#like genuinely;; I thought not a lot would but hey this is a genuine one and I will answer it /pos

[isa-ghost]

I fully agree with this (/genuine). And I do wish people would stop using it because of the historical-and-still-current context behind the phrase.

But I am curious about what OP's opinion is about a take I see a lot in defense of using the phrase as a quirky (perhaps even cringe) positive phrase. I've seen loads of people say "well over time words/phrases/images can get a new context behind them that overwrites (but doesn't erase) the previous bad one. It takes power away from the people who use [thing] in a derogatory way." Basically the same kinda logic we use when reclaiming slurs, I guess? Maybe that's too extreme of a comparison though, I dunno. Another example I thought of is how Tupperware is (was?) a company, but we call *all* plastic containers similar to that Tupperware, which completely diminished the company's sway over product competition since it became a blanket term. I'm probably oversimplifying that a bit but it was another interesting educational post I read on here ages ago. I tried looking for it on my blog but the only thing that came up was the post about how they went bankrupt.

Anyway, to an extent I agree with the idea of "new positive context," but like with basically everything, I think there's nuance to it. I think there are times where changing the context behind something simply doesn't work and/or shouldn't be the route people go down, period. And of course there are instances where people abuse the idea and use it as justification for shit they shouldn't. Same kinda deal as "death to the author."

But also the internet (and perhaps younger queers in general in this case?) has a terrible habit of completely disregarding important context or at the very least not acknowledging/respecting said context to the degree they should, if they do so at all. And I'm as sick of that as plenty of other people are.

So I guess that is to say I can see both sides of the argument and am curious to hear if OP (or anyone else) has some additional info that I lack? If there's things about this I can be taught beyond "hey this is an ongoing issue, stop enabling the people who seek to use it to harm us by using it like it's something cute and quirky," I'd really like to learn what those points may be. Especially because then I could take those myself and further spread the word by educating people just like OP.

I think once upon a time I was actually a "we can reclaim this with a new positive context and take the power away from the people who use it to do harm" person myself but then I came across posts like this one and actually put some real thought into the topic and changed my mind? (I say that with uncertainty because I don't actually remember ever explicitly agreeing with takes in favor of the positive context use). Which is another reason I'd appreciate further discussion about why this is a case where "new positive context" shouldn't be the way people go about it. The stronger the argument for it, the better or whatever, right?

Also I'd like to provide a precautionary clarification that I'm asking OP/anyone else here if they have additional insight instead of "googling around" or something myself because I personally tend not to trust stuff like that since misinformation is so rampant, especially with how common the use of ai-generated bullshit is. It's also, in my opinion, better to hear things directly from people you Know for certain are from [group] or have experience with [thing]. I digress.

i fear the battle is lost at this point but i still flinch every time i see "gay panic" used as a cute positive phrase. Like let's go on say wikipedia.org for a second and try typing that one in folks

edit: i caved and looked in the notes and my god you people are stupid. Stop talking about this like it's ancient history. The gay/trans panic defense is quite literally still legal in the majority of the US. Look at this map since you apparently don't have wikipedia or like any kind of search engine on your computers

[jeonscatalyst]

it’s always been interesting to me the difference between how two major ‘fights’ within BTS are told, or three if you include Koobis banana incident 😆

The dumpling fight, and the rainy day fight TM.

I thought about it since hearing Jimin talking about how it took a while for him and Tae to get closer in AYS, and said they did after that big fight. That he shook with rage at the time. The fight never really made sense to me, the dumpling one, as Jimin said it was over petty things, that they often fought over silly things.

Then you’ve got the rainy day fight, and the way they spoke about it at Festa 2020, and in lives in 2023. Both pretty much recounting it exactly the same as the other. I saw a video edit mash up of it but couldn’t find it, where the stories interwove and it’s amazing to see it. But at Festa dinner, with the others reactions, the giggling from Jin and Joon, that it sounds like a k drama, that it sounds like something a couple would do. And it does, it sounds exactly like a k drama, the dramatic pause when JK is lost, the make up in the rain, the hug. It’s so cute, and so endearing to hear them talk about it. How their relationship is essentially so important to them, they made up that night, unlike the dumpling fight, which lasted.

It shows how they really do have a good way of communicating with each other, even back then. And for JK to feel sorry to Jimin for that, and it’s something they can talk about and look back on with fondness almost, is testament to their bond.

Hey anon,

I think the Vmin fight(s) is relatively easy to piece together and understand if you have a solid understanding of their relationship….something many people unfortunately lack.

Jimin and Taehyung were among the members who got close almost immediately after meeting in my opinion. Looking at content from their rookie days, it’s clear that even the other members often pointed to them as the two who were closest. However, while they were friends and close, their relationship at the time seemed more surface-level. They didn’t fully understand, accept, or relate to each other yet. It reminds me of those teenage friendships where you genuinely like each other and have fun together, but the connection lacks a deeper level of understanding. That’s what I believe Vmin’s relationship was like in the beginning.

When Jimin says it took time for him and Tae to become as close as they are now, it doesn’t mean they weren’t friends or weren’t close before. It simply means that, over time, their bond deepened as they grew to better understand and accept each other despite their differences.

In the BTS book, Tae shared that when he first met Jimin, he struggled to understand him. He couldn’t grasp why Jimin pushed himself so hard, why he seemed so passionate, or why he was impatient about achieving his goals. Tae also described Jimin as intense….traits he found hard to relate to at the time. If you know anything about Tae and Jimin, it’s clear they’re fundamentally different people who approach life in very distinct ways. Add to that the fact that they’re the same age, and it’s easy to see how misunderstandings would arise.

I believe their many petty fights and arguments stemmed from these different approaches to life. The dumpling incident, while often highlighted, was more of a boiling point than the root cause of their conflicts. It forced them to address unresolved tensions and misunderstandings. This is why, after that fight, both admitted they’d gained a deeper understanding of each other, which ultimately strengthened their bond and brought them closer to where they are today. The way this fight is often described says a lot about their dynamic and the depth of their relationship.

On the other hand, Jikook’s “rainy day” story perfectly illustrates the foundation of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. Their bond is built on trust, support, and a profound emotional connection. While this wasn’t always apparent during their rookie days, anyone paying close attention could sense the nature of their bond and what it was rooted in.

The other members’ reactions to the rainy day story….rubbing goosebumps away, cringing, or making remarks like “That’s what a couple would do”, reveal how they themselves perceived the story. Even their singing of that angsty romantic taxi driver song adds to this perception. People might try to downplay it, but to me, it’s significant.

This story highlights the depth of Jimin and Jungkook’s emotional connection and how much Jungkook values Jimin’s presence and opinions in his life. It shows how their relationship has always been characterized by healthy communication and an innate ability to reach and support each other. Jungkook feeling bad about it years later underscores just how meaningful that moment was to him.

