#like no one has any idea how they want to approach it

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Wrong move | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: He thought you were in love with him....maybe he needs to show you how much you need him.

Warnings: SFW - Possessive!Salesman - Obsessive!Salesman - Controling!Salesman - Red flag basically - Unhealthy relationship - Power imbalance - DARK!Salesman - grammar mistakes -

Note: Not part of "Home Bliss", this is a different universe.

"No"

These were the words that have been in the Salesman's mind for a week now. His aparment, a place he used to love coming to since you were here waiting for him now felt like a empy box. Walls too grey to look at, too dull. The food did not have teaste and his bed felt too big.

When did things go wrong ? He did everything right.

Saw you one day at the local park, got enamoured by you. Followed you around, got to know your schendelure so he could see you from afar. Was able to hack your phone to know every last detail. Your social media were poorly secured. He got to know you like he knew his own skin, when he finally did approach you, you were already his.

And after two years, two years of beautiful moments together, perfectly crafted by him, each one calculated and made so you would fall more and more for him. He got you to move in with him, he was accepted by your friends, your family loved him, and saw him like part of it.

He was sure, centrain that this was the right moment. The perfect one. This was your favorite season, favorite month, perfect hour of the day and a well secured place so you would not feel pressure over it.

Some part of him wanted you to come to him willing.

But your words were marked liked fire. The exchange and after events lived rent free inside his head.

How he had managed to keep his facade he has no idea. The aparment (after you refused to get back) was the one that suffered his rage. All the expensive forniture was destroyed by him, some walls had blood by how much he had punched them.

He was a mess, a disaster. How could yo do it  ? After everything? Weren't you two the perfect match ?

A ding from his phone, the ding he had set just for you sounded.

"Sorry, I think its better if we stop seeing each other. I will pass to get my things soon"

The phone went flying. Were you breaking up with him by text ? When he had read all the exchange with your friends  ? Like how scared you were and how fast it felt. Why were you doing this?

And your doubts ? He never saw them, you seemed content by his side. And loved him like that.

But your personal diary on your phone said different. You felt trapped, like he knew too much, like he was not being honest.

Maybe he should have been more...severe? Showing you just how bad he could be, maybe he let your leash go too large and now he was paying the consequences.

But would he give up ? No. After all you were just confused, and scared, you just needed a reminder of how much you needed him. How he could be the only one for you.

He took the phone back, the screen broke but other functions working. He ignored your message and instead went to his contacts. He had many friends, friends that could ruin you completly.

"I need a favor"

Leaving him was the start of your nightmare.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

At first the relationship was fine. How does peopel put it ? Honeymoon? Well you two had it for very long.

He was the man any woman could ask for, gentle, caring, doting, never forgot a special date. And would get your favorite things.

But something was off. His eyes, the same dark eyes that sparked when he saw you, these eyes would change to sharp and cold around others. You felt like he was always on you, even when being away for work, he would just know when to send you a message or call you.

Would meet you randomly on the streets, knew when you wanted to do something even when you never mentioned it.

Something was wrong. Your gut told you to run from him but you did not know how. After all on the eyes of everyone he was perfect.

Then he asked to marry you, and you saw your chance. You could say you got scared and that things just did not work out after it.

But it did not go that way.

Once you had got your things from his aparment your Boss called, he had said how sorry he was but the company was cutting off some employees and you were one of them.

Your work, your dream work. The one you had passed years preparing yourself, tears and blood for it. The one that made your parents proud.

Ripped out from you with one call.

Then it came your social circle. Slowly your Friends stopped meeting with you, some removed you from their social media, and some blocked your number. You never got to know what was wrong, or what you did.

And later your parents, it was a shame losing your job, it was worse not being able to get another one.

"Sorry we are looking for something different"

"Your solicitude was read but right now we need another thing"

"We will call you"

Rent became impossible, and so you had to move back with them. Your mother was not happy, telling you how much of a failure you were, how your brother was making money overseas and how your sister had made a family.

Your father did not even look at you. Like he felt guilty, not even the company he used to work for would take you in.

Your days became a circle of sending out curriculums and doing your best to keep your parents happy even when you knew they did not want you there.

And some days you would go to the park and cry. Not caring if others saw you, your life was ruined, you had nothing. Maybe....maybe if you had said yes....

Checking your phone you saw the contacts, mom, dad, brother, sister and him. You were sure you had removed his number but it kept coming back. Maybe you were getting sick because of the stress.  Your finger went over the call buttom till you finally hitted it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

He never wanted to see you like this, so broken, so out of life. Maybe he had insolated you too much. Let some lies to your Friends and mother that grew and now they hated you. Your father was a rough one, he had used some...other methods for him. But did coperate at the end.

"You dont seem so good" Were his first words and you looked down at your lap.

"Im sorry for have called you.., after everything"

"Dont say anything. I was glad I got your call. I wanted to know how you were doing" He lied, he knew you were miserable.

Only him could fix it.

"I have...well things have been bad" You addmited "I dont want to burden you with it, maybe this was a mistake"

You went to get up and leave but a firm grip on your hand stopped you. His eyes, cold and sharp like he was seeing his prey.

You, you were his prey.

"Sit" It was an order not a request "Lets talk for a bit more, maybe I can help you, for the old times"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure? (Y/N) you can still go back and say no" Your fathers voice cut off.

