#kind of late but the day hasn't end here so still on time

[leashybebes]

i don't have a prompt to give you but like. thank you for all of your writing today, it really made me feel some kind of fantastic way. (did you have an idea for a prompt that hasn't been sent in? consider me asking for that.)

you are so kind and i am so late with this. HOWEVER. have 1.7k of...something.

5 times tommy kisses someone on the cheek, one time someone kisses him on the cheek

1.

His date to junior prom is called Michelle. She's his lab partner in chem class, and she has pretty brown hair, tumbling in curls to her shoulders. Tommy picks her up from her house, because Michelle's really sweet and there's no way he wants her anywhere near his asshole dad.

His friends are all talking in the run up about how they're gonna get laid, and Tommy jokes along because, well. It's not like he doesn't wanna have sex. Of course he does. Michelle's great.

So he picks her up from her house and he hands her a corsage and her mom takes photos and her dad gives him a hard glare that rolls easily off the shoulders of someone who's lived in Thomas Kinard's house all his life and Tommy's hands are sweating and his suit is uncomfortable and her dress is pretty and he doesn't know how to dance and he's so fucking relieved that someone spiked the punch and at the end of the night he walks her home and kisses her on the cheek.

He kisses her on the cheek and she does the same to him, leaving a peachy-orange smear of lipstick and Tommy walks around the neighbourhood until it's late enough that he doesn't think his dad will be awake to bust his balls for being home early, and he doesn't try to figure out whether the feeling rolling in his gut is relief or disappointment. 

2.

His mom won't look at him in the aftermath. It's the first time his dad's ever been on his side in an argument. Well, kinda. If shut up, Sarah, it'll make a man out of him and Christ knows I haven't been able to can really be called being on Tommy's side. His dad had signed the paperwork when his mom had refused, so they all knew this was coming, but his mom's been tearful and furious and a little drunk ever since. 

Tommy's seventeen and he leaves for basic in the morning and his mom still won't look at him.

"Mom, c'mon," he says, trying one last time. "I'll be fine."

"You don't know that," she says, and he hates and regrets how scared she sounds, but he just - he can't stay here.

"I'll write you," he promises. She still doesn't look at him, so he bends down and kisses her cheek. Her skin still smells of the same Nivea Creme it has his whole life, the stuff that comes in the little blue tin.

"I love you, mom."

He lets the door close quietly behind him, doesn't make the trip down to the den to say anything to his dad. Nothing left to say there.

3.

The first man Tommy fucks more than once is called James. They meet in a bar, Tommy blows him in the bathroom, and James suggests they get a motel. They do, and he proceeds to make Tommy see god for the rest of the night and into the early morning hours. They talk after - James works in finance (boring, he says, but I'm not complaining about the money. Tell me more about firefighting, though), he's lived in California his whole life. He tells Tommy how cute he is, how much he'd like to see him again.

He's maybe ten years older than Tommy and so handsome it makes him ache. Tommy's so caught up in it that he doesn't think twice about the fact that they either go to Tommy's little shithole apartment, or James says something about treating him and whisks Tommy away to a fancy hotel in San Francisco or Malibu or even Portland once, for a three night stay where they barely left the bed.

He doesn't think about it until he sees James at the grocery store one day and approaches with a smile, with his heart beating harder in his chest the way it always does when he sees that handsome profile, that scattering of salt through the thick pepper of his hair.

"Hey," he says, and in the aftermath, he can hear the excitement in his voice, the ridiculous way it dips and rises on a single syllable.

James's eyes widen for a split second and he says, "Oh, hey. Tommy, right?" and Tommy has a split second to be confused before he registers the woman at James's side, the way James is putting an arm around her waist, the way he's saying, "Honey, this is Tommy, we go to the same gym. Tommy, this is my wife Suzanne."

Tommy feels sick. He feels like he's going to pass out. He feels like he isn't real. James's eyes are wide and terrified, and Tommy can't believe - 

He smiles and shakes her hand, ducks his head to kiss the cheek she offers him (whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck). 

"It's lovely to meet you," he says, like he isn't in the middle of his own personal apocalypse, like fire isn't raining down on him from the sky.

Stupid, he thinks as he walks away from them, abandons his basket, has a panic attack in his truck. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He doesn't hear from James again.

4.

Tommy's been dating Jackson for three months. They haven't really defined it yet, haven't had the are we exclusive talk, because Jackson's a little younger and he hasn't been out for long. Not that Tommy has, either, but he's trying to be cool. And anyway, it's not often that Tommy gets to feel more experienced than the people he's dating, more knowledgeable, more settled, more queer.

The sex is crazy good, and Jackson's cool with Tommy's weird schedule - they met on a call, after all, so he knew right from the start - and more than anything, it's fun. They don't just fuck, which has been most of Tommy's relationships since James, and that's not - it's not a complaint. Tommy's pretty settled in his own company. But Jackson likes art, and karaoke, and baseball and hiking, so they date. They're dating. Tommy likes it a lot.

And then.

"I think I met someone," Jackson says, and his eyes are sparkling, his smile bringing out a dimple Tommy doesn't think he's ever seen before. Tommy can't even be mad. "I think he's really special," Jackson says, as though that needed saying, with the look on his face.

"I'm happy for you," Tommy says, and he is. He is. He's just also a little…wistful. Not all the way to sad, but…yeah. Wistful. A sense of oh, that could have been something.

They part outside the coffee shop which, on reflection, should have been a sign. They've never just met for coffee before.

"Hey," Tommy says, and gives Jackson a hug, kisses him on his soft cheek. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Good luck with your guy."

"You're so cool, Tommy," he says, and Tommy smiles like that's enough.

5.

Tommy was not expecting Evan Buckley.

Wasn't expecting him to capture so much of Tommy's attention as he's flying through the tail end of a literal hurricane. Wasn't expecting to spend so many hours dissecting that tour and their texts running up to it. (Was that flirting? Was that? Okay, but that had to be, right?) Wasn't expecting to kiss him in his bougie-ass kitchen and watch a softly stunned expression spread over his gorgeous face.

Wasn't expecting that mortifying first date to leave him feeling anything other than like he'd dodged a bullet. Wasn't expecting Evan to reach out again and look at him in the sunshine with so much hope on his face that it makes Tommy feel like he's turned completely transparent and Evan's looking right into the mess at the heart of him. He certainly wasn't expecting an invite to a wedding, of all things. And he definitely wasn't expecting Evan to kiss him - try to fucking inhale him - in the hospital lobby in front of god and everybody and then drag him into the wedding like he's the guest of honor or something.

He also wasn't expecting the enthusiasm, the abandon, the sheer confidence with which Evan took him home that night and took him to bed and took him apart. 

Oh god, Tommy thinks, once Evan's fallen asleep and Tommy's wide awake in the city lights that aren't muted at all by the decor appropriate but definitely not black out blinds on Evan's huge windows. This one's gonna hurt.

He kisses Evan's cheek, warm with sleep, rough with stubble. Evan turns towards Tommy in his sleep, one hand reaching out, a soft murmur leaving his parted lips.

Yeah. This one's gonna hurt real bad.

+1. 

Another coffee shop. Another hopeful smile. Another time that Tommy's heart turns over in his chest at the sight of Evan Buckley.

But everything is different now. Evan is different now. He's marked by grief, and he's more serious than Tommy's seen him, and he's so - he's so calm as he lays it out:

"Listen. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Through all - all this. Through everything before. I miss you. I really miss you, Tommy. I miss the way you see me. The way you know me. The way you like me. I miss your shitty sense of humor and your bitchy eyebrows and how kind you are. Tommy. God, Tommy, life is so short. I want to try again. What do you want?"

Tommy feels like the world is tilting under his chair, like the coffee is going to come back up, like he's on fire.

"That," he makes himself say through numb lips. "I want that. Evan, I want - "

"Okay," Evan says, and smiles, small and real. He leans across the table, big hand tilting Tommy's head, soft lips pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the angle of his cheekbone. "Okay."

Tommy closes his eyes, tries to imprint every little part of his moment into his memory. Wants to go to his grave remembering exactly how that kiss felt, the smell of Evan's aftershave, the touch of his fingertips, the warmth of the sun.

Evan sits back in his chair and Tommy thinks be brave. Be brave for him. Be brave.

"Hey," he says, and fiddles with his cup. "I'm pretty sure you're the love of my life."

Evan smiles and catches hold of Tommy's hand, brings it to his lips and kisses it. "Well. That works out nicely."

[savebylou]

Thank you for coming to Greece, it means the world to us greek fans <3 - Efi C.

Fan message for Louis from the Louis Tomlinson: Live (see all the messages here).

[lymtw]

Deceiving Dreams

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji woke up sweating, a foul feeling in his chest after what he just dreamt. You were the star and your co-star was not him, but some random dude who was way too comfortable with touching you. His hands would brush over your shoulders and your thighs like he was familiar with your body, but what was absolutely stomach churning, was the way he kissed you softly and slowly. You didn't even push him away, instead you reciprocated the gesture. You did the sweet things that you only do with him, like smiling at this man in that way that makes wonder brim your eyes. You kissed the corner of this stranger's lips, on the same side that Toji's scar is on, coincidentally, and you wrapped your arms around this stranger with that same amount of hesitance you show Toji, as if this person you've known for mere minutes summed up the butterflies and electric feelings your lover makes you feel in that short span of time.

Toji hasn't been this unsettled by something regarding you since the time you cried during an argument that spiraled out of his jealousy. Things got out of hand, but since then, he's learned that he can't do things that way with you. He can't shut you out, and he can't snap at you or you will crumble to the ground.

Patience is a hard thing to learn, and though being with you has taught Toji how to be more careful with his words and to be understanding of your struggles to communicate certain things, at the end of the day, he's still learning. How does anyone deal with this kind of thing in a gentle and unassuming manner? He can't just spring such a question on you without it rubbing you wrong. "Are you cheating on me?" No. That is a recipe for disaster and just asking for unwanted distance. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows it, but that dream... It just seemed so real.

Hey, ma. You awake?

It's two in the morning, and you probably won't answer, but as Toji lies there in his bed, waiting for a response from you, he realizes he can't wait to hear from you, so he does the next best thing—he calls you.

The line rings a couple times, and by the third time, he's ready to end the call before he gets sent to voicemail, deeming his reason for pulling you out of sleep so early in the morning to be ridiculous. It was a dream. You're not cheating on him. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows this, yet, here he is, trying to sleep in your bed with you, like a child who woke up from a nightmare, tiptoeing over to their parents' bedroom.

"Hi, Toji," you answer, your voice quiet and slightly raspy with sleep. "Toji?" You call, again, when you get nothing from him. "Are you okay?"

He feels somewhat embarrassed for having woken you up for this, but if the deed has already been done, then he needs to make the most of it.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm doing just fine. Everything's fine. Listen, would it be alright if I came over?" He asks, already sitting up and getting out of bed.

"It's a little late, isn't it? It's..." you hum as you quickly check your phone, "...two seventeen," you respond, trying your hardest not to nod off as you lie comfortably on your side, your phone placed between your ear and your pillow, again.

"I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to wait up for me, though. I can let myself in. You gave me your spare, remember?"

You blink, tiredly, and remain silent for a few seconds until Toji calls for you. "Yeah, okay, then. Drive safe. It's raining really hard."

"Will do, mama. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you," you mumble, before hanging up the phone. You went right back to sleep, afterwards. The sound of the rain pouring outside was soothing and the coldness that came with the weather made the perfect contrast to the warmth of the blanket you bundled yourself in.

Toji got to your place twenty-something minutes later. His hoodie was heavily spotted with the raindrops it caught during the walk to your front door from his car. He fishes out his keys from his pocket and looks for a shiny, bronze key on his keyring. Once he has it, getting into your warm home goes smoothly. From taking off his shoes and setting them beside yours, to removing his hoodie so that the wetness doesn't touch you, he moves quickly. He doesn't stray from his path to finding you, not even to grab a snack from your kitchen cabinets like he normally does, no matter the time—he just goes straight to your room.

When he opens the door, Toji is met with nothing more than the adorable sight of you curled up in bed, like a puppy sleeping peacefully under a heap of toasty blankets. He shuts the door behind him, quietly, and moves swiftly, but carefully, so that he doesn't wake you up before he even starts crawling into bed with you. He gently lifts the blanket off the vacant side of your bed, and slides into his place beside you. Instantly greeted by the warmth you generated, he feels the urge to pull you into his arms and just hold you all night.

"Sorry, baby. I know i'm cold," he says, softly, when you stir at the iciness of his fingers dragging up and down the side of your neck.

You blink your heavy eyes open and take in the sight of Toji right in front of you. Him calling you wasn't part of a hyper realistic dream, he's actually in bed with you.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned for his reason for wanting to be there in the early hours of the morning, rather than just waiting until later on in the day. You had plans to meet, anyway. What is so important that he couldn't wait until then?

"It's nothing to worry about. Just wanted to be here with you," he responds, not totally lying, but also not telling the whole truth.

"Remember what I told you when we first met?" You mumble, not satisfied with the vagueness of his response. There seems to be more that he isn't telling you.

"You said a lot of things to me that day," he responds, with a low chuckle.

"I did," you agree, smiling softly at the memory. "I also told you something important that day, didn't I?"

You watch the contemplative expression on his face, the outward appearance of his brain whirring. It's cute, even in his handsomeness. "Do you want a hint?" You ask, though when you see his eyes widen a little, you know he won't need it.

"You're better at listening than you are at talking," he recites, with a smirk, like he's patting himself on the back for being able to remember.

"Right. So, if there's something wrong, I want to know about it. I know i'm not the best conversationalist, but you know that I always try for you."

Now that you're more awake, Toji doesn't feel so heartless for handling you like you're merely a teddy bear, so that you're lying on top of him. He wants you close to him all the time, but when you say things like that, he instantly feels the need to bring you closer. It's pure instinct by now.

"You ever get tired of me just scooping you up out of nowhere?" He asks, lips curled in amusement as he watches and feels you wiggling around, trying to make yourself comfortable. Finally, you rest your head on the upper part of his chest and let your arms go limp beside him.

"Never," you respond, simply, smiling when a low chuckle rumbles out of Toji's chest.

His arms tighten around you a little more when the room goes silent, and then he remembers why he's here. He can't lose this. Your warmth, your careful affection, the way you constantly look at him like he's the reason the moon and the stars shine at night. He never wants you to look at him another way. There's absolutely nothing hard about loving you, and if you can't believe it on your own, he'll prove it to you.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, doll?" He asks, his palms finally warm enough to work as heating pads for your back.

"I do," you assure. Maybe this is his concern—that he's not showing you enough love. No, that can't be it. If that was it, he would've waited until later on in the day to see you and talk about it.

"And how much I need you? Do you know that, too?" To that, he doesn't get a response from you. He knows you aren't sleeping, because he can feel your legs shifting against his every once in a while.

"Doll?" He calls.

You let out a soft breath, before responding with your truth.

"I don't know if you need me, Toji. When you tell me you love me, I believe it, because I feel it and I know it, but I don't think you need me."

"Don't..." he sighs, not expecting this as a response from you. "...don't say that. Don't you dare say that. What does that even mean? Because I don't fucking get it. I really don't, ma."

Your heart rate picks up a little, but you try to keep yourself as calm as possible. You understand that this isn't something he wants to hear, as the one who's helped you through so much, but you can't help but share how things feel on your end.

"Don't you ever think about how much better it would be for you to love someone who makes things easier on you rather than overcomplicating them? Someone who tells you what they want straight up, instead of having you basically pry the words from them?"

Toji stays quiet this time, not because he agrees, but because he's figuring out how to say things without it being explosive. He knows that those few seconds of relief will be followed up by a tidal wave of regret. It's not worth it. You're his little sunshine and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason for why your light died out.

"I love you, Toji, but I think about that a lot. I want you to know that if you ever get tired of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cuts. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's no playfulness or warmth to his tone. Nothing but the weight of his words. Your heart feels a little heavier, but you brush it off and utter a phrase that you're all too familiar with.

"Sorry."

You feel nervous, and not in the "good" way. Not in the way that makes your cheeks heat up and your stomach swarm with butterflies, but instead the way that makes your chest feel strange, and like there's a knot forming in your throat.

"I don't wanna hear that either, doll," Toji says in response, his tone softer, now, his thoughts collected. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You know I love you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs the center of your back in soothing motions. The silence that returns makes your heart beat even faster. You wonder if Toji can hear it through the lack of sound in the room.

"I had a really stupid dream," Toji finally confesses, a low, humorless chuckle vibrating against his chest. "I mean, really stupid. Can I tell you about it?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you respond. Your cheeks go warm at your use of the pet name, but it felt right in the moment. Maybe this is what's been lodged in his mind this whole time. You want him to feel as comfortable as possible as he recounts it to you.

Toji smiles softly at the term of endearment you used for him. Somehow, the way you said the word made it sound softer and even more cushioned than it already is.

His arms readjust around you, tightening the perfect amount so that you're secure against him and he can feel more of your body's warmth on his. He peppers a few more kisses on the top of your head before going on to tell you about his dream.

"So, I kind of just spawned into a room where you and some random guy were sitting on a bench, and he was getting really touchy with you. His hands were rubbing your thighs and your shoulders and..." He pauses. This is his least favorite part. He didn't like any part of it, but this part took the cake, because no one kisses your lips but him.

"It's okay," you say, encouragingly. You rub his side a few times and endure a squeeze of his arms—the equivalence of a rush of emotional support in a gesture.

"Well, you and him started locking lips, and it looked like you were really enjoying it. Your eyes were sparkly and you were smiling at him all pretty." He sighs, bothered anew, the same way he was when he first woke up. "See, I told you it was stupid," he grumbles, mildly embarrassed. "Obviously not stupid enough for me to sleep in my own bed for the night. It's fucking ridiculous. Sorry, doll."

You utter another phrase you're all too familiar with—not one you say often, but one you hear from Toji plenty.