[nekropsii]

Nekro, I'm very glad to have your blog exist. You are a shining beacon of hope. I need your input on somebody's opinion, somebody's very bad no good opinion. Somebody told me that Cronus and Mituna was just "blackrom flirting", which is supposedly "no different than normal trolls playfighting". They also told me that Cronus is a GENUINE HERO because of Dualscar! I need your input on this. I want you to tell me everything wrong with this. You don't have to, but I just love seeing you analyze stuff and this particular person's statements made me genuinely angry

Hey, thanks! That means a lot, really! <3

This one's easy. I fear I have to put this under the cut, however, due to... Cronus... Cronusing.

Content Warning: Detailed Discussions and Depictions of Abuse and Sexual Assault. Cronus is there.

Absolutely zero indication is given that it is BlackRom Flirting, or even "Flirting" at all. Just because someone is interacting with someone sexually does not mean it is flirting, or even that they're attracted to them. In this case, it is at the barest minimum Sexual Harassment, but if we are being completely honest about the events that are happening on screen, this is Sexual Assault.

Cronus is not attracted to Mituna. This is not BlackRom. This is just abject hatred from someone who is deeply entitled and wishes to control the bodies of his peers, but especially the bodies of those he deems most vulnerable. Some people counter that idea with the fact that he is literally Sexually Assaulting him here, but that requires a major misunderstanding of why people commit Sexual Assault. It is not about Love, or Lust. Oftentimes, rapists are not attracted to their victims at all. Sexual Violence is an act of Violence, not an act of Attraction. Sexual Abuse is, like all other modes of Abuse, about Control, not about Love. Abusers isolate you from your loved ones and limit your access to your money/car/phone to increase their control over you and your ability to flee or get help. They demean you, lovebomb you, and gaslight you to control your sense of self worth and your sanity. They beat you to control your behavior. They sexually assault you to control your entire sense of bodily autonomy. This is how you get Heterosexual Men sexually assaulting other Men or Boys, or Heterosexual Women sexually assaulting other Women or Girls. It is not about attraction, it is about control, and it is about violence. If I may be candid - I've been assaulted more times than I can count in my life. I can safely say that almost every single person who laid their hands on me in that way was in no way attracted to me, they just thought I was an easy target, and wanted to control me because I was an "Other" at the nigh bottom of the social hierarchy. Violence and Control. Not Attraction. Not Love. Not Lust. Pure Violence.

It does not take much thought to realize that Cronus is completely and utterly disgusted by Mituna and everything he represents - it's just that Mituna is also an extremely vulnerable person with extensive issues with communicating due to his speech impediments and his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), and a storied history of not being believed by his peers. He is, in essence, a Perfect Victim.

You do not need to look further for proof on Cronus literally just hating and being disgusted by Mituna than his comment about how he wishes he could kill him for being disabled, and the only reason he didn't was because it would have negative social consequences. Killing Mituna would make him lose control over his own social life. So he doesn't, and he resents Beforus for not being the right kind of Eugenicist to enable that murder. I don't think I need to tell you that this would be a Hate Crime.

I also do not think I need to state that Mituna is not attracted to Cronus, considering the first set of screenshots show nothing but a visceral rejection of all advancements being made towards him. Over and over again, he reiterates his lack of consent, and Cronus just keeps on touching him while constantly Verbally Abusing him for being disabled. At most, one could say Mituna experiences an odd kind of "Fawn Response" to his abuse, possibly hoping that playing the role of a friend will make things not as bad, when really all it does is just open up more opportunities for abuse.

I think it's noteworthy that Mituna has a few speech impediments that effect most of his speech, except for key phrases that he says a lot, and/or is making active effort to say clearly. The implication behind how clearly Mituna is speaking while constantly repeating his lack of consent is positively dismal, especially in conjunction with the fact that Cronus is doing this outside, in a public area, seemingly implying that this is so routine that he isn't even being careful about it anymore... But what's even more depressing is that this clarity continues into Mituna's near constant apologies - many of which are prompted by Cronus, as a reflexive response to abuse.

Also, there's my favorite piece of evidence that this is abuse... The fact that Cronus calls it that, point blank. He just admits to it.

He calls his own actions abuse. Yes, it's sandwiched in... Hmm. Manipulating Meenah to get her off of his case for being abusive towards Mituna by redirecting the guilt onto her for actions that she didn't even do herself...

... But that was still a tacit admission of guilt, was it not? He calls his actions abuse.

Everyone go home. Discourse over. He admits to it. We can all throw bricks at anyone denying it now.

Also, Dualscar was not a hero, and neither is Cronus. Dualscar? Hero? Fucking Dualscar? Orphaner Dualscar was a slave owner who was having a real good time in a BlackRom with a straight up rapist, only to die because he literally couldn't tell a good joke to save his life when he went to tell on her.

The closest Cronus gets to "heroism" is the fact that a prophecy was told to him once, which he assumed to be about him, and then got really upset when it was not about him. It was literally just a Harry Potter joke, though, and also - again - did not happen.

He isn't a hero, he doesn't fill the archetype of a hero, nothing. He's also just pathetic, and now he's the one who's the sexual abuser, rather than Aranea taking that role herself.

Everyone go home. Get outta here. Shoo. SHOO!!!!

Discourse Over!!!!!! I've solved all of it. Thank you for reading.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Pieces of GR63

A/N: I should be sleeping, I’m starting in my new job tomorrow, but I can’t fall asleep, maybe I’m little nervous, but most likely excited. So here are some blurbs that I wrote back in summer and when I was in London in November. I don’t have a whole stories around them, sometimes it comes to me and all I have to do is to feel it and write it. Enjoy it, besties!

———

Monte Carlo

On Monday your boss fired you with no further comment and you took it with grace. Sitting in your car at the parking lot, you looked at the building with sadness.

On your way home, you called George.

“Hey, honey.” He said with warmth in his voice.

“Hi, G.” Your voice soft, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“You cried, didn’t you?” He said with frown.

“Yes.”

“Just go home, love. Pack some things and get to the airport. I’ll manage everything else.”

“But G-George-“

“Shhh… let me take care of you. We’re partners. You’re not in this alone.”

“Mhm… okay.”

“Just breathe. Everything will be okay.”

And just like that, you were walking through the arrivals at the airport in Monte Carlo.

It wasn’t your first time, but you were always taken aback how lucky you are to be there.

Someone was supposed to wait for you at the arrivals hall. You looked around and there he was. George himself was there.

Immediately you were in his arms, nearly losing it again and crying.

“Welcome home, love.” He whispered to your hair, while you nuzzled your face into his chest.

