealistic expectations can be held by any age group or ideology. I think on average, people just don't understand how democratic politics works, at least in the US. People get mad that Democrats don't fix everything immediately after winning a razor-thin majority, but

They've never gone to a meeting of their local party. They don't understand how freaking hard it is just to get a room full of people WHO SUPPOSEDLY ARE ON THE SAME SIDE to agree about literally anything.

They don't like when politicians take speaking fees or donations from companies. But they've never donated themselves, and don't have any idea how much it costs to run a campaign.

They don't canvass. They don't understand that the average American A. doesn't want to talk to ANYONE B. doesn't want to talk to anyone who calls themself a Democrat C. just wants to know how jesus fits into all of this.

They don't like when politicians "lie" to them (and some straight-up do). But they don't want to vote for someone who tells them a realistic goal of making incremental to moderate change within the limits of the current political climate & with (or against) the other democratically elected reps.

They've never READ and advocated for a bill or policy proposal before. They think medicare for all (which I support!) is as simple as "$2000 < $8000". They don't think about what to do with all the people currently working in the health insurance industry, how employers will act when their contribution is removed, how this affects the tax system, and how to build an entire freaking government agency. "It doesn't matter, M4A is about saving peoples lives!" Yeah, so we need to make sure we're smart about it & do a good job.

To be very very clear, I don't hate leftists, we agree on a lot of points, and I don't think they were responsible for 2024. I am just begging, BEGGING, Americans to do something, ANYTHING, to get involved. Never tell me you're bored if you've never volunteered in politics!

The left SUCKS at recruiting people. And so many of you are part of the problem.

The talk about centrists and moderates being the literal devil I see constantly in online leftist spaces is one great example of the left's failure. Yes, it sucks when the people don't see how horrible the right is. But centrists are some of the most open people to discussion- and some already lean left!!

You can't demonize moderates to such an extent that you close yourself off to them and then wonder why you're losing swing states.

Centrists aren't even always people with all the privileges- you will find plenty of people who are part of marginalized groups who are concerned about politicians on all sides.

You can be a smol radical leftist bean all you want who only talks to other smol socialist and communist beans, but you're never going to make the difference you want to in the world that way. It's the cold, hard truth. It doesn't mean you have to engage in discourse with everyone- some people have no real hope of changing and are emotionally draining- just more than your bubble.

I am tired of the left eating itself alive and deranged people like Trump winning.

[lilmisssona]

*ੈ✩Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung × Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you've had enough of serial date ghosting. Just when you were about to leave, your best friend Han, whom you vented to , texts back saying to wait because he's coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago and when he shows up, you're shocked to see your quirky best has turned into someone undeniably hot!

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, comedy, fluff

*ੈ✩Warnings - Dramatic comedic duo, non idol au, best friends to lovers au, angst, hurt to comfort

*ੈ✩Word Count - 10.7 K *ੈ✩Screenshot Count - 4

*ੈ✩A/N - Episode 5 of Staymas is here! This best friends-to-lovers tale will have you laughing, crying, and dreaming. Dive into this heartwarming and classic tale, albeit a little cliché! you won’t want to miss it! ( This is just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️ )

*ੈ✩ SKZ Masterlist *ੈ✩ STAYMAS Masterlist

The candle flickers, the breeze teasing its flame. You try not to look at the empty chair across from you, but it’s impossible to ignore. Five times this year. A record, really. Maybe it’s time to quit dating altogether.

You grab your bag to leave, but your phone buzzes on the table. Glancing at the screen, you see his name....

You frown at the screen. Typical Jisung...cryptic, over-the-top, dramatic. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to humor him. But something about his insistence makes you hesitate.

After waiting 20 minutes you were about to respond when the café door swings open. The sound barely registers...it’s a busy place, after all...but then you see him.

And for a moment, your brain stalls.

There he is: Han Jisung.

But not the Jisung you remember - the nerdy kid with mismatched socks and perpetually broken earbuds. No, this version of Jisung looks… different. Sharper. His jawline catches the soft glow of the café lights, and his tailored jacket makes him look almost regal.

When his eyes meet yours, he grins, the same mischievous spark lighting his face. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Jisung,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here? You live miles away in Busan!”

“I moved back to Seoul months ago,” he says casually, leaning back. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!”

“Oops,” he says unapologetically. “Anyway, I couldn’t let you sit here alone. You deserve better than some no-show loser.”

You stare at him, still trying to process. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“Why, Ji? You didn’t teleport just to crash my pity party.”

Jisung leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “When my best friend texts saying their night sucks, I can’t not show up. Besides,” he adds with a mock whisper, “it’s been too long since I’ve played knight in shining armor.”

You snort, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “If you’re the knight, I’m doomed. What’s your grand plan? Order dessert and roast my date?”

“First, dessert is mandatory. Second, roasting is a given. But I was thinking bigger.”

You arch a brow. “Bigger? Like what?”

He rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Storm their workplace and give them a lecture on human decency? Or better yet, I’ll write a diss track. Something like, ‘Ghosted Five Times, but I’m Still Fine.’”

You burst out laughing. “Please don’t. The world doesn’t need a breakup anthem about my tragic love life.”

“Too late,” he says, pretending to take notes. “Verse one: ‘Left her at the rooftop café, but she’s too hot for your games anyway.’ Instant hit.”

“Ridiculous,” you say, still laughing.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he points out, grinning wider.

You shake your head, but the heaviness you felt earlier is fading, replaced by Jisung’s familiar warmth.

“Okay, fine,” you say, gesturing to the menu. “If you’re the hero, you’re buying dessert.”

“Done,” he says, scanning the menu. “But we’re sharing.”

“Deal. But I’m ordering the biggest slice.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d expect less.”

As the waiter approaches, you realize something...this moment, sitting here with Jisung, feels better than any date you’ve had in years.

And that thought terrifies you.

----------------------------------------------------------

The waiter sets down the slice of tiramisu, its rich layers of cream and coffee-soaked cake practically glowing under the café lights. Jisung doesn’t even wait for the plate to settle before scooping up a massive bite.

“Hey!” you protest, swatting at his hand with your fork. “We agreed to share, not for you to inhale the whole thing!”

“Sharing is caring,” he says through a mouthful, utterly unrepentant. “Besides, you said you wanted the biggest slice, not the biggest bite. Details matter.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the laugh that escapes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’ve kept me around all these years.” He winks, his cheek now smudged with a bit of whipped cream.

“You’ve got something on your face, genius,” you say, pointing vaguely at his cheek.

“Here?” He swipes at the wrong side.

“No, the other side.”

“Here?” He misses again, managing to smear the whipped cream further.

“Give me that.” You grab a napkin and lean across the table to clean his cheek.

Jisung freezes, his playful grin fading as you get closer. Your hand pauses, and for a brief moment, you’re hyper-aware of how near you are. His gaze locks with yours, the teasing light in his eyes softening. The sounds of the café blur into a quiet hum, leaving only the weight of the moment.

Then, just as suddenly, it’s gone.

“There,” you say, sitting back and tossing the napkin onto the table. “Crisis averted.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he teases, but his voice is gentler now, his smile smaller yet no less warm.

You look away, focusing on your fork as you take a bite of the tiramisu. The sweetness melts on your tongue, but the lingering heat of his gaze lingers heavier than the dessert.

“So,” you say, eager to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “are you going to tell me why you didn’t mention moving back to Seoul? Or were you planning to keep it a secret forever?”

He shrugs, casually taking another bite. “I wanted it to be a surprise. You know me...I live for dramatic entrances.”

“Mission accomplished,” you mutter. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

His words hang in the air, heavier than you expect. You glance at him, and for a moment, you see the boy he used to be...the one who chased you through the hallways, who promised nothing would ever come between you....

----------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy Monday morning. The kind that begged you to stay under the covers and forget the world existed. But skipping class wasn’t an option when you were already on the brink of being dropped for "excessive tardiness." So, there you were, sprinting through the maze of your university’s sprawling campus, clutching your bag to your chest and praying you’d slip into the lecture hall unnoticed.

As you rounded a corner, moving far too quickly for the slippery tile floor, disaster struck. You slammed straight into something— or someone. The impact sent you staggering, and before you could process what had happened, books, papers, and color-coded notes exploded into the air, raining down like confetti in a very unfortunate parade.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” you blurted, dropping to your knees to gather the mess. Your heart was pounding from the sprint...and now from the mortification. So much for keeping a low profile.

“It’s fine,” came a calm, slightly irritated voice.

Looking up, you froze. Of all people, it had to be Han Jisung, the department’s golden boy. His reputation as a straight-A student was almost mythical, the kind of person who turned in assignments early and still managed to ace everything. Even now, in the chaos, he looked annoyingly put together. His navy sweater was pristine, his hair somehow immune to the rain outside, and his expression was a mix of disbelief and mild exasperation.

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down to gather his notes, “you should slow down next time.”

“Right. Slow down. Got it,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you handed him a stack of papers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry again.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze flicking to yours. “Thanks. Wait… do I know you?”

“You should,” you said before you could stop yourself. “I’m the one who almost blew up the chemistry lab during first-year practicals.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by amusement. “Oh. You’re that person.”

You grinned sheepishly. “The one and only. In my defense, the safety instructions were... vague.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he resumed organizing his notes with practiced precision.

“And you’re Han Jisung,” you added, as though it wasn’t obvious. “Everyone knows you. You’re basically the poster child for academic perfection.”

“And you’re the one who thought shaking the vending machine would make it dispense two drinks at once,” he countered, his tone dry but laced with humor.

“That worked,” you retorted, smiling. “It just wasn’t worth the bruises.”

To your surprise, he laughed, an unguarded, genuine laugh that softened his polished exterior. For a moment, the intimidating image of Han Jisung melted away, replaced by someone far more approachable.

“Here,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. His grip was steady as he pulled you to your feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my pride’s a little bruised,” you admitted, brushing off your jeans.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “maybe next time, your pride should walk a little slower.”