"Don't apologize," you murmur. A few seconds pass, and you know just what to say. "Toji?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You say it like it's as easy as breathing, because it is. There's nothing hard about loving Toji. He's good to you. It's a love you've never experienced with another, and you do your damn best for him, which is why him showing up at two a.m. isn't a problem. Him crawling into your bed, and reaching for you with hands that are cold as ice isn't a problem. He needs comfort this time, and all you can do is hope that the way you console him is enough.

"Only you, and that's how it'll always be. Your brain thought it would be funny to trick you, but it grayed on the fact that I suck at talking to people."

That made him snicker. It wasn't a reaction meant to ridicule you, rather one of immediate relief, due to the confirmation you gave him about his place as your only love.

"Not that i'm interested in pursuing others, but how am I gonna go for someone else, when I can barely talk to you?"

Now that made him full on chuckle, and you just lay there on him, withstanding the crushing sensation of his arms squeezing you impossibly tighter. You fear he might break you, but you would endure that momentary loss of breath any day if it means his heart remains whole.

"God, I love you so damn much," he murmurs, low against the top of your head. "I love you," he says, pressing yet another affectionate kiss to the area. "And I need you. I want you to understand that by... now. I need you to understand it, right now, baby."

"I don't think that's how it works," you say, humming out a soft laugh.

"Well, we're gonna make it work. Alright? You're gonna understand how much I need you."

"Okay," you say, resigned to his perseverance.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yeah," you confirm, lips curling, amusedly.

"Yeah?" He copies once more, knowing it'll grant him one of his favorite little sounds from you.

You giggle. "Yes, Toji."

With that, he's flipping you over, his position expressively dominant, now. It's dark in your room, so you can't really see much, but you can make out most of his handsome features, and you can feel his body heat embracing you, just as much as it did a few seconds ago. His hands are planted right beside your head and he's peering down at you, smirking at the way you look at him, like you haven't caught up with how he handled you so delicately yet efficiently to switch positions.

"You always look so pretty under me," he murmurs, leaning in closer. You in so that you see nothing but him. His hands ball up the sheets beneath them, carelessly wrinkling them as he remains merely inches above you. You slowly release the breath you've been holding in. "You mad at me, baby?"

"No," you answer, trying to remain calm, despite the heat that is beginning to seep into your face. "You've done nothing for me to be mad about, so why would I be mad at you?"

His lips press against the lower part of your cheek—a deep kiss right above your jaw. "'Cause i'm kinda dumb and do shit like this. I woke you up, and now you're losing sleep," he murmurs, against your skin.

"It's okay, Toji," you gently reassure. "I understand and I'm not mad at you." Your hands come up to his back, tentatively, feeling the body warmth that seeps through his shirt.

"No?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss closer to the corner of your lips. "You promise?"

As if trying to further comfort the giant hovering over you, you rub his back in gentle motions.

"There's nothing to be mad about. You've done nothing wrong and you're always welcome here, love." You smile when he continues planting little kisses on your cheek while you keep talking. "You have my spare key, because I trust you and I have nothing to hide from you. If giving you that key means you show up here in the early hours of the morning, because you don't want to be alone, that's okay, too. So, yes, I promise i'm not mad."

A low hum comes from Toji as his kisses inch towards your lips. A few land on the corner of your lips, then he's just a little bit off, and then finally, his lips center on yours. You feel butterflies begin to flutter around your stomach as he collects kiss after kiss from you.

"You tired, pretty baby?" He asks, his voice only audible between you and him. Not even the thin walls of your room can take away the intimacy.

"I wanna be awake with you," you respond, your voice matching the low volume of his.

"You sure?" He asks, and you do your best to convince him that you are. Your hands pull away from where they once rested on his back and you raise them to cup his cheeks with slightly shaky hands. Your touch is gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, as you begin to slowly stroke the softness of his skin. This is one of the very rare times when Toji accepts your actions in place of your words.

Your thumb brushes over the scar on his lips, and before you can even process it, his lips are on yours, again. You can feel the flourishing warmth of his face beneath your palms as he kisses you with an unexpected amount of fervor. You hear soft panting from him, as a result of him hungrily chasing kiss after kiss from you. He challenges your lungs, letting them feel a slight burn when he doesn't pull away after you've reached your limit. It's not until you're breathing heavily that he lets you go, and begins to scatter soft kisses along the side of your neck.

"Baby," he hums against your neck, leaving another kiss behind. "My sweet, pretty baby. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, smiling as he continues to let his lips feed off the warmth and softness of your skin.

"How do always manage to keep things so peaceful?" He responds. His heart beats slightly faster when you release a precious laugh at the question. "Things are just... so damn simple with you," he says, softly, as he goes lower down your body. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and begin to slowly roll it above your stomach. He instantly takes note of the goosebumps that rise when his palms graze your bare skin.

"I know how much you try for me, and fuck, i'm not dismissing your effort, but I also want you to understand that it's not hard to treat you right." His hands grip your waist, loosely, and he leans in to place a kiss on your stomach.

"There's nothing hard about being with you..." he murmurs beneath your ribs, "...and waiting for you. You aren't difficult like you think you are, sweet girl."

"You promise, Toji?" You ask, glancing down at him as he continues leaving kisses on your skin.

"I promise," he assures, meeting your gaze as he presses another kiss right beneath your chest. "You want me to stop?" He asks, aware of the lack of coverage for your chest under your shirt.

"You can keep going," you respond, willing yourself to relax under his touch. He doesn't waste any time, and immediately buries his face in your bare chest. For a moment, there's no major movement coming from him, just his breathing. You think maybe he's just savoring the warmth that you've accumulated after spending hours under your blanket, but he full on melts into your body. His arms go beneath you, allowing him to wrap around you tightly once more, and he releases an audibly heavy sigh.

"It's okay," you say, softly. You keep one hand on his upper back, while the other gently plays with his hair.

He's not sure if he deserves the tenderness your touch holds for him. He tries to be as gentle and careful with you as he can, but he's so scared that one day you'll shatter and it'll be his fault. You'll walk away from him with no intention of ever coming back and something that was so good to him will be gone. You deserve to be happy—always. He knows this, but he doesn't want to picture somebody else making you happy like he does. He can't accept that. You're his girl.

"Toji?" You call. You know your little place isn't the most high end of them all, but you also know that it's not falling apart. There's no way for the rain to reach your skin if there's no hole in your roof.

"Toji?" You call once more when he doesn't answer. Your hands still on him when you feel his shoulders stutter. You have your own glum cloud resting on top of you. You feel something wet land on your chest—it's starting to rain a little.

"It's okay," you whisper, resuming the gentle motions on his back and the back of his head. "It's okay." You feel him begin to leave languid, spaced out, featherlight kisses on your chest, and you want to freeze. You want to express how impactful the gestures are, and how they animate the butterflies that reside in your stomach, but you can't. You can't and you won't do it, because it's your turn to prove that you'll take care of him when he's not at one hundred percent.

"It's... it's gonna be okay. I have you," you assure, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers as you repeatedly thread them through, and the movement of his back beneath your other hand as he breathes. "And you will always have me, and I love you with all my heart, Toji. I need you to understand that, right now," you tease, lightheartedly, echoing his earlier words back to him in an attempt to make him feel better. You hear a congested sound, something between a laugh and a hitch in his breathing.

Not another sound is made for the next few minutes, no words spoken. Your skin catches a few more of Toji's tears as he continues to brush his lips against the entirety of your chest, reveling in the warmth of your skin. Toji can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest—the way it always is whenever he's around you. Normally, he teases you about it. 'Your heart's gonna explode if you don't calm down.' 'We don't even have to do cardio to get your heart going.' Sometimes, he just holds his fingers against the pulse point on your neck and laughs at the rapid thrumming against his fingertips. He finds it endearing, but right now, it's a comfort.

You don't mind the occasional slight pinch of his lips—the more physical proof of his appreciative affection. You simply remain focused on soothing him and reassuring him of how strong your love for him is and will always be.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, ma," he mumbles, his cheek resting on your chest. He could fall asleep so easily to the sound of your heartbeat in his ears, the feeling of you playing with his hair, and the way you slowly rub his back, but he's torn between staying where he is and coming back up to hold you close through the rest of the early morning.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," you assure, wholeheartedly.

With that response, Toji makes his choice. He pulls his arms out from beneath you and sits on his knees, between your legs for the quick second it takes him to fix your shirt. After, he lifts the blanket and reclaims his rightful spot beside you.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms without an ounce of struggle. He waits for you to settle, back against his chest, before fully enveloping you in his warm embrace.

"It sounds like pebbles hitting the roof instead of raindrops."

"Mhm," he hums, into your neck, letting his hand slide beneath the front of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your abdomen. "If your roof starts leaking, you're coming to stay with me." It's not a question or an offer.

You laugh. "The rain isn't that bad."

"Mm..." His lips home to your shoulder, a gentle peck placed on the concealed area. "Love seeing your pretty face first thing in the morning. You stay with me if your ceiling ever caves. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, through a giggle. "You'll be my first call."

"Good," he murmurs.

"I'll make you breakfast later, when we wake up."

And though Toji responds with, "Sounds good, ma," all he can think about is how you're going to struggle so hard to get out of bed because he's going to make it nearly impossible for you to do so. The gears are already turning in his head. He'll pin you down, he'll strengthen his hold around you, he'll roll on top of you "in his sleep". You're too polite for your own good, you most likely won't try to wake him up. He'll swaddle you in the blanket, he'll tie your shirts together in a tight knot-

"Goodnight, Toji," you mumble, feeling your tiredness return as he continues drawing little lines and shapes on your stomach.

"'Night, baby," he murmurs, feeling much more content and at peace with the idea of sleeping knowing that you're in his arms, not in anyone else's.

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

WEEPING WILLOW

summary: alternative universe where die young reader lived and actually met her siblings yet still she meets her end even in another universe.

Time never stops, nor does the world yet, whenever I peer back at your picture name , I feel like time has for you. You still look youthful , still vibrant as if the world's cruelties haven't touched you yet. Haven't gutted you out and left you for nothing.

For the first time in twelve years, I visited that tree you were so insistent on seeing that day . It's an old willow that overlooks a sea - straight out of a picture book like the ones you always read before you sleep.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore name , not without you here anymore . It feels empty and cold without you. Big brother Dick has yet to visit Gotham , his last visit was your own funeral.

Your other older brother Jason started getting violent again every patrol , he beats up criminals so bloody they practically flee. Tim hasn't said much , he's been so quiet, and he just floats around now . Damian took your death the hardest .

He sleeps in your bed every night , wailing to himself about it. Barbra and Stephanie are trying to keep the family afloat, but they know deep down we're cracking. Duke stopped playing hockey - he says it feels so wrong to not when your not there to throw the puck back at him.

Alfred started back drinking and smoking - we hear him in dead of night sobbing and pleading for you to come back home. Bruce stopped living - he barely eats , sleeps , he barely does anything . Every day, he visits your grave , flowers in hand, and just wails about everything.

Again, the willow tree on that hill just sways to the beat of the calm breeze , as if time doesn't affect it. No one would ever understand why on that Sunday you went to that willow tree alone .

No one would understand why you hugged us all so hard before you had set off . No one will ever understand why your body was found laying on the bark of the tree so lifeless and cold .

We will never understand why you choose to go by yourself - why not go with us around you. Uncle Clark told Bruce, " Name was always a kind child , she didn't want you all to have the last memory of her to be sad sad." Your dad punched him in the face - he had argued , " my child didn't have to go through death by herself!" .

We would never know why - it's not like you're here anymore to tell us to comfort us. Long gone with the Friday nights, we all stayed up past 4 A.M. , all ganging up on Bruce and Tim in monopoly, Dick always quick to tackle Tim to the floor because he swears he robbed him of $100.

Gone were the days we'd all make bets if Damian was going to walk in with a new stray to his name and watch him and Bruce go back and forth on it. It feels like yesterday when Barbra , Steph and Cass took you to sephora and convinced you to buy that one overpriced lipstick. It's still sat on your nightstand idly.

Gone were the late nights , Jason and you would have snuck out late to drive around Gotham on his motorbike and stop by Dairy Queen. Gone were the quiet evenings spent with you and Tim building a castle on ya'lls minecraft base.

Gone were the days you and Damian would argue when you would both try to build legoes and would fail miserably . Alfred misses the times where you use to join him in attempting to cook - god knows the evidence of your attempt to fry an egg is still stuck on the ceiling.

Bruce misses your hugs the most - you were the only child he had that actively hugged him, and he missed the way how after patrols you always made him hot chocolate .

Nothing feels right - never will because you're not here . It feels wrong to walk these halls, knowing you would have walked them too . It's weird living knowing you could have been living - breathing along with them.

It feels like no matter what universe we have you in , you always leave, and it always hurts. Why must in every universe you leave us behind ? Why must every other universe does God have to take you away ?

Why must in every universe we always mourn you ? It hurts - it hurts so much to watch your body be covered in soil . No one talks about how you practically hold your breath when you see your loved one go down in that grave as if - by some miracle, they'd open their eyes and jolt out the grave. It sounds so ridiculous, but they'd never get that desperation of wanting that loved one to be alive.

It hurts when we hear about the rumors - the rumors that you killed yourself ? That you went to the willow tree to end your life ? Bruce had practically went raging mad that evening when he got word - that same night, the entire PR team got to work into suing those persons.

Some suspected you got possessed because you had sold your sold your soul off - that's why you hugged us all before you left - you didn't want the demon to follow the family back home. It was a stupid rumor going around in school, and Damian had practically beat the shit out of the senior who started it.

Some said we abused you - that had Alfred cursing them out because how dare they - you were loved in this family and still very much loved even though you are long gone.

No one would know , not even we will - all we know was one Sunday evening . Dinner was being set up when Bruce got a call from Comissioner Gordon , " Two passerbys reported seeing your daughter laid unresponsive atop Willow Hills" .

Bruce dropped everything in that moment and immediately bolted to that willow tree , the others running behind him . He didn't wanna believe it - wants to believe you're just asleep - had just accidentally dozed off and lost track of time because there was no way in hell his 15 year old daughter is dead.

When the others reached him , they just saw him embracing you and crying his heart out . You were long gone , had long passed away without them, and none of them knew how to handle that reality .

We miss you name , please come home , we need you back .

▬▬ Wayne Family

Taglist ▬▬

@itsmossy @sugarrush-blush @shirp-collector-of-fixations @anteroz @cxcilla @shynerdtriumph @amber-content @azulesworld @1abi @crazycaoticsimp

ty for reading <3

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[deadlychansaw]

— hope

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x reader

warnings: vomiting, no use of y/n, bit angst, pregnancy, it happens during ep 2 s2

a/n: omg first time writing something like this, i hope someone enjoy this 🫣

00:30 was the number sparkling in neon red in her bedside watch. She couldn't stop looking at it. She couldn't sleep. How could she? The bed too big and cold for her to be alone, she missed her husband. Where was he?

She thought that after the coma he would retire and live peacefully with her, maybe in some cabin in the woods with two kids and a dog. this thought alone made her want to tear up.

She knew being a police officer was dangerous, so every time he wasn't home she feared that something had happened. This made her want to throw up, and she did.

That was unusual for her, maybe... no. It couldn't be. But when was the last time she had her period again? It was nine days late, this was also unusual. How haven't she noticed it?

00:45. She couldn't wait until morning so she picked up her car and went to a 24h open drugstore

"Do you need any help, miss?"

"I want a pregnancy test"

"Are you alright, dear?"

She hadn't noticed that small tears started to run down her face.

"I will be"

As the old lady gave her the test she smiled sympathetically and said:

"I'm sure you will. You don't need to be afraid"

" My husband is a cop" She felt the need to reply

"Oh, I see. But you will be fine, dear. I felt the same when my husband fought in war."

This time, she didn't reply.

She got home after speeding the car a little more than necessary and running a few red lights and went straight to the bathroom to do the goddamn test.

Palms sweaty, hands shaking and feet stomping in circles. It hasn't even passed the three minutes the test needed to be ready, just a few more seconds and...

oh.

Positive. p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

She was pregnant and wasn't even sure her husband would return home. Where are you Jun-ho?

"Babe, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His voice reached her ears like the light in the end of a dark tunnel.

"I was waiting for you"

"My love, you know you don't need to"

"But I wanted to. Where were you?"

"I was in some kind of a car chase, but they shot in my tires"

That made her eyes open wide. "What? Chasing who? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. I wish I could tell you everything but i don't wanna put you at risk"

"I accepted the risk the day i accepted to be your wife. Please tell me. I'd rather know what i'm scared of"

"I guess you're right"

So he tells her everything. The games, his brother, his plan with Gi-hun. Everything.

"That is awful. Unbelievably awful. How can some people be so disgusting and evil? Gosh, that makes me sick"

She ran to the bathroom and started to vomit in the toilet, he ran after her and held her hair.

"Are you okay? I know it's s lot to process"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry for this, now you'll never want to kiss me again."

"There's not a world where i wouldn't want to kiss you" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "But let's brush those teeth, shall we?"

Jun-ho gets up to put toothpaste in her toothbrush and give it to her.

"I don't know what i did to deserve you, Jun-ho"

"I am the lucky one here, babe. You're still here with me after everything i told you."

"i'm not leaving your side. Never."

He picks her up in bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my wife to bed, as i should"

He really was the sweetest thing in her life, she needed to tell him already. All the what-ifs started coming to head again what if he doesn't want a child? what if he doesn't have time to form a family? what if he never come back home anymore?

"Babe, are you crying?"

"Do you really need to search for that island?"

"I do. These games need to stop."

"I don't want anything bad happening to you"

"I promise it won't. I will always come back home to you" He seals the promise by joining their lips in a long, slow and passionate kiss.

"Jun-ho, I need to tell you something but i'm so afraid of how you're gonna react."

"You don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm always here for you no matter what"

"I- I am pregnant" She doesn't wait for him to answer. " I know it's not the right time, and maybe you don't even want to be a dad and-"

She sees that he opened his characteristically big and warm smile, one that lights up her whole world.