London boy

The buzz of the city was undying as you watched over it from the rooftop lounge, sipping on your drink. Your mind was calm and swirling in happiness, making you smile.

“You’re beautiful.”

Turning your look at the man sitting across the small table with you, smiling widely, because he was the main cause of your happiness.

“I love this city.” You whispered while sipping your drink.

“And here I thought that you love me.”

You chuckled at his words, placing the glass down the table and reaching for his hand over the it.

“George, you know that you’re the one I love the most.”

“I know. I’m just teasing you, love. I know how much you love London. That’s why I booked this trip for your birthday.”

George smiled, his big blue eyes gleaming with love for you as you were the centre of his universe, his safe haven, his everything.

Birthday

There was a celebration for your birthday. You were chatting with your family, George watching you from the corner of the room with admiration. Your family was genuinely happy for you, because you found what you really wanted - the man, who takes care of you, cherish you.

Standing up from the table with a clink to the glass of champagne, getting everybody’s attention, your speech started.

“I’d like to thank you for this celebration, it means a lot for me. I would never ever imagine, that we will meet here together. There is something I want to announce.”

Your eyes found George, he understood quickly and he moved through the room to stand beside you.

“As you know, we love each other so much and I simply can’t bear the fact and feeling of being far away from George. He’s my soulmate, my partner, my everything. So, I’m moving in with him to his apartment in Monaco.”

Everybody of your family went speechless. They simply didn’t expect this. You weren’t one of those girls, who would move your whole life because of a man.

But surprisingly, your father walked to you first, the glint of tears in his eyes as he hugged you tightly.

“I’m proud of you, baby. Be happy.”

———

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

[littlemisssilly]

Hey!! This is just a little something I wrote to be purely self indulgent,, anyway enjoy some Vox x Situationship!Reader :>

Warnings: a lot of angst (fluffy ending though!), mentions of Valentino being violent/abusive

[Note: I am aware this may be slightly OOC but! I don’t care this is for fun lol]

Replacements and Repairs

— When Vox gets his screen smashed, he can’t replace it alone. Unconveniently for him, the only person around to help is you.

Vox cringed as he fumbled his way up to his penthouse, so uncomfortably uncoordinated it would have had his head spinning if it wasn’t currently smashed to thousands of shards. He was completely blind in one eye and partially in the other, making the simple action of getting into an elevator, pressing the button, and getting access to his own damn house much more difficult than he would’ve liked.

Damnnit, Valentino, he cursed in his mind; which was already a glitching mess considering the damage made to his hardware had also affected his software. He’d have to change his screen, most definitely, which was impossible because Velvette was out of town and his new assistant had just been murdered in the latest extermination. So there was no one. No one, except for one person.

You.

He groaned inwardly, dreading the concept of having to phone up his - were you a friend? - sure, he’d call you a friend, because it actually physically hurt him to think any harder than he already was doing. Clawed fingers fumbled blindly at the elevator buttons until he found what he only hoped was the top floor. Vulnerability was not his thing, and the concept of you seeing him like this? He wasn’t feeling fantastic. In fact, he was beginning to feel ill.

But he knew without a doubt that you would come. It was that genuine care he constantly felt radiating off of you that proved to him that you weren’t going anywhere. He couldn’t figure out why.

For whatever reason, you never wavered. You were electric, with a witty tongue that he just thrived off of. And now you’d have to see him like this.

No, maybe he could wait until the morning. He could wait until Velvette came home again. Vox recalled the last time he did that, then recalled the excruciating pain he woke up in, and frustratedly decided against it.

Fuck it. He’d just have to call and hypnotise you after.

His screen no longer functioned as a phone, so he reached for the handheld one in his pocket and eventually found your contact. Hesitantly he dialed the number, stumbling through the door of his penthouse and onto a nearby couch. His head really hurt now.

You were in bed, tired eyes blinking through a yawn when your phone buzzed, moving slightly across the chipped wood of your bedside table from the vibrations. Lazily you picked it up, only to find the exhaustion leave your body when your eyes met the screen and saw that it was Vox calling. What did he want past midnight? It wasn’t the first time he had called so late, but you had thought for sure he told you he was staying in tonight, so he wasn’t out getting shitfaced. Was he at home getting shitfaced? No, Vox was much too busy to spare a night he hadn’t specifically scheduled. You sighed - the man was so unpredictable - and nervously answered the call.

“Vox, hey,” your soft voice crackled through the phone speaker, and the overlord winced, his head sensitive to volume.

“Doll, I need you to come to the penthouse right now.” he replied, cursing the way his voice glitched with each word.

You frowned from your side of the line, sitting up in bed. You were half dressed, coat discarded lazily on the corner of a chair, your hair unruly and shirt wrinkled. Yes, it wasn’t anything new to get a call from the TV demon this late at night - but this sounded different. A sickening feeling bloomed in your stomach as you began to ramble a string of concerned words.

“Of course, are- are you okay? What’s going on? I’ll be right there.” Things like that tumbled past your lips as you pulled your shoes on. Vox never asked for help - you paled at the thought that something bad had happened to him.

Vox cringed at your words, knowing that there was no going back at this point. He leaned back in his chair in a desperate attempt to accommodate his discomfort, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and to the side. Satan, he was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. If only he had kept his mouth shut in the middle of one of Valentino’s episodes - Vox knew better, yet he screamed at him anyway. The moth was never one to hold back in the midst of an outburst. And Valentino was stronger than he seemed.

Minutes passed. Vox waited. You arrived, pushing windswept hair out of your face as you closed the door gently behind yourself. You stifled a horrified gasp, practically running up to him as you took in the damage. Vox would’ve been embarrassed, only for the pain he was currently in.

“Tell me what I need to do,” you whispered, fingers reaching out to steady his twitching hands. Vox tensed at the unprompted touch, hands jerking away and up towards the back of his head. He grit his teeth hard, clawed fingers searching for discreet buttons near the base of his neck.

“There’s a replacement screen in my bedroom, it’s with all the tech, you’ll know where it is,” Vox said, struggling against his failing machinery. “All you have to do is hold this button here for twenty seconds, then this screen will turn off and you can screw it off. Got it?” Shaking hands pointed at the button he was instructing you to, and you nodded anxiously.

“Yes, of course. Yes, okay, I can do this,” you mumble, reassuring yourself that you weren’t going to somehow kill the overlord in the process of doing some replacement work. This would be fine, right? You swallowed. Your fingers reached for the button tentatively, pressing down on the sleek ridge in the screen for twenty seconds. Vox went limp in your arms, his body completely switched off.

Shit, don’t panic! you thought, trembling as you readjusted him to be more upright. You could almost pretend he was sleeping as you hastily went to retrieve the replacement. You knew exactly where it was. You had been in this room plenty of times, after all, and yet it had been a total shock when Vox had called for this purpose. Maybe he was beginning to trust you? You quickly shoved the thought aside, internally berating yourself for thinking about the complexity of your relationship instead of getting to his side faster.