You laughed, the last of your embarrassment fading. “Duly noted, Han Jisung.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand, which he shook with a small, genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped, grinning as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

He shook his head, an amused glint in his eye as he collected his books and turned to leave. “See you around,” he said over his shoulder.

And as you watched him walk away - posture perfect, demeanor unshaken despite the chaos...you couldn’t help but smile. Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You had no idea then just how much he’d come to mean to you...or how much trouble the two of you would get into together.

----------------------------------------------------------

The first time Han Jisung saved you, you were knee-deep in a mess entirely of your own making. It had started innocently enough - just another one of your “brilliant” ideas. You’d overheard someone mention that the campus auditorium boasted the best sound system in the city, and naturally, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The only hitch? You decided to “borrow” a key from the janitor’s office to test the claim.

Your plan seemed foolproof: sneak in, connect your playlist, and revel in the sheer glory of bass that could rattle the walls. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turned out, everything.

Barely ten minutes into your impromptu concert, the auditorium doors swung open, revealing a very unimpressed campus security officer.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” the officer demanded, his glare sharp enough to slice through steel.

Panic flooded your chest as you fumbled for an explanation. “I, uh… I was just...”

“Just what? Trespassing and breaking into campus property?”

The scolding was bad enough, but the real horror was the thought of being reported. With your already shaky academic record, one more misstep could mean suspension, or worse. As your mind raced for an excuse, a calm, steady voice cut through the tension.

“Actually, it was my fault,” said Han Jisung, striding into the room with a confidence you didn’t know he possessed.

You blinked at him in shock. Jisung, of all people? What was he doing here?

“And who are you?” the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Han Jisung,” he said smoothly, as if his name alone carried authority. “I’m a student council representative. I was supposed to meet Y/N here to help set up the sound system for a presentation.”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. Presentation? Meeting? What on earth was Jisung talking about?

The officer frowned, unconvinced. “This doesn’t look like a presentation.”

“We were testing the system before the meeting,” Jisung explained with unnerving ease. His tone was so measured, so convincing, that even you almost believed him. “I take full responsibility for not getting prior approval from the administration. It won’t happen again.”

The officer eyed him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. But if I catch either of you here without permission again, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Jisung said, bowing slightly as the officer turned and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you turned to him, still reeling. “What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jisung retorted, arms crossed. “Breaking into the auditorium? Really?”

“I wasn’t breaking in! I just… borrowed the key,” you mumbled defensively.

“And you thought no one would notice?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. It was stupid. But why’d you cover for me?”

Jisung let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Again. Do you have any idea how close you are to being put on academic probation?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait! you keep track of my academic record?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re constantly finding new ways to get into trouble,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. “Seriously, Y/N, you need to be more careful.”

A strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment settled in your chest. “Thanks,” you said softly, looking at him with newfound appreciation.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his expression softening. “Just… maybe think things through next time?”

You grinned despite yourself. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

Jisung groaned, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “But admit it...you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He didn’t answer right away, but the faint smile tugging at his lips said more than words ever could.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was like an unpredictable storm meeting a steady anchor. Where you brought chaos, wild and unapologetic, he brought calm and quiet resilience. Yet somehow, the two of you balanced each other, your mismatched escapades weaving an unlikely but unshakable bond.

----------------------------------------------------------

Take the time you convinced Han Jisung to sneak into the art department’s studio with you. Rumor had it that the seniors had painted a massive mural on the back wall, and you just had to see it before the official unveiling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Jisung muttered, trailing behind you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You say that every time,” you whispered back, stifling a grin as you jiggled the door handle. “And yet, here you are.”

“Only because someone has to make sure you don’t get caught,” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“Relax, it’s just a mural. No one’s going to....”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, cutting off your reassurance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you instinctively grabbed Jisung’s arm and dragged him behind a stack of easels. The two of you crouched low, pressed shoulder to shoulder, holding your breath.

“I hate this,” he hissed, his voice barely audible.

“You love this,” you whispered, unable to suppress the mischievous smile spreading across your face.

When the footsteps finally receded, leaving the hallway silent once more, you turned toward Jisung, your faces just inches apart. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his eyes searched yours, as if questioning what on earth he was doing here with you.

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, breaking the spell as he stood up and dusted himself off.

The mural, when you finally laid eyes on it, was breathtaking: a kaleidoscope of colors and intricate details that left you momentarily speechless. But the real highlight of the night wasn’t the art. It was Jisung’s deadpan commentary as he gestured toward the wall with exaggerated disbelief.

“You risked getting us expelled for this?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock indignation.

“It’s called appreciating art,” you replied, snapping a photo with your phone. “You should try it sometime.”

“Next time, let’s just visit a museum like normal people,” he said, shaking his head. But the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was a rollercoaster of shenanigans and shared moments that made life vibrant and unpredictable. The two of you were a duo nobody quite understood — him, the straight-laced, diligent student with his color-coded notes and perfectly maintained schedule, and you, the chaotic whirlwind who somehow managed to stumble your way through life with charm and luck.

Whether it was sneaking into the art department to see hidden murals or convincing him to ditch a study session for a midnight run to the nearest convenience store, you were always dragging Jisung into your world of playful mayhem.

And the most surprising part? He let you. He’d complain endlessly...“Y/N, this is the last time I’m letting you drag me into one of your dumb plans...,” But he’d always follow.

But your fun and games came to a crashing halt one fateful afternoon when reality smacked you in the face.

It started innocently enough. You and Jisung were sitting on the grass in the quad, eating snacks after one of your shared classes. He had a notebook balanced on his knee, going over notes while you dramatically recounted your latest “battle” with your statistics professor.

“Y/N, you can’t keep ignoring deadlines,” Jisung said, laughing as he stole one of your chips. “At some point, it’s going to catch up with you.”

“It’s fine,” you said breezily, leaning back and looking at the sky. “I always figure it out in the end.”

But you didn’t.

The next week, the results of your midterm exams came out, and the sinking feeling in your stomach as you saw your grades was undeniable. You were failing. And not just in one class;several.

You didn’t want to tell Jisung. Admitting it felt like admitting defeat, like proving to him that you were the chaotic mess everyone thought you were. But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things slide.

When he saw you sitting alone in the library, looking dejected, he plopped down across from you with his usual confident grin. “Alright, what’s up? And don’t even think about saying ‘nothing.’”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “I’m failing, Jisung.”

He blinked, momentarily surprised. “Failing what?”

“Exams,” you mumbled.

“Right, you're failing. I know."

"You know?" you asked, shocked.

"You bombed the last three quizzes, skipped half the study sessions, and I saw you playing games on your laptop during class last week,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you keep this up, you’re not going to pass the finals.”

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. “Rubbing salt in the wound, much? Okay, I get it. I'm a horrible person… I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, his expression softening. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

And just like that, he took charge. Over the next few months, Jisung practically became your shadow. He made you a study schedule, sat with you during every session, and patiently explained concepts you didn’t understand.

“Focus, Y/N,” he’d say when he caught you doodling in the margins of your notes.

“You’re like an annoying older brother,” you grumbled one evening as he forced you to redo a particularly difficult essay for the fifth time.

“Older?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally younger than you.”

“Then stop acting like my dad,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t charge for all this,” he’d mutter, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Despite the grueling sessions, you couldn’t deny that it was working. And as the exams approached, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

The day the results were posted, you practically sprinted to the bulletin board, your heart pounding in your chest. Jisung followed behind, a calm presence as always.

When you saw your grades, you let out a gasp. “I passed!”

Jisung grinned, clapping you on the back. “See? I told you you could do it.”

You turned to him, your eyes shining. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Jisung. Seriously, thank you.”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face was genuine. “What are best friends for?”

And that was the moment you realized, once again, just how much he meant to you. He wasn’t just your partner in crime or your study buddy. He was your anchor, your constant, your safe place in the chaos of life.

----------------------------------------------------------

Next semester arrived before you knew it, sweeping you into a whirlwind of assignments, deadlines, and late-night cramming sessions. Somewhere amid the chaos of library study marathons and the steady comfort of early-morning pep talks, it hit you...you were falling for Han Jisung. It wasn’t the kind of love that blindsided you in a single moment, the way romance novels and movies often describe. No, this was different. It was a quiet realization, like the way dawn gradually paints the sky with soft, golden hues. Subtle, unassuming, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it.

You found yourself searching for his laugh in crowded rooms, a sound so infectious it felt like sunlight breaking through the darkest clouds. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled became something you looked forward to, a little beacon of joy in your long, exhausting days. Then there was the way he pushed his hair back when he was concentrating, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. It was such a small thing, but it made your heart skip every time.

And it wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way he cared for you, in a way no one else ever had. He had this way of noticing things about you...things you didn’t even realize you were doing. Like how he’d remind you to eat when you got too caught up in your work or how he’d send you a text late at night, a simple “You’ve got this” that somehow made everything feel a little more manageable. His care wasn’t loud or overbearing; it was steady and unshakable, like a constant undercurrent that you could always count on.

You didn’t know exactly when it started...when his presence began to mean more than just friendship. Maybe it was during one of those late-night library sessions when he stayed up with you until dawn, helping you with a paper even though he didn’t have to. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name. Or maybe it was simply everything...every moment, every laugh, every small, thoughtful gesture adding up until your heart couldn’t hold it all anymore.

But falling for him was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Because as much as you wanted to believe there was something more between you, you couldn’t ignore the fear—the fear that acknowledging your feelings would change everything, that crossing that line might mean losing him entirely. So you kept it to yourself, letting your feelings grow quietly in the corners of your heart, where they were safe but painfully unspoken.

Instead of confessing, you did what you thought would save you from heartbreak: burying your feelings and making a choice that felt like the only escape at the time. You started dating someone else.