You were wearing a beautiful weeding dress, outside from a ceremenoy to take place.

"Dad...you have been saying that since I told mom and you that I was getting married. This is good, we actually made up and I even got my work back, with double pay. Was not what you wanted for me?"

Your father did not respond. He still remembers that night. The night your "perfect" boyfriend appear. When he told him how your life would be so bad you would be wishing you were gone.

"And if thats not enoguh, maybe leaving her limp like you will do the trick"

He had tried for many months to hide his injury, the injury that man had caused him and promised to do the same to you.

"Dad? Its your leg hurting? You are crying"

"No dear, im fine. A little emotional to see you go"

When the doors opened and he walked you in and saw the monster you were going to marry he felt like dying there. When he gave you to him he could see it, he was liking his pain.

"I will take good care of her" Were his only words, and by the time his eyes were on you it had changed.

Love? Obsession ? A twisted sense of care ? No one could tell, no one dared to ask.

Him ? He was just happy you finally accepted what was best for you.

Him, he was the best for you.

"Till death do us apart"

Not even death would be able to separate you from him.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi!! I have an idea for Jeonghan. You know The8's song Cold love. (It's my favorite).

The idea is this. The reader has a crush on him, even tho there in the same group (pls idol au), But he's cold, and distant to her/them.

It can be either a fluffy or angsty ending, with her leaving the group of them ending up together.

The reader can be Gn, or female I don't mind any.

I Love your writing, it brings me comfort 🫶

Cold Love | idol!Jeonghan x 14thmember!Reader | angst, fluff

The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The secluded cabin where Seventeen had gathered felt warm and lively, but to Y/N, it felt anything but.

She sat on the wooden deck, looking out at the calm lake that stretched before her. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip a short break before Jeonghan left for the military in a few months. Everyone had been excited about it, especially since they hadn’t had much downtime lately. But for Y/N, this trip had been nothing but painful.

She glanced back toward the large glass windows of the cabin. The rest of the group was inside, laughing and playing games, but her eyes were fixed on one person Jeonghan. He was sitting at the dining table, smiling at something Mingyu said. That smile was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place. It was soft, warm, and made her feel safe.

But lately, he hadn’t shown that side to her.

Not once.

Instead, he had been cold. Distant. Unkind.

Her chest tightened as she turned back toward the lake, hugging her knees. She wanted to believe there was a reason for his behavior some explanation that made sense but she was tired of waiting for answers.

“Y/N?”

She flinched at the sound of her name and quickly wiped at her eyes before turning to see Joshua approaching her.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve been out here for almost an hour, and you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Not hungry, or avoiding someone?” Joshua’s voice was gentle, but his words hit her hard.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” he said, sitting down next to her, “whatever’s going on between you and Jeonghan, you should talk to him about it. The tension’s so thick it’s making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘me and Jeonghan.’ He made that very clear.”

Joshua hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why does he act like I don’t exist?” Her voice cracked.

Joshua frowned but didn’t push any further. Instead, he stood and offered her a hand. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up, but her heart sank as she caught Jeonghan’s gaze through the window. For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes worry? Pain? But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he looked away.

————————————————————————————-

Dinner had ended, and the group gathered in the living room for games. Y/N sat quietly in the corner, barely paying attention as the others laughed and teased each other. She tried to join in, but her mind kept drifting back to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t fair. She had poured her heart out to him months ago, told him how she felt. And he had rejected her not with words, but with silence and distance.

It hurt more than she ever thought it could.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Seungkwan said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re playing charades. Your turn.”

“Oh… okay.”

She stood awkwardly, trying to focus, but the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her and Jeonghan sitting just across the room made her panic.

“I can’t. Sorry.” She quickly sat down again, her cheeks burning.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears threatening to spill told a different story.

Jeonghan shifted in his seat, his fists clenched. He wanted to say something to do something but he couldn’t. The management’s warning echoed in his head. No relationships. No scandals. If he stepped out of line, she could be kicked out of the group.

But seeing her like this, breaking apart because of him, was unbearable.

“Y/N.” His voice was sharp.

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of them.

“No,” Y/N snapped.

Jeonghan flinched. “Y/N—”

“No!” She stood up, her voice rising. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to ignore me, push me away, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it’s convenient for you!”

The other members stared in shock as her voice cracked with emotion.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” she cried. “You know how I feel, and you couldn’t even be kind to me. If you don’t like me, fine! But at least treat me like a human being!”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

————————————————————————————-

The night was quiet, but Jeonghan couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as her words replayed in his head.

You don’t get to do this.

Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?

If you don’t like me, fine!

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t let her go to sleep thinking she wasn’t loved because she was. More than anything.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his room and walked to hers.

He hesitated at the door, hearing her muffled sobs. His heart shattered.

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

After a long pause, the door opened.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to explain,” he said. “Please.”

She stepped aside, and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t hate you,” Jeonghan finally said. “I never have.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then why?”

“Because I was scared.” His voice was raw. “The management they told me that if we got involved, they’d kick you out of the group. And I couldn’t risk that. Not for me, and not for you.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “So instead, you decided to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted. “I thought pushing you away would protect both of us. But all I’ve done is hurt you—and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I always have.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

Jeonghan froze, shocked, but when she pulled away, embarrassed, he caught her hand.