The changing of the screen itself was particularly easy, despite how unnerving it was to see him headless. You decided you never wanted to do that again - and pressed the same button at the base of his neck once more when the new screen was fully screwed on.

A minute passed where a blank blue screen was the only light source in the room, his system clearly rebooting after needing an entire replacement. You stayed dutifully by his side, careful to stay far enough away that you wouldn’t startle him upon waking up.

When his systems started up again and his face was displayed back on the screen, he initially gasped for air and blinked hard, wildly searching the room around him. Piercing red eyes quickly met your gentle ones and he instinctively relaxed, looking up at you from where he sat slumped at an angle.

You smiled earnestly, feeling out of place in such an open moment with Vox - you almost felt like you should’ve left. But you didn’t.

“You okay? Did I do that right?” you asked, careful to be quiet in fear of overstimulating him after a full reboot. It felt right to be quiet anyway, given that the penthouse was so dark currently. There were no lights on, only the dim blue hue emanating from Vox’s screen and the streetlamps that glowed through large glass windows. It felt easier to be encased in the dark, alone with him; like the two of you could say or do whatever you liked and it was okay because you wouldn’t feel exposed.

He broke your eye contact, eyes searching his palms, small cuts littering here and there from the broken glass. Vox looked up at you again, sitting there so loyally, and he would’ve groaned in humiliation if it weren’t for the sweet look on your face.

“You did it just fine,” Vox was quiet for a moment. “And thank you.” he added after quick consideration, ready to hypnotise you into forgetting.

But he couldn’t do it. The second he met your eyes again he couldn’t do it, because you were good, maybe the only good thing in his life. You cared about him without him needing to manipulate you into it. And that was rare, and he didn’t know if he would ever get that again; so he sat up instead, beckoning you over to his side on the couch.

You obliged, sitting close to him, placing a kiss on the side of his new screen before allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder as you cuddled into his side. His fans kicked on at the action, whirring gently in the background. You didn’t say anything, just merely concealed giggles as he huffed, sliding a defeated hand down his screen.

“I hate you,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes.

“I like you too, idiot.” you chirped, grinning to yourself in the darkness.

Neither of you knew what the morning would bring. But you’d stay in the dark for a while, and that would be okay.

[notcaycepollard]

hey, I hope this is okay to ask since you’re now talking about stackie on here again.

do you have thoughts on what happened between them, like genuinely. do you think they were just friends with benefits, fell in love along the way and til this day these feelings are still there, or more? sometimes seb says these painfully sincere things about him that make it sound like he’s in love with him and sometimes he’s all snarky and says he hates him. without even too much tinhatting what do you think about them?

okay so I’m gonna lay out a range of Scenarios in decreasing likelihood/increasing tinhatting, on the agreement that we are all just foolin around thinking out some thoughts none of this is real and I do have a hold on my normal brain

1) the intense situational friendship

we’ve all been there. A workplace that puts you in constant intense contact with each other and destroys your ability to maintain normal external life while you’re in the middle of it (filming, press tour) and before you know it you’re trauma bonding over cigarettes in the back of the parking lot and swearing you’ll be bffs forever and nobody knows you like they know you

and then you quit or the film wraps or the junket is over and you make all this big noise about staying friends and catching up but inevitably your new reality begins to get in the way, plus after a year or two you can’t sustain catch ups that revolve around work gossip when you’re not in the middle of that shit anymore, and it’s not that either of you are deliberately fading out it’s just that friendships like that naturally ebb over time but u still got a soft spot for your guy your pal your best marvel bro

2) the intense situational friendship but you act a little gay about it

maybe you’re gay, maybe you’re not, some straight dudes are pretty fun about idle gay flirting for the bit, and platonic chemistry looks like flirtation from the outside anyway so you let everyone give you the side eye and keep sharing cigarettes in a way that’s a little bit too close for anyone to NOT wonder

3) the intense situational work-crush, one-sided

it’s the above but one of you is super gay about it for real not for the bit

and maybe you know or maybe you don’t, maybe the other guy knows or maybe HE don’t, as above some straight dudes will just flirt for the bit but anyway it’s more likely he doesn’t know it’s real for you or at least he’s gonna keep the facade up

so you say some weird stuff to and about each other and play it up for the interviews and it could pass for platonic chemistry but you gotta keep the yearning on lock or you wind up accidentally looking at your work friend like he’s the sun moon and stars and then you’re lying in bed that night like FUCK did I make it TOO weird

(if it was gonna be weird he wouldn’t be constantly telling you your hair is so great and touching it in a way that makes you shiver and want something you’re not ever gonna give shape to even inside your own head)

(like running his fingers through and taking hold at the nape of your neck and threatening idly to pull it for real not for jokes, and you do wonder just once before you can catch yourself, what would it be like if he followed up with a kiss or, like, setting his teeth in the side of your throat and biting down just a little)

usually it’s recoverable if you don’t admit to or talk about your feelings, it’ll pass when you’re not spending 16 hours a day in each other’s company but he’ll hug you years later at the golden globes and he’ll still smell so good and you WILL feel Something that sort of hurts but in a mostly good way

maybe years later you’ll have worked through it and gotten a secure-attachment real life boyfriend and you’ll idly refer to that big crush you had and it won’t feel like you’re choking on acid it’ll just be Haha Wow Remember That One Time When

4) the casual work friends-with-bennies

you’re both cool! you both like to kiss on the mouth and also suck a dick occasionally! you’re never gonna come out about it because it’s hollywood but it makes a film shoot a lot more fun when you can blow off some steam in your trailer

you can drop it at the end of filming and pick it back up when you get signed for a Disney plus show together and it’s fine, it’s chill, it’s a truly optimal outcome

5) the casual work friends-with-bennies but one of you caught feelings

oh bud. we’re in mess territory and you’re gonna get burned by it but you already know that and the best you can hope for is that once you’re not fucking the feelings will fade

in all honesty it’ll still burn you less than scenario 3 because an intense friendship like that takes you so much deeper into casual intimacy but on the other hand you DO know what his dick feels like halfway down your throat and let’s be real, the smart thing to do would be call it off but the sex is too good so you’re just waiting it out for the crash

and the crash is bad, obviously, you finish the press tour and go home and if you push down you can still feel the last bruise-bite but you’re back to texting once a month and hearing about each other through social media instead of in person

you’ll do it again though because you are a sucker for punishment and it’ll be just as good slash just as bad

6) the intense situational work friendship turned friends-with-bennies

[ralph wiggum voice] haha you’re in danger

and I want to tell you that you’re BOTH in danger but let’s be real, one of you is way more likely to get real feelings about it and once that happens it’s all over for you because while he’s going, yeah this is cool I like to suck a dick occasionally and I also like my good buddy so what a good combination, you’re drawing love hearts in the margins of your script and thinking about a romantic holiday to Romania

you will end filming and he will go “good game man let’s catch up next time we’re in the same city” and you will feel something catch in your heart

all I can say is that at least you entered into the fucking part of this on the basis of true friendship and the feelings didn’t arrive until after you were already fucking. it’s still not great. It’s bad. But at least there’s that.

