#just found it very funny how appropriate it was

[thewistlingbadger]

I find jinx's relationship with humor to be very fascinating. Jinx wasn't really a funny child. We never really saw her crack a joke, it just seemed like she wasn't that kind of kid who could find humor in any situation and found it easy to hold around. But as she gets older we see that she frequently uses humor in her day to day life, specifically to help ease her out of uncomfortable situations. Jinx's sense of humor for the most part is quite inappropriate, not in an obscene way but in a way where the things she says just aren't suitable and create a lot of tension. Not only does she use humor to navigate these situations, but she also will forcibly laugh to relieve stress, as though it's some kind of coping mechanism she's developed. She laughs nervously when Silco expressed his disappointment in her, she laughed nervously when she reunited with Vi and saw Caitlyn, she laughed nervously when she showed the gem stone to silco, she laughed nervously when she was stapling her leg, etc. Jinx does use more humor in season two but to me it's significantly reigned in and more appropriate for the most part.

One of the earliest jokes we get from her is "Sisters, right? Can't live with them, can't stuff them back in the old baby maker." This is a really uneasy joke and Jinx reacts accordingly, she instantly laughs this off while cringing. Another instance where she makes an insensitive joke would be at the commune "ask for a healer, get a metal fortune cookie...looks like you got a couple (conditions). " She uses humor to make threats, "I feel like we got off on the wrong arm. How about we try to other?" "Don't move, silly. I might hurt you." "I paid your girlfriend a visit this morning. I made her a snack."

To me this is fascinating because you would think her humor would come from her youth, a mostly carefree period of her life where she was surrounded by peers, not her isolated adolescence. Like, where is this humourous influence coming from? Sevika and Silco, the two people jinx was closest to at the point aren't funny people. They do have their theatrical moments but humor isn't their strong suit. Where did this change of her's come from?

[hailsatanacab]

me listening to Warren Hue while writing my Danny Phantom fanfic: omg wait woah

[camellcat]

guys what the fuck how did they make me so attached to doyle in such a short amount of time. he was NOT around long enough for this shit to make me start cryingggg. FUCK this show I'm so scared

[musical-chick-13]

I finally saw the Barbie movie! I have. Thoughts.

[stllmnstr]

starlight

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: soulmates au, university au

word count: 13.4k

warnings: swearing, angst (but a happy ending because I’m not a monster), soulmate lore, copious amounts of pining and yearning and sighing

soundtrack: crying over you - honne, beka / a world alone - lorde / this is me trying / invisible string / daylight - taylor swift / spring day - bts / so far away - agust d, suran

note: this was another find in my old drafts that I spent a couple of days editing/rewriting. I have very much been in a jungwon mood these days, and it was fun to venture into some more angsty stuff that I haven't written in a while. happy reading! ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

There’s a word for it. Something that’s whispered behind closed doors, shunned like a bad omen you can’t quite shake.

Glitch. A cruel twist of fate. A failed soulmate match.

Something you’ve been marked as since the countdown on your wrist ticked to 00:00 two long years ago and left you lonelier than ever. Something you’ve been fighting since destiny carved itself into your skin with a dull, lifeless shade of gray.

But fate is a funny thing. And love, as you’ve learned, is often found in the most unexpected places.

or,

fate, with all of its cruel, incandescent scheming, leads straight to yang jungwon.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The overhead fluorescents in this particular lecture hall always manage to leave you with a pounding headache that even a strong dose of Advil can never quite seem to mitigate. 

“And with time, these bonds only strengthen. Until a point is reached after which both parties would experience immense pain were they to be physically separated, willingly or not.”

Well, it’s either the lightbulbs or your professor’s droning.

Today, his words are slightly muted where they reach your ears, as if you’re underwater. Drowning in a topic that’s been beaten to death a million times over. 

Still, this is information you should be taking in. Or, at the very least, jotting down notes of, since it’s all but guaranteed to appear on your final exam. But no matter how much you will yourself to focus, you can’t get your mind to cooperate. 

After all, it’s bad enough that you’re forced to be here in the first place. 

Sociology 112: Intro to Soulmate Theory. An absolute joke of a class. 

The very foundation your society is built around. A nagging reminder of the grayscale deficiency that stains the skin of your left inner wrist. 

Subconsciously, you tug the left sleeve of your shirt down a little further. There’s no need, not really. You made sure that your mark was fully covered before you left your dorm room this morning. Just like every morning. 

But long standing habits are rarely broken, and the last thing you need now is another reminder of what makes you different. What makes you wrong.

At the front of the lecture hall, your professor pushes forward in that same, monotonous stupor. He’s either unaware or unconcerned by the fact that some of his students may be affected by his lecture on more than just a purely academic level. 

Staring straight ahead, you distract yourself by scanning your professor, eyes taking in his appearance. At the very least, it will make it look as if you’re paying attention to what he’s saying. 

With the signature graying hair most men in their mid-fifties carry, a pair of rather plain, slightly round eyeglasses, and neutral button-down appropriate for most professional settings, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about your professor. 

Like most people, he gets up in the morning, selects a plain shirt from his modestly sized closet. He enjoys a cup or two of black coffee before embarking on his morning commute to campus, leaving ten minutes earlier than strictly necessary, because he’s convinced it helps him avoid the worst of the morning traffic. 

His life is one of normalcy, you imagine. Nothing that most people would find especially enviable or extraordinary. 

But when he reaches up to point out an example on the lecture slide, the left sleeve of that beige button down lifts, just slightly. 

You only catch a glimpse, a tiny fraction of a look, but you see it all the same. The glossy, shiny, red 00:00 inked into his skin. 

You resist the urge to scratch your wrist. He clicks forward to the next slide. Life goes on.

“As per the syllabus, you’ll be completing projects with an assigned parter on a topic of your choice. Although I encourage you to consult a variety of resources and include several points of view in your project, the only firm guideline is that your topic relates to soulmate theory.”

Several points of view. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, right. In your experience, any arguments against the traditional soulmate model are scoffed at. Met with nothing but anger and ridicule. 

Although it makes for a miserable life, it does make for a simplistic assignment. Assigned partners are usually the bane of your existence, but no matter how incompetent this one is, you’re sure it will be easy enough to meet up once or twice in the university library and regurgitate common sentiment on how the soulmate system is nothing short of a wondrous gift to humanity. 

Glancing at the clock as your professor officially dismisses class for the morning, you suppose you do have something to thank the heavens for. He’s wrapped up fifteen minutes early, which means you’ll have enough time to grab a coffee before your shift. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and once again checking that the fabric of your left sleeve covers your wrist, you slide your laptop into your bag and stand up from your seat. 

No matter what particular strand of bullshit this class dragged you through, today will be a good day. Or at least a comfortingly neutral one. You’re sure of it. 

With one final scan of your desk, you head to the exit at the front of the lecture hall without a backwards glance. 

And in the very back corner of the lecture hall, tucked neatly out of both sight and mind, Yang Jungwon exhales a long sigh before gathering his things. 

…..

“Oh, you are an absolute angel.”

Playful frown tugging at your lips, you ask, “Why is it that you only praise me when I come bearing gifts?”

Jake’s too engrossed with taking a long sip of the matcha latte you just handed him to concern himself with giving your question a real answer. 

Despite his inclination to be most forthcoming with compliments when they’re a payment for caffeine, he’s hands down your favorite coworker. He’s genuinely kind, easygoing in a way that makes even the longest of shifts pass quickly. 

Setting your bag down, you slide into the seat next to his, turning on your desk computer. “Any new applications to process today.”

“Nothing yet.” Jake glances at the empty inbox to confirm his answer. He shrugs, adding, “This time of year is usually fairly slow, though. We tend to get the most applications at the beginning of the semester and around the holidays.”

“Right,” you nod. “That makes sense.” Times when people are fresh on campus, away from home and exploring a new environment for the first time. And times when people are lonely. 

It’s something you understand well. After all, you had been part of the latter group when you submitted your own application. 

Last year was your first year of university, and although the numbers on your wrist had already faded to a dull, matte gray by the time you enrolled, living on campus put you far away from your support system for the first time in your life. 

Even then, you avoided it as long as you could. It hurt something in your pride, felt like admitting a weakness, admitting a flaw. But the truth could only be avoided so long and on one cloudy afternoon in late fall, the loneliness crossed the line from painful to unbearable. 

So, with a rain jacket pulled tight around your body, you made your way to the Student Support Center on campus and sought out help for something you’d been grieving in private for the better part of a year. 

It had still felt like shame, to disclose the details of your condition. To tell another person about the cosmic cruelty etched permanently into the soft skin of your left wrist. 

And then it was done. Your secret belonged to someone else, too. Pain was shared, and over time, started to feel less like a cut and more like a bruise. 

It still ached when you pressed on it, of course, but you felt lighter. Able to breathe a little easier. 

But even with all of the support, all of the work you’ve done to feel a bit more like yourself, pain is still a shadow that lingers at your heels. 

Even now, months later, sitting next to a friend, you suppress the urge to tug at your sleeve again. 

You’re able to see your actions for what they are now. And you suppose it’s the same thing – injured pride, a deep sense of shame, that has you wearing long sleeves even as the last days of late summer cling to the air with stifling heat. 

It’s not as if your unfamiliar with the failure etched into your skin. You know what you would find, what everyone would see if you were to wear short sleeves for once. 

A dull, matte gray 00:00. A reminder of what could’ve been. What should have been, if the universe had just been a little kinder to you. 

Even as days and weeks and months pass you by, you still remember when there was a different number displayed there. One that got smaller with each passing second. One that, like your professor’s, like everyone else’s, glowed a bright, glossy red.

Just like everyone else, you were born with red numbers on your left wrist. There was no sign then, at your birth, that you were different. That you were a glitch. 

Just like your family, just like your friends, just like every stranger you passed in the street, your number was normal. In fact, it was enviable. Mostly because it was so much smaller than average. 

As a child, you’d reveled in it – the comparatively short length of your soulmate countdown. It wasn’t unusual for people to have to wait well into their twenties, thirties, or even forties to find their soulmate. 

But a quick calculation had revealed that your countdown would tick to 00:00 just after your seventeenth birthday. 

It feels stupid now, like some sort of cruel joke, that you ever thought of yourself as lucky. 

You still remember it as if it were yesterday. Two long years ago, at the delicate age of seventeen. On the precipice of a life-changing revelation. A moment that was meant to mark the beginning of your forever. Your happy ending. 

The air was clean that day. Lingering with the fresh scent of the earth after a rainstorm. Rebirth. A sign of something beautiful to come. Dew and humidity clung to you like a second skin as you raced towards the neighborhood park that had been haunting your dreams for the last few weeks. 

Soulmates and the bonds that connect them aren’t magic, not exactly, but there was still something divine about it, the cosmic energy that sang to you. That told you that this particular park was where your life was destined to change. That it was where you were going to meet your soulmate. 

The other person who felt the same gentle tug towards you, whose wrist was stained with a matching countdown, set to tick down to 00:00 at the very second your eyes locked with one another. 

Your heart was racing, nearly beating out of your chest. Your fingertips thrummed with it, that overflow of energy that didn’t come from you but belonged to you all the same. 

And like everyone else, your timer ran out. 

He was there. He was there, and you knew it was him without having to say a word. Across the park, under the shade of an old sycamore tree, you could see it, feel it in his eyes. 

Your soulmate. 

Handsome and a year older than you, if you had to guess. A perfect stranger that you felt like you already knew. That already understood you without the need for words. 

You had been too wrapped up in it, in him, to notice the one striking oddity. Because unlike everyone else, your completed countdown, that ever coveted 00:00, didn’t remain that gorgeous, shiny red. 

No, while your eyes were locked on his, heart singing with unfulfilled dreams and visions of a future you’d never have the privilege of knowing, it had faded to that same dull gray that mocks you now. 

It wasn’t the color that you noticed. It was the burning sensation that finally had you tearing your gaze away from him and landing on the skin of your left wrist. 

Confused, your brow drew together as you tried to make sense of it. As your mind spun, searching for a plausible explanation. 

And when you finally found it in you to look up at him again, the wrongness of it all began to sink in. The way he walked toward you with slow, reluctant steps. The way his mouth pulled tight at the corners, as if he wanted to prevent any words from escaping. 

The wedding ring wrapped around the finger on his left hand. The already occupied space you thought would belong to you one day. 

It was an accident, he told you. Even then, his voice had been steady. He wasn’t pleading for your forgiveness. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need you. 

It was nothing more than a drunken mistake between him and a girl he met at university. One that he wasn’t serious about, but damage had been done nonetheless. A single night that was meant to be a blip, a passing moment in time, but had turned into a child. One that the two of them had already made the decision to raise together. 

A child that had made them both decide to forgo the fate written on their wrists and forge a new life on their own. 

It hurt, he told you, to see you, to know that he was causing you pain. 

But one glance at him confirmed for you that his hurt was different from yours. For one, he could still speak, could form words with that same, even cadence that felt like knives embedding themselves into your skin. 

You had wanted to beg, wanted to scream until your throat was raw. It was him. It was him. He was supposed to be yours, and you were supposed to be his. Wasn’t it the same for him? Didn’t he feel it too?

But his mind was made up and you knew better than to plead with a man who had fought and forsaken destiny itself. 

It wasn’t your fault. He had told that day, and you’ve heard it countless times since then. From your parents. From your closest friends. From your own tear-stained reflection in your bedroom mirror. 

But blame with nowhere to go always had a way of ending up on your shoulders, and empty reassurances never stopped your mind from spinning with painful possibilities on sleepless nights. 

What if we had met sooner? What if he had never met her? What if they never had a child?

Or even worse, 

What if I found him again? Begged him to reconsider? Convinced him to leave her?

In the end, it was pointless. Fate had been written and then rewritten. Would in a tight string and undone in one fell swoop. The stars had aligned and shifted and still remained so terribly out of reach. 

There was nothing you could do, nothing to be done. 

But it didn’t stop the loneliness from seeping in. It was always loudest in the quiet moments, but it never truly left. It didn’t matter where you were – in class, with friends, surrounded by people, or completely alone. There was always an overwhelming sense of loss, of loneliness that followed you wherever you went. 