"Are you... happy?"

"Are you kidding? Babe i feel like the luckiest guy of all South Korea. I'm so happy. Oh my god, i'm gonna have a daughter "

That made her chuckle.

"We don't know if it's a girl"

"Oh i'm sure of that. We need to celebrate"

"Celebrate? At this time? How?

"Hmm, i can think of a few ways..."

And she had a feeling she haven't felt in a while. relief. Hope.

[madebycloud]

not a lot, just forever

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: the love between parent and child is truly not just a lot… but it's forever. (requested by anon). warnings/themes: fluff & slight angst, found family, domestic, parents au, vulnerability, wife!jinx words: 1.6k notes: happy mother's day :)

The day hasn't been going great.

Apparently Isha got into a bit of trouble today at school while she was playing with the other kids.

You're both sitting on the couch, Jinx on one end, and you on the opposite.

“Should we give her a lecture?” you suggest. “Let her know what she did was wrong?”

Jinx scoffs at your suggestion. “A lecture from both of us? you're really gonna make her feel guilty just for being a kid and screwing up?”

“I don't know!” you retort. “What do you suggest we do, then? just let it slide? it wasn't a minor thing she did. She could have seriously injured one of those kids.”

“It's... not that bad.”

“Not that...not that bad?” you repeat and stare at your wife in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? she got suspended for two weeks! I don't understand why you're being so...so...lenient.”

“I'm lenient?” she says. “I just don't think a lecture is going to be of any use, especially if she doesn't think she did anything wrong.”

“She doesn't think she did anything wrong,” you say slowly. “Because you have been spoiling her rotten.”

“So she has a few special privileges.”

“A few? you're literally spoiling her, Jinx. She's turning more and more disobedient each day! You're just allowing her to do whatever she wants!”

Jinx glares at you. “So what? I'm letting her have her fun, unlike those uptight school teachers that get mad because a ten-year-old girl got a little too rough on the playground.”

You groan. “You need to stop feeding this behavior. This kind of thing would never have happened if-”

“-Oh, here we go,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

“I was going to say, ‘if we had just talked to her like normal parents’” you continue. “No one is calling you a bad mother. But you do realize that you need to set boundaries and actually tell her no once in a while.”

“Boundaries?” she repeats, scoffing. “You don't think I know how to set boundaries?”

“I just don't think you know the difference between being a parent and being a glorified-”

“I swear, if you continue with that sentence-”

“-Can you just stop?” you ask. “Can you, for one moment, just quit arguing and really listen? you realize that we're talking about Isha, right?”

She doesn't reply and simply averts her gaze, sulking.

You soften your tone, hoping that maybe this time, she'll actually listen and understand. “I'm not attacking you, Jinx. Isha was suspended. Suspended. Because instead of just playing a normal game, she decided that roughhousing was the way to go. And now that she's here, it hasn't fazed her at all-”

“I know that.“

“Then why do you still act like she did nothing wrong? if you act like it's not a big deal to her, then she's going to do it again.”

“...I know.”

You see her body slumping into the couch cushion. “You know, you're a good mother. I really think you are. But sometimes.... you let her get away with a lot.”

Jinx avoids eye contact but nods, her hand reaches to her shoulder and she picks at a loose thread on her shirt.

“I'm not talking about the times when she's staying up too late or she doesn't want to finish her vegetables. I'm talking about the fact that she's acting out in school,” you see her glance at you before looking away again, “she's doing things that kids her age really shouldn't be doing.”

“I'm...” she mumbles before burying her face in her hands. “I have no idea how to do this.”

That statement stuns you silent.

She admitted it.

Not as a joke. No sarcasm, no snark, just her...actually realizing how out of control things have gotten.

With all the courage you can muster, you stand up and kneel in front of her. You slowly reach out, take her hands into yours, gently pull them away from her face, and then kiss both her hands.

You feel her body tense at your first touch, and it's a good thing that she's refusing to look at you too because you can't look at her either. 

You're scared of looking into her eyes and seeing hatred or disgust... because what if this is the last straw, and she's just done?

But at the same time, you want to know, you need to know.

You take a risk, slowly letting your gaze travel from her knuckles to her wrist, to her arms, to her shoulders, to her collar, and then finally you look up.

And instead of the rage that you were expecting, you immediately get a jolt in your chest.

She's crying.

A few lone tears are making their way down her cheeks, but her eyes are red, and there's an undeniable quiver to that bottom lip.

She... she's looking at you with those eyes, and you can tell, you can just tell, that Jinx is holding herself back from looking away. She's holding that little thread of composure together as fiercely as that fraying thread on her shirt.

And all of your words, every thought, and all of the frustration you may have had, it's all gone.

You can't feel angry at her, seeing those tears in her eyes. If anything, you feel angry at yourself. For making her cry, for making her upset.

“Jinx-” you start, but any other words you had are swallowed down when you realize that saying her name is enough to make her eyes leak even more.

“...I'm... I'm sorry, I... I just-” she mumbles, choking back a sob, “I just.... I was scared. I still am. I...I don't know what I'm doing... I....I really.... really don't.”

“Don't apologize. That's not what I want,” you say. “This... parenting thing...it's confusing. For both of us. It's not like we can ask anyone for advice...”

“I just.. I wanted to be better than him,” she whispers. “I just want to do the right thing. I...I want to be a good mother.”

You sigh and let go of her hands, turning to sit next to her on the couch and pulling her into a hug. She drops all of her walls, and she clings to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

“... I'm.... I'm trying. I'm really, really f-f-fucking trying...”

“We're trying,” you repeat, your hands rubbing circles gently along her back. “We are. We're trying our best, we really are… we're both trying to do the best thing for her. We're both scared of making mistakes.”

She doesn't respond vocally, but you do feel her nodding.

“We just... we just need to be honest,” you continue. “We need to be honest with each other, and... and we need to be honest with Isha.”

“I'm sorry…” 

“Please stop that. Stop saying sorry. I know you just want to spoil her, to give her the world. You... you just have trouble saying no... and setting boundaries. We both do.”

“We suck at being adults and we suck at being parents.”

“We're both a little childish ourselves,” you say and you feel her nodding again, “and our poor kid is growing up with us, what a terrifying thought.”

She pouts. “... yeah,” she mumbles.

“Yeah,” you echo. “We both need to work on that,” you say, bringing a hand up to wipe the last tears away from her cheek. “You give her the whole moon, and I… I hold her hand and remind her that her feet are still on the ground.”

She snorts at that and even lets out a small laugh through her tears.

“We're not perfect,” you go on. “We're far from it. We've both got things to work on. There's no... there's no rulebook. No manual to follow. No way to... no way to do this whole ‘parenting’ thing except for trial and error. We're going to mess up. It's inevitable. We need to mess up, because this is new.”

Jinx's grip on you tightens even more.

“We will mess up. We will fight. We will argue, but... but we will never give up. We will never stop trying to do what is best for her. For Isha.”

“For our daughter,” she adds.

Your heart almost melts after hearing those words.

“For our daughter.”

Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening to your side. Both your heads turn, and you see Isha standing in the doorway, holding her blue stuffed bunny.

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you say, as soon as you see Isha come into view “come.”

She slowly walks towards you, never letting go of her beloved bunny. She climbs into your lap along with Jinx, sandwiching herself between you two.

Jinx reaches out to hold her, while you pull up her bunny to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her face. She leans into Jinx, and you can see Jinx's expression soften considerably.

“Hey...” Jinx says, and in spite of her watery eyes, she offers a smile to the little girl.

“We'll talk to her later,” you tell Jinx. “But for now…” let this moment remain unbroken.

She nods and ruffles Isha's hair, drawing a giggle from her.

Isha then cuddles up in your combined arms. 

Jinx gives you a look. A look that you can't quite understand the meaning of at first. But then you see the corners of her lips turn up, just enough for you to catch a ghost of a smile.

She looks... content. Like this is how it's supposed to be.

A family.

You're a family.

You're a family, and you're going to stay that way, come hell or high water.

You don't need a mansion. You don't need riches or jewels. You don't need fame or glory.

You're happy with just being here, with them.

You will never, ever, ask for anything more. Because this is enough.

All you want is for this to last.

Not a lot, just forever.

[would-you-punt-them]

Imagine watching a show with probably the most surface level potrayal of the message of "rich people suck and will use poor people for money" only to be like "hm. as the total anthesis of this message i should totally recreate this"

It's made even worse when you consider the fact that this isn't the first "IRL Squid Game" ever attempted, Netflix UK did one that was specifically based on the actual show in January 2023 called "Squid Game: The Challenge".

(I've seen people in the tags get these two shows confused, they are different - Beast Games is on Amazon, not Netflix, was filmed at the end of July this year, and hasn't come out yet).

But Netflix UK have their own scandal to answer for.

That original British Squid Game was also a disaster. "Beast Games" was filmed in the middle of one of Nevada's hottest Julys on record, hence why so many contestants suffered from extreme dehydration due to the lack of water. On the other hand, "Squid Game: The Challenge" was filmed during an unusually cold British January.

The players had been given coats, leg warmers, space heaters, and so on during the lead up to the game, only to have those warm clothes taken away before the first challenge began, because they needed to wear those paper thin canon-accurate Squid Game tracksuits. They weren't even allowed to zip them up, because the cameras needed to see the numbers on their shirts, and the fake blood spurting out when they were eliminated.

They then had to play Redlight-Greenlight in the blistering cold, holding poses, completely still, for increasing lengths of time (2 minutes at the start of the game, 30 in the late stages). Players starting collapsing from the cold, and had to be rescued by medics.

The game started with 456 competitors on Day 1, and ended up with 228 by Day 2.

Here's the Variety article: Inside Netflix’s ‘Squid Game’ Reality Show Disaster: ‘The Conditions Were Absolutely Inhumane’

TL;DR - Here are some choice quotes in case you want to read them:

“The second time the song played, I saw in my left peripheral vision that this girl was swaying. Then she just buckled, and you could hear her head actually hit the ground,” says Marlene. “But then someone came on the [microphone] and said to hold our positions because the game is not paused. After that, people were dropping like flies.”

Jenny, a player from outside the U.K. who had been flown in for the game, tells Variety: “I’m infuriated by the narrative that Netflix is putting out there, that only [a few] people were injured…we were all injured just by going through that experience.

“I’ve never been that cold for that long a period in my life. We couldn’t feel our feet or our toes. It was ridiculous,” she says. Jenny also claims that while the game was in production, restroom or water breaks weren’t allowed.

“Take some responsibility for the fact that you were ill-prepared for this kind of thing, with this number of people,” continues Jenny, between tears. “There were some things I guess [producers] didn’t think about, but when they saw the weather was going to be that way, they should have made adjustments.”

All three players [John, Marlene and Jenny] say they returned to the hotel between 7 p.m. and midnight without having dinner. Dinner orders had been taken at lunch, but because the game had run longer than expected, contestants were transported back to their central London hotel without having eaten. Production had ordered pizzas for those arriving, but there wasn’t enough food to go around, and some people went to bed hungry.

“In the morning, I woke up and there was a cold hamburger from McDonald’s and a side salad in front of my door that had been there for God knows how long,” says Marlene.

(Variety, Feb 3, 2023)

(Also, "Marlene and Jenny" are pseudonyms, because like Beast Game they signed NDAs.)

There are some other similarities with Beast Games - denial of bathroom breaks, lack of food, lack of water, inadequate medical care, and so on.

Netflix is denying these claims, or at least denying that they are as bad as contestants are suggesting, and said that while it was undeniably cold on set, "participants were prepared for that". Participants have claimed that they were, in fact, in no way prepared for that.

We know MrBeast has probably seen "Squid Game: The Challenge", because they've tried to one-up it. The British show originally had "the biggest cash-prize ever offered in reality TV" ($4.5 million), until Beast Games showed up with an ever bigger prize of $5 million.

So, it's not just "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus after watching the show "Don't recreate the Torment Nexus".

It's closer to "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus from the show "Don't create the Torment Nexus", after watching the show "This is what happens when you create the Torment Nexus".

[bitter-me]

Hello, if requests are open, can I ask [any twst characters you want] with a Bill or Dipper!Male!Reader ?

Have a great day ! And a good night !

The All Seeing Eye

Malleus Draconia | M. Reader as Bill Cipher

----------

"Remember! Reality's an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold! Byeeee!"

----------

Malleus Draconia..

Quite the infamous name.

At this point, who doesn't know about the crown prince? He's one of the most powerful mages in the world! Despite that...

...just who in Twisted Wonderland hasn't heard of [Name] Cipher? The dream demon? Well apparently both Yuu and Grim doesn't... "Oh! Oh! Twisted Wonderland! it is good to be back! Name's [Name] Cipher and I take it two are some kind of living ventriloquist dummy?" He ask with a mix of sarcasm and amusement in his voice. Wait--no! He has to show some kindness to them. They're the ones who freed him after all. So maybe he should be kinder. Maybe.. "How about this you magicless thing, I will help you.. in exchange.. I only want a puppet! Yes! A puppet! You have one of those right?" This kid is magicless! He's completely defenseless against this world's wildness and chaos! But don't worry! He's here to help! Isn't he so kind~?

----------

Some students began to notice how Yuu seem to act differently sometimes.. it's odd.. suddenly he's capable of magic..? And these.. creepy knowledge?? What? When some ask about it, Yuu merely shrugged, dodging the question or straight up ignored them and Grim? That cat is as clueless as ever! For someone that's suppose to be close with the prefect, he's completely useless with this predicament.

Of course, Yuu's strange demeanor ended up catching the attention of none other than Diasomnia's Housewarden.

"Child of Man, it has come to my attention that you've been acting.. strange.. lately.. may I know the reason for such actions?"

"Oh! It's nothing really! I'm completely fine, there's nothing to be worry about!" Huh.. the prefect's reassurance sounded a bit cheery.. maybe too cheery... is he always like this? And this.. energy.. it's strong.. incredibly so..

Not at all convinced, Malleus spoke up with caution, preparing himself for what's to come. "Is that so? Then may I know why you're acting strangely?"

"I said I'm fine--" Yuu stopped himself once he saw who it was that decided to confront him this time. Oh.. oh! He had thought it was just some no name snotnosed kid! But no, oh no.. this is the main course! Finally he had finished the appetizers! A wide grin made its way onto his face as he spoke up in a cheery manner. "Well well well! Finally! The main course has arrive! How's living, my dear dragon?"

Malleus' calm demeanor change in an instant the moment those words came out of Yuu's mouth. This.. thing.. how dare he.. how dare it decided to lay a hand on the prefect!? And now it has the audacity to use his body like a puppet!? Unforgivable...

"You..."

"Aw, I thought you would be more happy to see me!"

Malleus scoffs at the dream demon's words, crossing his arms over his chest as he sent a glare towards him. Happy? What's there to be happy about?

"Admit it~ You missed me~"

[Name] knew full well that Malleus won't lift a finger at him, not when he's possessing his precious Child of Man.. of course he won't.. the very thought of injuring this fragile body must scare him to the bone! Poor baby...

The dream demon can't help but chuckle at the very thought of it. The other's glare mean nothing to him. What matters most is...

"What's with that look for? Come on now.. I still remember how happy you look back then~"

The look of wonder that the crown prince showed.. it was such magnificent a sight.. but not enough to coax [Name] to rethink his decision in deceiving him. This world will be his.

"Come on, my dear.. let me out.. out of this dimension of mine and into yours.."

"Allow me to show you just what true power actually is."

"Let me in."

"And welcome Weirdmageddon with open arms."

[cappulcino]

The Shape of Us

Read on AO3

Words: 6,440

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!Reader

Summary: You and Larissa are on a “break”. When you agree to meet for coffee at the Weathervane, you finally get to start healing.

Tags: established relationship, angst with a happy ending, some fluff (flangst if you will), emotional hurt/comfort, eventual smut (skippable, but maybe minors dni), maternal Larissa, character development, no Y/N

Trigger warnings: non-graphic mention of G!P (tell me if I should add more)

A/N: Quite a change of style with this one. I had the idea and just wanted to use it to practice instinctive writing, kind of. It’s also the first time I try to write present tense. Very experimental overall, not as thought out as usual, Larissa might not even be characterised the way I like her to be. Also, no beta, we die like Phasma. I hope you still enjoy it.

Eight months. That's how long you haven't seen Larissa.

You're not divorced –not yet anyway. But after four years of marriage, six years total of a seemingly perfect romance, Larissa had asked for a 'break'. You had agreed to it, and perhaps it had been the right decision, too.

You and Larissa had been constantly fighting over trivialities. And since you had been barely having any, not even sex could have saved your relationship at that point. The main argument often revolved around Elias, your son from your previous spouse.

You had met Larissa when you were seven months pregnant after a particularly hard divorce, and it had never discouraged her. She had courted you all the same, made you feel loved and beautiful like your abusive ex never had –or any other partner, for that matter–, and she had sworn to stay by your side forever.

Elias' birth had propelled your relationship into something terribly concrete in very little time. It had not been easy. But Larissa had helped you raise your little boy as her own without complaining once.

That was until your somewhat divergent views on Elias' upbringing got in the way, amongst other things, leading to endless arguments late at night, trying to keep your voice hushed so as not to wake Elias, but gesticulating and pacing furiously until you were both too tired to say another word.

And then one night, Larissa had said, "I think we should take a break."

Out of anger, you had asked her to be the one to pack her stuff and leave. You had bought your house together –she could have claimed the right to stay, too. But you had Elias and nowhere else to go. She had her quarters at Nevermore. So she had packed and left that very same night without even putting up a fight.

Eight months ago, then.

The break had hurt, kept hurting month after month, and to this day it still hasn't stopped hurting. It might even be worse.

Today, however, you and Larissa have agreed to meet for coffee at the Weathervane –just to see each other and talk, nothing more–, and you are desperate for this pseudo-date to mark the end of that damned break.