7) intense situational work-crush (one-sided) turned friends-with-bennies

we are in the game over zone. you are not in danger you are surrounded on all sides by forest fire and there’s no way out. you have signed up for a prolonged broken heart and [radiohead voice] you did it to yourself

either you pretend forever that you did not have a crush before you started fucking and you don’t have a crush now, and you silently suffer through losing the brief joy of getting to kiss when filming ends (bad) or you admit to your feelings and your friend tells you with grace and sympathy that he does not feel the same way (worse) or you hide your feelings so poorly that you act like a total asshole and when you do eventually admit to it the entire edifice of friendship is torn down by the force of your repressed emotion (worst).

appendix: what if they both had feelings?

no I’m sorry I simply don’t think this is realistic I think AT MOST it was a love affair where one person liked the other quite a lot but the other was in it Too Deep and that was unsustainable long-term.

anyway, my only other contribution is that apparently sebstan’s current girlfriend previously dated chris pine. for four years. isn’t that interesting? chris pine, now that’s a man with some perplexingly undefinable energy. some would say, that man is a lesbian. just interesting to me that an aspiring model slash actress would date an extremely lesbian man for four years and then two months after breaking up would get together with ol sebastian, a man who was apparently spotted celebrating his 40th with said girlfriend and a passel of other pals including his long-time buddy chace crawford.

which could mean nothing, obviously. but it’s interesting. that’s all.

[amaya-143]

Ive always kinda said that I'm a lot like mirabelle, and i am we act a lot alike, but I also feel i understand Siffrin in a way that goes beyond a reader perspective. I think part of the reason i not only relate, but love and understand Siffrin as a character is the way he processes trauma and his feelings around what hurts them. I'm obviously not a psychiatrist, nor am i waving my hand and saying 'Hey hey this fella has THIS i am DIAGNOSING' I'm more just kind of ranting about a character stuck in my brain a lot (along with Basil from omori, i could write about them forever). However i am throwing around a few terms just because that is MY own take on him. consider this a little disclaimer

Obviously, post canon is post canon for a reason WE KNOW NOTHING OFFICIAL ABOUT IT but. I feel as though i can imagine Post Canon Siffrin struggling with PTSD. And i know that's a term that kinda gets thrown around when a character goes through something traumatic, but i mean genuine Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not every major trauma causes it, but i strongly see Sif developing it post loops. Especially in one aspect. I know a lot of Post Canon Fics, especially Siffrin centric ones, tackle the idea of them having flashbacks or confusion, believing they're back in the loops and reciting the usual script again, and to me that makes sense. i agree. But something i think about a lot is Sif's take on his trauma.

There is no typical reaction or response to your trauma, and there is no set way to describe it, but i believe Siffrin to refer to his life surrounding his trauma as 'Before the loops' and 'After the loops'. This isn't a typical time travel game. LIFE DOESN'T JUST MOVE ON. Frin has experienced a trauma so catastrophic he now refers to things happening before or after the event. THE event. We can already see this happening ingame, when Siffrin Questions if he acted certain ways before the loops, When Mira asks him if they remember last week, the question about them enjoying the journey, Siffrin's inner dialouge says *You don't.*

Which, yeah, they've been in the loops for A WHILE. it makes sense they don't remember, I'm completely acknowledging that, but i think this could also be taken in a, the loops are siffrins whole life, way. its not just a 'wow time has passed and nobody else knows hahahha' moment its also a 'i have forgotten this thing because this event that is currently happening to me is taking up all my thoughts and energy'

Which thats all pretty obvious, right? My point of that is to say that i don't think that would just END after the loops. I don't think Siffrin would recover well at all. I think they'd have Ptsd for even years to come. Their life has literally been altered, yet again. You don't move on from that easy.

i was going to go all in depth about the way they respond to the idea of the loops and also how the north island trauma feeds into the fear of being forgotten but GOD knows ive been writing long enough

[redvexillum]

Sixth Kiss: Burning

A/N: This is part of a mini series guys. I will release the related stories in a neat and tidy masterlist after! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Caught between the past and the future, Charlie clings to a love that no longer belongs to her. Haunted by guilt and unresolved feelings, she tries to move on with you—a hellborn offering her comfort and kindness.

Charlie entrusted Vaggie with not just her heart, but her very essence. Their meeting had felt predestined, etched into the fabric of Hell's chaotic tapestry. She remembered it vividly: Vaggie, crumpled and bleeding in a shadowed alleyway, the air thick with the acrid scent of recent extermination. Without hesitation, Charlie had knelt beside her, gently lifting her battered form, her touch tender and resolute. 

From that moment, Charlie's world transformed. The darkness of Hell seemed a little less oppressive. Her laughter rang truer, her steps carried more purpose, and her smile felt genuine in a way it hadn’t for years. Vaggie became her anchor, her confidante, and her unwavering ally in the task of challenging Heaven's dominion. Together, they faced the insurmountable. 

Together, they were unstoppable. 

Until the day they weren’t. 

The first cracks in their perfect veneer came when they had first entered Heaven together to vouch for sinners. Adam revealed the dark truth of Vaggie's past. 

Vaggie had been an angel. 

Not just any angel—an exterminator, one of Heaven’s elite enforcers, charged with purging Hell's denizens. The woman who had held Charlie with such tenderness had once wielded celestial weapons with merciless precision, extinguishing countless souls without remorse. 

Charlie’s heart fractured. Her mind raced, grasping for any explanation that would make it a lie. But Vaggie’s eyes, brimming with regret, held no deception. The weight of that truth crushed Charlie, leaving her adrift in a sea of betrayal. 

What stung more? The revelation that Vaggie had been one of Heaven’s hunters? Or the knowledge that she had kept this from Charlie for years, hiding a past soaked in blood? 

The hotel became a prison of unspoken words and stifled emotions. Their interactions, once effortless, now felt heavy with unvoiced confessions and lingering guilt. Charlie carried her grief quietly, trying to maintain the facade of a hopeful princess while her heart ached for a love she no longer knew how to trust. 

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice you calling out to her. Your voice, light and teasing, broke through her reverie. 

“Hey,” you called, tilting your head with playful curiosity. “What’s got you so serious, cupcake?” 