So last fall, when the burden of it felt too heavy to bear alone, you’d bitten the bullet and applied to your university’s support program for glitches. Although, of course, none of the staff dared to use that word. 

It’s where you first met Jake. And the bright red number on his wrist still ticks evenly, he had a friend once, one that shared a fate similar to yours. One who let the loneliness consume her instead of accepting help. 

Even though it wasn’t through firsthand experience, Jake knew the pain of a failed soulmate match intimately. And after a handful of weeks, you’d found genuine friendship in him. 

After a few months of attending support groups, he was the one who suggested you for an open position on the support team. It was him that thought you might find a renewed sense of purpose, a distinct kind of empathy for the other students on campus with stories like yours. 

You’re grateful beyond words for him, for all of it. For the people and the friendships and the small moments that remind you that life is worth living, even on the hard days. Even when you’re forced to sit through classes on soulmate theory and pretend like long sleeves are nothing but a fashion statement. 

So you’ll take his compliments with a smile, even when they come at the expense of a matcha latte from his favorite campus cafe. You’ll take the hard days and the good days and all the little moments in between. 

He knows it too, even if you don’t say it with words. Even if all you ask is, “The matcha’s good?”

But something in you still smiles, still feels a little lighter, when Jake turns to you with a grin and assures, “Of course.”

…..

If there’s one place you still find to be painfully devoid of optimism, it’s your damn Intro to Soulmate Theory course. Although it’s an important element of existing sociological systems and objectively relevant, it presses on your ever-lingering bruises more than just about anything else in your day-to-day life. 

As if that weren’t enough, it’s a morning class. Which means you’re already in a dreary mood as the clock ticks painfully slow through yet another monotone lecture. 

Thankfully, your professor’s cadence is beginning to slow, a surefire signal that class is drawing to an end. Again, you glance up at the clock, a spark of pleasant surprise flickering through your mind. Could you really be so lucky as to get out early two classes in a row? 

At the front of the hall, your professor scans his notes one final time. Nodding slightly, you really think he’s about to let you go ten minutes ahead of schedule. 

But then his eyes pause at the bottom of the page, a reminder he missed the first time. 

“Before we wrap up for the day,” he says, and you suppress the urge to groan audibly. “As I mentioned last class, you’ll be completing your next assignment in partners.”

That’s right. You’d almost forgot. Ugh, as if the disappointment of a full length lecture hadn’t been bad enough. 

“The instructions, rubric, and due date can all be found on your syllabus, and as always, you’re welcome to email me or attend office hours with any additional questions you may have. I’ve already taken the initiative to place you in pairs, so please listen for your name.”

Glancing down at his notes again, he reads out the first pair. 

“Kim Sunoo and Lee Heeseung.”

As he moves through the seemingly endless list of names, you begin to tune out. Have there always been this many people in this class? Admittedly, this is not a lecture that often commands your attention, but it seems like something you should have picked up on. 

A minute later, spurred by the sudden sound of your own name, your attention snaps back into focus. 

“... and Yang Jungwon.”

Yang Jungwon. 

It’s a name you’ve heard in passing, maybe. But it’s not one you’re familiar with. 

Standing as the list draws to a conclusion, you begin to look around the emptying lecture hall. You figure it might be easiest to exchange information now, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to find him with everyone else trying to do the same. 

Sighing, you decide to try for a minute or two before just resorting to looking up his email on the online class list later and sending him a message there. 

Ultimately, it’s him who finds you. 

“___?” At the sound of your name, you spin around, looking back over your shoulder. 

His presence, like his voice, is unassuming. Still, as your eyes land on who you assume must be Yang Jungwon, there’s something about him that makes you want to keep looking. 

Dark hair falls over his forehead, framing equally dark eyes. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and oversized jeans, the attention doesn’t seem like something he’d seek out. Even now, he doesn’t quite match your gaze. 

“Yeah,” you affirm, somewhat breathless. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Just Jungwon is fine.” He smiles, but it’s a tight, strained thing. Doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s pressing forward before you have time to linger on it. “Do you want to go ahead an exchange information now? I’ll get my final training schedule this afternoon, so I can message you when I have a better idea of when I’ll be able to meet up.”

Well, he seems competent enough. Or at the very least, willing to put in effort. It’s more than you can say for most of the assigned partners you’ve been given. And it’s pleasant surprise in a string of disappointments and what is surely going to be a miserable project to work on. 

“That sounds good,” you nod, reaching for your phone. You open a new contact before handing it to him to fill out. As he types, you watch a strand of hair fall over his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush it away, even as your fingertips itch with the sudden urge to. 

Instead, you busy yourself with asking a question. “Training schedule?” you echo his earlier words. “Are you an athlete?”

If he’s put off by your probing, he doesn’t show it. Steady as ever, he continues typing. “Mhm,” he hums. “Taekwondo team.”

“Ah,” you nod. “That’s cool.” Accepting your phone back, you type your name into the newly created chat. “Here, I sent you a message with my name, so you have my information, too. I work in the afternoons, but I have a pretty consistent schedule. Once you have your training times, we can figure out when we’re both free.”

Glancing at the message that comes through on his end, Jungwon confirms, “Perfect.” Hiking his bag a little further up on his shoulder, he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards the door at the front of the lecture hall. 

In the time that’s elapsed, most of the other students have made their way towards it. The room is significantly more empty than it was a handful of minutes ago. Still, Jungwon lingers for a moment. 

Finally, he looks back at you. This time, he does meet your eyes. 

You know it’s nothing but the overhead lights. The same obnoxious fluorescents that always give you a pounding headache. But reflected in his dark, searching gaze, they almost look like starlight. 

“I’ll see you around, then,” he says before turning towards the door. 

And if you let your gaze linger just a little too long on his retreating back, you’ll be grateful that no one is paying you enough attention to notice. 

…..

Your dinner is cleaned up, skincare is completed, and the events from your day are blurring into a sleepy sort of haze when his first message reaches you. 

9:36 pm Yang Jungwon I got my final training schedule. Looks like I should be free Tuesday and Thursday afternoons after 4 if that works for you?

Double checking your work schedule, you type a reply. 

9:38 pm You I work on Tuesdays until 6 but I can do Thursday at 4. 

9:39 pm Yang Jungwon Let’s plan on Thursday then �� Meet you at the library? I’ll reserve a study room on the first floor. 

9:40 pm You Sounds good, see you then!

With the semester well underway, Thursday is quick to roll around. Other than a quick wave and a small smile towards him during your last shared lecture, you haven’t had any contact with Jungwon since your last messages. 

Even though it’s still only early afternoon, you’re already feeling the weight of a busy day weighing on you when you arrive at the library. A handful of minutes before four, you’re working to locate the study room Jungwon just sent you the number of. 

Navigating your way through frazzled study groups and overworked, overcaffeinated upperclassmen, you finally find it with a few minutes to spare. Pulling the door open slowly, you’re half surprised to see that he’s arrived even earlier than you. 

Early and straight from practice, you assume, if his still slightly damp hair is anything to go by. Freshly showered, the faint smell of his shampoo reaches you where you slide down into the seat across from him. 

“Good call on the study room,” you add after your initial greeting. “I always forget how packed the library is once the semester really gets going.”

“Right?” Jungwon agrees. “I have a friend who swore by them last year, and now I’ll never go back.

“Letting you in on the study room secret,” you grin, pulling out your laptop. “That’s a true friend right there.”

“Yeah.” Something in Jungwon’s gaze softens as he nods. There’s a distinct fondness in his eyes, one that makes you think there’s a story there. One about more than just study rooms. “He is.”

When you finish settling in, you pull up your course syllabus again, clicking on the link to the assignment guidelines. “So,” you start, scanning the page one more time, “the instruction seem pretty straightforward. It looks liek we just need to pick a topic within the realm of soulmate theory and discuss recent research or developments.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you suppress the urge to tug at your left sleeve. Eyes honing in on the screen in front of you, you force yourself into a practiced state of detachment. The one you always revert back into when discussing this particular topic. 

“I don’t know if you have a topic in mind already,” you shrug, “but I’m pretty much open to anything.”

Across from you, Jungwon’s teeth start to worry at his bottom lip. He hesitates for a moment, the room suspended in silence before he ventures, “What about –” Shaking his head slightly, his words die on his lips. “Never mind.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Is there something you’re interested in?”

“No.” Jungwon shakes his head again. “I doubt there would be any recent research, anyway.”

“Okay,” you concede. Part of you wants to push further, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, you type in a quick search. “I just pulled up some recent research topics, and it looks like there’s been development related to countdown colors and location based soulmate matches.” Ignoring the sudden slight burning sensation on your left wrist, you fight to maintain an even tone as you ask, “Do either of those sound interesting to you?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment, considering. “Maybe location based matches?”

Exhaling, you release a breath you hadn’t been meaning to hold. With a small nod, you tell him, “That sounds good. Let’s look for publications to reference today.  We can divide them between us before we go and then take notes on them separately. We can meet up again next week at the same time to start an outline, if that works for you. We have a little over four weeks until the final paper is due, so that should give us a decent start.” 

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “That works for me.”

Returning to your computer, you fight the urge to steal small glances at him as he does the same. In the minutes that follow, a silence settles around you. It’s not horribly awkward, but you still find yourself itching to fill it with something. 

Finally, you bite the bullet. “Would it be okay with you if I put some music on? Just something instrumental.”

Glancing up at you, your eyes meet. Again, you’re not sure how he does it. But tucked away in a library study room, his gaze reflects the lights above you in a way that looks all too much like starlight. “Sure,” Jungwon nods. 

Forcing your gaze back to your screen, you navigate to your study playlist and put it on shuffle. The first handful of notes spill into the silence, a calm piano melody that cuts through some of the stagnance. 

A handful of classical pieces and a dozen journal articles later, Jungwon breaks the easy rhythm the two of you have fallen into. “Clair de Lune,” he names the tune that has just begun to weave itself around the room. A small smile turns the corners of his lips upwards. “This is on my study playlist, too.”

You offer him a matching smile in return. A soft thing. A shared moment. “You like this song?” It makes sense. A boy with stars in his eyes listening to a love letter to the moon. 

“Yeah,” he nods. The quiet melody sings through the air, floats around tentative glances, delicate breaths. Lands lightly on two sets of shoulders. “You know, you’re better than I am. I always end up turning on my regular playlist and then singing along to the songs instead of actually working on anything.”

That earns him a full blown smile. “Believe me,” you lean in like it’s a secret. Something meant just for the two of you. “I do that more than I probably should, too.”

A shared grin later, the two of you are back to your own laptop screens. 

Even though it’s your study playlist that continues to filter softly through your speaker, you find yourself distracted for a different reason.

It’s all too easy to imagine.

Jungwon, alone in his room, eyes sparkling even as he fights off the clutches of sleep. A song playing through his speaker. An old favorite, maybe, or perhaps something he heard on the radio and hasn’t been able to get out of his head since. One that he sings along to softly, assignments lying untouched on the desk in front of him. 

…..

Despite your newfound fondness of your project partner, you’re sure that Intro to Soulmate Theory will continue to be your most dreaded class until the end of the semester releases you from its twice-a-week morning monotony. 

The universe, as always, seems determined to prove you wrong, though. 

Just as your professor steps into position behind the podium at the front of the lecture hall, a person slides down into the usually unoccupied seat just to the left of yours. 

Startled, you glance up .

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” the boy in question smiles. Switching to a whisper as the professor begins his lecture, he adds, “I’m glad I made it on time. I thought for sure I was going to be late.”

Sliding his bag off of his shoulder, he pulls out his computer and finishes settling into the seat next to yours. Then, he sets something on the desk in front of you. “I brought this for you, by the way.”

Eyes landing on the iced coffee in front of you, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but stare for a moment. 

“I noticed you have one sometimes, in this class.” With your silence, Jungwon suddenly seems unsure of himself. “I wasn’t sure what your order was, so I just guessed based on color. And I mean, light brown can be just about anything with iced coffee, so I hope you like it. I probably should have just asked, but…” he trails off, and you don’t think you imagine the light dusting of pink that settles across his cheekbones. “But I thought it would be nicer as a surprise.”

“I – thank you.” The fondness that’s been growing since your time together in library study room begins to swell again.

You glance at him, and your heart gives a strange, unsteady lurch. Not entirely unpleasant, but disquieting all the same. For a moment, it feels like something bigger. Something more.

Something you haven’t felt since a humid afternoon in a neighborhood park that you’ve been trying to forget for a long time. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Jungwon shrugs, but his cheeks retain their color. “I was stopping by the cafe anyway.” He gestures to the coffee on his own desk, proof of his claim. “Besides, it’s what a partner’s for.”

“Well, thank you,” you repeat. “I –”

“Again,” the sound of your professor’s voice, suddenly sharp, cuts through your words. “I’d like to give a firm reminder to you all that my lectures are not an appropriate place to carry on side conversations. Feel free to exit the room and forfeit your attendance points for the day if you are unable to refrain.”

Thoroughly cowed, you shrink back into your seat as a few wandering pairs of eyes land on you. 

At your side, Jungwon shakes with a silent hint of laughter. 

Despite the humiliation of essentially being asked to shut up in front of an entire lecture hall, the sight is enough to have you smiling. 

And when the two of you part ways an hour later with matching smiles and a promise to see each other again Thursday afternoon, your heart feels lighter than it has in ages. 

…..

When Thursday afternoon comes, it finds you and Jungwon tucked away in the same study room, sitting across from one another, laptops open, and outline for your project halfway formed. 

This time, the drinks that sit on the table in front of you are courtesy of your wallet. The iced coffee Jungwon brought you a few mornings ago wasn’t your usual order, but it is what you’re sipping on now. You can’t quite decide what you enjoy more: the taste or the sentiment. 

Either way, you have a feeling that a tradition of sorts may be blooming. 

You can’t say that you mind. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, to have someone to share it with. It doesn’t matter that it’s small. It doesn’t matter that it’s just an unexpected coffee to help a study session pass by just a bit faster. It feels nice, to be considered. To be thought of. It feels… special. 

With the same instrumental study playlist filtering through your laptop speaker, the two of you exchange a smile when Clair de Lune begins to play. 

With startling clarity, you realize that you enjoy this. It’s pleasant. A project that you were dreading with dragging feet has become something you look forward to. 