But while Larissa had been the one to initiate it, you had been the one to be a bitch about it, so you know you can't expect Larissa to jump for joy when you bring yourself to step inside the Weathervane.

Yet, you're filled with hope, and when you finally push that door, you realise it's not the chilly wind making you shiver, it's the anticipation.

With faked determination in your stance, you head towards the counter. But then you catch the shy wave of a hand with perfectly manicured red nails from the corner of your eye and stop abruptly.

Larissa is already here –of course she is– and slides a cup of coffee across the table she is sitting at. She knows she is always ten minutes early to everything and you, ten minutes late, and has ordered accordingly so your cardamom and sea salt vanilla latte is waiting for you, still steaming.

You want to run to her –you almost do. But you have to take a second to compose yourself. There is a whole range of emotions on her face, from bitterness to sadness and hurt. But she flashes you a weak smile and you are pleased to find out that there is still love underneath it all.

Slowly, with less determination than before, you walk up to the booth she has chosen and sit across from her.

"Hey…"

"Hey…"

There is a slight hesitation in Larissa's attitude and tone as you take off your coat and put your bag down, and you wonder if she's excited to see you or scared –or both, like you are.

"I took the liberty to order for you. I hope that's okay," she says tentatively, as if worried your tastes might have changed in the past eight months.

"More than okay. Thank you."

Your eyes start a game of roaming all over each other's bodies without ever meeting, and you notice how Larissa unclasps her hands and her fingers start reaching out before she changes her mind to pull away and fidget under the table instead. It makes your heart clench.

"You look good," she suddenly blurts out.

It's game over for you as your eyes snap back up, boring into hers. You tell her that you think she looks even better. You mean it. But you are pained to see the weary look on her face, the hint of exhaustion no amount of makeup can hide.

You also notice the dress she is wearing, the same one she was wearing the day Elias was born. She had complained time and time again that it didn't fit her anymore, and the thought of her losing so much weight it does again almost brings tears to your eyes. Guilt is consuming you.

Larissa clears her throat in that particular way you know she does when she is struggling to stay calm, and you know it's your cue to pretend you haven't seen anything and start an actual conversation.

"How have you been?" you ask before taking a sip of your latte.

Larissa shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, even though she is anything but.

"Oh, you know… Busy. With Nevermore, mostly. The new term is approaching, so there's a lot to take care of. What about you? And… Elias?"

You purposely ignore the first question. You feel anything but good and don't have the strength to pretend like Larissa does. You don't want to admit you have been obsessively thinking about her every single day for the past eight months either. And when she mentions your son, you can't help but let your heart speak before your brain can reason it anyway, your tone clipped and cold.

"Let's not pretend you don't know how he's doing. I know you've been calling his school, and that you 'casually dropped by' Clarisse's house right when Elias was there for Timothy's birthday."

Feeling caught, Larissa pinches her lips and looks away. But she quickly recovers, her expression slightly hardening.

"You cannot expect a mother to stay away from her child for months on end without any news. Elias is my son, too." 

"He's my son."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like dying inside, drowning in instant regret.

Larissa feels punched in the gut –so hard that it makes her gasp audibly. You notice the way her nostrils quiver and her eyes immediately water. But she clenches her jaw, forcing herself to remain cordial.

"Now you're just being cruel."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you?" 

"Yes."

"Then why did you say that?"

"I don't know!"

And it's true. The worst part in all this is that you never mean any of the poison you spit at your wife. It just comes out and you're not even sure why.

An awkward silence sets in for a moment, and you bring your cup to your lips with trembling hands before speaking again.

"He barely talks to me now. And when he does, it's only to ask, 'When is Mummy coming back?'"

"What do you tell him?" Seeing your lack of response, Larissa presses further. "He deserves answers."

"But I don't have them, do I? Just like I don't know what to tell him when he comes home from school and tells me that little Lisa's parents are getting divorced and her father is now with another woman, and asks me if his mummy is, too."

"What do you mean, you don't know what to tell him?" Larissa asks, briskly bringing her hands back on the table to better lean forward.

"Well, are you?"

"Am I what?" 

"With another woman."

Larissa scoffs loudly, visibly shocked by your question.

"Heavens, no! I'm still wearing my ring."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"No?"

Once again, Larissa visibly aches at your reaction, and you hate yourself for it. Thing is, the fact that she is still wearing her wedding ring does mean a lot to you. It means everything. But you're too scared to get your hopes up, and before you can do anything about it, your heart decides it's best to kill that hope in the womb.

"So… You haven't seen anyone else? At all?" you ask nonetheless, still needing to make sure Larissa remains yours.

You have always felt like she was the most attractive of the two, and have always had this fear she would go look for someone better than you whenever she got the chance.

Larissa glares at you as she sips her own coffee, debating whether to indulge your jealousy or not. Eventually, she decides to be entirely honest.

"Someone did ask me out." Your eyes instantly darken while she continues. "Hannah, the florist. But–"

"But what?" you cut her off, feeling yourself turning green. You can't bear the thought of her with anyone else.

"But I said no, of course! Gosh, who do you think I am? I was never interested in her."

There is another pause and, seeing your eyes dart away, Larissa suddenly worries you might have been trying to tell her something. You notice her gaze quickly scanning your left hand to check your wedding ring is still there.

"Have you been seeing anybody else?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good."

The relief that washes over Larissa's face is undeniable. You find it almost cute, but mostly you feel a weight lifting from your own shoulder, reassured by the notion that you both remained fiercely faithful, no matter what.

Impulsively, Larissa stops fumbling with her napkin, cup, and whatever is in front of her, and gives in to her desire to touch you again, snatching your left hand. She squeezes it, presses it to her cheek. Her thumb traces loving circles on your skin, her lips pepper your knuckles with urgent kisses. Her breath is heavy as she relishes the familiar touch.

"I still love you, you know," she finally blurts out in a desperate whisper. "So much."

You can't help but gasp. Larissa wants to see you. She is wearing the same dress she wore for your son's birth. She hasn't taken her wedding ring off. She doesn't want Hannah the pretty florist. She still loves you.

It has been way too long since you last heard these words, and they make your eyes instantly well up, tears threatening to fall over your waterline like a dam bursting open.

Seeing that, Larissa brings a hand to cup your cheek without letting go of your left one, which she still kisses now and then. The movement is barely there, but you see her shake her head as well, and you can tell she hates seeing you like this and wonders if this break was truly a good idea after all. You're both more miserable than you care to admit.

Eventually, she dares express her doubt.

"Was this break beneficial to you at all?"

You can't say that a little distance wasn't needed. But God knows you can't live without Larissa either, and raising a six-year-old on your own is just too difficult.

"Was it to you?" you ask, once again eluding her question.

Larissa looks up, both forcing herself to swallow her own unshed tears and trying to come up with an answer. But for the first time since you sat at that table, she seems not to have any.

"All I know is that I miss you," she confesses instead. "And I miss our son."

"I miss you, too. We both do."

Your voice cracks at these last words.

"I want to see him. I need to see him," Larissa practically begs. "You can't keep me away from him forever."

You nod slowly and snuffle. You know that's fair –you had no right to forbid her to see Elias. Worse than that, you had no right to forbid your son to see his mother.

After a moment, you carefully pull away and grab your napkin to wipe your tears and blow your nose rather disgracefully. Larissa can't help the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she hears that sound and sees how red the tip of your nose has turned.

"Do you, uh… Do you want to come home for dinner?" you ask then. "I think Elias would be delighted to see you."

Larissa's heart skips a beat at your invitation. The idea of going home, spending some time with you, with your son… It's everything she has secretly been yearning for. Yet, you sense a slight hesitation. Larissa is still wary of how the evening could go –rightfully so, considering all the arguments you've had in the past.

"Are you sure?"

You don't want to imagine anything negative right now, so you just nod.

"Be there at eight?"

"I'll be there."

That evening, at eight, when the bell rings, you send your son to open the door.

"Elias, honey, I think you might want to answer that."

Your son turns away from the cartoon he is watching to glare at you darkly, but you insist, jerking your head towards the door, and he finally complies, sliding off the couch to go answer it.

When he does, you can see Larissa standing rather awkwardly by the doorway from where you are. The realisation of how uncomfortable she must feel to have to be invited into her own home truly tugs at your heartstrings. But then you see her eyes land on Elias, and her demeanour changes immediately.

"Hello, sunshine!"

Elias gasps loudly.

"Mummy!" he shouts, bouncing excitedly on his legs.

But just when you expect him to jump into Larissa's arms and squeal like he has just seen Santa, he freezes on the spot and a noisy whine escapes his mouth, quickly turning into full, ugly cries –the only way for him to express all those big emotions he had apparently kept bottled up all these months.

"Oh, oh, oh… Baby, no…"

With practised ease, Larissa picks Elias up, even though one of her hands is already full with the bouquet of roses she has bought for you on her way here. Hearing your son cry so desperately is killing you. But your heart breaks even further when you notice his short hair turning platinum blonde.

Elias has inherited your shapeshifting abilities but is too young to control them, of course –and you've never been too keen on teaching him how to, either. When a young, inexperienced shapeshifter feels strong emotions, it is not uncommon for their powers to go haywire. Quite often, the youngest partially shapeshift into someone they feel close to, usually a parent. For Elias, it's Larissa. Always Larissa.

"Mummy…"

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. Mummy missed you, too. More than you can imagine."

As you lean against the wall of your entrance, your hand on your chest to prevent yourself from choking on your guilt, Larissa glances at you, silently communicating her own mixture of sadness, guilt and affection.

Seeing Elias won't let go of her anytime soon, your wife invites herself inside. You come closer, closing the door behind her, while your son struggles to calm down.

"I… brought you these," Larissa says, bending at a weird angle to hand you the flowers without letting go of the little boy in her arms.

You take them, a small smile on your lips until you realise whom she must have bought the roses from.

"Did you buy them–"

"From Hannah? Yes." Larissa notices your jealousy flaring, but she quickly tames it. "I asked her for the most beautiful roses she had so I could gift them to my wife."

The pride in her eyes and her slight possessiveness make your heart soar and the smile returns to your lips.

"They're beautiful. Let me find a vase for them."

As you go find a vase for the roses, you can hear Larissa struggle to get out of her coat and then walk into the living room without ever putting Elias down.

"It's okay, sunshine. Oh… What's that you were watching? Is that Pokémon?"

"Mmh."

"You like Squirtle, don't you?"

"No. My favourite is Lucario."

"I'm sorry," you hear Larissa reply with a melancholic tone. "Of course, it's Lucario."

That simple exchange makes you realise just how fast things can change in a child's life, and therefore how much Larissa has missed because of you. You wonder if she will ever find it in her heart to forgive you. You know you won't.

Throughout dinner, Elias simply cannot stay still. Every time Larissa so much as shifts on her chair, his little hands reach for her to make sure she won't leave without him. Despite your instructions to eat his food –especially his vegetables–, he also keeps wiggling free, running back and forth between the table and his bedroom upstairs to go fetch his new toys and latest drawings and show them to Larissa. He speaks fast and loud, as if scared to give even the tiniest opportunity to either of you to say something negative and ruin the night for him.

Larissa, for her part, seems overwhelmed but far from unhappy. She holds each drawing carefully, murmuring praises as she flips through them, her smile never leaving her lips. Still, she regularly sneaks glances at you, and you understand she is waiting to be finally alone with you for a moment. You're waiting for this, too. You also both can't stop your eyes from darting to each other's lips, and it definitely doesn't help with the tension that has been building up since your coffee date at the Weathervane.

Thankfully, with all those emotions and that energy spent, Elias is quick to collapse on Larissa's lap, his thumb stuck in his mouth. You reach for his tiny wrist –you have successfully started weaning him off that habit over the past months and don't want him to pick it up again. But Larissa gently pushes your hand away.

"Leave him," she says, her voice not unkind but firm. "He needs it."

You sigh but give in. Tonight is not a night to argue about anything.

"You should go tuck him in," you offer after observing your sleepy child for a moment. By now, even his nose has shapeshifted into Larissa's.

Your wife smiles at the proposal and excuses herself, cradling Elias close to her chest as she brings him upstairs. Your gaze follows them fondly until you can't see them anymore and you decide to get up to clean the table a little bit.

But you quickly stop to go upstairs instead and see how things are going. You can't help it. Not necessarily because you want to control your wife, no. It's more because you find the sight of her with Elias comforting and absolutely heartwarming, and you need that right now.

As you arrive in front of your son's bedroom and peek through the crack of the door, you hear Larissa trying to explain to Elias how "mommies can still love each other very much and not be together for a while". You find her courageous. You've never had the balls to attempt such a difficult explanation, despite Elias' incessant questioning.

"I want you to be with me and Mommy again," you hear him plead sleepily.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Larissa coos, her fingers delicately brushing his still-platinum hair away from his forehead. "I want that, too. I really do. But Mommy and I… we're working on some things, okay? We're trying to make things better, I promise."

"I hate her."

The brutal honesty of your own child as he thinks you're not looking makes you want to scream, throw up, and bang your head against the wall. The pain burning in your chest is indescribable, and you have to cover your mouth so your inevitable sobs don't ruin the moment for Elias and his other mother.

Still, through it all, you are glad to find out Larissa has your back.

"Don't say that, Elias. I know you're sad, but Mommy loves you very much."

"But she doesn't want me to see you."

"I know, beautiful. I know. But Mommy is just… She's hurting, too. And sometimes, when people hurt, they say and do things they don't mean."

There is a moment of silence only broken by the constant stroking of Larissa's hand on your son's face. Then Elias speaks up again, his voice still weakened by the fatigue.

"Mummy?"

"What is it?"

"Is it my fault you and Mommy don't talk anymore?"

You can hear Larissa's heart break from the hallway.

"Oh, no, no, no, angel… No. Never. You have done nothing wrong, you hear me? Nothing wrong. Adults disagree and need some alone time sometimes, but sweethearts like you are never the reason why, alright? Now, close those pretty eyes. You need to rest."

"But you won't be here when I wake up," Elias whines.

"I know. I'm so sorry, baby. But we'll see each other soon, I promise. Mommy will let me see you now."

You haven't even really talked about this with Larissa yet, but there is no point in denying it –Elias needs both his mothers with him and you can't prevent Larissa from loving him and wanting to take care of him.

There is a pause, and you can hear in Elias' lack of response that he is contemplating accusing his mother of lying. But thankfully, he is too tired to put up a fight and settles for a "Goodnight" instead.

You watch as Larissa tucks the covers around his tiny body and leans in to kiss his forehead, then step aside to rest your back on the wall next to the door so Larissa doesn't feel too overwhelmed by your presence when she comes out.

Still, she stops in her tracks when she spots you waiting outside. She looks at you, you look at her, and you both notice the tears in each other's eyes as you both ache deeply for your little boy.

"Do you want to say goodnight?"

You shake your head slowly. Deep down, you want to. But you figure Elias is halfway in the arms of Morpheus –if not already there– and might not want to see you anyway. With a small nod of understanding, Larissa closes the door.

"I haven't seen him so happy in a long time," you tell her as she moves to lean against the wall opposite you. "I shouldn't have kept you away from him. He misses you too much."

"You shouldn't have. But I think I understand why you did."

"He doesn't," you reply with a jerk of your head towards Elias' bedroom.

"He's just a child caught in the middle of our problems. It's not fair to him, we have to make things better one way or another."

You nod, your heart heavy with profound sadness, but say nothing because what is there to add? Larissa is right through and through –she always is. You're the one who keeps making the wrong decisions.

"You didn't answer my question earlier," Larissa eventually says, her voice soft and quiet like it always is after she has spent some time with Elias.

"Which one?"

"How are you?"

Your eyes meet hers, but only for a fleeting moment. You miss her, you long for her, you crave her, her touch, her lips, her scent… You feel like if you look at her for too long you're either going to pass out or do yet another regrettable thing.

Larissa calls your name, asks you to look at her. You don't answer. You can't. And then, in one swift motion, she is only inches away from you, tugging at your shoulders to pull you into a hug.

You don't resist, of course, and lean against her with your whole weight. But you don't have the strength to lift your arms to hug her back and instead just start crying, your face buried in her chest.

If there was any word stronger than miserable, that's what you would be.

"I know, I know," she says tenderly as if reading your thoughts. "Me too."

Her voice cracks and she finally lets her emotions fully show, too. Her silent cries pierce your heart, and only then do you feel strong enough to wrap your arms around her and clutch.

Now both crying, you hold each other like you're trying to mend the pieces of each other's broken mind. It feels so painful and so terribly good at the same time. Her body feels nice and comforting, you had almost forgotten just how much.

When you both finally start calming down, you realise you're scared of pulling away. But Larissa keeps you close, only shifting slightly to rest her forehead against yours. Her skin is warm, but as always, the tip of her nose is cold on your cheek. You don't mind it, it's one of Larissa's little things you often find yourself missing the most at night.

Your eyelids flutter open, and, inevitably, you make the mistake of staring not at her eyes but at her lips. The faint aroma of wine coming out of her mouth in hot puffs makes your skin tingle, and you know that you have to look away or you won't be able to refrain from kissing her. And if you kiss her, you won't be able to stop.

But Larissa cups your face with both hands before you have a chance to move and before your brain can formulate a single thought, her lips capture yours in a slow, loving kiss. You can feel the yearning and despair that have pent up in the past eight months in the way she moves her mouth against yours, and it makes you weak at the knees.

You reply to her kiss with a whimper and she deepens it, her tongue seeking entry into your mouth with a mix of hunger and fear. You welcome it without hesitation and move your arms up to wrap them around her neck, carding your fingers through her perfect hair bun. Meanwhile, her hands slide down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You had missed this and obviously can't prevent your hips from bucking against hers, begging for more.

Larissa responds to your silent plea with a low groan and a hand moving further down to grip your butt. The air catches violently in your throat at the intimate contact and you throw your head back with a moan.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Larissa says. "Not like that."

But there is no conviction in her words, and she still has a hand on your rear and her mouth on your neck, gently sucking and nipping at your sensitive spots before soothing them with her tongue.