“Wait.”

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were happy tears.

“Okay,” she whispered.

————————————————————————————-

Y/N sat nervously in the practice room, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Seungcheol. He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You want to what?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, but there was also concern in his eyes.

“I want to leave the group,” Y/N repeated, this time louder. Her voice still shook, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“For Jeonghan and me to be together,” she said softly, looking down.

Seungcheol froze. “…What?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. “The management said if we get into a relationship, I’ll be kicked out of the group. Not him. Me.”

Seungcheol stared at her, completely silent for a moment. Then he burst out, “And you just accepted that?!”

“What else am I supposed to do, Seungcheol?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Let them ruin his career? Let them destroy everything he’s worked for? I can’t do that to him!”

“And you think he’d be okay with you giving up your career instead?” he shot back. “Do you think Jeonghan would ever forgive himself if you left because of him?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving. We’re going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Simple,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re going to the management, and we’re going to make it clear that this isn’t happening. You’re staying in Seventeen.”

———————————————————————————-

Y/N sat beside Seungcheol in the cold, sterile meeting room. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the managers could hear it.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he said as soon as the managers sat down. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

One of the managers raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“This rule you’ve made,” Seungcheol said, his voice sharp. “The one where you’ll kick her out of the group if she dates Jeonghan. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening.”

The managers exchanged glances. “We’ve already discussed this with her.”

“And now you’re going to discuss it with me,” Seungcheol shot back. “You don’t get to ruin someone’s career because they fell in love.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” one manager said stiffly. “It’s about protecting the group’s reputation.”

“Reputation?” Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “What reputation? SEVENTEEN’s reputation isn’t built on scandals or dating bans. It’s built on talent, hard work, and loyalty. And you want to throw all of that away by forcing Y/N out?”

Another manager leaned forward. “This is standard in the industry—”

“I don’t care what’s standard,” Seungcheol interrupted. “This group isn’t like the others, and you know that. We’re a family. And you’re asking us to tear apart our family over something as human as love.”

“It’s a risk,” the manager argued.

“So what?” Seungcheol said, his voice rising. “Everything we do is a risk! Going on stage is a risk! Performing live is a risk! But we still do it because we believe in each other. And if you don’t believe in us if you don’t believe in Y/N and Jeonghan then maybe you’re the problem, not them.”

The room went silent.

Finally, one of the managers spoke, their tone colder than before. “If this relationship gets out to the public, there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll handle it. But you’re not forcing her out of this group.”

The managers exchanged looks, clearly unhappy, but after a long pause, one of them sighed. “Fine. But it stays private. And if it ever becomes public, you all know what’s at stake.”

———————————————————————————-

Meanwhile—Dance Practice Room

Jeonghan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking around the room. Something felt… off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing at the others.

Joshua hesitated, then pulled him aside. “She’s with Seungcheol. At the company office.”

Jeonghan frowned. “Why?”

Joshua bit his lip. “…She’s asking to leave the group.”

Jeonghan froze. “What?”

“She said it’s because of you,” Joshua admitted softly. “Because of what the management said about you two.”

Jeonghan didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the practice room.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N and Seungcheol stepped out of the management’s office, the tension from their earlier discussion still lingering in the air. Y/N’s heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief.

It was over.

She could stay. She didn’t have to leave Seventeen. She and Jeonghan could be together as long as they kept it private.

But before she could fully process everything, Jeonghan’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her eyes widening as she turned to see him storming toward her.

His face was filled with panic and anger, and the moment he reached her, his voice was sharp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jeonghan—”

“You can’t leave the group!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “Not because of me!”

Seungcheol raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, stepping back. He shot Y/N a reassuring look before walking away.

As soon as Seungcheol disappeared down the hall, Jeonghan turned back to Y/N, his eyes desperate.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you do this? Why would you throw away everything we’ve worked for?”

Y/N’s heart ached seeing the pain in his eyes. She reached out, but he stepped back, his fists clenched.

“Jeonghan, stop,” she said softly. “Listen to me.”

“How can I listen to you when you’re trying to leave?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his expression.

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could pull away. “I’m staying.”

He froze. “What?”

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Seungcheol and I talked to the management. We convinced them to let me stay. We can be together, but it has to be private.”

Jeonghan stared at her, completely stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought this was the only way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Y/N, do you really think I’d be okay with you giving up your dream for me? Do you know how much that would’ve destroyed me?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jeonghan reached out, gently cupping her face. “We’ll figure things out together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, okay?”

Y/N nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you before. For making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain again. I know why you did it.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve fought for us from the start.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Jeonghan didn’t let her.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, finally allowing herself to breathe.

“Never,” she whispered back.

————————————————————————————

The group had gathered back at the cabin after practice. Y/N and Jeonghan sat together in the corner, their hands intertwined under the table where no one could see.

Seungcheol watched them from across the room and smiled to himself.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeonghan said quietly when he caught Seungcheol’s gaze.

Seungcheol just shrugged. “You owe me.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I know.”

Y/N squeezed Jeonghan’s hand, and he turned to her, his expression softening.

They still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, they felt ready to face it. Together.