And you’re sure that it’s because of him. 

Despite the fact that you’re poring over research that would sting like a slap to the face under any other circumstances, Jungwon’s presence has a way of soothing the ache. Even as you scan over another promising article detailing the current research on soulmate matches in various geographic regions, you find yourself fighting smiles. Stealing glances. 

All Jungwon is doing is sitting next to you. Occasionally trading mindless conversations with you. But that’s enough to keep the reminders of a tragic fate lost to decisions and circumstances out of your control at bay for the time being. 

You’re not sure what it is, not sure why it seems to reach you somewhere that’s remained untouched for years, but the more time you spend with Jungwon, the more you start to like it. 

That odd sensation that almost feels like butterflies in your stomach. The stilted rhythm of a heartbeat that almost feels like it’s running a little faster, skipping a step every now and then. 

The warmth that sits high on your cheekbones and heats almost like a flustered blush whenever he catches your eye for a little too long. 

A million little almosts. A thousand little possibilities. The lingering ghost of a hundred somethings you thought you lost along with the dead countdown on your wrist two long years ago. 

But you don’t let yourself voice these thoughts. You’re afraid to even let your mind linger on them for too long. 

If it does, you’re worried that it will twist and tarnish whatever is taking flight into something ugly, something rotten. Will convince you that this glimmer of peace you’ve found is living on borrowed time and will only bring a future of misery in its wake. 

Because the semester will end, the class will finish, and your project will be submitted. 

Yang Jungwon will become nothing but a moment in time. A blip on a radar. A distant memory that you hope you’ll reflect on with fondness. 

Time will continue on with its incessant march, and the countdown on your wrist will still be that ugly, faded, gray. 

It doesn’t matter if the moments that pass between the two of you feel like almosts. Your fate was already written and unraveled by another man who didn’t want you. 

You’re a failure. A glitch. 

Pretty words and sideways glances and unexpected gestures imbued with kindness won’t change that. Won’t fix you. 

Yang Jungwon will move on from this project, from this class, from you. 

The countdown that you’re sure must tick bright red on his wrist will continue to get smaller and smaller, and you will be nothing but a forgotten memory. 

You’re not sure why it’s so upsetting, here in the sanctity of the study room. Not sure why this series of truths you’ve always known is suddenly so devastating. But something about the way they swirl in the recesses of your mind had you flailing, desperate for air, for distance, for space. 

Out loud, you choke out a halfhearted excuse about stepping out for a moment. The concern that immediately flickers across Jungwon’s features barely registers in your panic induced stupor. 

You need to go. Need to get away. Need to find somewhere to be alone and away from all of it, from him. You can’t breathe – 

“___?” You hear your name. You know it’s him. Hear him ask gently, “Are you okay?”

But it’s muffled. It’s all wrong. 

In your haste to escape, you knock over the gift, your gesture of goodwill in the form of coffee you bought for Jungwon. 

You watch, horrified, as it falls in slow motion. Hot, dark liquid spills over the table, narrowly avoiding his laptop and class notes. 

Of course. Of course you ruined this, too. 

“It’s okay,” you think you hear him say as he reaches for a spare napkin, dabbing at the growing puddle. But it’s not. It’s not. 

He reaches for his bag, pulling out another handful of napkins from the front pocket. Instinctively, he rolls up his sleeve, the left one, to wipe up the rest of the excess liquid. 

That’s when you see it. The inky 00:00 on the inside of his left wrist. 

It’s not red. It’s not shiny. It doesn’t make sense for him. A boy with stars in his eyes should have love on his skin. 

But even as you blink again, it remains unchanged. It’s a dull, muted, lifeless gray. 

A reflection, a twin, a copy of your own. 

A moment too late, his eyes fall to the skin of his wrist too. With the practiced reflexes of a trained athlete, he’s pulling it down just as quickly as he rolled it up. But it’s too late. You’ve already seen the truth. 

Shared pain. Shared shame. 

It grounds you. Reaching out a hand, you take a few napkins from the top of the pile. 

“Here,” you offer, voice unbearably small. A million questions swim in your mind, none of which you’ll ask. “I can help.” Hollow words and a hollow sentiment. There’s nothing you can do for him, and he knows it just as well. As luck would have it, spilled coffee is the least of your shared concerns. 

Nonetheless, the two of you wipe up the remainder of the spill in silence, a gentle piano melody still weaving its way around the space between the two of you. It wraps itself around both of your stained wrists, threads an invisible string between two lost souls, two shared fates. 

Finally, after long minutes, you are the first one to speak. “It didn’t get on your computer, did it?”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. He reaches an outstretched hand towards you, taking the soiled napkins you still hold before discarding them in the trash can. “Just the table.”

“That’s good.” A moment passes. Two. And then, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You’re not sure what you should be apologizing for. In the end, you take the easy way out. “I should have paid better attention to where your cup was. You can finish mine, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, Jungwon explains, “I usually only drink it hot.”

“I can get you a new one –”

“Really,” he insists. “It’s okay.”

And it is. You can tell that he’s not upset, not about the coffee. But the tension is still there. Has yet to vacate the room. Has yet to drain from the tight line in his shoulders. 

You saw it. You have the sinking suspicion that he knows you saw it. 

That puts you at a crossroads. You can act as if nothing has happened, pretend that you saw nothing and do your best to return to your project. 

But you’ve had friends and family tiptoe around you for the last two years, and it never left you feeling anything but empty. Even more unwanted, more of an anomaly. More of a glitch. 

You don’t want Jungwon to feel those things. Don’t want him to feel as if he has to carry all of his pain by himself. So, you try your best, in a steady voice, hiding the shake in your hands underneath the cover of the table in front of you. 

“You know,” you nod towards his arm, taking great care to keep any sign of judgement clear from your voice. “I actually work at the Student Support Center. I know it’s rare, but there are lots of people and resources there dedicated to helping people that… struggle with soulm–”

“I think we should just work on the project.” Jungwon’s lips are tight, drawn into a thin line. Avoiding your gaze, he sinks a little further into his chair. Even with his eyes trained on the floor beneath him, you can see the tension in his jaw, the uneasy tapping of his fingers against his leg.

The way he tugs at the sleeve that sits over his left wrist makes you want to press matters further, to push just a little more until he knows that he has you on his side, but you’ll respect his wishes. 

You may have shared moments between the two of you, but you don’t know him, not really. The boundaries he sets are not yours to push. The lines he draws are not yours to cross. 

The last thing you want to do is increase his discomfort, even if you have the sinking feeling that you’ve already done just that. 

“Okay, yeah.” You take a deep inhale. “I overstepped. I’m sor–”

But Jungwon just shakes his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

…..

But you do. 

You worry about it when you head back to your down nearly an hour later, after bidding him a goodnight that was still riddled with tension. 

You worry about it as you prepare dinner, accidentally leaving the stovetop on long after you’ve finished cooking. 

You worry about it as you try to fall asleep, unsettling thoughts of Jungwon suffering from the same pain, the same shame you’ve been hiding for the last two years. Distantly, you wonder how long it’s been for him. 

You worry about it when you arrive at your next Intro to Soulmate Theory lecture, two coffees in hand. 

Your worry turns to dread when long minutes tick by and still, the seat on your left remains horribly unoccupied, coffee going cold where it sits untouched on the desk. 

You worry when you arrive at work, the handful of messages you’ve sent still unanswered no matter how many times you check your phone. 

10:47 am You Hi Jungwon, sorry if this is annoying but you weren’t in class today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay

10:58 am You I’m really sorry about the other day at the library. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

1:32 pm You Hey let me know when you see this. I just really want to make sure you’re okay. 

You’ve typed and deleted a million more, unsure of how to best approach the situation. You’re not close to one another, not really. You’re not even friends. You’re project partners, and not even of your own volition. 

You can’t seek him out, because you don’t know where he lives. Who he talks to. What his schedule is. 

The whole situation has you feeling a bit helpless. Your shift passes in an absentminded blur as you try to piece together some kind of solution, some way of making sure he’s okay. 

In your daze, you hardly notice that the clock has ticked all the way to the end of your shift. Jake finds you, an apologetic smile on his features. 

His voice sounds far away, muddled as he asks you for a favor, asks if you’d be willing to pull a double tonight since the person on the evening shift just called out sick. 

Usually you’d be hesitant, but right now you’re desperate for a distraction. Something to take your mind off of the fear that gnaws at your gut. 

But through the fog in your mind, you’ve forgotten one thing. In your old schedule, evening shifts were always your favorite. Primarily because they’re significantly slower than the daytime ones. Back then, the reprieve had been welcome, and you’d used the extra time to finish up assignments between tasks. 

But now, every agonizing minute feels like an eternity. 

And it’s an especially slow night tonight. From your office seat, you watch as the light rain showers outside turn into a torrential downpour. With a sigh, you resign yourself to the fact that no one will be visiting tonight. No one will want to leave their home in weather like this. 

In the silence, you’re left alone with your thoughts. Again, you check your phone screen, hoping that sometime in the last three minutes since you last checked, there will be a notification to ease your worries. 

But there’s nothing. The only thing that stares back at you is the time and the faint outline of your own reflection. 

Frustrated, you set your phone back down. There has to be something you can do. You’re halfway convinced that you should just go through everyone on your class list and send emails until someone knows something when the sound of the chime that hangs above the front door to the center rings out against the silence. 

Peering over your computer, you frown. Maybe Jake forgot something. 

But as the person draws closer, a familiar shape begins to solidify. And it’s not your favorite coworker. 

“Jungwon?” It’s him. You’re sure of it. Even if he looks more like a drowned cat than the boy you share a study room with. 

Your brow furrows, a strange mix of confusion and relief coloring your features as you stand from your seat. A million emotions flicker through your mind, running too fast for you to fully keep up. Annoyance that he’s been avoiding you and your messages. Confusion as to why he’s here now. And above it all, cold, sharp relief that he seems to be okay. 

But then you let your eyes scan him, falling from his dark hair to his soaked sneakers. 

He’s absolutely drenched, down to the bone. Rain soaked hair falls over his eyes, stray drops streaking over his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. Dripping from his dark eyelashes. His clothes, usually baggy, cling a bit closer to his frame with the added weight of precipitation. 

And his eyes. His sparkling, shining eyes full of starlight. 

They’re frantic now, imbued with a panic you recognize all too well. 

“Jungwon,” you repeat, letting your strides eat up the ground as you close the distance that separates you. 

He’s shaking, you realize. His entire body trembles. Without thinking, without even really meaning to, your hands reach up to smooth some of his dark, wet hair away from his eyes. Your touch only intensifies his shivering. 

He stands, motionless, dripping on the floor. He still can’t match your gaze, has yet to breathe a single word to you. 

“You’re shaking.” You can’t help but state the obvious. Removing your hand from his temple, you reach for his hand. It’s cold, too. Raindrops melt against your skin as you touch your skin to his. Finding no resistance, you envelop his hand in your own. 

Tugging slightly, you pull him into a nearby room, stopping only to grab a warm blanket. Guiding him gently into a chair, you drape it over his shoulders, let it cover his entire body beneath his neck. 

Stepping away from him, you begin to brew a warm cup of tea. After another minute of silence, you hand it to him wordlessly. 

You watch him take a tentative sip. His fingertips are red, evidence of the lingering chill in his bones, where he wraps them around the mug. 

A million questions bubble in your throat. You breathe life into none of them. Silence settles around the both of you. Not entirely unpleasant, but brimming with something heavy. 

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. It could be minutes, could be hours. Could be something not bound by the rules and restraints of physics at all. 

But soon enough, the mug is empty. Jungwon sighs. 

“I just,” he finally breathes, and you feel your heart clench in your chest. Seizing like his pain belongs to you. His voice is ragged, scraped raw. And so, so quiet. “I couldn’t be alone.” There’s a tremble in his fingertips when he adds, “Not tonight.”

“You’re not,” you assure him, shaking your head as you step closer. After a moment of consideration, you slide down into the seat next to him. “I promise you. You’re not alone.”

Jungwon closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the wall. You watch as his throat works around a swallow. 

“Okay,” he finally whispers. 

You mean it. He’s not alone. You won’t let him be. Not for the remainder of your shift. Not when the early traces of dawn start to streak in through the windows, clouds parting in the morning sky as the rain releases its grip on the world. 

Not as the sun starts to peek its head over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel watercolors and the promise of a new day. 

Even then, it’s just the two of you. Jugwon’s head it still against the wall. His eyes are closed, but you know he’s not sleeping. 

You don’t move until he does. Until he asks in a small voice if you’ll meet him at the coffee shop the two of you have started to become regular at. 

Until you honor his request with a nod and a promise to see him again in an hour. 

…..

The coffee shop is mostly empty this early in the morning. You watch, sipping absentmindedly on your iced coffee as a handful of patrons come and go, moving about their day blissfully unaware of the way your world feels a bit like it’s spinning on its axis. 

But you feel distant from them, too. 

The corner table you and Jungwon occupy feels private, secluded. A bit like the study room you’re also well acquainted with. A fitting place for revelations. 

After a minute of baited silence, Jungwon begins all at once, coffee warm between his hands. 

His match was supposed to be in a park, too. 

It’s interesting – the research you’ve been reading on location based matches supports claims that soulmate bonds prefer open air, areas surrounded by nature. Ironic then, that both of yours should end like this. 

Jungwon’s fate was set in stone later than yours. His match failed a year ago. Exactly a year ago. Today is an anniversary for him, a terrible reminder of your shared fate, shared shame. 

It was supposed to be in a park. His favorite one. A place he went often, a place he loved. He hasn’t been back since. 

Not when that eerie, cosmic, magnetic pull of destiny tugged at him until he was sitting on a bench, next to the rose garden that had just begun to bloom. 

Not when his breath stopped the second she arrived, and he knew, he knew that it was her. He was looking at his destiny. His soulmate. 

But she wasn’t looking at him. 

Not when he stood up to greet her, to meet his future with a wide smile and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers just as the shiny, red numbers on his wrist drew closer and closer to zero. 

Not when he watched, a distinct sort of dread building in the pit of his stomach, as someone emerged from the opposite side of the garden. He wasn’t carrying wildflowers, but he did hold a single, ruby red rose. 