At first, it seemed like a solution, a distraction from the ache that tightened your chest every time Jisung’s warm smile was directed at you. Your new relationship kept you busy, giving you something else to focus on. But it didn’t take long for cracks to appear, tiny fractures that grew wider with every passing day. Your partner turned out to be toxic: controlling, dismissive, and quick to belittle you for things you couldn’t control. Every disagreement became a battle, every moment together felt like walking on eggshells.

And, of course, Jisung noticed. He always noticed.

“Y/N,” he said softly one evening, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence of your apartment. He was sitting beside you on the couch after you’d had yet another argument with your partner, your eyes red and tired from holding back tears. “You don’t have to put up with this.”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

His hand reached out, brushing against yours as his voice took on a firmness that was rare for him. “It is that bad. You deserve better than this. So much better.”

You looked up at him then, his expression both gentle and resolute, and something in your chest cracked open. His words felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the person you used to be....the person you wanted to be again. Still, you didn’t act immediately. Breaking up was messy, painful, and terrifying. But Jisung’s unwavering support gave you strength.

When the breakup finally happened, it unraveled everything. The aftermath was raw, leaving you emotionally drained and questioning everything. You called Jisung in the middle of the night, your voice shaking as you choked out his name. And, like always, he showed up. No questions, no hesitation. He simply came.

He didn’t try to fix you or tell you to move on. He just sat with you, his arms wrapped around you as you cried, his presence grounding you in a way no one else’s could. His quiet reassurances weren’t grand declarations, but they were exactly what you needed: I’m here. You’re not alone.

And that was when you knew. You couldn’t keep pretending anymore. You couldn’t keep denying that he wasn’t just your best friend. That every time he laughed, your heart skipped. That he wasn’t the person you wanted beside you...not just in moments of crisis, but always.

It was terrifying to think about confessing. But the thought of losing him? That was even worse. So you made up your mind. You would tell him how you felt, even if it risked everything.

But reality always has other plans....

----------------------------------------------------------

“Earth to Y/N,” Jisung’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand waved in front of your face, his tone laced with gentle teasing. “Are you okay?”

You blinked, your surroundings coming back into focus. His face was mere inches from yours, his brows furrowed with concern. He looked at you the way he always did, as though he could see every unspoken thought you were too afraid to share.

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice coming out shaky. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” His curiosity was genuine, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup, your heart hammering in your chest. What could you say? That you were thinking about how much you missed him? About how every moment with him only made it harder to keep your feelings hidden? About how terrifying it was to sit across from him, knowing your heart was an open wound he couldn’t see?

“Just... reminiscing,” you said finally, forcing a smile that you hoped hid the turmoil inside. “About how you’ve always had my back. You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that never failed to make your stomach flip. “What can I say? Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

You laughed, but it felt hollow, the weight of your unsaid confession pressing down on you. You couldn’t help but notice the way the evening light softened his features, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you really wanted to.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself stealing glances at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every inflection of his voice. The thought that you might never be brave enough to tell him how you felt was unbearable.

And when he walked you home that night, his presence warm and steady beside you, you almost stopped him. Almost turned to him and let the words tumble out. But fear held you back...the fear of ruining what you already had, the fear that he didn’t feel the same.

As you stood outside your apartment building, Jisung smiled softly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching him walk away.

You stayed there long after he was gone, the city’s lights blurring in your vision as tears pricked your eyes. Because no matter how much you told yourself it was better this way, your heart knew the truth.

You closed the door behind you, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Leaning against the door, you let out a breath, one you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Your chest still felt tight, and your heart raced uncontrollably,not from the cold night air that still clung to you, but from everything that had just transpired.

Best friends

That’s all you were to him, and that’s all you’d ever be. The bitter thought made your stomach twist as you dropped your bag carelessly onto the floor.

With each step that led you to your bedroom, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, not bothering to hang it up. The soft glow from the city lights filtered through your curtains, casting delicate, fleeting patterns on the walls. You climbed into bed, the comforter enveloping you like a fragile shield. But no amount of warmth could ease the ache that gnawed at your heart.

Your mind, however, had other plans. It dragged you back, back to that cold Valentine’s Day years ago, when you’d finally decided to take the plunge, to confess, to reveal the feelings you’d kept hidden for far too long.

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been one of those early February mornings, the kind where your breath hung in the air in little clouds of mist, and the campus pathways were slick from the melting frost. You’d spent weeks wrestling with the idea, turning it over in your mind like a stone you couldn’t get rid of. Every shared laugh, every teasing nudge from Jisung, every late-night text that made your heart flutter, each small moment had added weight to the growing realization that you couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

Today’s the day, you told yourself. The words echoed in your mind like a mantra, but they didn’t feel as comforting as they should have. You couldn’t keep pretending to be his best friend, not when your heart longed for something more.

You had prepared for this moment, rehearsing your confession in front of the mirror over and over. It wasn’t going to be grand or dramatic, just honest, just the truth of how much he meant to you. It was going to be simple: "Jisung, I need to tell you something. I think I’m in love with you."

But just as you’d gathered the courage to leave your dorm, your phone buzzed. A call from Nari, a friend of yours since freshman year.

"Hey, can we talk? Meet me at the campus café around noon. It’s important."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could Nari possibly want to talk about? You didn’t think much of it at first. Nari was the kind of person who always seemed to know when something was off, and she had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t. Maybe she’d guessed how you felt about Jisung and wanted to give you some advice—something to help ease the burden you’d carried for so long.

You agreed to meet her, nervous energy coursing through you. You picked out a small rose for Jisung, the perfect shade of red, and made your way to the café. When you arrived, Nari was already there, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea. She looked up when she saw you, offering a smile, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice light but hesitant. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "What’s up?"

Nari hesitated, her gaze flickering to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. She took a deep breath, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something... something important," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious.

Your stomach tightened with unease. "Okay?"

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, taking a moment before continuing. "I know how close you and Jisung are. And... I’ve noticed how you look at him."

Your cheeks flushed with heat, a wave of panic crashing over you. "W-What do you mean?" you stammered, unsure of what she was getting at.

"You like him, don’t you?" she asked gently, her voice almost apologetic, as if she already knew the answer.

You froze. There was no point denying it. Not when she’d already seen straight through you. The truth hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You nodded slowly, the grip on the rose tightening as you spoke. "Yeah. I do."

Nari bit her lip, her expression softening with sympathy. "I figured. That’s why I thought I should tell you before you... before you do anything." She trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "What about you and Jisung?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Nari shifted in her seat, her eyes avoiding yours for a moment. Then, slowly, she met your gaze again, her expression filled with something that looked like guilt.

"We’ve been seeing each other," she said, her voice small but resolute. "For a little while now."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of you. You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. This couldn’t be real. Jisung hadn’t said anything...nothing about her, nothing about being with anyone.

"You’re... together?" you asked, barely able to form the words.

Nari nodded, her face etched with a kind of remorse. "It’s still new," she said quietly, "but I thought it was better to tell you now. I didn’t want you to find out in a way that would hurt more."

Hurt. The irony of her words felt like salt in the wound. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The rose in your hand suddenly felt like a cruel joke, its vibrant petals mocking you. The confession you’d been building up for so long, the one you’d been so certain of, had just become meaningless.

"I’m sorry," Nari said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. But... I really care about him."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to smile, even though it felt like it would tear you apart. "It’s fine," you said, though the words felt hollow. "Really."

But it wasn’t fine. Not at all.

The rest of the conversation blurred as she went on about how happy Jisung made her, about how she never expected this to happen, but how she had to be honest with you. Every word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you held it together, nodding at the right times, forcing yourself to listen.

When you finally left the café, you didn’t even look back. The rose you’d clutched in your hand found its way into the nearest trash can, the delicate petals crushed under your trembling fingers, a symbol of everything you could never have.

---------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks after Valentine’s Day, life had settled into an uneasy rhythm. You buried your feelings deeper than ever, convincing yourself that it was better this way. You were still Jisung’s best friend, the one he turned to when he needed to laugh, vent, or just be himself. But each moment spent with him was a bittersweet reminder of what you could never have, an ache that lingered, stubborn and relentless.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed with a call from him, Jisung.

“Hey, can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped, unease settling over you like a heavy weight. His tone was more serious than usual, sending a chill through your body. Was he about to bring up what you had been trying so hard to bury? You hesitated, but finally replied, your heart pounding.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Let’s meet on the rooftop of campus. I’ll be there in 20.”

A knot tightened in your stomach as you agreed.

The rooftop -yours and his safe place. It was the space where you had shared confessions, secrets, things that shouldn’t be seen by the world. You both had always come here to escape, to be yourselves away from prying eyes.

You arrived early, anxiety crawling up your spine with every step. The campus was eerily quiet at night, and you slipped through the building’s doors, heading up to the rooftop. The familiar view of the city lights was comforting, but tonight, it couldn’t settle your nerves.

When Jisung arrived, he was different. His playful grin was absent, replaced by a serious expression. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, held a weight you hadn’t seen before. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey,” you greeted, forcing a smile that felt like a mask, as you turned to face him.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice unusually soft. He didn’t meet your gaze immediately, instead fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie sleeves...a habit you knew well.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart felt like it was going to explode.

He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were steady, but there was something burdened in them, something he hadn’t said yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and... I didn’t know how to tell you. But I have to.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words sinking in before you could even process them. What was ge about to tell you ? That he and Nari were becoming serious? That he didn’t want to stay friends anymore?

“I’m leaving Seoul,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. “What?”

“I got accepted into a music program in Busan,” he explained, his hands clenching into fists. “It’s an incredible opportunity, like a dream come true. But it means... I have to leave.”

Your mind went blank, your body feeling like it was trapped in quicksand. Jisung had always talked about his passion for music, about creating something that meant something. You were proud of him, truly, but the thought of him leaving, of him being so far away, was unbearable.