The noises you make are so needy that it becomes fairly evident you haven't taken much care of your own needs over the past months. The realisation makes your wife growl possessively, and her resolve crumbles. She needs to have you. Now.

"Bed?"

"God, yes."

Larissa doesn't pull away even once as she pushes you towards your bedroom. Her hands move urgently, her kisses become hungrier, her breathing accelerates.

"I love you."

You both repeat those words so much that it is unclear whose mouth they're coming from.

Larissa is quick to take off your clothes, revealing the skin she has longed to touch again for so long. You, on the other hand, try to take your time. Larissa had changed before coming home for dinner, and you've been wondering all evening if there is any fine lingerie under that burgundy dress. But it's Larissa –of course there is. You just like to torture yourself by unwrapping her like a priceless present. Besides, you don't want to look too desperate, nor do you want to make her feel like she isn't in charge. You want her to be now.

Unlike you, Larissa is not afraid to show how much she desires you. As soon as you're both naked, she pushes you onto your marriage bed, covers your body with hers and starts making up for lost time in every way possible. Fingers, vibrator, tongue… Nothing is off-limits tonight.

Then something different, something you haven't done in a very long time. Larissa shapeshifts, and you feel it –the size, the weight of it against you. Your wife looks down at you expectantly, hoping for your consent. It's something you've never downright refused, but have always felt conflicted about. It often reminds you of a past you'd rather forget and tends to make you question your sexuality in ways you don't want to think about while having sex –even though Larissa has reassured you countless times already that it didn't make you any less of a lesbian.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you nod eagerly and spread your thighs a little further to welcome her shapeshifted appendage, needing that special connection. In the faint orange glow coming from that one lamp post at the end end of your street, you see Larissa smiling brightly.

"Thank you," she whispers against your skin as she pushes into you.

She loves this, you know it, and the obscene moan she lets out as she stretches you only confirms it. It feels good, too good, and you meet her sensual thrusts with deliberate rolls of your hips, the way she moves, gasps your name, and loses herself completely to the moment only spurring you on.

She takes you twice like this. In a row. The first time, deep and slow, then rough and frenzied, until you're shaking and can't even call her name coherently. And by the time your final climax hits, you're so sensitive you feel like you're going to faint.

Larissa keeps moving, chasing her own release, her thrusts messy, uneven. And then with one last push, she spills over the edge, burying her face in the crook of your neck with a broken, "You’re mine. Mine."

You've always loved that possessive side she works so hard to mask under heavy decorum. The way she calls you hers reminds you of your wedding night and makes your chest burn with love. So when she collapses on top of you, panting in your ear, you just have to squeeze her tight in your arms and kiss every inch of skin you can reach.

You keep her close even long after she has pulled out of you, simply enjoying the warmth of her body and the scent that floats in the room in the aftermath of your passionate lovemaking.

It's about two in the morning now, but neither of you is sleeping. You're both just basking in the intimacy of the moment, exchanging gentle kisses and caresses until you break the silence.

"Come home."

Larissa shifts then, and you're suddenly scared you've ruined it all and she is going to leave. But she just props herself on her elbow to look into your eyes with a blend of vulnerability and longing.

"I want to. More than anything. I need you to know that. But…" She sighs. "There are things we need to talk about and settle, compromises to make."

"Like what?"

The way Larissa takes a deep breath before answering lets you know whatever she says won't be up for debate if you want this to work.

"We need to find common ground about our parenting styles. And I want you to try therapy."

"Are you saying I don't know how to raise my own son?"

Larissa sighs in frustration at the defensiveness in your tone.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying we have different ways of doing it, and we need to find a way to reconcile them for Elias' sake."

"You want him to explore his shapeshifting abilities," you mumble as you roll onto your back, an arm on your forehead.

"Yes, I do," Larissa replies with a kind but firm voice. "He is a shapeshifter. It's part of who he is, and it's a part we need to let him embrace, not suppress."

"The world is a terrible place for Outcasts."

"That's why there are places like–"

"If you're going to say Nevermore, I swear–"

"Yes, I am going to say Nevermore. It would be the safest place on earth for him, and he would still get to evolve around Normies. You know I've even hired a Normie teacher this year."

"And I don't trust her."

"You don't trust many people."

Touché. You sigh heavily, letting your arm fall to cover your eyes as if trying to shield yourself from Larissa's truths –or rather, from how much you hate being wrong when it comes to making choices for Elias. But Larissa pushes your arm away and tilts your chin with a finger so you look at her again.

"I know you're scared. I am, too. But what scares me the most is the thought of Elias thinking he has to hide a part of himself, even around us, or that he can only move through life safely if he denies every fundamental aspect of who he is."

If you were to be completely honest –even if only to yourself–, you would admit Larissa has already convinced you. It's hypocritical to expect Elias to repress his abilities when both his mothers are exactly like him and free to use them, or to deny him an education at Nevermore when you have spent your own childhood hoping there was a place for people like you. What would be next? He'll come out as gay, and you'll tell him it's wrong? No, this is preposterous.

But you know this is not where the problem truly lies, and it's high time you communicated with your wife to treat it at the root.

"You're his model," you finally say, your voice too hoarse for your liking. So you clear your throat and start again. "You're his model, the one he instinctively shapeshifts into when he's not doing it on purpose. Look at how quickly his hair turned like yours when you arrived. It's you, always you. Never me. I'm his mother, his birth mother. I made him. But it's always you."

Larissa doesn't like it too much when you're this possessive over Elias because it throws her lack of biological connection to him back in her face, and it is something she has always struggled with. Still, her voice remains calm and understanding.

"Yes, you brought him into this world. But I've been a part of his life since he was in your womb, I was there when he was born, I fed him, changed him, taught him how to read, and let myself be vomited on more times than I can count. I have as much an impact on the person he is as you do."

"But shapeshifters are supposed to take on the traits of their closest parent the first time, and he took yours," you protest, your voice cracking. "Why not me? What have I done wrong?"

"Oh, darling…"

Larissa sits up, pulling you up with her so she can hug you properly and draw slow, soothing circles on your naked back.

"You have done nothing wrong. Sometimes, it doesn't work like it usually does and it's nobody's fault."

"My baby hates me…"

Larissa gasps and brings her hands to your face, clasping your jaw tightly while you start weeping again.

"No. Absolutely not. Elias does not hate you. Why would you ever think that?"

"That's what he told you earlier."

Larissa presses her lips into a thin line, feeling pained that you've heard these words.

"He's only six… He's in pain and doesn't have any better way to express himself," she says, pulling you back against her chest. She stays quiet for a moment, and then continues, "It's… It's the reason why you kept him away from me all these months, isn't it? You wanted to feel him closer to you."

You realise how ridiculous this sounds and can't even begin to explain just how hard you blame yourself.

"I'm so sorry…"

"It's okay," Larissa coos, rocking you back and forth, even though you know it's all but 'okay'. "We just… We need to communicate. I understand your fears, I do. I have my own. But we need to do better for Elias. I don't want him to suffer because of our problems anymore."

"I know, I know," you say with a weak nod. Then after a moment, you add, "Therapy, then."

"Yes, therapy. Please. But we're in this together, I'm not letting you go. We're a team, aren't we?"

"'Til death do us part'."

Larissa chuckles softly at your choice of words.

"Mmh, that's right. You, my love, are absolutely stuck with me. So we're going to work as a team for our son. No more isolating each other."

"But you're not coming home yet, are you?"

"No, not yet. But if we do this right, I might come back sooner than we both expected."

You untangle yourself from Larissa's embrace and let yourself fall back on your bed with a sigh. You're getting tired, and aren't sure what to feel anymore. And then you feel your wife's hand coming to rest lovingly on your belly, and it definitely doesn't help your weariness, both physical and mental.

"If you want me to leave now, I can," Larissa ends up offering, sensing your fatigue and disappointment and not wanting to cause you more pain by leaving in the morning after a whole night together.

Your eyes snap to her, wide with confusion.

"Are you serious? I'm asking you to come home, we've just had the best sex we've had in over a year… No, I don't want you to go. Stay. Elias will be so happy to see you at breakfast."

Your decision and the mention of your son's name make Larissa smile brightly, and she lies back next to you with a tiny, excited squeal before leaning in to press her swollen lips against yours one last time.

"I want to be better, Larissa," you whisper when she pulls back and makes herself comfortable on her pillow. "For both of you."

"I know, darling. I know. I believe in you."

"I love you."

Before Larissa can even reply, you're already drifting, your breath evening out and your body melting into hers.

Eight months. That's how long you hadn't seen Larissa. But you figure once you've spent your whole life with her –because you will–, it won't matter anymore.

Taglist: @cordeliasdarling @cygnetteflor @eurydice-shenanigans @vii-v @ellovett @schlaegerpaula-blog @peridot-pineapple @simonknowsnothing @goddessfloresz @barbarasstar @anothersapphicgirl @emeraldoceansstuff @dingdongthetail @valerielovebug @hasthebaconinhispants

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[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | ten.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢word count: 4.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, hwa just hella unsure and causing problems lol, typical yunho x oc being cute af, making out, a lil bit of some dry humping, flashback scene of yunho taking seora to see her mom, crying, yunho opens up to seora about his relationship and it goes south

⇢a/n: the hongjoong fic is starting! you can find it here in case you missed it <33

"Hey." You pop into Noeul's cubicle, welcoming yourself into the free chair. "How's it going?" You're taking a break after the emails briefly stopped flooding in, checking in with your bestfriend. She seems better, but you know where her mind is still at.

"Hey cutie." She looks at you. "It's been alright. Dealing with some more internal issues, but nothing too bad." She chuckles. "Finally got a minute to breathe?"

"Mhm."

"Seeing your man later?"

"Mhm." You respond in a sing-song tone. "Can't wait. Miss him." 

"Cuties. Love you two."

"Have you talked to Seonghwa?" You ask, just to give her time to vent if needed.

"Nope."

"He didn't text you back?"

"Um, no. No he hasn't." She gives you a tiny, forced smile and it breaks your heart. "He's been ignoring me, actually. I saw him this morning on the way to the office, and I thought it was my window to talk to him."

"But? Did you guys make contact?"

"Yeah, but he literally popped out his phone and made a beeline for the entrance." She scoffs. "Yoori's also been majorly giving me the eye."

"Well."

⇢FLASHBACK

noeul: hey, can we talk?

hwa: sorry, not a good time. swamped today.

noeul: okay, so can't we talk after work?

hwa: can't.

noeul: seonghwa, really?

"Sorry." Seonghwa says as he slips into Yoori's office, her face unamused when he finds him tucking his phone into his pocket. "I just got caught up with something."

"Noeul, you mean?" She looks at his pocket and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"No. I was editing an article I need to get out before the end of the week."

"Right." Yoori looks at him over her computer. Seonghwa can tell she's still not happy. And although he doesn't blame her, he is getting tired of the attitude. Of her temper and being short with him. Of keeping within the same routine. He tried to make it up to her. Tried to make this different.

But in the end, it didn't feel so different and he doesn't want to continue if it'll keep heading down this route.

He does think about the fun he had with Noeul. He thinks about having more fun with her. He thinks about how maybe, Noeul would be different. A different kind of fun for him.

"I didn't come here to fight." Seonghwa sighs. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight."

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't really wanna be out tonight, especially after the day I've already had."

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with me taking you out to dinner? I'll pick you up and drop you off. Or, you can stay at mine if you want."

"Seriously Hwa. Not tonight. Can we raincheck?" He sighs again and nods defeatedly.

"Yeah sure."

"Is there anything else?" She asks him and he just shakes his head. Feeling like he wasted his time to see her. He was excited to see her and ask her out tonight.

But, that went down the drain.

And now, as he's heading back to his office, he's staring at the thread between him and Noeul. Wondering if he should text her and finally talk to her. He's starting to think that Noeul wasn't just that shiny new toy to him and that his heart hasn't truly belonged to Yoori all this time.

Maybe, he needs to break free if all they do is go in circles.

Circles he feels obligated to follow because Yoori is all he's known these past months.

⇢END

"I'm sorry." You brush her hair away from her face.

"Maybe I am just stupid."

"You're not. He's just.. not the right guy, and that's totally fine." You look at her, slightly frowning. "You'll find someone who is worthy of your love and will shower you with the love you deserve."

"I know, but why can't I let go of it? We literally made out at your birthday and that was it."

"Well, you had fun with him. You were with him for the majority of the night. He's attractive too, I can't lie." You shrug. "But, he also needs to really get his shit together, especially with the whole Yoori thing. You don't wanna be another part of that equation, and you don't deserve to." She sighs.

"I just gotta let it go. You're right. It makes no sense for me to hold onto this. He's with Yoori and there's no changing that."

"Quite frankly, I don't even know if Yoori has him." She looks at you, forehead crinkled. "Okay, sorry. Point is, he needs to get himself together and you deserve someone who is sure of you. They'll come along, no doubt."

"I hope so."

"My sweet Noeul." You throw your arm around her. "Come over sometime this week or weekend? We can have a girl's night. I'll tell Sian, too."

"I could use another shopping date. I need a new, cute but functional, everyday bag."

"Are we thinking luxury bag?"

"Maybe."

"Treat yourself! Let's do it." Noeul smiles. "There she is."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." Your phone dings, signaling a text from Yunho and another coworker about a project-related. order "Let me get back to work. I've gotta check on this order I placed for the team. They needed specific electrodes for this study and they said they'd have it by a specific time this week. Gotta make sure it's on track."

"Goodluck."

"Thank you. Text me if you need anything? Or come bother me if you have time." She nods.

With that, you text your coworker back as you head to the procurement facility to check on the status of their order. It's an elevator ride down to the basement, and luckily, there isn't a huge line or a lot of people crowding the area to pick up orders. You find your contact to get an update, relieved it should be delivered tomorrow and can be picked up before lunch time. You relay the info to your coworker as you head back upstairs to your desk, the emails and task items slowly building post-break.

yunho: can't wait to see you later pretty girl

you: excited 🥰 what's lunch?

yunho: surprise!

you: boooooo

yunho: don't give me that, cutie. it'll be worth it! 

yunho: gtg, gotta look into one of the systems slowing down

yunho: 😘

You set the phone down to get back to work, only to come back to it with another text from Yunho.

yunho: damn kiss me back at least??????

you: can you go?! 😂

you: 😘

You giggle to yourself, finishing up the other tasks that have made its way to you before lunch time comes around the corner. You get the usual text from Yunho letting you know he was heading to your meeting spot, so you grab your water bottle and head out. It's a bit chilly outside, causing you to wrap your jacket around you tightly— easily finding Yunho's tall figure ahead.

"Hi." You giggle when Yunho pulls you in for a tight hug and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Missed you, pretty girl." He raises a cute bag up. "Made some kimbap with Seora last night."

"I missed you, too." Your eyes glow at the bag. "That's so sweet. Can't wait to eat 'em for lunch, I'm sure it's delicious." You smile, tiptoeing to give him a curt peck on the lips. You feel Yunho smile against the kiss, subtly biting his lip when you pull back.

"Can we get to the car? Now?"

"Yunho." You laugh, squealing when Yunho laces his hand with yours—rushing over to his car in the staff garage and dragging you along. He has long strides, so you're having to keep up 10x more than normal. "Yunho! You're a giant, I can't keep up!" He laughs when he decides to carry you and gets you into his car— immediately sliding into the driver's seat and reversing out of the spot. "Why are you rushing?!"

"Because we're on a time crunch and I just need my time with you. What do you mean why?" You snort. 

"Uh huh."

"I also just want you on my lap, is that so much to ask?" You let out a cute yell, making Yunho laugh even louder. He makes his way to the usual trail and lake, parking underneath the shade since the sun is out despite the chill. He pops open the large container, showing you the different kinds of kimbap they made. He hands you some chopsticks, allowing you to dig in first and give an honest review.

"Yum! This is so good, Yu." 

"Yeah? You aren't lying?" He looks at you, maintaining eye contact until you break first.

"Swear." You chuckle.

"Your mom and dad said it was good, too. I'll give credit to Seora for the idea and for planning out what kimbap we'd make."

"The girl's got taste!" You pop in another one, looking out at the lake ahead. There's a few people walking the trail, elderly couples holding onto each other as they take their time with their stroll or runners getting a workout in before it gets too late in the afternoon. Ducks are taking a dip in the lake, squirrels running up the trees. 

It's a nice reminder of life's little blessings.

"Hey." You turn in the passenger's seat, tucking your leg underneath the other to sit comfortably.

"Yeah, baby?"

"How was it? Did you take Seora to the cemetery?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "It was good. She was really happy."

"Did she get to decorate?"

"Lots."

⇢FLASHBACK

"What's that?" Yunho asks as he drives over to the cemetery, briefly glancing at Seora's lap when he gets a chance.

"You know how I got into crochet kits lately?"

"Yes, I'm reminded by the monthly subscription that goes through on my card." Seora laughs. "You're making good use of it."

"Yeah. I made one from the Hello Kitty line I got in. I made the Little Twinstars." Seora raises the two. "They're holding hands. I know they're siblings but I wanted it to be like.. me and mom."

"That's cute." Yunho smiles a bit.

"I also made this sushi and named it Oishi. It has a little slice of tamago on the top." Yunho laughs.

"You're just like your mom. Inspiring and creative." Seora smiles.

"Then, I made a drawing of our picture."

"It's beautiful."

"And a threaded bracelet."

"Wow, you really got to work." Seora shows her wrist and holds it near her father's by the wheel. 

"She can match us now."

"That's right." Yunho pulls into the cemetery and drives toward the columbarium. He parks near the front doors, letting out a sigh when he shuts off the car. "Ready to go, ace?"

"I am." She nods with a soft smile. Yunho quickly hops out to help Seora out of the passenger seat, shutting her door for her when she climbs out with all her things. Yunho walks alongside of her as they enter the quiet, still building. Seora holds onto her father's arm as they walk down the hall, Yunho leading her through the familiar path towards Eunha.