Not when time ticked on, revealing with every steady, agonizing second that this stranger had the same intentions, the same plan. 

The same countdown. The same fate. 

Not when he watched, motionless, helpless, as this stranger met her first. 

Not when he watched in abject horror as both of their faces lit up with smiles. When she took the rose from him with care in her touch and love in her eyes. 

Not when he looked down at his own wrist, vision blurring as tears began to gather in his eyes, as bright, shiny red faded to a dull, lifeless gray. 

Not when he was a failure, a miscalculation. An unfortunate needle in a haystack of success stories. A glitch. 

Not when he watched the woman that was meant to be the love of his life fall into the arms of another man and leave him standing there alone. Lonely. Forgotten. 

Not when his fingers began to shake so bad that he couldn’t maintain the grip on the bouquet. 

Wildflowers stained the earth beneath him in a garish array of too bright colors, and he knew, even then, that part of his heart would be left there to die, too. 

Even now, in the seat across from you in the cafe, you can see the toll it takes on him. 

So you strain for a fragment of twisted comfort in the only way you know how. A reassurance that this particular cruelty is not his alone. That somehow, in an unlikely twist of fate, your paths crossed. 

Laying your left arm on the table between you, you slowly drag the bottom of your sleeve up. Only an inch. And only for a moment. 

It’s not a lot. Against the tides of his own agony, it’s nothing at all. But for now, it’s enough. 

…..

There’s an odd sort of balance, a distinct sense of comfort that comes from the simple act of understanding. Of being understood. 

It’s not quite as easy, as lighthearted as it was before, but you and Jungwon are quick to fall into a new kind of simple rhythm with one another. One that saves space for the intricacies of your shared pain and shame while still keeping them at an arm’s distance. 

It’s not solace. But it is something. 

You’re off tiptoes and on solid ground. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel the need to constantly check the length of your left sleeve. At least, not when you’re with him. You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt to sit through hours of lectures on soulmate theory every week. 

You don't have to explain any of it. Jungwon just gets it. He already knows. 

But when you meet him for your next Thursday study session, two coffees in hand, Jungwon’s eyes aren’t sparkling with their usual stars. There’s something different there now. A kind of fire you haven’t seen from him before. One that glimmers with determination. 

As you slide down into the seat across from him, he skips all pleasantries and says instead, “I think we should switch our project topic.”

It takes a concentrated effort not to knock over the coffee you set down in front of you for the second time in the span of weeks. “What?” At this point, your outline has long been finished and you’re well into writing your report. The thought of changing topics with barely a week left until the submission deadline is absolutely ludicrous. “Why?”

Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. “I think we should do our project on glitches.”

You recoil as if you’ve been slapped. 

Glitch. It’s a word people usually tiptoe around, whisper behind closed doors. Not meant for respectable society and certainly has no place in a university research paper. 

You don’t even take a second to consider. “No.”

“What?” Now Jungwon is the one who looks surprised. Brow creasing, he presses. “Why? I mean, we’re both gl–”

“I said no.” You can’t hear him say it again. Features falling, Jungwon’s confusion begins to mingle with hurt at the sound of your sharp rejection. This might not be something that you’re willing to compromise, but your intention was never to hurt him, either. 

Sighing, you explain, “Look, I’m just not comfortable with it. Besides, we’ve done so much work on this topic already. It doesn’t make sense to switch so close to the deadline.”

Only a fraction of what you’ve said seems to resonate. After a pregnant pause, Jungwon echoes. “Not… comfortable.” His tone is flat, as if your words are indecipherable to him. 

He doesn’t continue, but you can tell that he has more to say. Can sense the words bubbling on his lips, begging to drip from his tongue. This is already a sensitive subject, and it’s made even more so by the way he tiptoes around it. 

Across from him, your cross your arms across your chest. “I can tell that you have something else to see.” You don’t mean to be combative, don’t mean to start anything. But annoyance is starting to creep in. It’s dragging dread along with it, like an old friend, like a dangerous reminder. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungwon shakes his head. “I guess I just don’t…” He trails off for a moment, deciding how best to tread treacherous territory. “How can you not be comfortable? I mean, you’re a glitch like me. Aren’t you curious at all? About why we glitched? If there’s anything we can do to fix it?”

And there it is. The lingering fear you’ve been working for two long years to overcome. The deep, aching insecurity that beneath it all, this is all your fault. That something is fundamentally wrong with you. “Fix me, you mean.”

Jungwon frowns. “I mean, I guess you could look at it that way, but I’m more curious about what kind of solutions there are.” He presses on, oblivious to the way every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. The way every syllable pierces like a knife against your skin. 

He’s not overflowing with hopelessness where he sits across from you. No, he’s enthusiastic as he tells you, “I did some research the other day, actually, and there’s this one scholar who thinks that all glitches happen for a reason. He thinks that you can still meet your soulmate and get your countdown to turn back to red if–”

“Stop.” Your voice is too loud, too sharp, too much, for the scant space of this small room. “Please,” you’re whispering now, but Jungwon flinches all the same. “Just stop.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows draw into a tight furrow. You thought he understood, but he doesn’t. He still doesn’t get it. He tells you as much. “I don’t understand why you’re so against it. I mean, we finally have a chance to look into why we gli–”

“I said, stop.” Jungwon looks as if you’ve pushed him. Dumped ice cold water over his head and left him out to dry.

But now he’s angry, too. There’s an accusation in his words when he says lowly, “I thought you would understand.” 

And you do. You know how flowers wither when they’re left to die without any water. You know how love blossoms and blooms and dies all within the span of a single breath. You know what it feels like to carry a constant reminder of your most intimate pain seared into your skin, your soul. 

There was a time when you wanted to be fixed, too. When you would have given anything to have a second chance at that day in the park two years ago. When you were sure if you could just do it again, you would walk away with a different fate. A red countdown. A soulmate. 

But the longer you spent with your grief, the more you realized that it didn’t matter. The what ifs didn’t matter. The maybes didn’t matter. The almosts didn't’ matter. 

You can’t reverse time. You can’t turn back the clock until your countdown glows red again. You don’t get a second chance at that afternoon in the park. 

All you get is the life you have now. And you can grieve for what you’ve lost. Part of you always will. But if you spend the rest of your life lingering on it, obsessed with it, trying to fix it, then that’s all your life will be. 

You won’t just lose a soulmate. You’ll lose yourself, too. 

You’ll lose new friendships and favorite coworkers and every goal and dream you’ve ever had. You’ll lose quiet moments in secluded study rooms, trading smiles and sharing coffee. You’ll lose every shred of happiness in search of something that never really existed. 

Sitting here now, across from Jungwon, you’re not just angry. You feel stupid, too. Ridiculous for ever thinking that maybe, just maybe, butterflies bloomed in the pit of his stomach when he looked at you, too. 

That maybe, just maybe, when he matched your gaze, your eyes turned ordinary things into starlight, too. 

But even with gray on his wrist and pain in his heart, the distance between the two of you has never felt wider. 

Jungwon won’t even match your eye now. He aims for the heart instead. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who I thought would understand. Who knows what it’s like. To lose the only thing in life that really matters.” His voice is small, but it’s teeming with frustration, with misplaced anger. There’s an unmistakable fury in his eyes when he finally lets his gaze land on yours. But you know him now, even better than you thought. You see the pain just as clearly. The confusion, the hurt. 

And where he expects to find an apology, or perhaps some sort of agreement, he’s met only with a rage to rival his own. 

“Fuck you.” It’s barely decipherable under your breath, but he catches it, even if just barely. 

“What?”

You double down. “I said, fuck you, Jungwon. How dare you. You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt, the only person that this stupid fucking system screwed over?” And now your anger has been let loose, the floodgates opened. It rises, ebbs and flows like waves against a shore. Weathering over all the sharp pieces and jagged edges that time hasn’t yet managed to erode. Spills over onto the table like his forgotten coffee from weeks ago.

“Why do you think I work at the support center? Why do you think you’ve never seen me in a short sleeve shirt?”

You’re angry and you’re hurting and you understand his pain. But it’s worse this time. You don’t know why his determination to fix his failed soulmate match stings like rejection. You can’t figure out why it burns in a way that’s all too reminiscent of that afternoon in the park two years ago. 

You feel it all, under your skin like an itch you can’t scratch, an ache you can’t get rid of. You don’t know why he didn’t just stop when you asked him, why he won’t just listen to you.

“At least you get to wonder what might have happened.” You don’t mean to do it, to throw his hurt back in his face. To compare pain, to stack your scars against one another and measure them like there’s a winner in this game. “I met my soulmate. I met him and talked to him and fell in love with him and he still didn’t want me. It doesn’t matter what some scholar says. You can’t fucking fix that.”

You’re standing before you know it, heading to the door before you mean to. But you can’t stay here, can’t watch him look at you like that. Not when every word that passes between you opens wounds you’ve spent ages trying to clean. 

Not when you know that none of it, even the parts you’d hoped you’d remember fondly, were ever done intentionally. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Didn’t mean to give you butterflies or look at you with starlight in his eyes, and that only makes it worse. 

You’re already beneath the doorframe when you find it in yourself to add, “You’re hurting and you’re lonely and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve that pain, and you never will. But I refuse to do this again, to spend the rest of my life thinking there’s something wrong with me. That it’s my fault, that I can fix everything, fix myself, if I just try hard enough. My matched glitched.” You still can’t quite say the word without flinching. “I’m a glitch. But I refuse to let that be the only thing I am.”

When the door shuts behind you, it echoes, even in the crowded hallway. 

Your footsteps feel too heavy as they eat up the ground between you and the front door of the library. The late autumn air feels too cold as you walk back to your dorm, enveloped in the quiet of the evening, mind screaming with misplaced rage. 

The silence of your dorm room is too loud as you sit alone in it. 

And the mark on your wrist is too gray, no matter how you look at it. 

…..

Jungwon is antsy. 

Even with the space of a day between him and your argument, he’s brimming with a sort of uncontained energy that will only spell trouble if he doesn’t find a way to channel it. 

Taekwondo practice helps, albeit only slightly. Physically, at least, it grounds him. There’s a solace to be found in the repetitive motion of his well aimed kicks. 

He welcomes the familiar ache in his muscles like an old friend, sweat building on his brow as he lets the calm, flowing energy guide his powerful movements. 

But even after two hours on the mat and a long, overly warm shower, Jungwon’s thoughts are still spinning in circles, still doing cartwheels through his mind. He needs to talk, needs to process everything that’s happened, everything that he’s feeling. 

But save for one person, he’s not sure who to go to. 

It’s then, the last member of his team still towelling off in the locker room, that he realizes that under any other circumstance, the first person that he would want to reach out to, to spill his heart and guts and soul out to, is you. 

It’s been weeks, a handful of days, a smattering of hours, since you became a name in his mind. A person with an identity other than the pretty girl that sits in the sixth row of the lecture hall, and yet. 

And yet. 

Jungwon is suddenly overcome with the urge to reach for his phone, to send a message, make a phone call. His better judgement stops him before he can. 

Mostly because he has no idea what he would say. An apology is in order, surely. He still sees the look on your face against the backs of his eyelids. The way pain etched itself into your features, the way your shoulders never quite relaxed after he suggested the topic change on your project. 

He’s not sure if this is even something that can be remedied with words, but he is absolutely certain that he never wants to see that look on your face again. 

So an apology it is, then. But for what, exactly? 

If he’s honest with himself, he still doesn’t fully understand. 

He let his anger, his frustration, his pain get the best of him, yes, but it was more than that. He’s not sure why you seemed so personally affected by the idea of exploring research around soulmate glitches. Why that word seemed to eat at you so much. 

So he lets his confusion carry him to the only place where he thinks he just might find an answer. 

The Student Support Center looks different in the daytime. Jungwon still feels that nagging sense of discomfort as he forces his feet through the front door. 

His shame feels most prominent here, in a place where admitting that he needs help still feels like weakness to him. 

Swallowing his pride, he forces his footsteps forward. The desk he found you at a handful of night ago is empty. But the one next to it is occupied with another student, a boy. One that looks a couple of years older than you, if he had to guess. 

He smiles when he sees Jungwon, offering a generic greeting before he takes another look at him. 

Jake, he thinks it must be, if your descriptions are anything to go by. Another person that Jungwon has begun to become familiar with in the past few weeks, albeit only by your secondhand account. 

And you must have done the same for him, because Jake is quick to mask his shock with something careful, guarded. 

“Hi,” he repeats, standing from her seat. “I’m Jake.” Looking him over once more, something akin to a sigh escapes his lips. “You must be Jungwon.”

Jake, as it turns out, is surprisingly easy to talk to. He understands why you like him so much. 

In a matter of minutes, a fairly abridged version of your last library session has been reconstructed, laid bare in front of eyes that know you best. 

Jake is silent for a moment, turning over thoughts in his mind before he finally says, “It’s not my story to tell.” Jungwon figured as much. “But I think she would, if you asked.”

Jungwon nods. It’s permission. From an indirect source, maybe, but hope flutters through his chest all the same. He has a goal now, something to work towards. Something that he hopes will fix whatever has shattered between the two of you. 

There’s a brief pause before Jake speaks again. “What I can say is that she’s done a lot of work to move on. To find meaning in her life outside of the number on her wrist. To stop feeling incomplete, like a burden, like a problem to be solved.”

And I threw those fears back in her face, Jungwon realizes, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut. 

The despair must play out on his features, because Jake is gentle when he says, “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I do know how it feels to grieve for what could have been. It’s easier, sometimes, I think, to let that consume you. To spend your life trying to get as close to that lost future as you can, even though you know it will never be quite right. Even though you know you’re chasing ghosts.” 

Jake folds his hands across his lap, lacing his fingers together. 

“She made the decision to let those ghosts rest, to let that part of her life go. To find something else worth living for instead. For the small moments, maybe. For joy, for love. All those things that she still gets to feel.” 

That you still get to feel. Jake doesn’t say it, but Jungwon hears it all the same. 

“Those things that nothing, not even fate, gets to take away.”

Jungwon glances down at his wrist. It’s covered, but he can feel the ever present weight of it. Of the gray mark that he knows, deep down, will never fade. Will never change. 