“When?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“In a week,” he said, his eyes searching yours, looking for understanding. “I didn’t want to tell you until everything was finalized. I just... I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You looked away, staring blankly at the city below. “A week? That’s... so soon.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But it’s something I have to do. You understand that, right?”

You nodded, forcing the lump in your throat down, even though your heart was breaking. “Yeah, of course. It’s your dream. You’d be crazy not to go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Jisung talked about the program, his excitement and nervousness spilling over as he shared every detail. You listened, offered words of encouragement, even joked with him to lighten the mood. But as soon as you were alone, everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

----------------------------------------------------------

The week passed in a blur, each day bringing you closer to the inevitable. And then, it was the day of his departure.

You met him at the train station, your chest heavy with the weight of goodbye. He was standing there, his suitcases at his feet, hoodie pulled up against the chill of the early morning. The finality of the moment was suffocating, the space between you growing with each passing second.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as you approached.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter any second.

Neither of you spoke right away, the sound of the bustling station drowning out the silence that hung between you. Neither of you could find the words that needed to be said.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said finally, his voice resolute, though there was a tremor of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ll text you every day. I’ll call. We’ll stay in touch, okay?”

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaping. “Yeah. We will.”

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm, steady, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything else. You breathed in deeply, memorizing the way he felt, the way his heartbeat synced with yours.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “I promise.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply clung to him, unwilling to let go, as though by holding on just a little longer, you could freeze this moment in time.

When the announcement for his train came over the speakers, he pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He gave you one last smile: a small, sincere smile, before grabbing his bags and heading toward the platform. You watched him walk away, your heart breaking with every step, every inch between you and him.

As the train began to pull away, you told yourself it wasn’t the end. That you’d see him again. That things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you knew better. Something had changed, something unspoken, something that couldn’t be undone. And though you didn’t know what the future held, you knew one thing for sure,it could never be the same again....

---------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight poured through your window, bright and uninvited, cutting through the darkness of the room. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow, desperate to escape the sharp ring of the alarm that sliced through the silence. The day ahead already felt heavy, as if the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders before it even began. The memories that had resurfaced the night before, memories you had buried for years...still clung to your mind, unrelenting and vivid. Jisung was back in your life, but the gap of eight years between you was an insurmountable distance...those unanswered questions, the unspoken truths, and the silent wishes hung between you like an invisible wall that neither of you could breach.

You dragged yourself out of bed, the grogginess still clinging to you like a second skin, your body protesting against the demands of the day. The kitchen greeted you with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the scent wrapping around you like a brief respite from the chaos swirling inside your mind. You leaned against the counter, staring blankly out the window, watching the familiar morning rush of Seoul. People hurried past, weaving in and out of the crowded streets with practiced precision, their steps as frantic as your thoughts. The city felt different now, with Jisung back in it. Or maybe it was you who felt different...changed by the weight of the years that had passed and the memories that refused to stay buried.

It had been weeks since that fateful café meeting....the first time you had seen him again after so many years of silence. Since then, you and Jisung had slipped into an almost familiar rhythm, as though time had somehow softened the sharp edges of the past. Late-night texts, spontaneous meetups, shared laughter, it all seemed to flow with ease, as though no time had passed at all. But beneath the surface of every smile, every joke, every touch, there was something deeper—a shadow of the past, a lingering ache, a question that neither of you dared to ask. The years apart, the buried feelings, and the uncertainty of where you stood now,all of it hovered between you, a constant presence neither of you could escape.

You had resolved, at least for the time being, to keep things light. To avoid venturing into territory that might reopen old wounds. After all, wasn't it better to just be his friend than risk losing him altogether? The logic made sense, the choice seemed rational. But your heart, stubborn as always, refused to follow any kind of logic. It ached for him in ways you couldn’t control, pulling you in directions you weren’t ready to go. No matter how hard you tried to push the feelings down, to suppress the memories that wanted to flood back to the surface, they remained, relentless, unyielding, impossible to ignore.

And so, you stood there, staring out at the city that felt both familiar and foreign, wondering if the past was something you could ever truly outrun...

----------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the same café where everything had started—where you’d seen Jisung for the first time in eight long years. But today, it wasn’t a chance encounter. This meeting had a purpose, planned and initiated by him.

Jisung’s call from the morning had been simple and vague, yet it had thrown you off balance:

“Let’s grab lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

A surprise. With Jisung, that could mean anything...something small and silly, or something that could shift the ground beneath your feet. Either way, your heart had been racing ever since.

Pushing open the door to the café, the familiar chime of the bell above welcomed you. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. He was already at your usual table by the window, waving at you with that familiar boyish grin. His hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually, and he looked so at ease, so natural, that it was almost enough to lull you into believing nothing had changed.

“Hey, you’re early,” you said as you slid into the seat across from him, feigning nonchalance to hide the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

“Rare moment of responsibility,” he quipped, setting his phone down on the table. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t planning to.”

As the waitress came to take your order, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, trying to read the mood. There was a sparkle in his eyes, an almost childlike excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel curious and maybe a little nervous.

“So,” you started once the waitress left, “are you going to tell me what this surprise is, or are you just going to keep me guessing?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Patience. Let’s eat first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but played along. Lunch passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. He told you about his time in Busan, the struggles of chasing his dreams, the doubts that crept in on sleepless nights, and the small moments of triumph that kept him going. You shared stories of Seoul, talking about everything from the daily grind to the little changes in the city he used to know so well.

There was something comforting about it all, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm. But beneath the surface of your laughter and casual conversation was the unspoken truth, the questions, the what-ifs, the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface with every shared glance.

As the meal drew to a close, your patience finally snapped.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, leaning forward, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What’s the big surprise?”

Jisung’s grin turned sheepish as he reached into his bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. He held it out to you with an almost nervous energy.

“It’s nothing huge,” he said, his voice softening. “But I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked, staring at the package in his hands. “You didn’t have to....”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his eyes alight with anticipation.

You hesitated only for a moment before carefully peeling away the wrapping. What you revealed made your breath catch. It was a leather-bound notebook, beautifully embossed with intricate designs. But it wasn’t just the notebook that made your heart stumble.

As you opened it, the first few pages revealed doodles, small, playful sketches that were unmistakably his. Interspersed with the doodles were notes, scribbled in his familiar handwriting, filled with inside jokes and tiny fragments of your shared past. Flipping further, you found photos tucked between pages, memories you had long forgotten brought back to life in vivid detail.

“Is this…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off as your fingers skimmed over the pages, taking in every detail.

“It’s kind of like a scrapbook,” Jisung explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I found some of our old stuff while unpacking and thought... I don’t know, you might like it. I started putting it together, and… yeah.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you traced the edge of a photo - a candid shot of the two of you from college, your younger selves caught mid-laughter.

“Jisung, this is…” You looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

He smiled, the shyness in his expression softening into something warmer. “I figured it’s about time we started filling in the gaps, you know? From all those years apart.”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

But as you stared down at the notebook again, a bittersweet ache filled your chest. Every page, every sketch, every photo spoke of a connection you cherished. Yet they also served as a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. For all the love and care that had gone into this gift, for all the memories it brought back, there was one truth that hung in the air, unspoken and unchangeable.

Jisung didn’t feel the same way about you.

And no amount of shared nostalgia could rewrite that fact...

Later, as he walked you home, the air between you was filled with the kind of easy conversation that came naturally with him, light-hearted jokes, shared laughter, and fleeting glances that felt like secrets. It was almost as if the years apart hadn’t happened, as if the weight of the past had somehow dissolved in the rhythm of your steps. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times.

His presence beside you was a quiet comfort, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d missed. The sound of his sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, the soft hum of the city around you, it all felt familiar, like slipping into a favorite old sweater that had been tucked away for too long.

“Thanks again for the notebook,” you said as you reached your building, clutching the gift tightly against your chest. “Seriously, it’s the best thing I’ve gotten in… well, years.”

He turned to you, his grin widening as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

There was something about the way he looked at you just then, a flicker in his eyes, warm and unguarded, that made your pulse stutter. The city lights reflected faintly in his gaze, and for one impossible second, you thought you saw something there. Something deeper. Something more.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual boyish charm. He smiled and took a playful step backward, rocking on his heels. “Goodnight, bestie.”

Your laugh came out soft and a little strained, the word bestie stinging in a way you hadn’t expected. It was a reminder of the line he had drawn between you, one he didn’t seem to realize you were desperate to cross.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stood there, watching as he walked away, his figure growing smaller with each step until he was just a shadow against the glow of the streetlights. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of unspoken words pressing against your ribs.

For a moment, the urge to stop him surged within you, stronger than ever. To call out his name, to tell him everything...

But you stopped yourself. And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder: maybe it wasn’t about what you said or didn’t say. Maybe it was about what he felt or didn’t feel in return ?

---------------------------------------------------------

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, Jisung’s return to your life had started to take its toll. Spending time with him felt like walking a tightrope, balanced precariously between joy and heartache. Every laugh you shared, every inside joke that came rushing back, every moment spent together,it was everything you’d ever wanted. But it was also a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

The little things were the hardest to bear. The way his laughter still made your heart skip, the way he instinctively remembered your favorite snacks or noticed the smallest changes in your mood. The way his voice softened when he said your name, as if it was a word meant to be spoken with care. Every interaction felt like it was pulling you deeper into an emotional quicksand. No matter how much you told yourself to keep things casual, to not overthink, the feelings you’d buried years ago rose to the surface, stronger and more relentless than ever.

It was exhausting. The constant battle within yourself...the longing to be close to him and the fear of being hurt again. The more time you spent with Jisung, the clearer it became: your heart wasn’t built to endure this. Not again.

So, you did the only thing you thought might save you. You started to pull away.

At first, it was subtle. A missed text here, a vague excuse there.

When he asked to hang out, you’d claim you were busy with work or that you weren’t feeling well. You convinced yourself it was temporary, that a little distance would give you the time and space you needed to get your emotions under control.