[halorvic]

December 30, 2024

Arijit Chakravarty: “Learn to live with it,” for other diseases doesn’t mean the same thing as we have applied to COVID. When we say we must learn to live with leprosy, we don’t mean let’s make sure everybody has leprosy. When we say we must learn to live with malaria, we don’t mean let’s make sure everyone gets malaria as often as possible, let’s keep mosquitoes lurking in our tanks outside our house. No one says you must learn to live with tuberculosis. Let’s let it spread as much as possible and see how that goes. No, we suppress those diseases every step along the way. We suppress dengue. We suppress tuberculosis. This whole idea that learning to live with the disease means permitting and encouraging its rampant spread and rapid evolution is just so many levels of stupidity that I don’t have a word for it.

Benjamin Mateus: I’d like to know your thoughts on Trump and RFK Jr., his choice for secretary of health? RFK Jr. has been at the head of vaccine disinformation and anti-public health policies. They are calling for ending any cooperation with the World Health Organization. These will have immense consequences for public health globally. These are political questions, but often I hear scientists do not want to engage in political questions and feel uncomfortable about it. Can we avoid the political implications?

AC: Look, it’s not that I don’t want to get political. It’s that if I was going to get political, I don’t know who to hold up as an example. There’s not a government in the world that has handled this correctly. There’s not a party in this world that’s handled it correctly. It’s all different flavors of stupid. Pick your poison. The Democrats went out of their way to normalize mass infection. They went out of their way to lie about the vaccines and say, “If you’re vaccinated, the pandemic was over.” That was completely unnecessary. It was completely at odds with science. Then you have Trump in the first Trump administration saying, “Why don’t you drink some bleach?” It would be a comedy if the consequences weren’t so grave. Frankly, wherever you go it’s like this. You look at Canada’s Bonnie Henry (Canadian epidemiologist and physician) in British Columbia. On day one she insisted that the kids wouldn’t get infected. Then she went and published a paper, put her own name on it, bragging about how herd immunity has been achieved because 90 percent of Canadian kids have been infected. In the UK you had the hearings on the public health response by the UK government. They noted that the government failed to act quickly. There was no clear policy approach, and they even abandoned contact tracing in mid-March of 2020. They even said that masks don’t help stop the spread and the virus wasn’t airborne. It’s a disgrace. Politicians worldwide have decided that they can brazen out their way through this. And the reason for this is they’ve been advised by a certain set of scientists, a relatively small number of scientists, who have essentially sold out. There are tens of thousands of papers, if not hundreds of thousands of papers, on the risks of COVID. You could literally find thousands of scientists who would be willing to go up in front of the House of Representatives and testify that getting COVID repeatedly is bad for you. Where are those scientists? Nobody’s listening to them. They’re listening to the scientists who whisper in their ears and say that everything will be okay. Ryan Gregory and I wrote a Substack blog post a while back called Calm Mongering where we talk about this—that people have weaponized the logic of science in the service of propaganda by saying, “that’s just a hypothesis.” As soon as you bring up a risk, these “experts” shut down the conversation about the risk by saying we’re not sure that’ll happen. But in fact, that’s an inversion of the precautionary principle. And it’s a lot of the tactics that were used by the merchants of doubt during the tobacco era. The merchants of doubt were a subset of a very small number of corrupt, well-connected and well-funded scientists who went out of their way to make public statements that were at odds with the body of literature that was coming out on lung cancer and tobacco. And we are seeing the exact same thing again. Big tobacco sponsored a bunch of corrupt scientists to create a counter-narrative to reality. This time around, who’s playing the role of big tobacco? It’s the politicians and governments. But the exact same thing is playing out. That nexus between this group of corrupt scientists and politicians who are actively funding their work is a global phenomenon. Unfortunately, I hate to say this, but it’s going to take reality breaking through to solve this. They’ve been very effective at convincing people that this is not a problem you need to worry about.

[stars-obsession-pit]

I’ve seen this idea mentioned sometimes that the Joker has something set up where if you kill him, he infects you with something that tries to make you into another Joker. I have no idea if that has any basis in the comics - it hasn’t turned up in any of the stuff i’ve read - but either way imagine using that with a “Danny kills the joker” story.

He might be partially protected thanks to not being fully human, but he doesn’t know. All he can tell is that he’s at least somewhat affected. It’s not like he knows of any examples of this happening before. Maybe his powers saved him, or maybe the toxin wouldn’t be fully effective on a normal person either. Or perhaps it just acts slowly, or it prevents him from realizing how far it’s warped him. He can’t tell.

He’s getting paranoid, he knows. But what else can he do? He can’t just ignore it and give in. He hates this. Why did this have to happen to him? Is there some force in the universe determined to ruin everything for him? Is his whole life some cosmic joke? He should burn it all down, then they’ll see who’s the joke—

no.

He refuses to do that. He doesn’t want to do that. He is was a hero, right?

But he was hated then, too. And now he doesn’t even have a respite. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him whenever he goes outside. He knows they’re judging him, waiting for him to snap. The one that try to help are clearly just trying to avoid him targeting then first. He hates it. He hates them. If he makes them fear him, maybe their stares will stop. No, no, he’s trying to avoid that. It is true that it might be safer for his loved ones if he drives them away though…

Maybe he should turn himself in. That could keep them safe. But what if they try to study him again, cut into his brain and see what makes him tick just like the GIW did?