"Here." He brings her in front of her niche, looking down to see her reaction. She slowly steps forward, her hand touching the glass.

"Mom." She says quietly.

"Go ahead." Yunho hands her the key to unlock the little glass door. She takes it, slowly sliding the key into the lock before twisting it open. 

"Brought you some stuff that I made." She says quietly. Yunho watches with a smile on his face as Seora continues to explain to her mom what each item is and why she brought it. Once the decorations are settled to her liking inside, she lets out a sigh and drops her head. He hears her sniffling, her hand coming up to wipe her tears away.

"Ace?" He comes from behind, hands on her shoulders.

"I just miss her." Is all she says before she turns to dig her head into her father's chest. 

"Oh, ace." Yunho holds her close, gently rubbing her back as she continues to quietly cry— tears a sign of all the pain and sadness she harbored over the years. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." He whispers against the top of her head before placing a small kiss to the surface.

The days and nights of longing for a mother's love, a mother's touch. 

Yearning and needing.

All coming to surface.

"Can we sit here for a bit and talk about mom?"

"Of course."

"I remember some things."

"You do?" Seora nods. She remembers a few core memories from when she was small; they're all bits and pieces, fragments of the past when she wished she had all the puzzle pieces together to see the bigger picture. But, she remembers. She remembers pieces of her mom and that's what matters to her, that's what she'll hold onto tightly.

She remembers when she finally stopped whining and crying during swim class— finding the courage to join the other toddlers in the water to learn how to float and get used to the feeling. She remembers her mom encouraging her with her sweet tone, telling her she believed in her. She remembers the kiss to her forehead, feeling it against her skin like it was just yesterday.

And Yunho listens.

He chimes in with a few other stories from when she was a baby, the two of them giggling and in good spirits while sitting around Eunha. The hour goes by so quickly, it feels like 5 minutes to the two.

⇢END

"That's so sweet."

"Yeah, we spent about a good hour there. Gonna make it our weekend thing besides our little dates and her games."

"Cute." You smile. "You should." The both of you are sipping water, popping in some gum post-meal. "I'm glad you two had that time together and will keep it a part of your schedule."

"Yeah." Yunho leans his head back against the headrest, eyeing you up and down as much as he possibly can from his seat. "Come here, baby." He says lowly, subtly licking his lips.

"Hm?" You hum, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"C'mere." He gives you a look, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

"Babe, people might see us!" You say, even though you're already preparing to take your seat on your man's lap. 

"And I do not give a fuck." He laughs. "They can have a free show." He watches as you climb over, straddling his lap. "Besides, you're already here. Did you really have strong opinions about it in the first place?" He looks up at you as you trace his jaw with your thumb. He takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers, your knuckles.

"Maybe, maybe not." 

"Mm, tease, aren't you?" He smirks, lips edging towards yours. He licks his lips, hands gripping at your hips to keep you close. "Hm, pretty girl?" He whispers just as his lips graze yours, followed by a light, feathery kiss. You finally dip forward to lock him into a kiss.

It's soft at first. Sweet. 

Yunho's lips against yours feel perfect. Like it was molded to fit yours, to console you, to keep you safe;

Like it was made to love you.

Your hands fall to his cheeks, thumb pads grazing the surface, his jaw. The kiss deepens quick, tongues moving together in a slow dance. Yunho grip on your hips tightens, egging you to move on him. 

And you do just that.

Slowly, eagerly. With intent, meaning.

"Yunho." You breathe out, trapping him into another kiss just as he bites onto your bottom lip and tugs it back. 

"Yeah, baby?" He whispers, hand coming up behind your neck; fingers threading through your hair to keep you close. 

"Wish we could be home right now."

"Say the word and I'll take you home." You giggle against his lips, pecking him once more.

"You've gotta pick up Seora later."

"I can stop by yours before I do." He leans forward to continue kissing you like there's no tomorrow. "I plan to tell Seora tonight, by the way." You pause, hands still cupping his cheeks.

"A-are you sure, love?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He rubs at the sides of your thighs, but you sit back— titling your head as you look at him.

"Maybe we should wait a bit more? You just took her to the cemetery to see her mom, Yu. She might need time."

"She'll be okay. I just.. I wanna tell her sooner than later. Or else, I'll feel like it's never the right time and that's unfair to you."

"Well, she's the one who matters the most."

"I promise she'll be fine. You trust me, right?"

"I do. It's not that. I'm just not sure how she'll react." It's true, you don't know how she'll react and that's what you're afraid of. You're afraid she'll take it the wrong way, you're afraid she'll never look past it. You're afraid she'll never accept this.

And if she doesn't, then it'll be something you'll have to accept.

Seora will always come first and you will never do anything to challenge that. To break her beautiful relationship with her father, to ruin her comfort zone.

"Either way, it's going to be an adjustment, but we'll make this work."

"Together?"

"Always." His eyes fall to your lips before he dips in for another sweet, long kiss. You giggle after awhile, breaking the kiss to look at your phone.

"Fuck. Maybe we should head back." You flash your phone at him, seeing there's only about 10 minutes left of break." Yunho sighs, groaning a bit.

"Fine."

"Grump." You joke as you climb back into the passenger's seat.

"No seriously, can I pop in before I pick up Seora?"

"Yunho." You pinch his arm. "And be late to pick her up? Absolutely not."

"Ah— okay." He pouts as he starts up the car and begins to head back toward the hospital. "Are you working from home any day this week?"

"Maybe." You laugh, and he wiggles his eyebrows. You swear Yunho is such a dork, but you fall for him more and more every day. 

"There's my invite." 

"You're too much." He slides his free hand into yours, kissing the surface.

"Just love my time with you, that's all." He smiles softly. Yunho looks at you, and he just feels love. He feels lucky to have found someone again who understands him, takes him for him and is willing to love him and all that he comes with. 

He doesn't want to lose that.

Even though he knows it'll be tough, he doesn't want to lose that.

The ride back to work is quiet besides the tiny kisses shared before hopping out to get back to your offices. You've got a few hours left in your workday, and for Yunho, it's a little longer in comparison with all the tickets he's helping the team with. He's also got a check-in meeting to finalize the plans for the new unit before he can wrap up and call it a day.

All in a day's work.

"Hey." He hears a familiar voice as he straps in his backpack and throws his hat on before heading out for the afternoon.

"What's up?" Yunho looks at Seonghwa with a small smile. "You look beat."

"I am." 

"Didn't you see Yoori earlier?" Seonghwa walk alongside of his bestfriend as they head out to the staff garage.

"Yeah. That didn't go all that well."

"Well, how do you expect her to act?" Seonghwa shrugs.

"I don't know, but quite frankly, I'm getting kinda tired of it."

"What?" Yunho snorts. "You wanted the casual, lowkey thing."

"Yeah, but things were kinda changing. Now, we barely even do anything. We don't go out, we don't have fun. Nothing. It's usually a quick outing to eat or else we stay at each other's places."

"Isn't that the point of lowkey and casual?" Yunho looks at him. "What's making you second guess? Noeul and the whole club thing?"

"Maybe?" Yunho shakes his head.

"Figure it out first. Don't get Noeul wrapped up in this even more if you aren't sure."

"I feel bad, I brushed her off earlier."

"Exactly, Hwa. Don't do that. Not only cause she's Y/N's friend, but you don't string someone along because you want a fun backup." Hwa sighs.

"It's not even just that."

"Then?" Yunho unlocks his car and tosses his backpack in the trunk.

"I don't know."

"Figure it out, my guy. Wouldn't hurt to get expedited shipping on that either. Someone's gonna end up real hurt if you aren't honest about what you want and need right now." Hwa sighs. "Can never be simple with you, can it?"

"Anyway. Did you see Y/N earlier?"

"Mhm. Of course." Yunho chuckles.

"Are you still planning to tell ace tonight about you two?"

"I think so, yeah. I kinda just wanna rip the bandaid off."

"Goodluck. I'm sure she'll be fine eventually. But, let me know how it goes."

"Deflecting." Yunho teases making Seonghwa roll his eyes as he starts to back away towards the direction of his car.

"Fuck off, alright? Tell ace I said hi." Yunho chuckles before sliding into his car and heading out to pick up his daughter and his tiny-but-not-so-tiny bestfriend. He parks in the school's lot, walking over to the gym to catch the tail end of practice. He watches as they run their last play of the evening, running a few minutes over time. Coach calls it, yelling out the play until the girls run it all the way through in perfection. Yunho nods, loving these moments when he can see his baby girl in action. He greets a few of other parents before watching Seora drag herself to the locker room to grab her things and head home. "Hey ace." Yunho says when he sees Seora dragging her huge duffle bag along. He laughs and takes it from her, slinging the strap over his shoulder. "How was practice?"

"God, awful. We ran so many of the plays just to get a feel for it for the next playoff game."

"That's good."

"Not good. My legs are beat." She looks up at him as she sips her water bottle. "What's dinner?"

"Was thinking we could just do kimchi-jjigae."

"Mm. Yum!" She says, throwing her backpack in the trunk once it's popped open. "Sounds good right about now."

"Yeah, doesn't it?" When the trek home begins, Seora starts to tell her father about her day and how much of a good day she had. None of her friends were out sick, and they got to watch movies in a couple of her classes. The more he hears her talk about her day, the more he feels the guilt building in the pit of his stomach.

Because he would be the reason that would change.

The reason why her day would ended on such a dramatic, life-changing note.

But, he keeps himself strong— keeps his decision firm because he knows he just has to do it. He looks at her and cherishes her smile and her laugh, hoping he could still see those same bright features once he lays it all out for her. For the future.

He hopes he doesn't lose his baby girl.

When they get home, they greet your parents through the kitchen window and more guilt settled into the pit of his stomach realizing that would be the next step.

You, handling your parents. Hoping they'd support you in this relationship.

Yunho kicks off his shoes and Seora races to the bathroom to shower and get comfy. He decides to get the kimchi-jjigae and rice going before washing up for the night and getting into some pajamas. By the time everything's finished, Seora is already sitting at the table watching her show while Yunho brings over the hot pot of kimchi-jjigae to the center of the table. He grabs their bowls to put some rice inside before setting them down next to the pot They say their grace before digging in, Yunho indulging in the show she has on. She explains the current plot, keeping her father up to date on all the drama that's happened so far. They talk about other shows and upcoming movies in between, Seora basically planning one of their dates as another movie date.

This time, at a different theater. One that has different themes in each theater room, and it switches out almost every month. 

Yunho just agrees, wanting to take Seora anywhere just so she could be happy and they can spend time together outside of the house. When dinner is done, Yunho and Seora clean up the dishes and close out the kitchen, but Seora finds it a good time to dig for some dessert to balance out the savory meal they've had.

Yunho also finds it a good time to just cut to the chase.

Let her know what's been going on.

"Ace."

"Hm?" She digs through the fridge.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"If it's about me being head deep into the fridge to find dessert, I'm sorry dad, but I have no regrets." Yunho chuckles.

"No. Listen to me." She shuts the fridge emptyhanded.

"We need more desserts."

"Noted." Seora senses the shift in his tone. The dip.

"What is it, daddy?"

"I've... been seeing someone for awhile now."

"Like friends? I see my friends all the time?"

"No, dating. As in a relationship."

"Dating? Relationship?"

"Yeah." Yunho swallows the lump in his throat when he sees the smile on her face die and turn into a frown. Here it goes.

"Dating?" She repeats in utter disbelief. "So, what was the weekend all about?"

"What does the weekend have to do with what I'm telling you, baby girl?"

"Mom? Visiting her?" She scoffs. "Do you even remember Mom like that, or are you just replacing her with someone because it doesn't even matter anymore? Replacing her with someone who knows where the freaking juice is in the fridge—"

"Seora." Yunho furrows his brows. "Hey, stop that. You do not say that to me. I never said she was replacing your mom. I could never. I just wanted to tell you when the time felt right—" He falters. She stares back at him— expression unreadable at first, then her eyes flicker. "It isn't about forgetting her at all."

"It's about you. It's all about you!" Her tone raises. "You moved on. You moved on and didn't think I'd notice. You're clearly forgetting about her and moving on. You literally don't even care—"

"Seora, that's enough!" She scoffs again, rolling her eyes as she turns to head towards her room. "I thought you'd respond better than that."

"What do you expect me to say, dad? Congrats?!" She pauses and shakes her head. "Whatever. Have fun playing house with your new girlfriend."

"Seora!" She slams the door to her room, leaving Yunho dumbfounded in the living room. His jaw ticks, and he's not sure how to navigate this. Seora has never been this mad at Yunho and vice versa; sure, he's had to calmly discipline her before and correct mistakes, but they've never had this big of an argument.

Whenever they'd disagree, he knew it could easily be salvaged. They'd talk about it, Yunho would fix things patiently. They'd get back to the way they were. Seora would take her lessons to heart and wouldn't make the same mistake again because she'd never wanna disappoint her father, the most important man in her life. Her bestfriend.

Now, it doesn't feel so easily salvageable. Yunho has never seen her so mad. He's never felt this much anger and disappointment. He's not sure how long it'll take to blow over, or how they'd even move past this.

All he can do is sigh, running his hand through his hair before he mutters a short 'fuck' to himself. He cleans the living room and shuts off the lights for the night, sadly heading to bed when Seora doesn't come out for the rest of the evening. No goodnight's, no 'I love you's,' no hugs. And Yunho knows he shouldn't let them go to bed like this, but he knows she needs time. He needs time. He doesn't wanna make this worse, and he doesn't wanna do anything to hurt her more.

But, he expected this. He should've known. So, why doesn't he feel prepared at all? 

Where does he go from here?

"Hey babe." Yunho feels himself relax a bit as he settles into his sheets, letting out a small sigh. "You okay?"

"I don't know. Definitely did not go as planned." You feel your heart beating against your chest, anxiety slightly rising. Of course it didn't go well. You also expected it, so why don't you feel prepared at all? 

What a silly question to ask, Y/N.

"I'm sorry." You respond softly. "Maybe she really just needed time, Yu."

"I guess. Maybe it is my fault." He says defeatedly. "I don't think any other time would've been the right time, and I think she would've reacted this way regardless." He sighs. "But, part of me really hoped she'd be open to it. I don't know what to say to her, I don't know what to do. We've never been in an argument like this."

"Don't push her any further on this, okay? Let it settle and talk about it with her when things feel better."

"Yeah."

"We'll get through this, remember?"

"Mmyeah." He tries to be positive, but it's already killing him how upset Seora is. The silence on the phone is telling, and the silence is enough to scare you. It only makes you fear telling your mom even more, knowing she won't be supportive of it either.

You've talked about the possibilities, so why don't the both of you feel prepared?

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x @honeyhotteoks @woovalin @piecessoull @prodsh00ky @seesawsaredangerous

[radiance1]

The ghost king has not been summoned for millennia. No body but the beings of the Infinite Realms knew the exact reason why, but one day he just stopped answering all at once.

It was a sudden thing, a sudden thing that interrupted the plans of many cults who wished for the end of the world.

On that note, it was a recent thing, but the summoning worked, and no one knew why the ghost king left. The Justice League were quick to a stop to that information from being spread to the best of their ability.

But it was too late.

So instead, they stopped any summoning they could. But the JL, while large, is not omnipresent, a summoning happened in Gotham and, while most heroes aren't allowed in.

This was the exception, they needed fire power in case the Ghost King decided to burn the world down, instead of leaving like he did before.

They expected a few things.

Meeting Robin's younger half-brother and his father were not one of them.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King that was said to have ruled the Infinite Realms with an iron fist and was a known tyrant, was the adopted father to Danny, Robin's younger brother that he hasn't contacted in a long time.

Robin, of course, had questions about this. Where were the two scientists that Danny was supposed to be keeping an eye on because of their meddling with ectoplasm (ectoplasm and Lazarus Water aren't the same thing here)? Why has he been adopted by a ghost powerful enough to be called upon to burn the world? Is Danny now Pariah Dark's heir?

The answers?

The scientists along with their daughter- Danny's sister, died (Nasty Burger explosion, didn't leave behind ghosts). He was adopted because he interested and impressed Pariah Dark enough that he claimed him to be his child, and yes, Danny can be called Pariah Dark's heir and the prince to the Infinite Realms.

Though he will never be king.

Robin is.... pleased, to say the least by the latter information. Though he won't show it, he's glad that his younger brother won't be killed off because now he has importance in the eyes of the League, though the scientists dying (as well as his sister and friends) wasn't something he found himself too pleased with.

He also was not pleased with the state his brother was in. Far too dark circles under his eyes, barely able to stand on his feet when he wasn't levitating, constantly rubbing his eyes. Robin didn't even ask as he grabbed his brother's arm and it felt... hm.

Yes, he didn't like the state his brother was in.

So he said so. More like he insulted his brother for letting himself, the younger of the demon twins and what would've been the heir had Damian not beaten him (again, Danny never held back and Damian was just better), fall to such a state.

Meanwhile, the heroes are both confused, concerned and still tense at this situation because of the Ghost King standing silently in the circle at the opposite end of the room. Watching them, assessing them, before intently watching the interaction between his son and Robin.

Meanwhile, Pariah is thinking is he should yoink this one too. He was not aware that his son had any other relatives of any kind, much less a half-brother, and he could tell that the boy was a fine warrior.

Both by human standards, and his own.

The way he carried himself, his expression, the look in his eyes, the weapons he could tell that were hidden around the boy's body and his armor- while unique, he could find himself being amused that this own at least had proper armor rather than some contraption of metal that-while very powerful, seemed more of a hindrance than a help in a drawn-out battle.

Well, Pariah Dark found himself wanting and, by the looks of things. His child seems very comfortable around his brother, so would he be opposed to having said comfort around all the time?