He didn’t question it at first. When you started skipping out on coffee dates or responding to his texts hours late with apologetic emojis and half-hearted excuses, Jisung didn’t push. He let it slide, brushing it off as you being busy or caught up with work. “It happens,” he’d say with a grin, his tone light and understanding. That was just who he was, always patient, always willing to give you the space you needed.

But as the days stretched into weeks, the excuses piled up, and the distance between you became impossible to ignore. Every invitation was met with, “Maybe next time,” or, “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” You stopped lingering over late-night texts, stopped sharing the small details of your day that you used to send him without a second thought.

And every time you turned him down, every time you chose silence over connection, you felt the guilt clawing at you. It was suffocating, that constant push and pull between wanting to protect yourself and not wanting to hurt him. But in your mind, this was the only way. Keeping your heart intact meant keeping your distance.

Except, it wasn’t working.

Avoiding Jisung didn’t dull your feelings, it only made them sharper. Every time you ignored his text, you’d find yourself staring at your phone minutes later, wondering if he was thinking of you. Every time you saw something that reminded you of him.... a song you both loved, a stupid meme he’d laugh at, you had to fight the urge to send it to him. The more you tried to pull away, the more you missed him.

And it didn’t take long for Jisung to notice.

At first, it was subtle, small, hesitant comments when you did see him. “You’ve been really busy lately, huh?” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes searching. You’d nod and mumble something about work, trying to avoid the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to read between the lines.

But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things go for long. One day, after you’d bailed on plans for the third time that week, he called and said something that stopped you in your tracks....

“Did I do something wrong?”

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been trying to avoid.

“If I messed up, just tell me. I don’t want things to get weird between us.”

Weird. That’s what he thought this was, a misunderstanding, a bump in the road. He didn’t know how hard you were trying to keep your feelings buried, how every moment with him felt like walking a tightrope between happiness and heartbreak.

Your fingers hovered over the mute button, a dozen responses swirling in your mind. You wanted to tell him the truth, to spill everything you’d been holding back. But the thought of losing him, of ruining what you still had, froze you in place.

Finally, you answered back “It’s not you. I’ve just been overwhelmed with work. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

He replied almost instantly.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’m here.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but the relief was short-lived. Because as much as you wanted to believe that he’d buy your excuse, you could feel the doubt in his words.

And you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t keep this up forever....

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been over a month since you’d last seen him when Jisung finally confronted you. The day had been long, and you were heading home, headphones on, the city noise muffled by a soothing playlist. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and pink, and you were thankful for the solitude. That was until your name cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Y/N!”

You froze, your heart sinking as you recognized his voice. Turning, you saw Jisung jogging toward you, his expression a mix of determination and something you couldn’t quite place,anger, maybe? Concern?

“Jisung,” you said, pulling out your headphones, your voice tinged with guilt.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone firm but not unkind.

“What do you mean?” you replied, feigning confusion as you shifted your weight nervously.

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. For weeks. And I want to know why."

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied weakly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Really?” he said, crossing his arms. “Because it feels like I’ve been chasing a ghost. You barely respond to my texts, you cancel plans left and right and when I try to call, it goes straight to voicemail. So, tell me....what’s really going on?”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel your carefully constructed walls cracking. “I’ve been busy,” you mumbled, knowing how hollow the excuse sounded.

“Busy?” he repeated, his frustration evident. “Too busy to even say hi? Too busy to talk to someone you called your best friend?”

The word “best friend” stung, and you flinched visibly.

Jisung noticed. “What is it?” he asked, his tone softening. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quickly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s not you. It’s...”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t say it’s you, because we both know that’s not true.”

You sighed deeply, your shoulders slumping. “Can we not do this here?”

He hesitated, then gestured toward a nearby bench under a line of cherry blossom trees that had already begun to bloom, their petals swirling gently in the breeze. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

The walk to the bench felt like an eternity, and when you finally sat down, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said at last, your voice trembling.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning closer, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Pretend,” you whispered. “Pretend like I’m okay just being your friend when I’m not.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for years, Jisung. Since college. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But then Nari...”

“Nari?” he interrupted, his confusion stark.

“Yeah, Nari,” you said, bitterness creeping into your voice. “The girl you were dating. The one who told me you weren’t interested in me, that you only saw me as a friend.”

His face shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Y/N, I don’t know who Nari is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean you don’t know her? She told me...”

“I don’t care what she told you,” he said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t true. I never said that. And for the record, I’ve never dated anyone named Nari.”

You stared at him, the ground beneath you seeming to shift. “But she…”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, “if you’re talking about that random girl who used to hang out at our college meetups, she wasn’t even my type. She was just… there.”

Your mind reeled, the memory of Nari’s smug smile flashing in your mind. “She lied?”

“Looks like it,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “But that’s not what matters right now.”

“What does?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“You,” he said simply. “And the fact that I’ve been in love with you since college, too.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart stop. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning closer. “I thought I was being obvious back then. I always made excuses to be around you, to make you laugh, to sit next to you in every class. But you never seemed interested, so I… I let it go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of years of misunderstandings crashing down on you. “I thought you didn’t care,” you said, your voice breaking.

And I thought you didn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “But I’m done assuming.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching yours. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not too late.”

His smile was soft, tentative, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the city fading into nothing. His kiss was gentle but sure, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him like he might disappear if you let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Maybe I do.”

A loud meow broke the moment, and both of you turned to see a stray cat sitting by Jisung’s feet, its wide eyes fixed on him as if demanding attention.

Jisung groaned, though his smile never wavered. “Even the cats can’t leave me alone.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” he asked, his grin turning playful.

“That you’re stuck with me now,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As the two of you walked home hand in hand, the stray cat trailing behind like a self-appointed chaperone companion, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right....

*ੈ✩Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

*ੈ✩ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[mustafagaza]

Urgent Appeal: Help Mustafa and His Family Survive the Humanitarian Crisis in Northern Gaza

Dear Supporters,

In the heart of northem Gaza, a severe humanitarian crisis is unfolding. My family and I are on the brink of starvation, battling daily against the harsh realities of war and extreme shortages of essential resources. For the past 300 days, we have faced relentless bombings, widespread destruction, and a critical lack of food and clean water. Our struggle for survival is growing more desperate with each passing day.

Why We Need Your Help:

Our situation is dire. The absence of humanitarian aid means we are left without basic necessities-food, clean water, and medical supplies. Every day is a fight against hunger

and despair. Despite our efforts to endure, we are reaching a breaking point, and our hope lies in the generosity of people like you.

How Your Donation Will Make a Difference:

Your contribution can provide immediate relief and hope to our family. With your support, we can:

Secure Essential Supplies: Purchase food and clean water to sustain us.

Access Medical Aid: Obtain necessary medical supplies and treatments.

Ensure Safety: Seek shelter and protection from ongoing violence.

Our Immediate Goal:

We are seeking to raise $[50,000] to cover these urgent needs. Your donation. will directly impact our ability to survive and rebuild our lives amidst this devastating conflict.

Why Your Support Matters:

Save Lives: Your donation will help prevent starvation and suffering.

Restore Hope: Your generosity offers a glimmer of hope and a path to safety.

Be a Beacon of Humanity: In these dark times, your support shows that compassion and solidarity still prevail.

How to Help:

Donating is simple and secure. Click the "Donate Now" button on our campaign page to contribute. Every dollar counts and brings us one step closer to survival and recovery.

Share Our Story:

Even if you are unable to donate, you can still make a difference by sharing our campaign with your network. Spread the word on social media, through emails, and among your community. Raising awareness is crucial to our cause.

Thank you for reading and for caring in this time of unimaginable hardship. Your support is more than just a donation—it’s a lifeline to my family. I am profoundly grateful for any help you can provide.

With sincere gratitude

‏Mustafa

[charbookwyrm]

Absolutely this.

Also, the other day I saw a comment along the lines of "I don't like X's books because they're preachy. I don't like any books with politics whether they're left or right" and I have never been more infuriated in my life. It basically translates as "I don't want any authors to have a viewpoint, ever, and I can tell if they have a viewpoint because they have written something that I actively have to think about because the worldview differs from the one I comfortably accept as the norm" and GOOD GOD, how does anyone miss the point of reading (living, existing in the goddamn world) that badly?

Reading widely means different genres, different time periods, different views. If something is challenging or uncomfortable, that is good, because it ought to make you think about why that is. Sometimes the answer is, "wow this writer has a flaw in their worldview which is legitimately terrible". Sometimes the answer is, "I've been pushed to consider something beyond my norms and my own experiences", and that's good for people to experience. That's how we understand our history, ourselves, and our humanity better.

"The problem is people don't read classics anymore"

No I think the problem is people don't read WIDELY. The ONLY ya and/or fantasy romance crowd is just as insufferable as the ONLY classics crowd or the ONLY litfic crowd or the ONLY nonfiction crowd and vice versa.

You gotta get some variety in there my guys

[peppermintquartz]

Evan Buckley was made to save lives.

Literally.

Selected to amplify the healing abilities that had already manifested in his sister, Philip and Margaret Buckley allowed Manifest Bio Tech to harvest the necessary cells and tweak them.

But nature or fate still had a say, and Evan didn't emerge a healer.

++++

Evan was made to heal, but the only person he could heal was himself. He still got hurt, but his recovery time was four to six times faster than regular, unaltered humans.

They tried harvesting his bone marrow to replicate the effects but it didn't work.

Daniel still had to die, the cancer in him too resilient against even the harshest of treatments.

When they buried Daniel, Evan had barely begun to learn to walk. If he hurt from the extractions, his parents didn't know or care; Maddie's tears would ease the physical pain anyway.

++++

When Evan ran away from home to get Maddie to flee with him, Doug flipped out. He needed Maddie's tears. They were the secret to his success as a doctor.

She didn't run. She didn't even meet him to tell him why.

Evan drove away, full of a helpless fury at his sister and at himself.