Jason reaches into his jacket and begins to draw his pistol, readying for a fight. Neither hide nor hair of the Joker has been seen in days, and he’s constantly on edge. And he just heard the distinctive sound of sobbing laughter of a Joker Toxin victim. Part of him wanted to rush in guns blazing, but he forced himself to move slowly, carefully. He was not walking into a trap again.

Peaking into the room, he saw a single figure sitting within; a person, curled up in the corner with head in hands. Shit. He re-holstered his gun and began to approach slowly.

They didn’t seem to notice him, even as he stood right beside them and took in their appearance more closely. It was a boy, probably not much younger than him but looking much smaller in fear. His fingernails were chewed bloody, with more blood staining all around his mouth. His skin was incredibly pale, and Jason couldn’t tell if it was from a natural pallor, fear, or some sort of chemical effect. Jason reached out to touch his shoulder, and the boy suddenly jerked back and scrambled away, only seeming to notice him now.

“S—stay back!” he yelped. Jason thought his eyes flashed green for a moment, but he assumes it must have been the light. More importantly, the bloody lips clearly weren’t just from the boy’s hands; there were sizable wounds in his cheeks, presumably from more chewing.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said, showing his empty hands and trying to be reassuring.

“Stop lying! That’s what they all say! No one ever actually cares.”

“I promise you I’m telling the truth. Here— I’ll take a step back now. I’m not going to attack you. But you do need medical attention—I can get you an ambulance.”

“No– I can’t– no hospitals,” the boy hiccoughed. “Not safe.”

“How about a private clinic? I know some that won’t ask questions.”

“No, it’s not them! I’m not safe! I’m a ticking time bomb! I killed—” he broke himself off. When he spoke again, it was quiet, almost a confession, “I– I can’t, I refuse to be like him. I won’t follow in his footsteps.”

“Like who?”

“The Joker.”

[kudouusagi]

Pash Utsumi Hiroko Interview

It's sure to be a heartwarming, Fan & Fun experience!

It's about the moments you weren't able to see in the main series.

--Looking back at the scenario meetings, is there anything that stands out in your memory?

Like the fact that there was a longer version where (series writer) Ookouchi Ichirou, the producers, and I all came up with ideas for what to do in the OVA and decided on it, only to realize it didn't fit into the time limit plan I came up with myself and so it was rejected (laughs). Of course Reki and Langa are the main characters so they're going to appear in the OVA but we really wanted to include them all... and that would be difficult to do in one story so we made it into an omnibus format.

--What do you want people to pay attention to in this OVA?

I'd like it if you could check which scenes were shown in the PV. For example, Reki and the others play karuta, but what kind of karuta is it? Who's playing against who? Will Langa, who is bad at reading and writing, be okay?! In the part with Sakurayashiki and Nanjo set in the past, what was their high school life like? What were their fights like back then? How developed are Nanjo's muscles?! Also, the unknown life of Kikuchi, which was kept top-secret in the main story, is revealed...!?! And more!

--Please tell us about what you remember when looking back on recording the voices for this OVA.

I was happy to see that Hatanaka Tasuku-san, who plays Reki, and Kobayashi Chiaki-san, who plays Langa, were still the same Reki and Langa even though several years had passed. I didn't feel any time had past... ∞(eternal) Friendship! It was also memorable how Koyasu Takehito-san, who plays Ainosuke, struggled with a certain scene. Look forward to finding out which scene it was! It had been a while since I last did the voice recording for SK8, and it brought back memories for me, making me feel like SK8 was back!

--What exactly is the theme for this OVA...?

Since it is an omnibus format, there is no overall theme, but they're each filling a gap that wasn't able to be seen in the main story.

--In order to get to know the characters more deeply before the OVA is released, are there any behind-the-scenes details that you haven't revealed yet (that you couldn't show in the first season of the TV series)?

The different headband Reki is wearing in the OVA PV is a souvenir present from his sister Koyomi. It's shaped like an akabeko with a tiger pattern... it's quite unique. Reki only wears it at home. Langa doesn't care about clothes, so he'll wear anything that's comfortable to move in, so he's wearing something strange this time. Please check out the OVA to find out the details☆

--For those who are rewatching the first season of the TV series, what are some of the points you would like people to pay special attention to?

Don't miss anything! The relationship between MIYA and Reki, the outcome of Hiromi's fleeting love, the current fight scenes between Sakurayashiki and Nanjo, the vibe of the master and dog relationship between Ainosuke and Kikuchi, etc. The bond between Reki and Langa through the whole series and how it develops into friendship, keeps your eyes peeled on it till the very end!! And since the theme song for this OVA was created with the TV series in mind, so I'm certain it will improve your understanding if you watch the whole series and think of it while listening to it☆

--Finally, please give a message to the fans of "SK8". 