And for the first time in a long time, that truth doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

“I…” Jungwon isn’t sure how to wrap his gratitude in words. “Thank you.” For telling him. For helping you. For being here. “For all of it.”

“Of course.” Jake smiles. Lets his fingers fall to his sides as he stands, brushing invisible dust from his lap. “Joy is even better when it’s shared, no?”

Joy is even better when it’s shared. 

For the first time in a long time, Jungwon smiles. A real smile, a face-splitting, toothy, uncontrollably wide smile. One that hurts his cheeks and reaches all the way to his eyes. 

It’s still there when he’s walking back to his dorm. 

It’s still there when he sits down at his desk, reaching for his computer and turning on the last playlist he was listening to earlier, just for something to fill the silence. 

After a handful of moments, a familiar melody begins to lilt through his speaker. 

Clair de Lune. It’s a tune he would know anywhere. It reminds him of moonlight, of starlight, and everything in between. It reminds him of long study sessions and stolen glances and tentative whispers. 

It makes him smile even harder. 

Looking at the computer in front of him, Jungwon thinks fate just might be a tangible thing. 

He feels it in the back of his throat first and then the base of his nose. The telltale stinging sensations that always comes at the first sign of tears. 

He lets it. Welcomes it. Allows them to fall. 

Alone in his room, hard, long sobs wrack his entire body and leave him gasping for air. Sorrow and grief and anger and joy all tangled together in one.

Because Jungwon is done mourning himself, the ghost of a life that has haunted him for the last year. The future that was never his to begin with. The weight of possibilities that time cannot undo, that sheer will alone cannot change.

Joy is even better when it’s shared. 

And he thinks he’ll start with himself. 

…..

The knock on your front door is unexpected. And it comes just too late at night for you to feel comfortable opening it without a second thought. Footsteps padding as silently as possible towards the entrance to your dorm, you run through the short list of people you think could possibly be knocking at your door at this hour and come up blank. 

Against your better judgement, you undo the latch, opening the door slowly as if that will be enough to deter any unwanted visitors. 

Thankfully, the sliver of space doesn’t reveal a threat. But it does have your brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Jungwon? How did you–”

Explanations for how he found your address are not at the top of his priority list. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, words tumbling out all at once. “I don’t…” A pained expression crosses his features. “I’m not good with words, and I don’t always know what the best thing to say is, but I’m sorry. I never should have said those things about you, about us. I – we’re not glitches.” He pauses, frowning. “I mean, we are, but that’s okay. We’re okay. There’s nothing to fix, and I’m sorry that I made it sound like I think otherwise.” 

He trails off again, jaw working as he swallows the lump in his throat. “I… You have to know that I think the absolute world of you, ___. I would never, ever want to say or do something that makes you think otherw–oof.”

Jungwon’s words die with the sudden impact of your head against his chest, arms wrapping tight around his torso. Shock renders him immobile, just for a moment, before he’s melting into your touch. Returning your embrace as his arms twine around your back, fingers settling against your spine. 

It’s all there, wrapped up in this moment. A solid foundation. A warm place to land. Things that futures can be built upon. Things that can breathe life into possibilities, into almosts, into maybes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and it’s lost somewhere against the skin of his neck.

“For what?”

“For everything you said.” You melt a little further into him, and Jungwon hopes that he never has to move. “For being here.” 

You mean it. He knows it. 

He lets his cheek rest against the crown of your head. You feel the movement of his jaw when he tells you, “It’s the only place I wanted to be.”

He means it. You know it.

…..

epilogue. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“You know,” Jungwon rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. “The more you keep asking that question, the less inclined I am to answer it.”

Huffing, you argue. “We’ve been walking for thirty minutes.” With still no destination in sight, mind you. “Don’t I deserve some kind of explanation.”

“That’s what the coffee was for.” Jungwon’s smile turns into a grin, one of those real ones that lights up his eyes. That has starlight reflecting in them. One that has you returning a smile o your own, despite your complaints. “To distract you from the physical labor.”

“Well, we can’t all be on the taekwondo team.”

Jungown just rolls his eyes again. “We’re almost there. I promise.”

And despite it all, you believe him. Because it’s been six months since you were first assigned as project partners and nearly two since your shared class ended. And he’s still here. Still a permanent fixture in your life. Still responsible for so many moments you’ve come to look forward to, so many memories you know you’ll cherish forever. 

Because despite the gray numbers on your wrists, you’re both dressed for the activity. It’s nearing winter now, but it’s unseasonably warm. With the physical exertion included, it’s weather that calls for short sleeves. 

Because there’s no one else you’d walk thirty minutes towards an undisclosed location for. 

Because there’s no one else that understands you the way he does, not just from shared circumstances, but also as a result of effort. Of honest conversations and the genuine desire to listen. To learn you. To know you like the back of his hand. 

Because to him, you’re just you. A person capable of joy and anger and grief and love and all of the beautiful, wonderful, messy things that comes with being a human. You’re not a failure, not something to fix. Your identity isn’t constrained to the gray mark on your wrist. 

Because you think you might love him for it. 

Because you know that you do. 

And when you finally arrive at the small neighborhood park ten minutes later, the only thing you’re thinking about is how beautiful the lake looks bathed in the glow of afternoon sunlight. 

Later, sprawled on a picnic blanket underneath the shade of an old sycamore tree, overlooking that same lake, you’ll turn to him and whisper some nonsense about recent studies claiming that soulmates often find each other surrounded by nature. Particularly in the presence of a body of water. 

Jungwon will roll his eyes, will brush a strand of hair away from your forehead while he tells you that he doesn’t care, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway. 

His smile will be soft, as he hands you the small makeshift bouquet of wildflowers you hadn’t noticed him collecting on your journey here. You’ll tuck your favorite one behind your ear before you lean back against his chest. 

And it will feel a little bit like coming home, like resting after a long day, like basking in the first rays of sunshine as winter finally releases its grip on the world and blooms into a glorious spring when he intertwines his fingers with yours and whispers against the shell of your ear that he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Fate is a funny thing, you’ll think as his breath tickles the skin of your neck, sends a shiver down the length of your spine. 

And no matter how many nights we’ve spent berating it, cursing it, resenting it, I’ll always be glad that it has led us to this. Or maybe, you’ll wonder as he presses a gentle kiss to the curve of your cheekbone, the space between your eyebrows. 

Maybe we led it. Grabbed fate by the collar and forced it to bend to our whims like that masters of destiny we are. 

Whatever it may be, I’m glad that it brought me here. 

To joy. To love. 

And most of all, to you. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love hearing your thoughts. All the best ♡♡

[rafesangelita]

୨ৎ omg i need pogue!sweetheart!reader meeting ward and the family

warnings: rafe and ward have a good relationship, both reader and ward are a nervous mess lol, playful banter, found family

a/n: you could consider this a continuation of the fic i did w/ pogue!sweetheart!reader and rafe’s first time together!

“do you think i should’ve made blueberry instead?” rafe looked down at the freshly baked pie in his hands, both of you waiting for someone to open the front door. rafe could sense you were nervous by the way you were fiddling with your necklace. “apple is perfect.” he leaned down, pecking your temple. smiling down at you, rafe muttered a ‘don’t worry, they’re gonna love you.’ before rose appeared behind the door.

“y/n!” she squealed excitedly, briefly looking over at rafe before raising her eyebrows at him, “well, she’s absolutely beautiful, but we knew that already.” she laughed, welcoming both of you inside. “oh, god, your dad has been out on that grill all day, he insisted on making his ‘famous’ burgers since you mentioned y/n hasn’t found her favorite yet.” you nearly cried at the sentiment, a pout forming on your lips.

“aww, that’s so sweet of him..” rose led you two outside to the back, rafe squeezing your hand once his father came into view. “ward? she’s here, honey.” rafe laughed at the sight of his dad scrambling to clean his hands, his head shooting up in your direction. “hey, there!” he walked up to you, taking your hand in his. “hi, mr. cameron.” you smiled, your heart beating in your ears. “oh- please, call me ward.” rafe watched you two introduce yourselves with a grin on his face.

after you and rafe got settled in your seats and wheezie practically tackled you with a hug, your nerves melted away and you couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for feeling nervous at all. “wow, this looks amazing.” you laughed as ward placed your plate in front of you. “alright, moment of truth, tell me what you think.” all eyes were on you as you took a bite. “it’s not that good..” you watched ward’s smile fall, “because it’s amazing!”

everyone yelled, ward sighing in relief as you took another bite. “did i get you?” you got up, embracing ward’s back before you patted his shoulder. “uh, yeah! i was one second away from just ordering pizza.” he laughed. rafe’s heart felt full as he watched you get comfortable with his family. once everyone was seated and in smooth conversation, the evening went by quicker than you expected. “shall we cut this pie? i’ve had my eye on it since you two got here.”

you nodded, rose motioning you to follow her inside for a knife. ward waited until you were out of earshot before he got his son’s attention. “she’s lovely, rafe. very funny too.” rafe smiled, leaning forward in his seat. “yeah, i don’t know what she see’s in you.” sarah joked. rafe moved his attention towards you and rose in the kitchen. “you should’ve seen how nervous she was coming here.” rafe shook his head. at this, ward scoffed.

“y/n was nervous? this is the first girl you bring home, i mean- i was the nervous one. rose had to stop me from changing my outfit for the third time this morning.” rafe stifled a laugh. “and you thought a suit and tie was appropriate for some burgers in the backyard?” ward took a sip from the beer in his hand. “don’t be a smart ass.”

you, rose, and wheezie came back out with a cake knife and some paper plates in your hands, rafe smiling at you as you cut into the pie. “anyone wanna take a guess at what flavor it is?” you looked around. “i say cherry!” wheezie adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “blueberry is my favorite so i’ll go with that.” at wards’s words, your eyes widened in rafe’s direction. “i knew i should’ve made that one!”

[absolutely-esme]

What do you mean he's not eldritch?

What if all of the members of the Bat Family other than Tim Drake were secretly eldritch abominations?

They all work very hard at pretending to be human, and they've even gotten pretty good at passing. They can even mostly avoid the uncanny valley when in their civilian identities. There was a heck of a learning curve, but they've gotten things figured out for the most part.

Enter: Tim Drake

Weird, poorly socialized, probably autistic Tim Drake

The Bats think they've encountered a fellow eldritch being in disguise, and one that seems like he could use some help blending in. Naturally, they're quick to welcome him into their fold. Jason is delighted to take his turn at being a big brother mentor.

It takes a comedically long time for anyone to realize something's up because there is an absurd amount of overlap between stuff you need to know for masking and stuff you need to know to pass as human.

Meanwhile, Tim is amazed that the Bats have apparently decided he's cool enough to hang out with. It's like something out of his daydreams. They even have good advice for him on problems he hadn't known how to ask about. They are so patient and understanding about it, too. They never get annoyed with him for not already knowing. They also seem to be okay with the bits of weirdness he can't change.

Just weird kid Tim getting bundled into an incredibly helpful and supportive found family of eldritch entities. They're all going to get a good grade in human-ing, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

...

I imagine the Bats are various different kinds of eldritch abominations because they're still adopted. They look wildly different when not in human form.

Bruce is a mass of... shadows? Smoke? Something dark and formless that shifts and flows in different ways depending on his mood.

Dick kind of looks like a pile of owls that is also somehow a single body.

Barbara is a spiral galaxy with stars that are also eyes somehow?

Jason is a solid-looking mass of muscle with six strong legs, a thick coat of shaggy hair, a mouth that opens much further along his body than it seems like it should, and even more teeth than you'd expect a mouth that size to have.

Stephanie Brown is kind of like an incredibly dense storm system with purple glitter.

Cassandra is a silhouette through which undiscovered nebulae can be seen. What she is a silhouette of depends on her mood.

Tim, they have only ever seen in his meticulously well-crafted human form. He's really good at that part even if he needed some help with the behavioral bits.

Damian is half human. Talia saw a mass of living darkness trying really hard to pretend to be a man and decided she was into that.

...

Dick: So, eye contact is actually pretty simple once you have the formula figured out. You need to cycle between looking at the other person and looking at something else at the appropriate frequency. If you look at them too much it will come across as staring. If you look away for too long they'll think you're not paying attention to them. You'll need to experiment to figure out the appropriate frequency.

Tim: *frets*

Jason: You don't have to look straight at their eyes, just in the general direction of their face.

Tim: Oh! I can do that!

...

I think Eldritch Bruce having history with the league of assassins in a markedly less inentional way than Canon would be funny. Like, you'd think an encounter between an eldritch abomination and a cult would be deliberate on someone's part, but no.

Bruce was still young and unskilled at differentiating between normal and abnormal human behavior.

[igotanidea]

Childlike honesty: Jason Todd x single!mom!reader

Jason never thought he could be falling in love so quickly.

Arguably too quickly, but she was so different from anyone he knew.

Different from all the girls, all the women, all the people in the world.

Seeing right past through his crap, and his façade and not being afraid to confront him about it.

Aiming arrows at his insecurities, exposing them painfully, only to soothe the stinging with a few well-chosen words and smiles that made him melt.

So yes, he would dare go as far as to say that after merely a few months of dating, he was in love.

And though it might spook her, he had to tell her, simply because there was no way to contain it inside his poor, shattered heart.

And judging the risk, between telling her like an adult and blurting it out in the least appropriate moment like a silly teen, the former seemed less daunting.

And that was how he found himself knocking at her door in the early morning (too early!) on Saturday (she might have been sleeping!), ready to pour his heart out.

“Coming!” her slightly muffled voice came from behind the door and his heart picked up the pace. The key rattled in the lock and there she was. With her hair a mess, remnants of sleep still in her eyes, squinting a little at the light coming from the stairwell.

So beautiful. He thought, but pursed his lips, hiding the words under a teasing smirk to prevent himself from doing the exact thing he planned not to.

“Jason. Hey!” her smile grew wide when she saw him and instinctively she leaned to peck his cheek “What are you doing here this early? Shouldn’t you be resting after night’s activities?”

“Don’t know what you’re implying.” He scoffed playfully, before turning a bit more serious “I just wanted to see you, princess. I got something important to tell you and – um… Actually, can I come inside? I’d rather not have all your elderly neighbors prying in on us.”