++++

Across the world, Tommy Kinard was gaining a reputation for surviving unlikely odds. But when the options were death, maiming, disfigurement and merely broken bones, there was only so much Tommy's ability could do. But that tiny spark that danced up and down his spine got him to bank sharply just before they were hit, so while they crash landed with injuries, they were not blown up to smithereens.

He received a medal and promptly shipped home to the States to recuperate, and he insisted on remaining in Los Angeles where his grandmother lived. Since he needed a job, he decided to join the LAFD.

Because of Tommy, Nonna had another eight happy years with her beloved grandson. On her last birthday (not that either of them knew that), she bought a lottery ticket and had him check it.

The effect of his ability was dampened slightly since she was the one who made the purchase, but it did make Tommy's life after Nonna a lot more comfortable.

After Nonna died, Tommy felt that little tingle that said something unlikely was about to happen. The very next day, an opening in Harbor Station for a trained pilot opened up.

Tommy knew that was for him.

++++

Evan ended up in Los Angeles, and after a series of gigs, decided that he might as well risk his life and limb for good reasons than bad. His accelerated healing stood him in good stead, too, though he had to choose a different name.

Fire, falls, explosions, water, lightning; Buck survived them all.

And then he met Tommy.

++++

The moment he saw the three from the 118, he felt that telltale zing running down his spine.

Unlikely odds.

Not Chimney, that was for sure; they had encountered each other often enough.

Soulful Eyes shook Tommy's hand. Nothing. "Eddie Diaz."

"I'm Evan, Evan Buckley," says the pretty guy with the kissable lips and fingerprint-sized splotches of wine pink on his left eye and brow.

"Tommy Kinard, hi," said Tommy. He braced himself for the moment they made skin contact, and there it was - the spark, racing from the point of contact over his skin all the way up and down his spine.

Unlikely odds.

++++

They still broke up.

Before he drove over, he had felt the telltale tingle along his spine, and he should have known that it was only for the parking spot, and not for Evan to say, "I am falling in love with you."

There was nothing his ability could do in this case.

++++

Buck didn't know why his healing abilities refused to heal the hurt or fill up the emptiness in his heart. He baked and baked and baked, and each time he was done, he wanted to call Tommy and tell him about what he made.

And he would bake some more.

Maddie who hardly cried nowadays gave him a vial of her healing tears, to be added to any recipe of his choice.

He added it to a simple brownie recipe. It didn't help.

++++

While he had sort of vaguely wished he had healing abilities that could have helped Daniel, Buck never cursed his abilities more than when they raced to rescue Tommy and the patient he and his partners were transporting.

"I don't need to heal me," he begged the fates that had granted him his power. "Heal him. Save him."

Tommy smiled, feeling consciousness about to slip away. "Evan, what are... the odds for me... to have you as my last?"

"You know what's less likely?" Buck demanded through his tears. Droplets fell on Tommy's upturned face. "That you make it through this unscathed and we get back together and we have a happily ever after. Focus on making that happen!"

A tired tremble raced over Tommy's skin and down his spine. He smiled to himself and murmured, "As you wish."

[theartofwoompwoomp]

HELLO!!! This is my first ask here but i just wanted to throw the idea of https://www.tumblr.com/theartofwoompwoomp/770097458415058944/oh-scrap-soundwave-x-human-reader-summary-the having the alternative ending of reader saying that knockout is the hottest? I was thinking maybe instead of soundwave, it would b KO

yk because knockout just IS the hottest i mean LOOK at him!!!

have a good day/night!!

Hello !!! i’m glad you reached out ! I love the idea of making an Alternative version on this. Thanks for the request luv <3

Oh scrap

(Knouckout x human!reader)

summary:the decepticons start talking about who’s the hottest one. alternative to oh scrap. 

————————————————————————

Oh he couldn’t believe it. 

They were seriously going to argue about this ?!

He could care less about others, especially small insignificant human, opinions.

Since the beginning of the conversation it had been nonsense. But the fact they weren’t even considering him in this particular topic irked him.

Everyone knows he’s the best looking bot. Especially out of the decepticons.

Going over, making his presence known as he stands right between the whole thing. “Oh please,” standing tall making everyone look, “everyone knows I’m the best looking Decepticon around.” Smirking at the fact that his poses were proving his point.

“Besides, out of everyone, the humans have chosen to ogle my aft mode the most.” 

His tone proud. Seeing the looks on the others faces only fueling his ego more. Especially Starscreams. 

The con’s wings kept twitching. Seething in fury at his declaration. Only so much was said before the seeker had enough.

Resorting to violence, the both of them were willing to fight both verbally and physically to prove their point.

“Fool !” Launching a fist towards the doctor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about !” His voice screeching as knockout dodged and slightly missed as he tried hitting him with his saw.

The other Cons had to break them apart before one of them pulled out their bigger weapons.

Breakdown holding back Knockout, as Starscream was being held back by various Cons. Only calming down when threatened of them bringing Megatron if they didn’t calm down. 

But such threat may have stopped the seeker from continuing the physical part of the fight but not the verbal part. 

“Hah ! You really think humans would ever think you’re the hottest ?!” Grabbing his attention once more, “We have a human on the ship.” Optics widening a bit, allowing the seeker to continue.

“In fact, they’ve been here the whole time. Yet, not once did they raise their voice to defend you. So how can you be sure the humans truly find you the hottest, not your aft mode.”

He had a point. 

Out of the two of them, only starscream had gotten a compliment about their true form. But what about him? 

Grinding his denta in frustration, feeling his own energon boil. About to defend himself when someone beat him to it.

“HEY! That’s uncalled for ! The only reason I didn’t say anything was because I too busy admiring Knock out in the first place !!!”

Small and fully ready to defend your crush you spoke louder, making sure everyone heard. 

“Knockout.is.the.Hottest. End of story.”

hwat? All eyes on you, heck in normal circumstances you’d stop there, but adrenaline kicking in and annoyance from the second in command’s voice you continued. 

“So don’t you dare continue talking down on my boy, or accusing me of stupidity cause you got another thing coming.” 

Your words shutting up the seeker. No one necessarily expecting that reaction from you. 

You simply left the room, not lowering your head or displaying any doubt in your words. Actually you seemed more annoyed than anything.

But in reality, you didn’t see the look knockout had. Smirking at his victory, he pushed by starscream making sure he stumbled, he strutted off after you. 

Embarrassment only setting in when you reached your room. How could you say that in front of him ?!?? Covering your face, you cringe from your actions.

“So, I’m your boy now~ hmm?”

Crap.

You left the door open. Stupid bot. Stupid talk. Stupid EVERY THING !!! You turn to him, seeing his stupid face and his stupid smirk. 

His optics looking over your every move. Amused at the way you seemed annoyed at him too. But in all honesty all your actions made his spark warm. Knowing where their all stemming from. 

Not letting you walk off, he picked you up and gave you a small peck on the head.

“Well if it makes you feel better, you’re also the most attractive human I know.” 

———————————————————————

masterlist

[the-crooked-library]

Human vs Vampire Violence in Nosferatu

I've talked about this in the tags of another post already but i can't stop thinking about this so here it goes:

The majority of Ellen's suffering is due to mundane and socially acceptable forms of violence (e.g. medical) and that is not an accident. The script intends this. It is the primary underlying theme of Nosferatu (2024), it is the undercurrent to all her motivations, and the film wants the viewers to be aware of this, at least on some level.

Over the course of the story, Ellen Hutter is forcibly isolated by her father, dismissed and infantilized by her husband, drugged and tied to her bed by a doctor and her husband's friends, pierced through the arm by another doctor just to demonstrate that her soul "isn't there," insulted and kicked out from the Hardings' house (while still having psychic fits nightly), left to care for her sick husband alone without any support, never listened to - and all these things are excused!..

There's always some sort of justification, and it's usually either misogynistic or medical or both.

Her father isolated her because her psychic abilities frightened him, because she was too abnormal, and he thought that she wasn't fit to be around other people. Thomas dismissed her nightmares and ignored her emotional needs because he thought her anxieties were childish, that she prioritized the wrong things in life (love over financial advancement), and that she was incapable of good judgement; it's also the reason he is unaware that she doesn't like cut flowers, or that Harding hates her (even though she is very well aware of that, she evidently didn't feel like she could tell her husband). Similarly, Dr. Sievers believed that he had to do what he did, because Ellen was mad and had to be controlled. Harding, naturally, let him do it, and then did worse, and justified it all with “logic” and family values.

The point is that every single character harms Ellen on some level, despite what they might consider best intentions; and I think that a significant drive behind some of the more vitriolic online responses to this film is that many people are uncomfortable with that aspect of the story. Nosferatu demands that the viewer confront a fundamental truth of human imperfection - that someone who looks soft and Normal is, in fact, capable of causing pain regardless; and that invites a deeper sort of self-reflection. Perhaps, even accountability.

Our recently-resurgent purity culture shares this discomfort with Ellen's societal setting. For Thomas, for Sievers, for Harding, for us, it is much easier to blame harm and sin on a Monster From Somewhere Else, and pretend that a witch-hunt would entirely eradicate the problem.

However, the film demonstrates the inherent falseness behind this assumption. Even if Ellen had not followed Orlok into death, she would not have suddenly become happy with her human life - because his destruction would not have changed how she is perceived. She would have continued to endure far more insidious, systemic, violent abuse as a disabled, arguably queer wife and woman.

This is why the sensuality of her death/wedding is so crucial to the presentation of the film.

in Orlok, she embraces her own perceived "darkness," the aspects of her that her society believes are harmful and grotesque - her lack of deference to her husband (he terrorizes Thomas), her queerness (he drains Anna and destroys Harding's family), her psychic disability (he kisses Ellen's heart and drinks from her, reverent and tender). it is a scene steeped in both terror and ecstasy. She is joining Orlok in sin and in death - a twisted version of his proposed eternity; and in doing so, she is ascended.