Your gentle nudge pulled a soft, startled laugh from Charlie. She rubbed her neck sheepishly. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Just… a lot on my mind.” 

Your expression shifted to one of concern, tempered by understanding. “Heavy stuff, huh?” 

Charlie nodded. The ache of her unresolved feelings for Vaggie never quite left her. The hotel bustled with life and laughter, but none of it could fill the hollow space Vaggie had left behind. 

It was Angel Dust, ever the meddlesome yet well-meaning friend, who first suggested a dating app. Charlie had refused outright. “I’m not ready,” she insisted. But loneliness is insidious, and one quiet night, it led her to download the app in secret. 

Cinder. 

Her profile was cautious, her bio short and to the point. And then there was you—a match she hadn’t expected. From the start, Charlie was transparent. “I’m not looking for anything serious,” she had typed, her fingers hesitant. To her relief, you accepted it without question, never pushing for more than she could offer. 

Your conversations became a balm. You made her laugh, your humour lightening the weight she carried. Yet, guilt lingered, gnawing at the edges of her heart. No matter how much she enjoyed your company, part of her felt like she was betraying Vaggie—even though they were no longer together. 

“So, you’re still planning that New Year’s party at the hotel, right?” you asked, pulling out your phone. “Maybe we can hang out a bit before or after? No pressure.” 

Charlie blinked, her heart twisting with emotion. Your kindness was disarming—never demanding, always respectful of her boundaries. 

“That sounds nice,” she whispered, a soft smile curving her lips. “I know!” Charlie gasped, her entire face lighting up with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Her crimson eyes sparkled as a beaming smile spread across her lips. “What if you come to the party too?” The words tumbled out in a rush, her excitement momentarily eclipsing the anxiety that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. 

She puffed out her chest in a show of confidence, though a tremor of uncertainty whispered beneath her bravado. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, and she took a steadying breath. “I should…” Charlie paused, her voice faltering as her gaze dropped to the floor. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, each beat a reminder of the fragile hope she clung to. “I want to introduce you to everyone as my… p-partner.” 

The word hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken fears and lingering guilt. Charlie’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a stark contrast to her usual sunny demeanour. Shame prickled at the edges of her mind, mingling with the ache of unresolved emotions. Vaggie’s face flashed in her thoughts—those sorrowful eyes, the silent hurt—and it twisted something deep inside her. 

The pain of letting go. 

The guilt of moving on. 

“Oh?” you smirked, an amused glint in your eyes as you raised a brow. “A partner, huh?” There was a teasing lilt to your voice as you crossed your arms and leaned in slightly. “Shall I dress up for the occasion? It’s a hotel full of sinners, right?” 

Your playful tone brought a momentary reprieve from the weight in Charlie’s chest. She giggled, the sound light but tinged with nervous energy. “No—I mean, unless you want to.” Her laughter faltered slightly, and she pressed her palms together, wringing them in an anxious gesture. “It’s really up to you. You look amazing as always!” She threw her arms out in a grand gesture, as if presenting you to an invisible audience. Her nervous chuckle trailed off, leaving a fragile silence in its wake. 

You snorted softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips before you reached out, your hand gentle as it cupped the side of Charlie’s face. The sudden warmth of your touch made her breath hitch, and her eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“Are you really alright?” you asked quietly, your gaze searching hers with genuine concern. There was no judgment in your tone, only a soft, steady patience that made her chest tighten with emotion. 

Charlie’s heart stuttered painfully, her guilt clawing at her insides. She wanted to be honest with you. She wanted to offer you the same openness and vulnerability that you gave her. But she couldn’t—not fully. The weight of her unresolved feelings for Vaggie hung heavy in the air between you. 

Her smile wavered, a fragile thing barely holding itself together. “Y-yeah, I am,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. Her eyes darted away, unable to hold your gaze for too long. 

Silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded with emotions neither of you dared to voice. Finally, you pulled your hand away, the absence of your touch leaving a cold, aching void despite the ever-present heat of Hell. Charlie’s cheek tingled where your palm had rested, the ghost of your warmth lingering. 

“I-I should go,” she stammered, her hands fluttering nervously. “Lots to prepare and all that.” 

You nodded, your expression softening with understanding. “Yeah, I’ve got to get back to work too.” There was a hint of something wistful in your voice as you added, “I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

Charlie forced a smile, her lips stretching in an attempt to hide the turmoil roiling inside her. “See you tonight,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. 

As she turned and walked away, each step felt heavier than the last. The guilt clung to her like a shroud, wrapping tighter with every breath she took. The hotel loomed ahead, a familiar beacon in the fiery landscape of the Pride Ring. But today, it felt more like a mausoleum—a place where memories of love and loss intertwined, suffocating her with their weight. 

When she entered the grand lobby, her heart sank further at the sight before her. 

Vaggie stood near the front desk, her sharp eyes softened with an expression Charlie hadn’t seen in a long time. She wasn’t alone. The hotel’s newest resident—a sinner with a striking appearance and a charming smile—was leaning in close, their body language intimate, their laughter soft and easy. 

Charlie’s heart twisted painfully, jealousy burning hot and bitter in her chest. She had noticed them growing closer with each passing day, their interactions more frequent, their conversations filled with quiet familiarity. It shouldn’t have mattered. Vaggie deserved happiness, just as Charlie did. 

But the sight of them together—it hurt. 

Their laughter faded as Vaggie’s gaze lifted, locking onto Charlie’s from across the room. For a moment, time seemed to slow. Vaggie’s eyes held a flicker of something—regret, perhaps? Sadness? Whatever it was, it made Charlie’s chest ache even more. 

But then, slowly, Vaggie looked away. 

Charlie swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she forced herself to keep walking. Each step felt like a battle against the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. 

Everything felt so complicated. 

Why did she have to fall in love with an exterminator? 

If Vaggie had been a sinner from the start, would things have been different? Would their love have been simpler, easier? 

Where had Charlie’s love truly begun? She couldn't say. Maybe it sprouted the first time she saw Vaggie lying broken in an alleyway, fierce and proud despite her wounds. Or perhaps it bloomed later, in stolen glances and soft conversations shared in the quiet corners of the hotel. 

But now? That love twisted inside her like a vine covered in thorns. It wasn't gentle anymore. It was a maelstrom—a swirling storm of confusion, bitterness, pettiness, rage, and frustration. Every emotion clashed against the other, and she couldn’t see the right path through the haze. 

Every road stretched out before her like a fire-lit bridge, burning at both ends. No matter which way she turned, the flames consumed her. 

And Charlie… Charlie felt trapped. 

On New Year’s Eve, the hotel gleamed with a festive glow. Strings of lights sparkled in gold and crimson, casting warm hues across the lobby. Music floated through the air, blending with the low hum of chatter from the gathered sinners. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Charlie’s heart was heavy with anticipation and dread. 