“Come inside?” she repeated as if her brain was not fully awake yet “you want to come in? I mean – of course you want to come in” she chuckled awkwardly. “Haha! That’s actually funny because—"

“Y/N.” Jason frowned, not liking her reaction at all, his mind swirling with possible explanations of her erratic behavior and nervousness. “Are you with someone? Are you with a guy?” shit, shit, shit. Just a thought that she might have had fun with someone else stung.

“It’s not what you think—” she started, trying to gather herself, but the sentence was cut off abruptly by another persona in this three-person drama.

“Mommy…?”

Mommy?!

Jason looked down, noticing a little boy, perhaps 3 or 4 years old, standing behind Y/N’s legs, his tiny arms wrapped around her calf. Kid’s e/c eyes, spitting image of Y/N’s were locked on Jason as the boy put his thumb in his mouth and started sucking on it.

“Theo!” she exclaimed, picking the boy from the ground and stopping him from the action. “Honey, how many times have I told you? Big boys do not suck their thumbs. You’re too smart for that, aren’t you?”

“I’m a big boy.” Theo repeated, obediently releasing his finger and wrapping his little hands on Y/N;s neck, nuzzling into her.

“You are.” Y/N smiled, ruffling boy’s hair “and a very good one too. Mommy’s proud of you.”

“Mommy!?”

Y/N spun towards the door abruptly. For a second, she completely forgot that Jason was still standing in the frame, with his eyes wide and mouth half-open, having just discovered her secret. She turned pale then red then pale again

“Jason--”

“What does it mean!?”

“Please stop yelling.”

“Is this some sort of game to you!? You have a son!?”

“Could you please calm down and –”

“You have a son!”

For Theo’s sake she stifled the curse that was forming deep in her throat. But the fact that Jason yelling was already starting to attract attention and one of the elderly neighbors peeked from behind the door, giving y/n a death look, she had to take action. Fixing the grip on her son, she somehow managed to grab Jason’s hand and drag him inside the apartment, locking the door and exhaling heavily.

“Yes. I have a son. It’s not like this is some kind of supernatural occurrence.”

“You have a son!”

“Mommy, why is he screaming so loud?” Theo whined and covered his little ears, which actually made Jason feel a little guilty. It was just a kid and he was behaving like a total ass. “I thought it was bad to scream?”

“It is, love.” Y/N kissed Theo’s forehead “It is, but sometimes people do it either way. Now, could you please go and play with your toys in the room? Mommy’s gotta talk to her friend ok? It’s important. Can you be a good boy for mommy?”

“Yeah…” Theo nodded, and when Y/N placed him back onto the ground he rushed off to his room, grabbing a plushy dinosaur discarded on the floor.

Y/N led him away with his eyes, and only when Theo was completely involved in his play she let out another exhale, letting her shoulders sink and turned to face Jason.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No I don’t want anything to drink, I want a fucking explanation!”

“Hey! No swearing! There’s a kid here!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You should be. But you’re right too. I owe you an explanation. Come, sit.” She gestured towards the couch, the furthest from Theo’s room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“About Theo?”

“No about the Big Bang Theory.” He was an ass, but couldn’t hide the sarcasm and anger. “Of course I’m talking about the kid. Theo? That’s his name?”

“Yeah. It’s after –”

“I don’t really care about the etymology of the name, Y/N. Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you the truth.”’

“Why?”

“Because you never asked.”

“Oh come on, seriously!? That’s a childish argument and besides, it’s not like this I’m asking every girl I’m dating if she maybe has kids! Not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when meeting someone!”

“Please. Sit down. Come on, don’t cut me out. Let me explain this-“

“Fine!” he muttered, plumping on the couch, arms crossed, face unreadable, putting on his most unapproachable exterior “talk.”

She sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He had every right to be angry, but zero right to judge her about her past and this time she was going to be honest. If truth meant the end of their blooming relationship so be it. Better to know.

“Theo’s dad was an asshole. A mistake.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Will you let me talk!?” he patted the top of his head, and despite himself Jason chuckled at the gesture. “It's not like I got into the bed with the guy I had just met! You should know better!”

“I know better. That’s the exact reason why I’m still sitting here listening to you instead of running away.”

“Me and Theo’s dad…” she continued “we had been dating for a few years before it happened. He got drunk, I was young and stupid, letting him do too much, we ended up in the bed and the next thing I knew, I was pregnant.”

“And?”

“Well, like I said, he was an asshole, which turned out pretty quickly. He never wanted kids and the fact that I had a bun in the oven was not compliant with his plan for life.”

“Please don’t tell me that this fucker—” Jason started, clenching his fists at the thought what Y/N must have been through.

“First, he told me to get rid of the problem. And obviously, I refused. So he changed tactics, trying to threaten me into getting an abortion. And I refused again. So he got aggressive.”

“Did he hit you!?” Jason’s protective instincts kicked in, the anger and sense of betrayal slowly giving way to completely other feelings towards her.

“No. He wouldn’t dare. But at some point he just left. Leaving me with a kid on the way.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s okay. I’m better without him anyway. Me and Theo both. He didn’t deserve to be called a man, let alone a father.”

“I’m so sorry, princess…”

“Theo was born prematurely. It was my seventh month and I was still working when my water broke and a friend drove me to the hospital. He was so tiny and –” her eyes filled with tears and Jason immediately moved to wrap arms around her, as if shielding her from the pain of the past. “I spent first six months of his life in the NICU, almost sleeping on the floor, scared to death that—”

“shh…” his hands cradled her closer to his chest, rubbing her back, brushing her hair, kissing the top of her head “Shhh, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You are so brave.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before—" she sobbed

“Hush, love. Don’t apologize. Just tell me why you didn’t tell me? Were you scared?”

“I was. But not for the reason you might think.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve been dating for what? Six months? As important as you are to me Jason , I don't know if this is permanent. And Theo-“ her voice broke “- he deserves stability. He didn't know his father for god's sake, and it is not like you can just explain it to a kid that his father didn't want him. Or me. So tell me, how could I have told you about him when I was scared that - that—”

“You were scared that I’d leave you too.” Jason cupped her cheek, looking straight into her eyes “that I’d leave like everyone else.”

“Yeah… And I’d understand If you’d want to…”

“I’m not leaving you, princess. You’re stuck with me.” He leaned forward, softly brushing his lips over hers.

Y/N reciprocated his kiss and even though they were both trying to control themselves, the fire in them ignited quickly as the making out became a little more intense, a little more steamy, his hands traveled to her waist, pulling her onto his lap, sneaking under her shirt to touch her soft skin—

“No…” he pulled back, using all his strength to do so. “We can’t do it here, can we?”

“Not really.” She chuckled, squinting towards Theo’s room. “Me and him, we’re kind of a package deal.”

“Oh yeah, I got the memo.” He smirked, pinching her waist playfully, setting her back on the couch. “Can’t say I like it now, but—”

“Would you like to meet him?” she interjected in the moment of spontaneity 

“Your son?”

“Yes.” She nodded, absolutely sure about her decision. “And not just by yelling on the doorstep, but by officially meeting him?”

“I—” Jason stuttered. Even he could understand that this was important. Y/N was looking at him with hope and silent encouragement in his eyes. A sign of trust that could never be put into words. She actually wanted him to meet her son. Which meant, she was serious about him. About them. “Yeah… yeah, I think I’d like to meet the kid…”

“You would?” she smiled brightly, her eyes shining

“Yeah…” he smiled back, reaching to hug her and she gladly dived into his arms, holding him for dear life “Thank you… Thank you Jason…”

“Of course, princess…” he whispered with a lump in his throat from all the emotions. Though that was the perfect moment to tell her how he felt about their relationship, that he was in love with her, he just couldn’t, opting to stay silent and just live in the moment.

“Mommy?” Sudden, quiet little voice came from behind and Theo came to view, holding onto his plushie looking as cute as only a 3 (or 4, Jason was terrible at assessing age) year old kid can.

“Theo, hey. Come here, kiddo, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Y/N opened her arms to the child and he approached the couch, climbing up with his mother’s help and settling on her knees.

“This is Jason. He's someone very important to me. Can you say hi?” Y/N encouraged her son to shake Jason's hand.

 “Hi… I’m Theo…”

“Hey buddy.” Jason reached for his little fingers, squeezing them gently, reminding himself that this boy was in fact a delicate being, not like the goons and vigilantes he was used to. And honestly, the sensation of a little soft hand in his big and calloused one sent goosebumps over his body, though Jason would never admit it out loud. “Um… nice to meet you, I’m Jason.”

Theo tilted his head a little, staring Jason up and down with those piercing eyes and for some reason it felt like this little kid was judging a grown-ass man. Subconsciously assessing whether this one would be good for his mom and whether they would become friends. And it was quite a humbling experience.

“Mommy? Is that the guy whose photo you have on your phone?" Suddenly Theo blurted.

“Oh, a photo?” Jason teased, throwing Y/N a glance, immediately picking up the subject before she could intervene and stop this child-like honesty. “On her phone, huh? And what does your mom do with this photo?”

“She looks at it. When she lays down to sleep and she thinks and I don’t notice. She looks at it and smiles.”

“Oh really?’

“Yes. I like her happy.”

“Me too buddy…” Jason felt his heart flutter “Me too…” the look he sent Y/N was full of love and affection, making her blush a little.��

“I think she likes you. She almost never smiles like that.”

“Is that so? Is that true, Y/n, do you like me?” 

Y/N hid face in her hands, embarrassed at the entire situation

“Okay, that’s enough bonding for one day. Who wants ice cream?” 

She picked Theo up and walked towards the kitchen with Jason close on their feet with the happiest grin on his face. He could already tell that in time he and Theo were going to be good friends. 

to be continued <?>

@ladychibirae @franbowidk @amyynella @gl1tchgr3mlin

[why-are-you-still-awake]

Jealousy with the Naruto boys

A/n: I’ve seen this done multiple times so here’s my take on it :)

Warning/content: nothing :)

characters: Sasuke, Gaara, Sai

Sasuke Uchiha

☆ Sasuke claims to not be a jealous person, “he’s above that” as he puts it, but something about seeing you laughing and smiling with someone else makes him feel weird, insecure? No couldn’t be…. He likes to think that he’s just being overprotective and he’s not jealous, he believes he’s too good to be jealous and let’s be real, he’s far too prideful to admit he’s a little insecure. ☆

☆ One time when you guys were out in the Konoha market place, some person came up to you and started a casual conversation, but to Sasuke it seemed like this person was getting a little too close for comfort. So to solve this, he came up behind you and placed his arm over your shoulder giving the person a “can I help you?” Look, let’s say they didn’t stick around much longer. ☆

☆ If you try and bring up his jealous behavior, he’ll deny it adamantly. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just doesn’t trust other people. If we’re being honest here, he’s deeply afraid of losing you, to him you’re the only person he has left. So even when he’s being a jealous prick, it comes from a place of love even if he doesn’t outright express it. ☆

Gaara

☆ He wouldn’t consider himself a jealous person by any means, he love you and you love him. He has no reason to be insecure or jealous, but even the kazekage struggles to be reasonable sometimes, he’s only human after all. He wouldn’t be very upfront about his feelings, if you noticed jealous behavior then you’d have to bring it up because he won’t talk about it first. ☆

☆ One time you were waiting for a council meeting to be over and you were in meeting room with him, it was very boring like watching paint dry would’ve been more entertaining. You soon notice a younger council member staring at you trying to get your attention and smiling at you, you politely smile back but then Gaara catches on to the silent interaction. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer while clearing his throat and continuing speaking. ☆

☆ If you ultimately decide to confront him about his momentary jealous behavior, he won’t deny it but will probably be very embarrassed he was caught doing something like that even if you reassure him that you’re not upset and may even find his jealous protectiveness attractive…..☆

☆ He didn’t know anything really about relationships do to growing up in Root, so you and to guide him and explain things basically. Some might’ve found It tiring but you found it endearing to an extent. He had never experienced jealousy before until he saw you talking to someone else who seemed to be pretty funny because you couldn’t stop laughing, he had a weird feeling in his chest and it made him feel *strange* he didn’t understand.☆

☆ He decided to try and get to the bottom of this weird feeling in his chest, so he decided to just outright tell you how he was feeling, you were kinda surprised, but after breaking through the momentary freeze and explained it to him. He was surprised, he never thought he’d be jealous, he trusted you, he knew you’d never do anything to hurt him. ☆

☆ There’s no really confronting him about jealous behavior because he’s very honest about how he’s feeling, he definitely forgets appropriate time and place sometimes when he says something, he’s unintentionally a good communicator because of how honest he is and won’t beat around the bush with how he feels. He loves you and wants you to know. ☆

A/n: I’ve never written for Sai before, so sorry if his part sucks. Thanks for reading, love u <3

Do not repost

Edit: thank you all who heart or reblogged or in someway interacted with this post, it means so much <33

[cloakedsparrow]

Alfred is Tim's Biological Grandfather AU

Bruce and Alfred had found it slightly odd that Jack and Janet Drake didn't ask any questions about Tim spending so much time at Wayne Manor. True, the Drakes could have questioned Tim and he simply could have not told them. However, the boy knew better than to keep it to himself if he'd made any excuses Bruce might need to know or if his parents were likely to make any complaints. Neither of the Drakes ever contacted Bruce or the Manor. They never requested to see or speak with any member of the family.

While they were making the arrangements for Janet's funeral (because Jack was in a coma and Tim was just a child), Bruce received a summons from her lawyer, stating that she'd remembered her dear friend in her will. Bruce was immediately suspicious because he and Janet Drake hadn't been friends.

Bruce receives a letter, along with a small, locked box, about the size of a document mailer. The letter apologizes for the deception and requests that Bruce give the box to Alfred Pennyworth, stating that the combination was Tim's birthday. Out of respect for Alfred more than anything, Bruce follows the instructions.