It is incredibly poignant that, when her power over him is actually shown, it is far more emotional and commonplace than could be expected. There are no torches or stakes, no physical explicit battle; Ellen's unique, magnificent, holy power is merely the ability to ask for "more!.. More!" - and be granted that wish without question. Here, in a monster's embrace, she is valued more than a promotion, or propriety, or even Orlok's own life.

All that to say - Ellen's personal journey through the film does not culminate in a straightforward battle of "victim vs abuser." Despite what a cursory overview might imply, the Final Struggle is a minor aspect; instead, the overwhelming majority of her story revolves around a build-up to a Final Choice. Similar to I Saw The TV Glow, or NBC's Hannibal, or a multitude of other narratives, it explores the balance between the horror of transformation and the horror of staying the same. A monster might grant the first one if you ask, and it will feel like dying - but society's already forced you into the second.

All there is left to do is make damn sure it kills you.

[therandompagesblog]

Hunting Your Soul Chapter 5 🫀Y/N🫀

Trigger Warnings: Stalking, Mentions of death and murder, mention of the word rape, mention of the word torture, mentions of period blood

I seriously needed to get out of the house. I needed to move and stay somewhere else. I can't believe my stalker cut me. Except I don't think he was any type of stalker. He was something that lived in the shadows. He was something that was supposed to be in a prison cell but would never get caught. I believed he was the monster that was supposed to stay in my grandmother's fantasy books. I could be wrong but I felt it in my bones. This creature was a vampire or a monster. A monster that has sharp claws. A werewolf even. If he was a vampire surely my blood would have tormented him and called to him. Surely he would have drained me. I was guessing it was a male. It was this stereotype that women didn't stalk. But what if this one did? I honestly didn't want to think about it too much. My head was hurting. I decided I needed to get out. I needed to go for a walk. Grabbing my coat I walked out of the house and headed down the street. The sun was up. I believed if they were a night monster they wouldn't follow me. They would hide in the shadows where they belonged. I walked along the beach so my trainers wouldn't get covered in the sand as I embraced the sun. I felt the sun warming up my skin and it made me excited. I smirked for a brief moment when my phone rang. "Be careful my love. One day the sun will burn." The voice spoke before hanging up. The voice was hoarse and husky. His words were a giveaway. He was a vampire and he wanted to damn me. He wanted to turn me into one. At least it confirmed he was a male. His voice frightened me and caused me to turn around. There was nowhere where he could be. It was far too open. Unless he was in the black-tinted car. Shit he was. Fuck my life. Do I run? I spun around and walked forward nervously. He couldn't get me if I was out in the open. Out in the sun. I was safe out here, but how long could I stay out here? I walked towards the pier when something buzzed in my pocket. Unknown: I'm not going to hurt you petal. You can enjoy the sun. It was nice to see you happy. I want you to embrace your last days till you're mine. I realised then a vampire was stronger than all forces put together.  Me: How long have I got left? Unknown: So polite to ask. A week. More if I am generous. Me: How long till you kill me? Unknown: A while. I will not kill you straight away. I want you to beg to be killed first. I sucked in a breath and put my phone away. I was not going to allow this monster to ruin my last few days of freedom. One thing I wasn't going to do was beg to be like him. I wouldn't be a monster. It wasn't who I was. I sat on the bench on the pier. Listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. Listening to the wind whisper. The birds fluttering by. Listening to my thoughts wander off.

I was thinking about what the monster would do to me when he kidnapped me. Would he hurt me? Rape me? Torture me? I wanted to know what he wanted from me. Would he tell me if I messaged him? If I messaged him, I would be luring him closer. It was a stupid thing to do. No sane person would ever do that. I guess if I was already damned. I slapped my forehead. I felt like a fool for my thoughts. I shouldn't message him, but I wanted clarification on my death so I could prepare. I wanted to know how I would be treated by my capture. Was that so wrong to know? Surely not. It wasn't like I was being captured by a human. I was being taken by a monster. Something inhuman. Me: What is your name? Can I know that? I waited for him to answer but he didn't so I gave up. He wasn't going to tell me. There was no point pushing the chapter to tell me more information in case I riled them up or added to their obsession. Now that was the wrong thing to do. The right thing to do was go to my Grandmother's house and listen to the creepy readings she was currently reading. That was the right thing to do. Except when I got there Grandmother was out with her friend Avis again. Leaving me alone. Possibly endangered. What could my grandmother do anyway? Wack him with her walking stick. I'm sure he'd win anyway. I picked up the book my grandmother was reading and it was called SKZ Mate by The Random Page. I nonchalantly flicked through and read a couple of pages to pass the time when I ended up engrossed in the book. Maybe grandmother does have good taste in books. Just not men. That was a joke everyone told themselves as Grandfather died from a horse chase on a lad's holiday in Spain. Apparently, he and his friends had annoyed these horses and they ended up chasing Grandfather to his death. It was ironic considering grandfather was always up to no good in his youth. Grandfather was known to pull random stunts with his friend so it wasn't a surprise he died in that way. It was a story to go by. At his funeral, Grandmother was said to have scolded him for having an early grave. It was a shame as I never got to meet him. He sounded hilarious and a stereotypical man. Some say my father was like him until he met my mother. She grounded him some say. It was also said that my father stalked my mother until she agreed to go on a date with him, so I guess mother and daughter alike. Except I had a planned kidnapping. Did it bother me that my stalker wasn't responding? A little bit. I had no idea why I was so bothered by it, but I was. I at least wanted him to communicate with me so I could become familiar with him until I died. Not become dead but dead buried in the ground. I sighed at my thoughts. It was like I was yearning for him already. I was ridiculous and I was blaming it on my hormones since I was due on. I had no idea when I was due but I was. I just prayed he wasn't a vampire and wasn't appealed to it. I hoped he was the vampire that saw it as deceased blood and it didn't bother him. I was praying for it at this point.

Did my prayers come true? Absolutely not. Days later I woke up to change my bin that was filled with tampons and I found them gone. All gone. I could see they were once in the bin as the bin bag was stained red but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a note was there. Thank you for your deliciousness. Chan x I learned the monster's name was Chan as he answered my text message a few hours later. Apparently he sleeps during the day. Which made me gather he was a vampire. The traditional stereotypical vampire that sleeps during the day and comes out at night. The one that burned during the day. My stalker continued to text me throughout the days. Asking me how I was as if he was trapping me into kindness. Sometimes I started to fall for it. Each day he was more curious about the things I liked. Each day he dropped me a present. A book on vampires. Some pyjamas. Another day it was flowers. He was softening me up for the day he would take me. Take me away from my family. My Grandmother.

18+ Taglist for those who are not turning back

@catlove83 @itsyourleilei @whatudowhennooneseesyou @leeknot @estella-novella @fackeraccount @eastjonowhere @cocofia143 @jennibahng @noerinspace @sleepingmissingprincess @ye0lkkot @hiitsmebbygrl16 @shhimhereforsmut @jaeminie-cricket @stayceebs97 @ritiiiiiii @chlodavids @beautystarry @hyunjinhoexxx @hash2013 @jeonginontopforever @catnipchannie @kaqua @fairy-lixie @myflowercloud @galaxy4489

[alilobsessive]

Hi!! Crypted reader has been in my head for days could we please see more of them

But of course! Admittedly, I don’t have much of an idea for a plot. So have some Justice Leaguers meeting Reader!

Superman had actually first met Reader as Clark Kent long before the Justice League was even a blip in the eyes of the trinity. You were a small child back then, hyperactive to the point it was maddening to most people, with an active imagination to boot. The small child had been talking to him nonstop, spouting out whatever came from your tiny mind. There wasn’t anything strange about what you were saying, until suddenly you said “Hey check out what I can do!” And Bruce Wayne, who was standing right behind him with a small smile as he listened to he child’s rambling, face contorted into that of horror. “Please we talked about this” he practically bagged, Clark mentally prepared himself for a child to innocently do something inappropriate. But instead what he got was a little unsettling. Something, shifted in the kids eyes, then stance, the child was clearly human, just mimicked something that wasn’t. They were damn good at it too, the kid didn’t even make a sound as they got on all fours and dashed off. “Not again!” Bruce yelped, running after the child.

Diana on the other hand didn’t even know Reader was Bruce's child when they first met. She was giving a museum tour and Reader was in it, the 11 year old was strange. Not strange in the way typical strange kids are, strange in every bone in her body was screaming this kid wasn’t human. They didn’t seem to be a threat, they never appeared to be at first. She kept a close eye on the child, watching them slink around with the rest of the group, tilting their head at odd angles as they looked at the artifacts on display. Whatever they are, they're bad at pretending they're human. It wasn’t uncommon for supernatural creatures to take the forms of humans for whatever reason, the form of a young child was no exception. Even after the child left, having not revealed their true form Diana stood on high alert. Even when they didn’t come back to steal, she was on edge for weeks.

Zatanna met Reader briefly, it was simple, do a magic sensing test for Batman. Just a simple favor, she was expecting a villain that he couldn’t tell if was using magic or just highly skilled. It happened from time to time. But instead it was a child, his child, and ya she got it. Kid had the exact same crypted tendencies as their Father. Admittedly if she didn’t know Batman better she would think he was a magical entity. Her dad made sure to snip that in the bud that’s for sure! But after a few quick tests it was confirmed that no there just like that. Yes Bruce, she did triple and quadruple checked each test to make sure they weren’t possessed, part magical creature, or any other magic related shenanigans going on with them. Kids just weird like their dear ol’ dad.