We're sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but thanks to everyone who has been waiting that the day we can finally deliver it to you is fast approaching...! There's only a few more sleeps till the OVA is here ♬ How about going to the cinema to watch "SK8 EXTRAPART" as the finale to your New Year's celebrations? It's sure to be a heartwarming, Fan & Fun experience! Please look forward to its release☆

[deusfoundry]

Hii again, sorry if I'm asking for a lot of Cedric requests (you can ignore this if you'd like). But there's this idea that's been plaguing my mind, where Cedric has always been told he has a lovely, charming, or beautiful smile that brightens up people's day or anything of the sort. But to him he doesn't really know what people mean when they say that. Until he sees reader's smile that just instanyly brightens up his day. "7 billion smiles, but yours is my favorite"

Thank you for reading thiss

hi nonnie! im assuming you're also the one who sent the ced request i got prior to this one and if so, please dont apologize!! i truly adore this man and i love writing for him! i hope i was able to do your prompt justice w this one eheh MWAH <333

if cedric's got a sickle for every time someone has told him he had a pretty smile, he'd be bloody rich by age fourteen.

he's heard it from everyone. from strangers on the street, older men with a head full of gray hair seeing a reflection of themselves decades ago in his youthful eyes. from letters he'd find slipped into his bag, secret admirers waxing poetic about his smile, how it had been enough to make the hour and a half they spend in snape's class bearable, how seeing him from across the great hall at dinner was the one thing they look forward to the most.

he's heard it first, and perhaps most often, from his own mother, who'd take his cheeks into her hands and look at him as if she's holding the entire galaxy between her palms.

"you've got the loveliest smile, my dear boy. never lose it."

but he doesn't know what it means, to have a smile that brightens up the room. he can't wrap his mind around how one tiny smile can be enough to rid someone free of the burdens they accumulate as dawn turns to dusk.

cedric doesn't understand until he finds himself tucked in a corner of the library, buried under a mountain of books and parchment on what's supposed to be a weekend spent at hogsmeade.

he normally has a better hand at managing his responsibilities, but the combination of head boy duties, quidditch season starting in two weeks, and the workload that comes with n.e.w.t. level classes has made it impossible to do anything but thank merlin that he even manages to get through a single day.

cedric fights the urge to groan as he feels the seeds of an all familiar headache sprouting. an invisible force pounds against his head, a faint thud every few seconds that sends a twitch to his eye, but he knows it won't take long until he feels like an ogre is bashing his head against the thick books laying in front of him.

he wishes nothing more than for you to be here, with your own share of work, filling the stifling silence of his own little corner of the library with your frantic scribbling on parchment.

you'd let him take a break by now, body slumping against yours as he slots his head on the crook of your neck. he would breathe you in, greedily, and bite back a grin when you giggle at the ticklish feeling of his nose brushing against your skin. your fingers would find themselves tangled with his hair, tugging at the roots and digging at his scalp with enough pressure to release the tension on his shoulders.

he needs you, overwhelmingly so, but your friends had already whisked you off to hogsmeade before he could even ask if you'd want to join him.

at this point, he'd much rather take the ogre than spend another second alone.

"there you are."

cedric's head snaps towards the direction of your voice. he knows you're talking, watches the open and close of your mouth and the almost animated expressions your face dons as you approach him, but he's not hearing any of it.

he sees your smile, a reflection of the sun and the stars, and finally, he understands just how powerful it can be. he remains in a trance even as you clear a spot on the table for you to sit. his body moves entirely on auto-pilot, thighs spreading apart to make way for your legs as he drags himself and his chair closer to you. you've barely touched him, and yet he feels as if he's being pulled into a warm embrace by the clouds as you fish for his hand, locking your fingers together.

"love? are you alright?"

cedric swiftly slides his arms around your waist. he rests his head on your lap and hopes that the quiet hum he lets out is enough to quell your worries.

"better, bug. now that you're here."

vividly, he can imagine the face you make. a grimace in feigned disgust, your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to hold back a giggle.

"that's cheesy, ced." you give his head a light shove before running your fingers through his hair, to which cedric responds with a laugh and the tightening of his arms. he's given you no chance of escape, palms clutching onto the flesh.

"it's the truth."

and it is. if your smile had been enough to ease the ache in his body, brighten his day despite his workload that refuses to decrease, what more now that he's got you in his arms.

[radioactiverats]

Curious question, (First, I love your mentor Starscream x seeker reader fics) what would it be like if Thundercracker and Skywarp were around? Because I keep imagining them as those weird uncles who decided to annoy Starscream by pulling reader into their shenanigans.

Hello, first of all thank you so much for reading! I absolutely love the idea of elite uncles. Starscream moaning that Skywarp has led you astray (shitty flying habits. Taking you out for your first drink of engex and trying to hide the fact that ur shitfaced before Starscream comes to skin you both. Oooh there's an idea). For now my brain vomited this out but thank u for the prompt I will prob return to it again!!

------

You’ve never formally met Starscream’s trine. The first reason being that he is fiercely protective of you, even if he’ll never admit it. Despite the bond he shares with his trine, he wants to keep outsider interference to a minimum - he gets one chance at keeping you safe, and if even one of Skywarp’s pranks go awry… in the privacy of his own processor, Starscream has never dared to finish that thought.

However, things have changed. As Megatron’s bloodthirstiness grows by the day, Starscream, like any good tactician, knows that the current strategy won’t work for much longer. With only him standing between you and Megatron’s idle and violent whims, he is regrettably forced to admit that he needs help to guarantee your survival. So what if a teensy part of him doesn’t want to share your attention? If you offline, he won’t have any of your attention at all.