When you entered through the grand doors, her face lit up instantly. “You made it!” she greeted, her voice bright with practised cheer. Her hand reached for yours, squeezing lightly, as though drawing strength from the simple touch. 

You glanced around the hotel, taking in the decorations. “Nice setup,” you commented, your gaze lingering on the lavish display of firework-themed banners and the elegantly arranged tables. 

Charlie giggled, a soft, nervous sound that betrayed the turmoil underneath. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” Her fingers laced with yours as she led you through the hotel, pointing out each decorated room, each carefully crafted centrepiece. Her voice bubbled with excitement, but her grip tightened just a little too much. 

As you reached the lounge, Angel Dust appeared from behind a curtain of streamers, his ever-present smirk widening as he spotted you. “Well, hello there,” he drawled, one brow arching playfully. “Charlie, darling—who’s the hottie?” 

Charlie froze mid-step, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. Her eyes darted nervously between Angel, your intertwined hands, and your calm expression. The word she wanted to say—partner—caught in her throat, sticking like a jagged stone. 

The pause stretched too long, and you noticed it. 

With a casual shrug, you released her hand, slipping easily into the role she was too afraid to define. “We’re just friends,” you said smoothly, flashing a devil-may-care grin that masked any disappointment you might have felt. “Cool place you’ve got here. Any drinks?” 

Angel’s eyes glinted with amusement as he crossed his arms. “Now you’re speaking my language, sugar. Come on, let’s hit the bar.” He tossed a wink at Charlie before steering you toward Husk, who sat grumpily behind the counter nursing a glass of whisky. 

Charlie stood rooted in place, her hand lingering in the air where yours had been moments ago. The warmth of your touch had already faded, leaving her feeling colder than before. 

She could feel the unspoken judgment hanging in the air. The voices in her head whispered cruel truths. 

I'm being unfair to them. I'm stringing them along. I should let them go if I can’t give them everything. 

Her heart clenched painfully. She wanted to scream at herself. Wanted to take it all back. Wanted to run after you and tell you the truth. 

But before she could move, a familiar voice cut through the festive air. 

“Hey.” 

Charlie’s heart lurched as she whirled around to see Vaggie standing just a few feet away. Her expression was guarded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. There was a tension in the way she stood, a stiffness that spoke of discomfort and unease. But there was something else, too—a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, as if she was bracing herself for rejection. 

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat. “O-oh! Hi!” Her shoulders lifted in an awkward hitch as she forced a bright smile. “Long time no… see?” 

The moment the words left her lips, she winced inwardly. Long time no see? Seriously? You saw her ten minutes ago putting up decorations, you idiot. 

Vaggie’s lips twitched, forming a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant. The air between them felt heavy with everything unsaid. 

Silence descended like a weight, pressing down on both of them. The sounds of laughter and music from the party faded into the background, leaving only the awkward tension hanging between them. 

Charlie opened her mouth to speak— 

“Uhm—” 

Only for Vaggie to do the same— 

“So—” 

They both stopped, eyes widening as they realized they had spoken at the same time. A nervous laugh bubbled from Charlie, and she gestured for Vaggie to go first. “You—you go ahead.” 

Vaggie took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she looked up, her expression softening. “I just… wanted to wish you a happy New Year.” 

The words were simple, but the emotion behind them wasn’t. There was a rawness to her tone, a quiet longing that Charlie recognized all too well. It mirrored her own feelings—the ache of something broken, something lost, that neither of them had figured out how to mend. 

Charlie’s heart twisted painfully. She wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, to take Vaggie’s hand like she used to. But fear held her back—fear of rejection, fear of causing more hurt, fear of the truths that still lingered unspoken between them. 

“Happy New Year,” Charlie whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. 

The conversation with Vaggie had been stilted and awkward—nothing like what it used to be. The warmth, the ease they once shared, was a distant memory now. Every word between them felt scrambled, like pieces of a puzzle that no longer fit together. The silence that followed stretched painfully, and Charlie knew neither of them had the courage to fill it. 

Politely, Vaggie thanked Charlie, her voice strained and tight, before walking away.

You returned then, two drinks in hand, a smile that managed to steady the chaos in her mind for just a moment. 

“You alright?” you asked, your gaze soft but searching. 

Charlie wasn’t alright. She wasn’t even close to alright. But the last thing she wanted was to drag you deeper into her emotional mess—a storm you didn’t deserve to weather. 

So, she lied. 

“I’m perfectly fine!” Her voice pitched higher than she intended, and she winced at the sound. The forced cheer made her cringe inside, but she quickly covered it with a nervous laugh, hoping to drown out the tension. 

You raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but you didn’t press her. Instead, you handed her a drink, your fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Right,” you said with a smirk. “Well, let’s get this party started?” 

That easy grin of yours—the way you could shake off discomfort so effortlessly—made something tighten in Charlie’s chest. She could only muster a smile in return, grateful you weren’t pushing her for more. 

The party unfolded around her, a whirlwind of music, laughter, and revelry. The hotel came alive with sinners dancing, drinks flowing, and voices raised in celebration. The atmosphere was light, carefree… and yet, Charlie couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on her shoulders. 

She watched you mingle, saw how easily you slipped into conversation with the other guests. Your laughter was genuine, your charm disarming. People gravitated toward you, drawn by your easygoing nature and devil-may-care attitude. 

And that’s when it struck her. 

She was being unfair to you. 

You liked her. She knew that. It was in every lingering glance, every soft touch, every time you went out of your way to make her smile. You’d been patient—so patient—with her, waiting for her to take that final step. To admit she wanted more than friendship. But she couldn’t. Not when her heart was still tangled in memories of Vaggie. 

Charlie barely sipped her drink, the same glass you’d handed her hours ago still cradled in her hands. She traced the rim absentmindedly before finally taking a deep breath and downing the whole thing in one go. The burn of alcohol did little to ease the ache inside her. 

Her eyes scanned the room instinctively, searching… for her. 

But Vaggie was nowhere to be found. 

Disappointment settled heavily in Charlie’s chest, and she scolded herself for it. Let it go. You need to let her go. 

The countdown began. 

Charlie stood at your side, joining in the chant along with the rest of the crowd, but her heart pounded louder than the music. Each number ticked by like a timer counting down to something inevitable. 

Ten… nine… eight… 

Her palms were sweaty, and she rubbed them against her pants, her fingers curling into tight fists. The nervous energy buzzing through her body made her dizzy. 

Seven… six… five… 

Was this it? At the stroke of midnight, would you kiss her? Would that change everything? Would it finally silence the lingering thoughts of Vaggie in her mind? Would she move on? Could she?

Four… three… 

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. 