Flash had the shortest interaction with Reader, it only lasted a few minutes. It was during an invasion, everyone was fighting, “FLASH! CATCH” Nightwing screamed. He quickly turned to the other man and quickly caught what was thrown at him. Well more like who, a teenager started up at him unblinking. “Shit- okay- evacuation time-“ he said only to be hissed at and the teenager to start scratching his face. He ran anyway, wouldn’t be the first time, or the last that he’s attacked by a reluctant to leave civilian for one reason or another. Once they were a safe distance away Flash stopped and put them with the rest of the rescued civilians. Said civilian leaped out of his arms and hissed at him then ran into the crowd on all fours. Before he could even begin to understand what just happened, he had to run back to the fray. The strange incident completely out of his mind.

Booster Gold was just minding his own damn business in the watchtower one day, when Reader took one look at him and went “I’m gonna mess with that”. It started simple, moving objects from one spot to another when he wasn’t looking, pushing around furniture and knocking glasses off of tables. He felt eyes burning into his back with every step he took. Then Reader started letting him catch glimpses of them, of their shadow or of them turning a corner only to not be there. No one believed him when Booster tried to tell them about the strange spirit following him. Which is bullshit! They literally work with an actual goddamn ghost! The only one who did believe them was Blue Beetle, the second not the third. After almost a week of this Reader started to kind of feel bad for terrorizing this man. It was clearly making him anxious and a little paranoid, so they officially revealed themselves not just to him but to the rest of the justice league. Which was a shock to Batman because he did not know Reader was on the ship! How did they even get there??

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumpuary No. 4

What are your favourite whump tropes?

My favourite whump tropes are, in no particular order, and with examples:

LADY. WHUMP. Lady whump. Lady whump. Female whumpees being beaten, bruised and bloody, kicked until they crumble and when Whumper turns, thinking she’s beaten, she raises her head and says: “is that all you got? And I thought you were meant to be scary?” *spits blood* heheheheh FEMALE WHUMPEES GETTING THE SHIT BEAT OUTTA THEM LETS GOOOOOOO

TERRIFYING WHUMPERS!!!! Like makes YOUR (the readers) BLOOD GO COLD KINDA FEAR — where you don’t want to breathe in case the Whumper hurts your fave whumpee more (every @/whumblr villain ever btw)

Polite whumpers who are arseholes and sadists.

Proud, royal, high class whumpees made to beg publicly, yum yum yum, humiliation whump!!!!

WAIT NVM, DEFIANT WHUMPEES ARE MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE WHUMP TROPE!!!! To all my babies who don’t know how to shut up, I too, am dumb like you amen.

Strong whumpers who can physically overwhelm whumpee… but pay someone else to do it, inject that into my veins pleassseee

Found family — ah my beloved, this trope has followed me from my golden years, the beloved fandom days of past… how beautiful and heart wrenching a trope (10/10) [A benignant mischief, my boyyyysss😩]

Fucked up families — OH EVEN BETTER MY FAVE UPON A FAVE!!!! I love fucked up found family, god damn, it has all the whump of found family, WITH EXTRA WHUMP OF FUCKED UP/FORCED FAMILY I GO FERAL FOR IT *CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP* [Intoxicating fear, Partners in Crime, Immortal Hunter]

Love a good kidnapping — just that, a good, captured whumpee in a cell, bleeding or bloody or both and forced to face the consequences of their actions 😌

Forced to kneel

Forced to comply with whumper’s commands (when a loved one is threatened) ((extra points for a team))

TEAM WHUMP OMG!!!! With a stoic leader and a soft whumpee like a cinnamon roll that Whumper tears apart in front of everyone

VAMPIRE WHUMP!!!! SAY IT WITH ME, VAMPIRE WHUMP!!!! Vampire whumpers, vampire whumpees, vampire caretakers, vampire hunter whumpers, vampire hunter whumpees, HUMANS USED AS BLOODBAGS, UNDERGROUND GANGLAND VAMPIRES AAAAAAAAGGGGHHH——

Love a good knife/carving/branding moment, I love when whumper’s name is carved into whumpee’s skin and left to scar so it stays on their body permanently

SUICIDAL HEROES!!!!! SUICIDAL WHUMPEES, I just want to give them a billion hugs and tell them it’ll be okay, I have a soft spot for them

Uncaring caretakers!!!! Caretakers who are there because actual caretaker paid them to rescue whumpee, who is just there for the job that is getting Whumpee back to Caretaker and not for any love/help/comfort, which of course MUST happen and they warm up to Whumpee despite their hard heart awwww

Uhhhhhh i think, NOPE, psychotic whumpers are my babes, no further questions…

There are more but I can’t really think anymore😇😅

[shizunitis]

shizunitis mark of tumblr dot com… what does he ponder…

demon emperor luo binghe (-ge variant) meets shen yuan who becomes his loyal confidant and advisor just fresh out of the abyss. sy stays unobstructive and away from the emperor most times. he visits the palace every few years for a longer period of time to check up on binghe and offer any advice he might have. while he’s there, lbh’s wives and guards keep like. disappearing, dying, etc. it is heavily implied throughout the fic that, through how when shen yuan leaves the palace the disappearances/deaths stop, shen yuan is the culprit.

lbh refuses to believe this. he would not want to ever lose shen yuan. he looks forward to his visits and is happy when he’s there, something he won’t squander with speculations and offensive accusations.

but the thought lingers. shen yuan is clearly distancing himself from lbh, has been for decades, but now it’s more clear than ever. he cuts their meetings short. his visits become shorter and farther apart and, if lbh were to stop and think, he’d realise that shen yuan’s visit this time was highly unusual in its timing and sudden announcement.

finally, the evidence is stacked against shen yuan, who is spotted leaving the harem with blood on his clothes, looking angry. he is brought to the emperor in chains, and his eyes are empty as he stares up at lbh from where he’s made to kneel. the guards announce a wife was found near-dead in her chambers, and is unresponsive. the emperor listens to the accusations and drags shen yuan away himself, locks him in a room, and goes to have a terrible think. he accepts he doesn’t want to kill shen yuan, even still. he goes to find shen yuan again, to demand an explanation, but shen yuan is refusing to speak.

lbh is called away by an emergency in the human realm. he secures the room shen yuan is held in, and goes. when he comes back, exhausted from battle, he finds shen yuan speaking to shang qinghua, who had long been thought dead. lbh eavesdrops: the truth of shen yuan and sqh’s transmigration is revealed and shen yuan comes clean about what happened that night: he was helping one of lbh’s wives, who’d gone through a miscarriage. he was angry at lbh: he doesn’t say much other than speak about lbh’s cruelty, and how he hadn’t expected it to be this bad, but the underlying sentiment is clear.

sqh reassures him that “the plan” is going smoothly and the mushroom bodies are ready. lbh remembers them from when he encountered an enemy using them for their own ends, and puts two and two together.

but he hesitates to act. he could clear the misunderstanding up, he could explain and ask shen yuan for guidance, as he always had, but the truth is he doesn’t know that shen yuan would ever forgive him. he’d neglected his wife in a time of need, who had to call upon another man to save her, putting both in an impossible position. he’d imprisoned and mistreated shen yuan, who’d been with him for decades at this point. he’d done many things to drive everyone away. if shen yuan wants to be rid of him, shouldn’t he be allowed that?

this is where xin mo kicks in and lbh can’t hold himself back. he reveals himself. sqh disappears in a flurry of snowflakes, and shen yuan is left to defend himself against an angry, xin mo-fueled luo binghe who’s clearly just back from war. lbh slashes a portal in the air and pushes shen yuan towards it. shen yuan asks lbh to wait, that he has something important to say, he can’t leave just yet, he needs to listen to him; with the last of his sanity lbh demands shen yuan never return, unless he’d like to die with no back-up plan to fall on this time, and finally pushes him past the gaping maw of xin mo’s portal. then he has a quick and breezy breakdown.

the next day, lbh declares shen yuan dealt with. but oh! what’s this? the murders continue! it was not shen yuan after all?! some wives had demanded he be left alive, but everyone had thought them insane! it was actually a wife this whole time?! and liu mingyan and ning yingying were the first ones to notice?! and they brought their case to the emperor demanding justice?! and sha hualing was the first to rally her forces and go against the murderer, only to be imprisoned away from the palace, months ago?! and shen yuan released her and brought her back to the palace and begged she not tell anyone, least of all luo binghe?! oh my!! oh no!!

anyway. yeah thats. that’s what’s on my mind right now.

[catsofcalifornia]

Pharell and Yoshi from Marin Humane in Novato, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!

Click here for a link to Marin Humane's main website.

Yoshi and Pharell are a special pair of dignified cats with gentle, sweet natures that came to us as brothers from another mother. They were quite confused at first, as they had been left at the shelter after their person moved out of state. They were quick to open up and trust new people but it seemed clear that they needed a lot of extra TLC to get them in their full glory.

Big "brother" Pharell is a gorgeous senior Maine Coon cat that appears to have the longest torso we've ever seen in a kitty. He's definitely got that magical woodland creature element to him, with his fluffy mane and tall pointed ears and deep set eyes. Despite his huge stature, he still manages to fit in the kitty napping nooks and is content to lounge about waiting for his next meal, or a chat and pet session with any nice person that visits with him. He is mellow over all, until you have to try and check his ear or put him in a crate, and at that point, he can be fast and nimble and you realize his enormity. In other words, a typical cat with double the stubborn strength.

Handsome "little brother" Yoshi, has been a diamond in the rough, letting his older brother take the lime light and slowly settling in and revealing his personality, opening up a little more every day. He's generally a quiet kitty, but at least once a day randomly, you'll hear him talking to himself with high pitched baby meows. He is still a young teenager after all, and might even have a little more growing to do. When we first met him, he was attached to Pharell and it's evident that they're bonded and should stay together. He would love to take his time getting to know his new family and opening up on his own timeline, with Pharell right by his side.

With these two as a pair, you will definitely need to have a few grooming brushes at the ready and lots of lap surface area. These boys would love bonding grooming sessions, as they do crave loving attention. They have gotten used to a double charm offensive strategy when they greet people. We've had the privilege of hosting Yoshi and Pharell and now it's time for them to find their new family together!