After going through the box privately, Alfred appears more solemn than Bruce has seen him in decades. He tells Bruce that -years before- he'd slept with a upper-class woman when visiting his father, who had already been working for the Waynes. After coming to work for the Wayne's himself, Alfred had learned that the woman had gotten married not long after and had a child. A child that was just the right age to potentially be his. At his request, Thomas and Martha invited the woman and her husband to a party at the Manor. Alfred very professionally informed her that she had an important phone call and to please follow him to an appropriate guest phone. Once they were in a private room, Alfred calmly informed her that he was going to require proof that the child was not his. He would be happy to take a paternity test himself, or she could take one for her husband that proved he was father. Whether she told her husband or did it behind his back, Alfred didn't care. He had no intention of causing a scene but he fully intended to be there for his child if he had one. The woman had agreed and discreetly had a paternity test done that had proven her daughter was her husband's child.

Alfred had thought that was the end of it. However, Janet Drake had left him a letter informing him that she had been that child. More importantly, she had informed him that the paternity test had been forged to keep him out of the picture since her mother had found a better prospect in her husband. After her parents died (she'd been an adult), Janet had found the results and a letter from her deceased maternal grandmother (who helped with the forgery) explaining the matter. She hadn't been sure how to feel or what to do about it. She'd ended up just ignoring it.

She had been concerned when Tim suddenly started spending time at Wayne Manor, but when she asked Tim about it, after talking about how nice Mr Wayne was and how cool Dick was and learning to play tennis and getting help with his gymnastics et all, he'd started talking about Alfred. He kept talking about how amazing he was. How kind he was. How funny he was. How clever he was.

Even though Tim hadn't known about the blood they shared, he'd clearly loved Alfred. Janet couldn't take his grandfather from him. That was why she let him spend so much time at Wayne Manor. That was why she never demanded to speak to Bruce. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't really about him. It was about family.

She also let Alfred know that she'd always been the primary caregiver for Tim. She'd always made the decisions in regards to him. She selected his nannies, babysitters, and boarding school. She saw to his medical appointments and made sure anyone preparing meals for Tim knew about his allergy (I always headcanon hazelnuts for some reason). She signed him up for gymnastics and martial arts. She made sure he got to and from Summer camp.

She knew Jack wouldn't know how to be a parent and requested that Alfred help out as much as he was comfortable with.

She also apologized for not telling Alfred the truth until it was too late for her to get to know him herself. She told him that the more Tim talked about him, the more she considered telling them both the truth. That she'd truly wanted to know him but just kept putting it off. If he was reading the letter, then she’d obviously waited too long.

Bruce and Alfred double check Alfred's blood against Tim's in the Cave before Alfred tells the boy he's his grandson. With Tim's permission, he discreetly has a proper blood test ran and uses the results to quietly assume custody of his grandson while Jack is in a coma.

When Jack wakes up and Alfred learns that he's both made arrangements for Tim to get an early junior's license to drive him around and also to work at Drake Industries for him, he doesn't just complain. He sees Jack privately and informs him that HE has had custody of Tim, not Bruce, as the city has assumed. He informs him of their relation. He informs him that he made a good deal of money both in the service of Her Royal Majesty and the Waynes and he invested that money wisely. In fact, he currently has more money than Jack. He informs Jack that unless he wants them to take it to a judge, Tim will not be acting as a caregiver, chauffeur, or executive assistant to Jack. If the man cannot afford to hire appropriate help, then Alfred will happy to pay for it, discreetly, of course.

Jack takes the latter option. He and Tim still move into the Manor next door, so that Tim can easily & quickly go to Alfred if he needs anything. While he's reluctant to say it aloud and almost petulant about it at times, Jack actually appreciates Alfred's help with Tim. He doesn't pay as much attention to the boy, but Tim ends up better taken care of anyway.

Alfred attends the Young Justice parent-Red Tornado conference alongside Dick (he asked Dick to still come as he’d understand the needs of a group of young heroes better than anyone else present). Unlike the others, he always stays on top of what the kids are getting up to. He refuses to participate in the sixteenth birthday trauma, which Tim figures out quicker since Bruce is working on his own (and he has someone to turn to afterwards -Alfred and Bruce have WORDS). He also holds people who hurt him accountable (it's harder with Bruce, who he sees as a son, but he does not mince words with Jack, Stephanie, or anyone else). He adored Dana and they had tea together once every fortnight just to ensure they were on the same page with Tim. He steps in and treats Tim much more fairly after Damian enters the picture. He goes full John Wick on Ra's after the man goes after his grandson.

He's still a grandfather to the others, but having custody of Tim (and a letter from his daughter asking him to care for the boy) gives him a sense of authority that he lacks with them. With the rest of the Waynes, he tries to stay somewhat professional, despite his feelings for them. He doesn't feel the need to do so with Tim because he's not the valet who also helped raise him. He's his grandfather, first and foremost.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Not So Secret Santa (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 6! I enjoyed this one a lot. If there are any players you want specifically written for let me know! I am about 14 days in so still time to get some requests!

You had been looking forward to the Barcelona women’s Christmas party since it was arranged in early November. It was you third season with the team and your second being Alexias’s girlfriend something that was now common knowledge unlike last Christmas. By the time you and Alexia arrived, the party was in full swing. You were both bundled up in festive Christmas sweaters and couldn’t help but smile when you heard the sound of laughter and Christmas music coming from the room housing your team.

The whole team, all the staff and their loved ones had all gathered inside the hall in the training facility for this occasion. The space was decorated with all the Christmas things you could imagine, a big tree in one corner, Christmas lights strung around the celling, and even a blow-up Santa wobbling around by the entrance.

You glanced briefly at the table filled with a variety of different food and snacks, mulled wine and cookies shaped as snowflakes. There was a kiddie table with age-appropriate snacks and drink that you thought was a cute touch.

Alexia gave your hand in hers a squeeze as you made your way through a bunch of people, you could see her face light up with excitement just before she spoke, “Ready for the big exchange?” she asked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m pretty sure this year is going to be memorable!”

“After what we saw last year, I have no doubt you are right.” You laughed, the warmth of her hand in yours an added bonus to the warm feeling this season has brings. You got to witness firsthand the teams legendary secret Santa tradition having missed out the previous two years because you had gone home. It saw all the players exchange gifts that ranged from funny to bizarre to, as you had found out from a very nervous Alexia last year, very personal.

You and Alexia were the last ones to join the circle around the beautifully decorated tree, yes you were a part of the decorating process. You had barely sat down before Patri threw a present Vicky’s way, the younger girl catching it and ripping into it with and eagerness only a teenager could. You watched as the once excited expression on her face turned to one of disturb and you all got to see why when she held up the ugly holiday sweater. It had tinsel and pompoms for bulbuls, and you all found out that Mapi had made it herself. And as per tradition, Vicky was now sporting the garment all evening much to the younger one’s dismay and the older defender’s joy.

As the flow of the gift exchange picked up, you couldn’t help getting lost in the chaos. You saw a pair of clown slippers fly across the circle, a picture of Patri on the floor framed with the title ‘most dramatic faller’, and a Lego Camp Nou set. When it was Ingrid’s turn, she unwrapped a bright red ‘Elf Supervisor’ hat, which she promptly wore with a mock look of authority that caused you all to erupt in laughter. Keira received a fuzzy penguin onesie, which she immediately disappeared to change into it, returning to a round of applause.

Finally, it was Alexia’s turn to open her Secret Santa gift, and she gave you a knowing smile as she reached for the neatly wrapped package at her feet. You held your breath, both nervous and excited. You’d put a lot of thought into this one, wanting to find something that she would not only love but could actually use.

She unwrapped the package carefully, her expression shifting from curiosity to surprise as she pulled out the first item which was a small, sleek journal with her initials embossed on the front. She opened it to find a small message on the first page, your handwriting spelling out a few meaningful lines about the journey she’d been on this year and how much she inspired you with her dedication. You still were a little in shock with how far the woman had come since her injury and the fact that she had reached 200 goals for the club you both now loved was just the icing on the cake.

“For your thoughts, your ideas, and your dreams,” you’d written. Alexia looked up at you, eyes softening, and you could see a hint of emotion there. She mouthed a quiet “Thank you,” her fingers brushing over the inscription.

Then, to lighten the moment, you’d also included a second, smaller package. She opened it to find a mini figurine modelled after her with a tiny Santa hat on top. A delighted laugh escaped her as she held it up for the team to see. You had tried to get her game face to come across, but you did kind of think she just looked grumpy, not that you would tell her that.

“Alright, who let her at the 3D printer?” Mapi teased, grinning as she reached over to inspect the miniature Alexia, complete with a Barcelona jersey and tiny cleats. The room broke out in laughter, and even Alexia had to admit it was pretty accurate. She placed the figurine proudly on the table next to her, shaking her head with a big smile at your antics.

As the final few gifts got exchanged, Mapi started setting up her phone to get the group photo. You all piled together, faces slightly flushed from all the laughing, penguin suits and Santa hats in place, and grins on all your lips. Alexia pulled you into her side a little more as the countdown timer started, holding you that little bit closer as you were surrounded by your teammates.

After the photo, Alexia pulled you to the side wanting just a moment for the two of you. Her voice was soft and full of affection she couldn’t use in front of the young’uns because you both knew the teasing would never end. “I had a feeling you got me, I saw the paper you used in the wardrobe. Maybe try and hide it low next time being as you are smaller than me and normally need to me get in the top for you.” You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your checks at her teasing, you knew that was not your smartest move, but you panicked.

Her face went a little softer before she uttered the next words, “This means more to me than you know, thank you.” She glanced down at the journal in her hands once again and you could see how much she meant the words she said. She opened it to the first page again, her fingers lingering on your message. “I don’t think anyone else has ever captured how I feel about all this as well as you just did.”

You smiled, reaching for her hand. “You’ve worked so hard, Alexia. You deserve a place to write down every dream and every idea you have, whether it’s about football or something even bigger.”

She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for understanding me,” she murmured. “And thank you for being here. You’ve made this the best Christmas party yet.”

As you rejoined the festivities, your heart feeling soft after her words, Alexia kept you close, her hand resting in yours as you laughed and celebrated with the team. There was no place you’d rather be than here, in the midst of holiday laughter, love, and the magic of Christmas shared with the one who meant everything to you.

[noneorother]

I went dumpster diving into the posters for Good Omens Season 2 and found a few pearls.

I found it odd that this season had SO MANY official posters. Hours and hours of work and real dollars from Amazon went into the production of these things. This one won a freakin Clio award. I know Neil confirmed he didn't have a lot of control of what went into these 21 (Or 22 depending on whether or not you count the umbrella piece that was made before season 2 shooting began. Personally I don't!) pieces, but I will leave no stone unturned, so here we go. I combed through every single season 2 poster I could find so you don't have to. Here's everything I've found so far:

1. The allegiances poster

After having watched season 2, knowing what we know now, this poster seems very much to me like a Game of Thrones style family at war image. We have a perfect mirror down the center, with Aziraphale/Angels/Nina&Maggie on Aziraphale's traditional left side, and Crowley with Beelzebub & Jim as reflections of Maggie/Nina, and Shax and Michael(?) as reflections of the three angels on the other side of the mirror. It seems unbalanced, unless you count the floating white head (conveniently watching in the background) as The Metatron...

Which means Michael is... not on the same side as Uriel and Saraqael? She's also grouped in with the Metatron and Shax, on the side of the demons. How very odd. Gabriel & Nina also have a mirror in that they've both turned their backs to the crowd. Gabriel is willing to go live with Beelzebub in hell, and shut down Michael's plan and the Metatron's scheming for a second Armageddon, so that literal turn towards Beez and away from everyone else makes sense to me. The Nina one however? Not so much from what we've seen. Why is she turning her back on the angels & demons? 2. The individual posters

Interestingly, the individual posters all line up pretty much exactly with the all the allegiances this season. You just have to look at the way the characters are slanted vs. how the backgrounds behind them are slanted. All 3 bookshop posters and all 3 street posters are slanting left, with their characters also slanting left. They are who they say they are, and they're on the same side.

Michael and Uriel have right slanting backgrounds, so odds are heaven is supposed to slant right. Uriel is following the rules and slanting right, but of all the characters on the posters, Michael is the only one really betraying the background slant, and is slanting left against her background. Something's up with Micahel. They're not on the same side as they claim to be. Saraqael is more mysterious, as the only one sitting straight, and the only angel to have a left slanting background. Shax seems to be slanting left with a left slanting background, which puts her in the same pose as Uriel, but mirrored. While Beelzebub is weirdly slanting right with a right slanting background, making them a bit of a traitor, like Michael. Shax, Saraqael and Michael have some explaining to do. Lastly, and I think mostly obviously, there's clearly a missing poster in the set. Why doesn't hell have a third green poster? Is it supposed to be the Metatron, and they didn't want to spoil the surprise? Furfur maybe? Why wouldn't poor old Furfur get a poster when he has more screen time than Uriel? I don't think this is very important other than it's funny : everyone single person is holding something in their right hand, except for Shax and Crowley, who are holding things in their left hands, and Muriel, who's holding fucking NOTHING. Poor baby Muriel lolsob. One thing I do think might be important is that there are 21 posters in total + 1 missing one. So maybe 22 posters for season 2? How appropriate. 3. The triple phone box

In both the Nina street poster and the group street poster, there's are a set of 3 red phone boxes down the street. We never see phone boxes in series 2. Seriously, not once. Every other detail in these ones is from Whickeber street footage: gumball machine, post box, newspapers, coffee sign, puddle, walking extras... The only thing out of place is those blasted phone boxes. As far as I can tell it's literally the only thing in all 21 posters that never appears in the show in some form, and this background plate is used for all the street posters, so the phone boxes are in quite a few of them.

4. Crowley is showing his good side, Aziraphale is always facing away from Crowley.

Crowley is always shown with his head tilted to his right this season, body tilted towards Aziraphale and always with long sideburns. Even in the illustrated poster his default is head to the right, sideburns long.

EXCEPT for this poster. This is the only time he's looking away from Aziraphale, and his snake tattoo is visible. And his sideburns are short. Either nobody noticed this or they refused to fix it. There's also the matter of Aziraphale facing his body away from Crowley in every single image except the allegiances poster, where they face each other. So cute.

5. The sneaky details posters

This one has: 1. Pride & Prejudice 2. Treasure Island 3. A tale of two cities 4. The Crow Road 5. Catch-22 9.

AND whatever the hell this photoshop artifact/invisible thing coming out of the scroll on Aziraphale's desk. I checked every version I could find of this poster and it's always there. It looks like someone tried to edit out something that was there and sort of got it mostly right. Which is completely ludicrous given the amazing amount of flawless photoshopping and collaging going on in this image. These are the magicians linking rings from the 1941 magic shop. Mystery solved!