Two… one… 

A cheer erupted as the clock struck midnight. All around her, people embraced, sharing small kisses and well-wishes for the new year. Charlie’s gaze flickered to yours. You were already looking at her. 

Her heart stuttered. 

Slowly, she closed her eyes, bracing herself. She waited—for the brush of your lips against hers, for the moment that might change everything. 

But what she felt instead was a soft, fleeting kiss… against her cheek. 

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. You were still close, but the kiss hadn’t been what she expected. Instead of leaning in for more, you took a step back, giving her a smile that was gentle but distant. 

“Happy New Year, cupcake.” 

Charlie’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind raced, scrambling to piece together what had just happened. She searched your face for answers, and what she saw there made her heart ache. 

Your expression said everything she hadn’t wanted to admit. 

“I—” she started, her voice catching in her throat. 

But you lifted a hand, pressing a gentle finger to her lips to stop her. 

“Listen,” you began softly. “It’s been fun. It really has.” There was no bitterness in your voice, only a quiet resignation that made the edges of Charlie’s vision blur with unshed tears. “But you and I both know… that’s all this is. Right?” 

Charlie’s chest constricted painfully. Her eyes stung as the cusp of a goodbye hung between you. 

She wanted to apologize—to tell you how sorry she was for stringing you along for months, for being too scared to confront her feelings. But the words wouldn’t come. They caught in her throat, heavy with guilt. 

Her lips trembled. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“I know,” you said softly, your thumb brushing away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “You’ve been carrying a lot, Charlie. More than you should have to.” Your smile was sad, wistful. “But I think we both deserve something more than… this.” 

Charlie’s heart shattered at the kindness in your words. She expected anger, frustration—something to make her feel the consequences of her mistakes. But you weren’t angry. You were understanding, even now. 

It made her guilt all the worse. 

Her breath hitched as more tears slipped down her cheeks. She bit her lip, struggling to keep from sobbing. 

“I wanted to be the one that could mend your broken heart,” you admitted. “But I can’t wait forever. And you shouldn’t have to force yourself to move on just because I’m here.” 

The words pierced through her, shattering the walls she’d been desperately holding up. Her shoulders shook as she fought to keep herself together. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I get it,” you murmured softly, brushing away a tear that slipped down Charlie’s cheek. Your touch was gentle, lingering just long enough to steady her trembling frame. As your fingers traced her skin, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against hers. The closeness—so intimate, so tender—felt like a final goodbye wrapped in kindness. 

“Loving a sinner is hard, after all,” you hummed thoughtfully, your voice quiet but carrying the weight of something unspoken. 

Charlie choked back a sob, her body shaking as she clasped her hands together in a prayer for forgiveness. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. The apology felt woefully inadequate—too small, too late. 

You pulled her closer, shielding her from onlookers, though the surrounding crowd was too drunk or distracted to notice the way her world was falling apart. 

“I think sinners have a New Year’s resolution,” you said with a soft chuckle, the sound bittersweet in her ears. “Strange, isn’t it?” 

Charlie blinked through her tears, confused but captivated by the warmth in your voice. 

“Maybe this year, our resolution should be to face our fears head-on,” you added, parting from her gently, as if afraid to let go entirely. 

It was at that moment that realization hit Charlie with the force of a dump truck. 

She never asked you about your fears. Your troubles. Your burdens. 

You had been her rock for months, a steady hand pulling her through her turmoil. But she hadn’t returned the favour. She’d been selfish, wrapped up in her own pain, too blinded by her unresolved feelings for Vaggie to see how much you had quietly endured. 

Her chest ached with shame, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she covered her mouth with trembling hands. “I’ve been a terrible partner...a terrible friend,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “I… I never meant to hurt you.” 

A soft laugh escaped you—a sad, knowing sound that cut deeper than any harsh words could have. 

“I won’t lie,” you said gently, reaching out to ruffle her hair, the familiar gesture making her heart clench painfully. Strands of blonde fell messily over her face, but she didn’t move to fix them. “It’s not great, feeling like a rebound.” 

Charlie flinched at the word. Rebound. It hit harder than she expected. 

“But hey,” you shrugged, as if trying to make light of your own pain, “it is what it is.” 

She wanted to argue, to deny that you’d ever been a rebound. But the truth was undeniable, sitting heavy between you both. 

“It’s been fun, though,” you continued, your smile bright but tinged with melancholy. “Take care of yourself, Charlie.” 

With that, you took a step back. And then another. Until you turned away. 

Charlie’s gaze locked on your retreating figure, her vision blurring with tears. Her lips parted to call out—to stop you—but no sound came. Her voice failed her, just as it always did when it mattered most. 

And so, she watched. 

It was only then that Charlie realized what you had done. You had given her mercy—something she never would have had the strength to give herself. You ended things gently, gracefully. You had set her free, knowing she was too tangled in her past to ever do it on her own. 

She watched as you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the mass of sinners with the same ease you always had. The path you walked seemed to burn in her mind, the flames licking at her heart until there was nothing left but ashes. 

And for that… she was both sorry and eternally grateful. 

Clutching her hands to her chest, Charlie let out a shuddering breath, her fingers curling tightly against her shirt. Her heart ached with the weight of everything left unsaid, of the love you’d given freely and the love she couldn’t return. 

Charlie stood still, rooted in place as the world moved on without her. 

Where do I go from here? 

Her mind echoed the question, but no answer came. Not yet. The road ahead was uncertain, hazy with smoke and ash. But one thing was clear. 

The road to you… 

Was gone. 

And Charlie? 

She was still standing in the burning ruins.  

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[bayetea]

seeing non-black people critique rick's portrayal of black characters is interesting sometimes. only like 30% of the critiques I see make any sense to me to be honest

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

There is a very exquisite agony in playing a game you love so so so so so much, and realizing that one of the other players is trying to play a totally different game than you.

[astrxealis]

if i do "?" in text i'm genuinely tilting my head like a dog if i do "!!" my eyes are sparkling and i am figuratively wagging my tail if i am IN ALL CAPS i'm screaming from the top of a mountain with all the power i can with love and the strength of RAGHHH within me

[caromari]

just finished watching all of ash coyote’s furry documentaries and ive never wanted to wear a fursuit more in my life than in this moment 👉👈

[planet4546b]

i dont have this thought totally coherently put together but its odd to me just how often discussions of neurodivergence + jobs seem to act like all jobs in the world are desk jobs

[vikvampir3]

falling back into my old mcu hyperfixation so I can project on Bucky Barnes and Peter parker

[trans-leek-cookie]

comes out of the "googling things about the disorder you have and then googling a vague medical term and not getting a clear answer and complaining about the vagueness of the term to your friend who probably has more familiarity with the term and it's implications in context" session covered in blood and wailing and writing on the floor