As SIC, any overt moves will attract Megatron’s attention - so Starscream finds a tactical excuse. Your first group mission, he proposes under the guise of ‘training’ - to tag along with the Elite Trine.

Starscream is incredibly stiff when he informs you of the meeting - he’s usually forthcoming with details in your presence as he rants freely about something or other. But this time, he remains oddly tight-lipped, refusing to tell you who you’re about to see.

“As long as it’s not Megatron, I think it’ll be fine,” You finally mutter when you grow exasperated with his evasiveness. It seems to ease the mood a little because Starscream pauses, and you watch some of the tension bleed from his wings.

“It’s not,” He says at last. “Thank Primus for that.”

With that out of the way, you assure yourself it can't be that bad, beginning to grow curious as you follow Starscream to the open, grassy plain that has now become very familiar to you. Would it be someone you already knew? Or someone you’ve never met before?

Starscream stops when you reach the scuffed circle of earth that has more or less been forcibly converted into a landing pad. A sudden gust of wind ruffles the dry grass and Starscream nods curtly, although the expression on his faceplate seems slightly pinched. “Here they come.”

The distant roar of jet engines reach your audials and you squint as you spy to rapidly approaching blurs from the horizon. Blue and… was that… purple? There’s only two jets with this colour scheme that you know of. Your helm whips up to stare at Starscream in disbelief, but he stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, optics tracking the approaching jets.

The clicking and whirring of transformation replaces the screech of fiery thrusters - with an impact that shakes the very earth, Skywarp and Thundercracker are standing before you. It's your first time being face to face with them - you're instantly struck by how similar they look to Starscream, all at once familiar and unfamiliar. It's uncanny, and you shrink back a little, choosing instead to study the freshly turned dirt circle around you. At least your landing pad is much bigger now.

“Screamer!”

“You call that a landing?” Screamer snaps. “I’ve seen sparklings do better than that.”

“Aw, lay off,” Thundercracker mutters. “It’s been ages since we last met.”

He turns to Skywarp. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hey!”

The Elite Trine. To ordinary seekers, they were the stuff of legend - that aside though, you were busy drinking in this side of Starscream. Arms crossed, trading banter with Thundercracker - more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. Distracted, you don’t notice Skywarp sidling closer to you, and you yelp when his voice comes right next to your audial.

“This the ‘sparkling’?”

Starscream whips around so fast that you can’t help but flinch at the further damage done to your landing pad.

"Hello," you greet awkwardly. Should you be going for formality? You may have the privilege of being familiar with Starscream, but these are still your superiors, after all. Skywarp, however, has no such qualms, a smirk on his faceplate as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the one Screamer won’t stop talking about, huh?” You blink, and the words are out before you can stop them. “He talks about me?”

You both look over at Starscream, who’s looking more and more constipated by the nanoklik, an undeniable flush of energon on his faceplate dampening the might of his scowl - you looking with an expression of puppy-eyed wonder and Skywarp with a shit-eating grin.

“Sure he does. He tells us tons of stuff - okay, okay - stop glaring at me like that. Does he talk about us? You know who I am?”

“Um,” You say. Of course you know who he is. But Starscream has… not talked about them, for reasons that he has deliberately kept from you. You’re not sure where you stand in this, but before you really begin to flounder, Thundercracker mercifully comes to your rescue.

“Let go, Skywarp,” He scolds. “You’re throttling the poor thing.” You gratefully stagger towards Starscream, who’d already taken a step forwards when Skywarp sulkily releases you - his enthusiasm had been rapidly turning into a very friendly headlock. Thundercracker sighs, finally turning to you.

“My designation is Thundercracker. We are a trine - you don’t need to worry about formalities. Your trust in Starscream can be extended to us, too.”

You know his designation as well, of course, but find yourself nodding along to the gentle cadence of his tone. It seemed that Thundercracker had a way of making others feel at ease. Even Starscream, whose wings had been twitchy all week in preparation to tell you of the meeting - was looking calm. Well, calmer. He’d nodded at you as Thundercracker spoke, looking relieved that someone more well-versed in emotions had translated his intentions into words before he had to do it himself.

Tentatively, you decide that you like them - independent of their relationship to Starscream. The more time you spend with them, the more distinct they're becoming, in personality, in the details of their frames and faceplates.

“What he said,” Skywarp added, serious for a nanoklik before promptly growing bored of the conversation. All three of you watch with trepidation as his expression grows mischievous.

“Hey, kid. You like me best, right?”

Starscream’s wings promptly flare, EM field prickly as the cacti in the Terran desert. This escapes absolutely nobody’s notice, and Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker buries his faceplate in a servo to emit a long-suffering sigh. You shuffle closer to Starscream as Thundercracker wearily goes to haul Skywarp up from where he’d collapsed in howling laughter on the ground.

“You’ll always be my favourite,” You mumble.

The pulse of his EM field reaches you even if he’s drawn it tightly against his plating.

“Yes, well,” He splutters, suddenly caught off guard. “I… I should hope so.”

Feelings are neither of your strong suits, but the silence that falls on you both is companionable and you allow yourself to enjoy Skywarp’s antics, Thundercracker’s exasperated attempts to get him to behave.