[ooooo-mcyt]

I usually don't have all that many character headcanons of the domestic non-angsty variety, but for some reason I have, like, a Lot of specifically cooking themed Life Series headcanons (in the hypothetical scenario where they eat meals like normal human beings and not based on minecraft game mechanics), so I'm just going to leave them here:

Grian cooks. All the time. He makes every meal for his team, three meals a day, every day. It's Grian's thing, and he takes pride in it. Grian will cook if someone is lagging behind in their performance, he'll cook if they don't seem like they're feeling well, he'll cook before a fight, he'll cook before a long day of resource gathering, he'll cook when he's bored. If one of his teammates is gone for the day they'll come back to food left on the table for them. If one of his teammates is working on something he'll leave snacks in their workspaces or by their beds. When Grian has to join a pre existing team late in the series cooking will be one of his go-to methods for being 'useful' enough to earn his place with them. When Grian hasn't seen someone in a while he'll ask if they've been eating and then cook them something regardless. When Grian wants to win someone over or apologize for something it will be through gifts of little snacks or desserts. I just imagine Grian as someone who cooks for people and is proud of it. Ironically, I also imagine that when he doesn't have a team (on the rare occasions he doesn't) he won't eat very much because cooking would be more of a social/affection and personal pride thing for him than something he does because he particularly enjoys the act, so there doesn't feel like much point when he's alone (and i just don't think taking care of himself would be a thought, because grian has never been too concerned with his own general health).

I think Skizz is very similar to Grian in that he enjoys cooking for people, and is probably the 'designated cook' in pretty much all his teams. Unlike Grian, though, I think Skizz would really like the act of cooking itself and find it fun. Don't get me wrong, I imagine it can often still be a social thing and a show of affection for Skizz too, because Skizz is the kind of person who would be very happy to be able to see his teammates happy and well fed because of him. But I think enjoyment would also be a big motivator for Skizz and he'd still have fun with cooking for himself if he were alone.

I truly have to imagine Bdubs as being comically bad at cooking. I just have this mental image of Last Life Etho puppy eyesing Bdubs into cooking for him and then Bdubs just happily plopping down a block of nondescript inedible burnt mush right out of a kids cartoon storyboard trying to convey the concept of 'bad food' through design alone. And Bdubs just expectantly watches Etho who (without taking off the mask) unconvincingly mimes eating it and then tosses it out the window while Bdubs goes ":D" so glad Etho enjoys his cooking and already planning tomorrows meal. Bdubs does the same thing with every team he has to varying responses.

Jimmy started off Third Life not being able to cook at all, but has become quite good over time. I imagine Scott did all their cooking in the early parts of Third Life, but Jimmy's not the type to be content with letting someone else do labor for him with no reciprocation, so I think he very quickly started trying to cook too, literally corralling Scott out of the kitchen and not taking no for an answer. I think Scott would have playfully complained about Jimmy insisting on cooking when his food was literally inedible, but Jimmy is very stubborn, and Scott knows how to go with the flow with these things, so they'd probably end up taking turns with meals. I imagine Jimmy kept up the habit through the following seasons (when grian wasn't there to stake full claim over the kitchen and push everyone else out in last life and limited life) and has become quite decent at cooking, which always seems to surprise other players.

Tango would be a disaster in the kitchen. Like. I'm picturing fires and explosions (we can chalk it up to him being a fire entity if that makes it better). Usually Tango is just outright banned from the kitchen, but Double Life is an exception. Jimmy and Tango strike me as the type of people to cook together as a cute couple thing. Jimmy does most of their cooking at first until Tango jokes about how he can't cook and Jimmy's like "Well wanna try helping anyways?" and it just becomes something they do together with…minimal..fires and explosions, because Jimmy wouldn't mind, and cooking is fun, especially when you're doing it with someone you love.

I also feel like Pearl is someone who'd find cooking fun. She wouldn't necessarily take it upon herself to cook all the time, but she'd enjoy it when she does cook. It would start being a hobby in Last Life, though I think her enjoyment would take a massive dip during Double Life. I don't see Double Life Pearl as someone who really had the will to do many things for fun, or even to take care of herself, really. I imagine Pearl didn't put much effort into cooking in Double Life, understandably, and didn't find it fun anymore. Although I think she still probably kept up healthy eating habits solely because I imagine Tilly would remind Pearl to eat and Pearl would never purposefully worry Tilly. After Double Life, once Pearl started slowly feeling better and felt like she had real friends again, I think cooking slowly would have become a hobby Pearl was actually able to enjoy again and do for more than practical reasons, which is a habit I think has continued through Wild Life.

I'm gonna put Scott and Cleo together because I imagine they have very similar views on cooking and they've teamed multiple times so I can put them together here. I feel like both Scott and Cleo see cooking as a chore. They're both responsible people who are fully capable of cooking and do so with minimal complaint because it's a necessity. But neither of them really find it enjoyable, I'd say, and would rather not. If doordash existed in the life series, they would have gotten it frequently in Double Life, but alas, they are in a death game lacking most modern technology and are cursed to cook for themselves. They had an alternating day schedule, because it's more convenient than both of them cooking for themselves every night and also even if they don't like cooking admittedly I think Scott and Cleo just like doing nice things for each other regardless. When not with each other, I think Cleo is the kind of person who'd usually go "Okay I'm cooking for myself, you guys figure yourselves out" with their teams because they don't want to be stuck cooking for other people all the time and also don't entirely trust other people to cook for them (partially because some of the people she's teamed with are just bad cooks, partially because cleo has some trust issues generally and is prone to suspicions over their teammates potentially betraying her). Although I think Etho and Bdubs specifically could both probably puppy dog eye Cleo into giving them food sometimes, and while cooking for other people isn't a habit of hers, if Cleo really wants to be nice or suspects someone they care about won't eat enough on their own, she might make an extra plate of food for them. Scott, on the other hand, I think would prefer for cooking to be split evenly in his teams (and he certainly wouldn't complain if someone wants to cook for him all the time), but is also very much willing to do the majority of the cooking if he has a partner who can't or won't cook. Scott is flexible and very willing to compromise for team cohesion and morale, even if he gets the worse bargain. Fortunately, though, Scott has never teamed with someone who takes advantage of that. Scott started off trying to do all the cooking for him and Jimmy automatically, but Jimmy is a good husband- and a stubborn one- who shut that down rapidly with his active desire to contribute (also as a side note, i feel like scott literally did not eat a single thing in between jimmy's death and his own in third life). Cleo, Pearl, Gem, and Impulse were all more than happy to split cooking duties with him too. I don't imagine Scott and Martyn spent many meals together, so Scott was mostly just feeding himself in Limited Life, which was fine. Scott probably occasionally made Martyn something while he was cooking for himself if Martyn was around, just out of love, but it wasn't something Martyn really asked him to do.

Gem is also on team "Cooking is a chore that I don't really enjoy but I'm an adult so I am fully capable of feeding myself without complaining". It's not something that's especially fun for Gem, but I think she split cooking duty with Scott and Impulse without much complaint in Secret Life. That said, I do think she maybe convinced Joel (who i imagine is surprisingly good at cooking) to do most of the cooking during Wild Life, and Gem has probably also coaxed a few meals out of Pearl when things are okay/good between them. Gem is willing to contribute but she also won't complain if people are willing to be convinced to do things for her.

Impulse is my final "Cooking is a boring chore, but I'm an adult" guy who is a decent but not super impressive cook. Usually I think Impulse defaults to just cooking for himself, unless he has teammates who like cooking and want to cook for him, or who want to alternate cooking for the whole group. I see Impulse as fairly flexible in this regard.

Joel is a shockingly good cook and also enjoys cooking. Joel was pretty much completely alone for all of Third Life, and had very inconsistent companionship during Last Life, so it was pretty much a necessity to figure out how to cook for himself at least. And, well, cooking can be very calming, which I think is good for someone like Joel who is very high intensity all the time. I think this quickly turned into Joel cooking for other people too once he started getting more solid companionship. I mean, he's not necessarily the type to frequently do things for others just to be nice, but Etho's good at the puppy eyes act, and I think Joel quickly realized as well that it's an ego boost when people enjoy his cooking, which is always a bonus with Joel, so I imagine he's made a habit of cooking for his teammates.

Etho has never cooked a single meal in his life (/hj) and he doesn't have to. If his teammates won't feed him, Etho can go around to his other allies (because he always has alliances outside his main team, etho keeps his options open) until someone invites him in for dinner. Wandering the server stopping by with various allies looking pathetic is a huge staple of Etho in the Life Series, this man is absolutely a chronic dinner guest.

Scar isn't someone I think cooks consistently, or very well. Not that he can't cook at all, necessarily. I don't think he's very good, but he can make passable simple meals. It just slips his mind, really. I imagine Scar as someone who'll often honestly outright forget to eat for long periods of time if he's left to cook for himself until something reminds him he hasn't eaten in a while. Often Scar's meal plans consist of either being fed by an ally (grian cooks, as we've established) or using his patented Scar charm to convince random people to give their food to him when it does occur to him that he ought to eat. That being said, I do think Scar enjoys baking specifically. He's not good at remembering to cook for sustenance, but if he's bored or wants to do something nice for someone, he'll bake, and he does quite enjoy it (often the product is mediocre, but the actual taste of the food is not the point of baking for scar).

Martyn is another guy who I think forgets to eat. By no means is Martyn an 'all work' type of guy, and he'll stop to goof around plenty, but I feel like he categorizes self care acts specifically as a waste of his time. Stopping to cook and eat just feels like Too Much when there are so many other things to do. He cooks simple mediocre meals when he gets too hungry and snatches little bits of food from people when he's at their bases, just to be a nuisance, and that's about it. Luckily Martyn often has someone there to get him to eat. Ren in specific is really good at making sure Martyn has meals, he'll just make Martyn a plate of whatever he's having and Martyn's not the type to complain about free food with friends (he doesn't have anything against eating, it's just the taking time out of his day to make himself food when alone that's an issue with martyn). I also imagine Skizz cooked for the whole Red Army toward the end of Third Life. Martyn probably didn't have too much issue in Last Life either. Grian Cooks, and probably had the whole Southlands supplied, plus Lizzie served snacks at Shadow Alliance meetings. In Double Life Cleo probably would have made sure Martyn ate enough too, because while they might not be on great terms, Martyn's poor self care effects people outside of him while he's linked to Cleo. Limited Life was hard, I think, because he was really into Winning that season, and for the first time ever, Ren wasn't in the series at all. That said, I imagine Scott made enough food for Martyn whenever martyn was home around meal times, and I have a very vivid image of The Clockers frequently slipping Martyn food on his way out after visits (to varying degrees of appreciation. cleo hands him an actual plate of food occasionally, which is..nice. scar passes out slightly burnt cookies, which aren't as filling or well made, but they're yummy enough and something is better than nothing. and uh..martyn isn't sure what to do with the stuff bdubs hands him). In Secret Life Jimmy, who again, likes cooking and is decent at it, is probably more than happy to make enough for Martyn while he's alive, though I imagine the later episodes after Jimmy dies is the worst Martyn gets with his 'doesnt think about taking care of himself'.

Ren is admittedly a mediocre cook. His food isn't always bad, but it's also not usually great. That being said, I think he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I think Ren likes cooking for his friends, and I think he gets incredibly excited to eat his food. And, I mean, nobody turns down free food, especially when Ren's excitement is generally so contagious, even if it's sometimes slightly burned.

Mumbo can't cook. Luckily everyone very much wants to feed Mumbo. Grian absolutely made sure Mumbo had plenty to eat during Last Life and Wild Life, and Mumbo was on a team with multiple people who like to cook in Secret Life (plus grian probably showed up with food for mumbo a few times in secret life anyways because he really does adore mumbo). Mumbo honestly doesn't even have to ask, so far I feel like people have just been happy to feed him.

Nobody has ever seen BigB eat. He does eat, obviously. It's just that people don't see it. He'll sit down for a meal with someone and only take bites exactly in the .4 seconds it takes them to blink in very exaggerated cartoon fashion. I don't know, I just wanted to capture BigB's confusion strats because he's literally so funny.

Lizzie can cook, technically, but she does not want to. Luckily Lizzie is very very good at convincing people to cook her meals for her. Usually Joel. But sometimes Ren in early Last Life and also Jimmy in Wild Life. Lizzie does bake, though. Cookies, cakes, brownies, etc. Lizzie likes having sweet things to present at meetings and parties and traps.

[atlabeth]

time’s blur - ialwbty au

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader but this primarily features percy jackson & sister!reader

summary: somehow, someway, you come back.

a/n: wow it has been a while hasn't it!! 148 days to be exact!! im always thinking about these two in the corner of my mind and ive been wanting to write this au since i got an ask about it, originally i was going to do it all as a big long one shot but i just want to get something out lol. and this will give me more freedom to do wte i want with this au instead of just having one big one shot and leaving it. anyways enjoy there is actually some fluff for once but still some emotional damage and there is more to come!! also reader is 19 and percy is 15

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): hurricane dies but she has come back!! told through percy's pov. angst, hurt/comfort, signature percy jackson guilt, but some fluffy sibling moments<3

Percy doesn’t end up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning out of instinct, foresight, or any kind of divine ‘chosen one’ intervention. 

He ends up in the infirmary at 2:29 in the morning because some Apollo kid was hooking up with an Ares kid on the beach, and they found you. 

They found you, not Percy. He didn’t even have a clue until he woke up to Chiron in his cabin.

Percy had had his fair share of rude awakenings over the years, usually because of horrific demigod prophetic dreams, but the expression on Chiron’s face immediately alerted Percy that something was wrong, even through his groggy haze. 

“Chiron?” he rasps, and he sits up as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He has to make sure he’s not still dreaming. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, Percy,” he says. “But I need you to come with me.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is everyone okay? Is camp okay? Is there an invasion?” 

“Nothing so ghastly,” Chiron says. Though his tone is a bit lighter, it still doesn’t ease Percy’s concerns. “But it does concern you.” 

“Great,” Percy mumbles, and he pulls himself out of bed. Normally he would have the foresight to change, but a part of him is still worried that Christmas has come early and Kronos has already invaded the city. 

So he follows Chiron—with all the sneaking around he’s done since getting to camp, it’s strange to be out this late and not have to worry about being eaten alive—clad in flannel pajama pants, a Yankee’s tee, and Converse he didn’t get the chance to fully lace up. 

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” Percy says, glancing up at him. “Right?” 

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t classify this as something going wrong. Just… rather shocking.” 

“Great,” he repeats. “Are you going to tell me?” 

Chiron is silent for a moment, and Percy frowns. “Now I’m really worried.” 

“I suppose it’s best to rip the bandage off,” Chiron says. He stops right outside the Big House and lets out a sigh. “An hour ago, a girl was found on the beach. She looked as if she’d been washed ashore.” 

Percy’s frown deepens. “What? Gods— is she okay?” 

“Yes,” Chiron says. “I checked her over for injuries, but she only had some minor bruises. No water in her lungs, somehow.” 

“That’s crazy,” he says. “How could someone even wash up here? Even with demigods— don’t we have protections against that?” 

“All of this makes me believe there was some… divine intervention,” Chiron says slowly. “Especially with who she is.” 

Percy crosses his arms. “You’re making this sound like a huge deal. Who is she?”

“Percy,” Chiron says, soft but firm, “it’s your sister. Somehow, she’s come back to life.” 

And for a second, all he can do is stare. 

“What?” 

“I could never forget her face,” he says. “Or the presence of a child of Poseidon.” 

Percy shakes his head. “No, Chiron— if this is a joke, it’s not funny.” He huffs a mirthless laugh and looks down at his hands. “And if this is a shitty dream, then it’s really shitty.” 

“Perseus, this is real,” he states. 

He’s still shaking his head. “How can it be real? She’s dead— she’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Mr. D has already gone back to Olympus to figure it out. But if I had to guess, your father decided to meddle.”

He wants to call it a lie. Honestly, he wants to punch Chiron for getting his hopes up about something like this. But deep down, Percy knows he’s telling the truth. 

“Can I see her?” he asks. “Is— is she okay? Does she know who she is?”

“In time,” Chiron says. “I cannot be sure, but it doesn’t look like she remembers anything from her life.” 

Percy shakes his head again. It doesn’t feel real. He’s imagined what it would feel like to meet you since the moment Luke told him about you, but he knew it could never happen. 

But now, all that stands between Percy and his sister is a few doors. 

“I want to see her,” he says.

“Of course,” Chiron nods. “I just need to make sure it won’t mess with her further. This isn’t like Thalia coming back with the fleece—though I have suspicions, I can’t be sure how this happened. It could be a very delicate matter.” 

“As long as it doesn’t hurt her more.” 

Chiron nods again and he opens the door to the Big House. He follows him up to his office door, then stops when Chiron gestures at the couch. 

“I just need to discuss a few more things with her.” 

Percy nods wordlessly and sits down, then Chiron disappears into his office. 

A million things are running through Percy’s mind, namely guilt. 

Shouldn’t he have been the one to find you? 

Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s you. 

You’re his sister. He’s always had a connection to you, even when you were gone—gods, the night after he found out you existed you appeared in his dreams. Percy’s spent almost every moment since he found out about you wishing you were still here, that he could meet you, and when it finally does happen—somehow, because he still doesn’t understand what the fuck went on for this to happen—he’s not even the one to find you? He’s just asleep like every other night?

He huffs a sigh as he hunches over, his forearms on his knees. His leg bounces up and down at a rapid pace, moving his entire body with it, but this is one time he can’t lay his ADHD to rest. He’s more surprised he isn’t up pacing the entire room for the hundredth time. 

If Percy feels like this, he can’t even imagine how you must feel. To come back for seemingly no reason with no memories, after four years in Elysium. 

Luke said you’d been killed by a monster. You were buried like any other person. 

You were gone.

But you just… came back.  

He lets out another harried sigh and falls back against the couch. He’s exhausted, but there’s no chance of him being able to go back to sleep. Not with you around. 

Suddenly, the door opens, and Percy instantly darts up from his seat. You walk out with Chiron and it’s almost surreal.

You look like all the pictures, all his dreams, just older—more mature. He wants to cry and scream and hug you all at once. 

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance at Chiron for a moment before you focus back on Percy.