This one has the yellow book on the bookstand, the record, and : 1. Only one clock hand on the grandfather clock, facing 6. 2. A feather duster on the floor (but weirdly it's grey not yellow). 3. The dark horse statue with Crowley's old sunglasses on it. 4. Aziraphale's bowtie ON THE FLOOR. What. Why. I can only conclude that in this poster either A) Aziraphale and Crowley have left these things behind (meaning no more bowtie for Aziraphale in season 3) B) They are currently not wearing these items somewhere else in the bookshop....

_____________________________________ I ran out of images. So the dome poster will have to be it's own post!

[ennabear]

hehehe haii :P quick roblox with sevika blurb, inspired by lyss and pluto who are my roblox family 🤎 this is stupid and silly hehe don’t mind me i just think old woman playing video game is funny. also mutuals add me on roblox my username is sevikasgf_real!!

general:

ok so first of all, it would take FOREVER for her to make an account 😭 she does not know how to make a username and she’d probably try to enter something like “tittysucker2000” and get mad that the system says it’s not appropriate. but after a while of her struggling to come up with something that isn’t censored, she’d settle for something cute (like ennasgf_real) because you got tired of her struggling and being annoying.

her avatar would be so fucking funny!! purple skin and a bob, some random shirt that she found for free in the catalog, probably a picture of someone’s dog or something. she’d end up clicking around too much and find a way to make all of her limbs different shapes and sizes but not know how to fix it, so she just embraces the look of her avatar.

if you bought her robux she’d very likely spend it all in one place… she’d see a random costume that she wants to buy and suddenly all of robux are down the drain…

she would get banned from voice chat INSTANTLY. ignores all of the warnings that pop up on her screen for not following the guidelines. it starts with a ton of quick suspensions and then she’s just permanently in vc jail.

SCREAMS at the little kids who bully her. is not ashamed to get in a little online scuffle in order to protect her ego. nobody is about to call her ugly or old or uneducated if she can help it… this, obviously, is how she ends up getting banned.

also she gets noise complaints when she plays. multiple. from you and her neighbors both, she just completely forgets about volume when someone says that she’s probably lying about having a wife… but it is a little bit cute to know that she’s doing it in your honor.

it would take her FOREVER to figure out voice chat. she doesn’t know how to do it off the top of her head, so she googles how to do it but can’t find a straight answer. goes running around the house in search of her passport because she thinks that’s what she needs but you’re just like “babe… enter your phone number and it’ll let you… that’s all you need to do…”

dress to impress:

playing with her would be so fun because she does not know her way around anything. you’d force her on to dress to impress and she’d be so lost. is not aware that there’s a time limit or a theme to follow. by the end of the round she’s still gray and her outfit is half finished and she’s like “what is it doing?? why is there a runway??? i wasn’t done with my outfit.”

the people in the chat would respond like “bruh what is this” or “oh!” to her outfit, but you’re there to back her up and vote her 5 stars anyways <33. but if they start to get too mean, she’ll force you to tell her how to use the chat and she’ll type something like “fuck you guys at least i have a wife” which of course comes out as all ####.

and when she sees all of the tags, she’d be like “what the hell?? i didn’t type that 😭” and you’d have to gently explain to her that it’s because roblox filters certain things you say, especially like “fuck you” and probably every other thought that came to her mind when she was typing it.

ofc you and her would both get first and second place because you vote each other 5 stars, even though her outfits are… well… you know… not the prettiest…

murder mystery:

if you thought her in dress to impress was bad, it gets WORSE. no matter how many times you explain to her the rules of the game, she is LOST, as well as every single synonym for confused in the dictionary. perplexed. puzzled. stupefied. dumbfounded. all of the above.

as an innocent, she’d probably just follow you the whole time, waiting until the sheriff kills the murderer or time runs out.

as the murderer, she’d probably tell on herself IMMEDIATELY. has her microphone on in voice chat and says “what does it mean that i’ll get my weapon in 10 seconds??” and she’s shot before the round even lasts half a minute. either that or she’d keep it to herself, but walk around with her knife out the whole time absolutely cluelessly. she probably thinks that others can’t see it, or maybe she can’t see it herself.

she’d be like “babe i’m so scared :( i wonder who the murderer is…” and she’s standing in front of you like 🤷🏽‍♀️🔪 LMAOOO

as the sheriff, she’d either shoot some random person who walks past her and die for getting it wrong, or she’d freak out and spam 100 different buttons while trying to shoot the murderer. she’s jumping and running around, screaming at the top of her lungs because she’s so scared, clicking her screen in every place but where the murderer is standing.

with others:

imagine jinx and isha existing in this universe, she’d drain her whole bank account on robux for the 3 of them 😭 but, and as much as she’d HATE to admit this, she actually really enjoys playing with them.

isha is still learning how to spell, so her and jinx would cackle at everything the poor girl types coming out as straight hashtags. especially when she’s fighting with someone, they’d both watch her get heated and absolutely smash her little fingers into her ipad keyboard trying to type things out, but then comfort her when she gets too frustrated to continue.

also, if isha ever gets hit with “you’re probably a 5 year old” from someone, sevika would be like “yeah, she is 😭” but jinx would stand up for her and type out PARAGRAPHS about how isha is so young and still better than whoever insulted her. jinx 100% has memorized all of the words that roblox flags, so she has no problem facing the hashtags.

they’re also such bad influences on your wife, they manage to convince her to buy more robux for them almost every week. you’ve caught her up in the middle of the night, phone sideways in her hand running around in a new game she’s found. you try taking your family out to dinner and they all just pull out their phones (isha, her ipad, still too young for a personal phone) and hop onto some new game jinx found. it’s adorable, yes, but definitely not the best habit she’s ever formed.

[dollcherray]

꒰͡ ͜ ı ͜ ͡꒱ DOLLHOUSE ۶♡ৎ

CAINE AND JAX WITH A CREEPY DOLL READER

A/N: This is so silly, definitely not self indulgement.

Type: Romantic/platonic, fluff, headcanons

About reader: Reader talks very slowly, have creepy hobbies and is very mysterious.

Warnings: Decapitation mentions, gore mentions, reader literally wants to sacrifice Jax, Jax is being haunted by you, NOT PROOFREAD, i just did this because yes.

Song: Dollhouse

CAINE ✮⋆˙

୨୧ I dont really think Caine would be really scared or creeped out by you at the start, because he's an AI so, his reaction would be a totally different than the others, i can see him complimenting you actually.

୨୧ When you first got into the circus, you were just so eerily... calm? it impressed him a bit since everybody freaked out whenever they got to the circus, thats the first thing that kinda got him curious, but he just brushed it off when he found out its just in ur nature.

୨୧ When you talk slowly and smoothly like those creepy characters, he would just get a bit impatient, Caine is a very eletric and excited robot, so i dont really think he would have much patience with you when you start talking.

୨୧ One thing that can annoy him a bit is the fact you were just so mysterious, you werent really present on the adventures and when you were you just would blend in the background and didnt really do much, it was like you were a digital ghost or something.

୨୧ He would question the others of why they were so creeped by you, like i said, your weird nature wouldnt really have an effect on him so its very likely that he wont get why the others are so scared of you.

୨୧ About how he reacts to your creepy hobbies; he just doesnt really finds it age appropriate, like, why do you have so many gory drawings?! why do you keep trying to decapitate Jax?? to use his head as a souvenir?! reader!! that is not age appropriate!

୨୧ He would try to drive you away from those creepy hobbies, only upsetting you and making you "calmly" threat him saying you would make him eat his own eyes, but it was an empty threat since you cant do much to the RINGMASTER of the circus, and it didnt really work but oh well.

୨୧ He finds your character unique because it can 'almost blend in the dark easily' and he says that because one day he went out in the night to just wander around since he's an AI and doesn't really need sleep and... thats when he saw you, putting a message with a cute bow wrapped knife in Jax's door... you looked really nice in the dark btw.

୨୧ Yeah, overall, he just thinks you are another silly goof.

۶♡ৎ “...[NAME] you cant say that.”

JAX ۶♡ৎ

୨୧ Fuck.

୨୧ I think Jax would be really fucked up, he made a HUGE mistake when he tried testing your patience at first, calling you "edgelord" and etc, he got a chance at first when you just decided to ignore him, but, he tried his luck again by trying to nag you with his pranks.

୨୧ He laughed at you threatening to give him 'a DIY plastic surgery' on his face, thinking you were just trying to be a "edgy kid"... until your brutal payback..

୨୧ Now you are haunting him, congrats, you have instigated fear into the 'funny' purple bunny that now everytime he sees you in a adventure, he gets more worried in making sure you aren't trying to stab his back with a axe than causing chaos and violence.

୨୧ This man was so flabbergasted when you tried to 'payback' his prank with setting up a axe trap in his room door to try and decapitate him, thats when Jax knew he fucked up.

୨୧ The others praise you because whenever your in the same room as Jax, he shuts up for the first time and as long as you're present in the same room as him, he wont bug anyone and that makes everybody so much happier.

୨୧ He has to check his door for traps EVERY MORNING to not get greeted with a knife to his forehead or worse: with you instead.

୨୧ You probably haunt his dreams, Jax probably had a nightmare that had you included, oh wow you have officially turned into Jax's living nightmare, like why is this happening to him?! is this karma for his pranks?! god help him.

୨୧ He hates you and your voice and everything about you! Thanks to you, now everybody has an argument to mock him, thanks to YOU everybody knows he's not that tough, even Gangle laughed at him!

۶♡ৎ “I'm so incredibly disappointed right now.”

[bellamer]

Interview With A Vampire fandom having another racism crisis because that one popular Armand cosplayer and her white friends took a funko pop of white Louis, the slave owner Louis, to a plantation in Louisiana and basically took selfies and videos and were playing around on a site where slaves were tortured as if it were a funny haha keke moment

That shit doesn’t fly at 9/11 museums, holocaust memorials and sites, why the fuck would they think it would fly at a plantation ? “ the tour guide was very helpful and educated us on the horror of slavery !” and yet you still found it appropriate to play around like it was a playground

This fandom already had racism problems but like… thats just fucking low. The bar for decent human behavior is in hell at this point for fandoms in general. It feels like a competition of “who can go lower” and I wish I could have seen in person how fucking goofy they looked on a plantation tour, with a funko pop of a slave owner, in their stupid fucking cosplays taking photos and and videos and having the time of their lives like they were at fucking Disneyworld while everyone else, black people probably, were there to probably learn the history of the land.

Then had the nerve to double down but when the heat got too hot they did the bare minimum and did a fucking notes app apology of all things. I fucking hate people.

[bunbotbuggiman]

au where the peak lords reincarnate as Bingge's quarter demon spawn

saw a post (https://www.tumblr.com/cursed-angelic-art/686056254886559744/do-you-think-mobei-jun-is-the-one-playing-father) talking abt if mbj "played dad" for og lbh's army of kids and-

au where the peak lords reincarnate as Bingge's quarter demon spawn

they all have different mothers but are all the same age- were born the same year-

even sqq, who's nyy's favorite kid (because he reminds her of her shizun, during the good days before lbh became a disciple) despite not being her kid (she herself never had any kids, which doesn't bother her as much because neither did lmy or shl and they're the head wives still so) (in the same vein, Liu Mingyans favorite kid is the one who behaves most like her late brother)

This world's version of Shen Yuan, however, was born as the son of one of mbj's advisors, before said advisor and his family died in a tragic accident. so he was adopted by mobei-jun and shang qinghua at the ripe old age of barely a few weeks old.

His name: Mo Yuan, named after an old friend of Shang Qinghua's from his secret pre-transmigration life (In this world, SY is not a transmigrator.... maybe he is a reincarnation.... but there's no real way to tell, he sure doesn't remember anything)

So he's an ice demon. looks like Shen Yuan but everything about him is like 30 shades more MBJ. he adores his parents, and his parents adore him, and because of this mutual adoration he has successfully grown up completely secure in his status as their child in spite of fully knowing of his adopted status.

This being said, there are very few individuals who also know this fact, because since the transition was so fast (and because Shang Qinghua knows stuff, and Mobei-Jun knows he knows stuff) they just bullshit it and say that Mo Yuan is a magical plant baby who was born as a full demon in spite of technically being a half demon because of magic plant bullshit.

He looks enough like shang qinghua to make it believable anyways, so it's fine.

Mo Yuan and Shang Qinghua also have a really weird relationship where MY at some point got into Shang Qinghua's writings (only the age appropriate stuff.... he found out about the porn at a later age) and violently hated it, but Shang Qinghua found it:

A. funny that his son was so violently opinionated and

B. thought it was important that his son be able to have an outlet for these emotions so he honestly encouraged it.

So now they have a really close parental relationship but also are kind of friendly-close because when Mo Yuan found some of SQH's writings, he immediately was like "oh my god Baba you suck???? at writing????? How?????? You are a scribe???? This is so awful???? Baba, you could do this better, and this better, and- what the hell, take this out, oh my god..."

Also, his name in the au is 漠垣 Mo Yuán meaning North[ern] Wall, but his courtesy name is 漠 雪峰 Mo Xuefēng, meaning North[ern] Snow[y] Peak.

However, he is beloved by much of the palace staffers, who have watched him grow up much closer than any of Luo Bingge's children, who mostly grow up in the relative isolation of their courtyards and palaces and palace wings, so he is referred to by many of them by his nickname, 雪花 Xuehua, meaning snowflake.

So anyways, he meets + kinda grows up alongside many of the peak lords because he grows up spending a lot of time in the palace by virtue of his dads being, well, Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua.

Shang Qinghua and Liu Mingyan, shippers prime and book club buddies into this universe (though Mo Yuan staunchly ignores all of LMY's writings because his face is wayyy too thin for that) immediately sees the way that the various children of Luo Bingge climb over each other in desperate attempts to charm and woo the chilly Mo Xuefeng...

and maybe eventually, how one son of Luo Bingge looks at him and how Mo Yuan looks back.

(I haven't decided what I want the pairing to be here.... oopsies y'all, come to y'alls own conclusions ig lmaooo)