“Uh— sorry,” he says, wincing a bit. He doesn’t know how to act around you, not when he knows you but you don’t know him. “I waited for you. I thought it would be good to have someone on the other side.” 

“That’s really nice,” you murmur. “I… I see why. Word on the street is that you’re my brother.” 

Percy nods way too many times. “Yeah. Uh— yeah. We’re both children of—” 

He pauses, his gaze moving past you to Chiron. He has to have explained all this to you, right? 

“Poseidon,” you finish, and you let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Chiron laid out all the basics.” 

“This has all got to be really confusing,” he says. “I remember how lost I was when I first got to camp, and I didn’t even��” 

“Die?” you ask wryly. He nods again. He really can’t finish any sentence around you—he’s so worried of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you. Percy doesn’t know how any of this works.

“It’s strange,” you admit. “I… I lived this whole life before this, and I don’t even remember any of it.”

Percy’s heart clenches painfully. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain everything to you when you start remembering. 

When you start remembering Luke. 

“Really?” he asks. “There’s nothing?”

You shake your head. “I have my name, but that’s all. And…”

Percy frowns. “What?”

You pause for a moment before you shake your head again. “Nothing. This is just…”

“Weird?” 

You nod with a slight laugh. “Yeah. To say the least.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not the first person to come back to life,” Percy says. “Uh, a girl named Thalia used to be a tree before she was turned back into a human.”

You frown. “Wow.”

“We can get to all of that some other day,” Chiron thankfully interrupts. “Percy, will you take her back to your cabin?”

“You’re sure we won’t get eaten by the harpies?” Percy asks. “Aello is out for my blood.”

“I promise,” Chiron says. He glances at you, your frown noticeably deeper, and he looks back at Percy. “Perhaps we should, ah, hold off on this sort of discussion. Until tomorrow, at least.”

“Of course,” Percy says. “Sorry. You must be exhausted.” 

“A little,” you admit. “Apparently coming back to life takes it out of you.” 

“Come back here first thing in the morning,” Chiron says. “We have… quite a bit to talk about.” 

“That’s an understatement,” you murmur. 

Percy smiles a bit, and he gestures with his head for you to follow him. You do, and Chiron goes back into his office. He nabs a bag of ambrosia squares from an empty bedside as the two of you go through the infirmary just to be safe, and when he glances back at you he sees you frowning. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Does anything hurt?” 

“You’re a Yankees fan?” you say instead. 

Percy blinks, then he realizes you’re looking at his shirt. “Uh— yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m from New York, and my mom loves them, so…” he tugs at his shirt. “I know you like the Red Sox. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “We can’t all be perfect.” 

Percy can’t help but smile. You died and came back to life, and you remember nothing but your name and your love for the Boston Red Sox. 

“That means you keep up with baseball, right?” 

“When I can,” he says. “We don’t really have technology out here.” 

“Have the Red Sox won a world series since I’ve been gone?” 

“They won last year, actually.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly grin. “Really?”

He nods. “They beat the Cardinals.”

“That— that’s huge!” you exclaim. “Oh my god, they broke the curse and I didn’t get to see it? This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“You know you died, right?”

“And look how well that worked out for me.” You shake your head. “I need to go to the library or something and find some footage.”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Percy says, “we have a few other things we have to focus on.”

You huff and shake your head. “Fine. But as soon as we figure all this out, I’m figuring out some way to see those games.” 

Percy chuckles. “I don’t think anyone’ll deny you that.” 

“Good.” 

Silence settles over the two of you as you walk back to the Poseidon cabin, and Percy just feels awkward. 

He always thought about what he would say to you if he finally got to see you again, and now you’re alive somehow and right next to him and he has no idea what to do. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Percy finally decides on. “Chiron said you just washed up on shore.” 

“I feel surprisingly okay,” you say. “All I remember is waking up at the bottom of the lake. I thought I was going to drown, so I kicked my way up, and then got to shore.” You shake your head. “Somehow, I didn’t drown. My clothes weren’t even wet. I’ve got to be the luckiest person out there.” 

“You’re a child of Poseidon,” he says. “We can breathe underwater so we can’t drown, and our clothes don’t get wet unless we want them to.” 

“Like I said,” you incline your head, “luckiest person out there.” 

“I just don’t get why you’re back,” Percy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I just don’t understand how, or why— or why now.” 

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re not able to get any words out before a yawn interrupts it. 

“Maybe that’s a tomorrow problem,” you say. 

“I think you’re right,” Percy says. He opens the door to the camp store and you follow him inside, but you frown. 

“What is this?” 

“The camp store,” he says. “You don’t really have anything, so I wanted to get you some things.” 

You just stare as he starts taking things. “You’re just… stealing?” 

“Just a couple toiletries and some clothing,” he says. “They won’t miss it.” He stashes it all in a Camp Halfblood tote bag and holds it out to you, and though you’re a bit hesitant, you still take it. 

“Thanks,” you say. “We won’t get in trouble?” 

“I think everyone will cut you some slack for a while,” Percy says. “A guy did this for me my first day and it helps—makes you feel more at home.” 

You hum, and this time you open the door for Percy. “Nice guy.” 

Percy swallows the sudden lump in his throat, trying to ignore the chill that trickles down his spine as he realizes the implications of his words. 

“Yeah,” Percy mutters. “He was.” 

Eventually, the two of you get back to the Poseidon cabin. He opens the door for you and you slowly walk inside. 

Again, it’s strange that you’re here. It’s like if a piece of his history textbook suddenly came to life and started walking around—he’s heard so much about you, imagined what he thought would be an impossible meeting so many times, but now that it’s actually happening he doesn’t know what to do. 

And it hits even more as you walk over to a picture of yourself hanging on the wall, surrounded by a myriad of others. 

It’s one of many of you and Luke, him holding you close with an arm slung around your shoulder as you beam at the camera with the brightest smile imaginable. Before Luke got his scar, before you died, before he went off the deep end. 

“I put a couple of your pictures up,” Percy rushes to explain, his throat feeling scratchy, “and a few of your old things. As— as a way to remember you.”

“I love it,” you say, and the tension dissolves in his shoulders when he sees your smile. It really is so much brighter in person. “I— I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get it back,” Percy says. “I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say idly as you continue to take all the pictures in. He can’t imagine what it must feel like to see all these memories of a past life you have no recollection of. 

“I don’t,” he says. “We’re gonna figure it out.”

You’re silent for a while as you keep looking at them. Then you take one of the pictures off the wall, the one of you and Luke at a baseball game. 

“Luke,” you murmur, as if you don’t realize you’re saying it out loud. You blink, then you turn to Percy. “His name is Luke, isn’t it?”

He nods, almost in disbelief. You don’t remember a damn thing about your old life but you know Luke’s name.

How is Percy supposed to tell you what he did? 

You laugh softly as you trail your nail over the edge. “We must’ve been pretty close if I got him to go to a Red Sox game.” You look over at Percy. “Does he go here too?”

After a moment, Percy shakes his head. “He— uh, he used to.”

“Makes sense,” you murmur, and you put the picture back on the wall. “I got the easy way out. Everyone else had to deal with the fallout.”

Percy frowns. “You were killed by a monster. I don’t think anyone considers that the easy way out.” 

“It kinda was,” you say with a shrug. “I— I don’t remember much about it, but Chiron said I was in Elysium. There aren’t any monsters down there, and there certainly aren’t any responsibilities.”

“Well,” Percy sits down on his bed, “I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined meeting you.” 

You chuckle. “I didn’t know I was so popular.” 

“I’m serious,” he says. “Poseidon is one of the Big Three, and they made an oath not to have kids. I was the only Big Three kid in general when I got to camp—when I found out about you, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to have a sister to talk about all of this with.” 

Your eyes soften, and you lean against his bed frame. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry about?” 

“I— I don’t know,” you say with a slight laugh. “I just feel bad that I couldn’t be there for you.” 

“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being a big sister,” Percy says wryly. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re doing a pretty good job at being a younger brother.” 

Percy laughs and smiles, and you smile too. He’s beginning to understand what Luke always said, about your presence embodying warmth. He’s only been around you for a few minutes and he already feels better. 

“I’ve never had a brother before this,” you say. “So there might be a couple speed bumps.” 

“We’ll get through them together,” Percy says. “Besides, I… I kind of always considered you my sister. Ever since I found out about you, even though you were…” 

“Dead?” you guess, and he winces. You chuckle a bit. “It’s still weird for me, too. Can’t imagine what it must be like for all of you.” 

“Weird,” he says without really thinking. “Really weird. But I’m thankful that you’re back.” 

You smile. “So am I, Percy.” 

You let out another yawn, and you sit down on the bed across from him. “God, what time is it?” 

Percy glances at the clock in the corner. “3:34.” 

You whistle. “I really chose a great time to come back, huh?” 

He chuckles, and he kicks off his shoes as gets up to turn the lights off. “I think some sleep would do us both some good.” 

You nod and do the same. As you lay back, one hand behind your head, you continue to look around the cabin. 

“Are these your band posters?” 

He shakes his head as he sits back down. “They’re yours, actually, but you’ve got good taste. I love Pearl Jam.” 

“I used to have good taste, you mean,” you say wryly. 

“Hey,” he says. “I meant what I told you. We’re gonna get your memories back.” 

“How are you so sure?” 

“I’ve done a lot of impossible things,” Percy says. “And so have you, from what I’ve heard. It’s kind of the Poseidon kid way, honestly.” 

“You’ll have to teach me some things, then.” 

“And when you get your memory back, you’ll have to do the same,” he says. 

You smile and nod. “Deal.” 

Percy smiles too, and he lays down. “You really should try and get some sleep. Chiron wasn’t joking when he said we have a lot to talk about.” He huffs a slight laugh. “Whatever the reason is for you coming back, I guarantee there’s gonna be some people upstairs that are mad about it.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Upstairs?” 

“Olympus,” he says. “The gods don’t really like things happening out of their control.” 

You hum, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence and the sound of both your breathing. It’s a little strange having someone else here other than Tyson, but he’s thankful for it. 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask. There’s an edge of fear in your voice, and Percy frowns. 

“Nothing.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeats. “I’m not going to let anything happen. The gods have already messed with your life enough—they don’t get to do it again.” 

Percy half-expects to hear the sound of thunder echoing across camp, but the silence continues. Maybe Zeus isn’t listening in on him for once, or maybe he just expects the disrespect at this point. 

“I really am the luckiest person,” you say. “I’ve got someone like you looking out for me.” 

“You were looking out for me when you were gone,” he says. “You might not remember, but I could feel it. So I’m just repaying the favor.” 

Again, silence. It’s temporarily interrupted by the sound of sheets shifting, then you speak. 

“I’m really glad I got to meet you, Percy,” you murmur. 

He can’t help but smile, and he tries to ignore the tears beginning to spring in his eyes. He has no idea why you’re back—no idea what this could mean. Maybe your dad did bring you back, maybe it’s a bizarre case like Thalia, maybe you play a part in something that they don’t even know about yet and it's nothing but bad news.

But for once in his life, Percy’s not going to question it. 

You’re alive and you’re here. 

For now, that’s all he needs. 

“Me too,” he whispers.

[nipuni]

Hi Nipuni, I hope you’re doing well. I’m just curious what’s your opinion about the rampant use of AI in art lately especially how it impacts artists and possibly stealing artists work to train it. As a fellow artist I’m curious of what other artists would think of this. I’ve seen many beginners artists losing hope in pursuing art because of AI and it truly breaks my heart. I hope artists wouls stay doing art no matter what because it’s very important and their art will always be valuable no matter what. By the way, you don’t have to reply to this if this particular topic is not something you’re comfortable with. I love your art so much and I wish all the best for you, you are an incredible artist and I love the energy you always put into your art🫶

Hello, I am doing great! I hope you are too! ☺️ I'm so sorry I'm so late to reply. I've been following the generative AI conversation on and off for so long now and I have yet to find a single argument that justifies it's cost. I don't think I have much to add that hasn't been said before. I think it is unethical, unsustainable, irresponsible, dangerous, harmful, theft, etc. It is neither intelligent nor generative, it doesn't think, it can't reason it's guided guessing based on statistics and pattern recognition. it's not creating anything new either it's just pulling from a database of stolen human content and mashing it together, it can't be trained on itself either so it needs constant human input too. I just don't see the point? 🫠 It's some kind of gimmicky toy made to appeal to the most annoying people imaginable by the most annoying people imaginable to profit from and at immense cost to everyone else. It's negatively impacting every creative industry in every way and even affecting the way we learn, communicate and engage with media. It's invading everything and making it objectively worse lmao. It's also dangerous in countless ways. An environmental disaster too and for what!! aaaaa It feels like a huge cultural setback and technological dead end and it's so depressing. I wish I had something positive to add after so much ranting but I don't 😔 The impact of this on creative fields among others is undeniable and I fear will make things harder for a while but I'd like to think that it's still early days and there are so many people fighting to regulate this mess and we all can help by advocating and boycotting at the very least.

If anything this whole debacle has made me examine my relationship with art more deeply and I realize I love the process of making art more than I love the result. The space between idea and finished piece that is all me, I'm in there!! and I love it there!! I can't see myself doing anything else or relegating this part. This will change things at a societal and economical level but people will always make art. I don't know where I'm going with this, I don't think the philosophical is a good angle to center the conversation on either, but I guess it's a comfort 😭 'In the dark times Will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times.' poem comes to mind

This reply got away from me oh my god sjfkhg I'm focusing on the art side of things here of course but I could go on about the damage to plenty of other fields but I don't feel qualified enough aaaa anyway Thank you so much for the kind words you are very sweet and I hope you don't let all this discourage you 🥺❤️ we will be alright!!

[countbarov]

long post tldr hansry gay

I think there's a very important element of Hans and Henry's relationship that I don't see discussed much, and it's the simple fact that they're a gay couple. Unambiguously, unabashedly, thoroughly gay. And while this may not sound revolutionary, it actually is

Hans and Henry are far from the first gay romance in videogames, let alone media at large; but they're one of the very few I can think of where the character's gender and sexuality matter to the point it can't be divorced from the story. Swap any of their genders, and the romance won't make sense. Why? Because they're a gay couple

This stands in stark contrast with other wonderfully queer games and stories, where everyone is free to romance anyone, and there's nary a mention of who you prefer to bed. And it's nice to see such fantasies from time to time; Baldur's Gate 3, for one, is the best example for this approach, and I love it quite so very much. But none of the romances hit the same way. They're clean, perfect, and neatly wrapped up -- their character conflicts have more to do with their personal circumstances than with their sexual identities. Some characters are made explicitly bisexual, like Gale and Astarion, both of whom have past lovers with confirmed gender identities. But that's not enough. They still fall for the traps of playersexual characters, never making a single gendered comment towards you in any capacity. Your identity is meaningless here

This also leads to perfectly pure, idealised romantic relationships. The only conflict we can expect from these characters is to be displeased by our altruism or selfishness, or some pivotal moments in their personal quests which might lead to a breakup or, in extreme cases, their permanent departure. They're very well crafted, but they can't reach the depths of a truly gay or queer relationship

The only other example I can think of where a character is explicitly and purely gay is Steve Cortez from Mass Effect. His story is linked to his late husband, a pilot who died in battle. His story, should a male Shephard romance him, repeats itself at the end of the third game. But for all the good his inclusion does to the series, there's nothing about their love that can't be replaced with a woman. If Steve had been originally implemented as a woman in a lesbian relationship, nothing would be different save their names

Enter Hans and Henry, who are gay, and to whom being gay matters

Their romance flourishes in darkness, shrouded by respectability. And it doesn't flourish naturally, either, because it can't. Henry has never thought of Hans that way because he doesn't know how to. Unlike people in modern day, who have the luxury of exploring their sexuality whenever they want, Henry hasn't been afforded the possibility of a gay relationship. He expresses his love and care for Hans, which might not be entirely straight, openly -- because that's who Henry is. He wants to spend time with Hans, and cares about Hans far deeper than other squires do for their lords, but he doesn't think twice on it. Hans is his close friend, no? Shouldn't friends care for each other? And so Henry continues, developing strong feelings he doesn't have the language for, loving someone in ways he didn't know he could yet knows he shouldn't

Hans, by contrast, is a far more educated and worldly man. He's been exposed to courtly affairs and the kinds of excess nobility sometimes indulges. He knows that deep love between men is possible because he's heard of it, and we can only guess has seen it once or twice. Like Henry, he never examined it much, preferring the company of women. But then Henry, sincere to a fault, expresses dangerous sentiments to Hans. Hans then realises that, maybe, he doesn't just find Henry's company agreeable. That, perhaps, he doesn't feel just friendship and kinship. That, perchance, he could be falling in love with a man. A thing he knows is possible, a thing he knows is taboo, and a thing he can't express

Hans develops feelings for Henry whether you romance him or not. His poetry book is proof that, at the very least, he lusts for Henry, and at worst yearns for the man. The only thing that changes here is whether Hans has the courage to express his feelings to Henry, or not

And the romance scene is powerful for this very reason. When Hans thinks Henry has understood his story, shared his feelings, and placed a hand near Hans' thigh, he's emboldened. High on grief, hope, love, lust, desire, and fear. He reaches for a kiss that risks it all. Henry's initial reaction is confusion, if not a tinge of disgust, because he still hasn't seen the possibility of loving Hans beyond friendship until that point. But when he stops to consider how he feels about Hans, he closes the door and gives in to what he's been carrying without knowing

And this is gay. A GAY story about two men who slowly fall in love without trying to. Two men whose love is marked by their society, and whose circumstances lead to an explosion of passion otherwise impossible. Vávra confirms they wouldn't have gotten together in this particular way were it not for Henry's mission. Would they have gotten together regardless? Would they never have otherwise?

Their identities as bisexual men simply can't be erased from the narrative. And they are bisexual, mind you, whether your character chooses to interact with it or not. Hans always falls in love with Henry -- Henry always has the option of hooking up with Black Bartosh. They're bisexual, medieval, men

And I love that idk