“Okay! Okay,” Skywarp wheezes. “I’m done. You should have seen the look on your faceplate, Screamer-”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Thundercracker interrupts quickly.

“Thank you,” Starscream growls. He sighs dramatically, but his wings remain relaxed, hip cocked. You glance over at Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker shakes his head fondly, and Skywarp winks at you. There’s a strange sense of unity, a comfort in knowing that you’re all familiar enough with Starscream to know that the irritation is merely an act. Like you've been let in on a precious secret.

Starscream strides leisurely over to his trine, the three of them standing in front of you. It’s a takeoff formation - Starscream in the lead, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp. It’s the most common flight formation for trines, but it seems that they’ve purposely left an open space towards the back. A flash of recognition overtakes your processor - you’d studied this one night in the academy, holed up in the library. Trine formations were designed to be flexible, and one of the adaptations allowed the inclusion of a fourth when necessary.

There’s a glint in Starscream’s optics as he addresses you, a hand on his cocked hip.

“Your mission,” He drawls, “Is to keep up.”

[xia0mi-c0m]

The proshipping problem in the twst fandom | A rant.

Very obvious trigger warning for things normal for proshippers like p3dophilia, incest, etc.

Though I do know proshippers will be in every single fandom, it's getting especially worse in the twst fandom, specifically the Japanese side of the fandom (with some discussions about some in the English side too).

Before any proshippers come into the comment section: Proshipping is NOT a healthy coping mechanism. If your therapist recommended it, they should be fired.

This post is not to dehumanize and degrade underage proshippers as they have been obviously groomed into believing that it was okay to ship this sort of stuff.

The actual elephant in the room we WILL be shunning is the adult proshippers who actively encourage children (either actually or under law) to proship.

Before getting fully deep in this subject, I would like to admit something that I've talked about before.

I was a proshipper when I was younger than what I am now. This was because, not getting into too much detail, I was groomed by a man online to the point that i thought it was okay.

Not only was I a proshipper but I was also a darkshipper, problematic comshipper, and also supported the things present in Dead Dove fanfics.

In fact, I had an account on some sort of forum page with other proshippers and I shared my nasty ships there. I believed it was a good way of desensitizing myself to my trauma that fucked me up heavily, but it wasn't and it was making me relive the same trauma which in return, made it worse.

This is why I say that I do not want anyone to shun underage proshippers, they were groomed into it half of the time.

Now that I'm 18 (About to turn 19 on February 14th), I finally understand that proshipping is an unhealthy way of approaching your trauma and pain.

It may feel like it does something, but it really doesn't. And I want to reassure you that you're not alone in your pain, please, find other ways to cope and process what has happened to you that doesn't include glorifying very nasty things.

Now with that out the way, I would like to say what the title says.

Proshippers in the twst fandom has sadly grown overtime, but my niece made a very good point; stating that since twst does have a slightly dark story, that people with dark and nasty thoughts and ideas will be attracted to it, much like a moth to a flame that damages it's already fragile body.

There have been adults in the twst proshipper area, and I think they're the main cause of fueling minors in the fandom to do the same thing. Maybe with or without knowing the eventual psychological consequences.

The adults who are aware sadly lure and prey on the gullible underage individuals of the fandom, and though that might seem like an overexaggeration; it sadly is true.

I am Japanese, well, half-Japanese. But even then, due to that fact, I'm more prevalent in the Japanese fandom than the English fandom though I am trying to balance out both.

Since I am more present in the Japanese side of the fandom than I am with the English side (because I'm basically like an absent dad that went off to get the milk and never came back until years), I have seen a lot of shit in here and it's very scary even to this day.

Though the English side of the fandom is as equally bad, the Japanese side is worse with the whole l0li and sh0ta thing. Sadly I have seen English twst accounts do those things too.

The most popular proshipper you may know is Ugigi or however the fuck you spell her name, whether one likes to admit it or not, her selfships were very much proshipping. This is mainly due to how her OC could've been her actual age which was in her 20s if I'm remembering correctly.

But let's say the OC wasn't, it would still be problematic (but not in the proship way) since the characters she drew NSFW of were mainly the minors (again, if I remember correctly). If her OC was her actual age then she would be a proshipper.

However, watever the age of the OC she always drew, it's obvious that it was still leaning more on proshipping because that indicates that she's attracted to the characters despite knowing they're minors (and not even aging them up by the way).

So, very nasty, I was thinking of putting her In the TWs 😭

All jokes aside, proshipping is disgusting.

In fact, must I bring up any other thing?

LEECHCEST.

WHAT.

Well, you heard that right, people ship Floyd and Jade. Seriously, what is wrong with you guys. And I think I know why this ship is so popular in the Japanese fandom; The fact incest is not necessarily illegal in Japan in a way.

Yeah. You heard me correctly. I'm horrified and scarred for life <3

"Surely there isn't anymore I shall talk about, right? Right?? RIGHT?!?" I exclaim, not expecting anything else to come from the sky and hit me.

Then boom..

SHROUDCEST.

OH FUCK NOT AGAIN.

So, apparently people ship a dead robotic little boy with his big brother.. yeah... FNAF fandom called, they're telling you not to steal their bit much like how Deejus is trying to tell Johnny RaZeR not to steal his "YOUTUBEEE" outro bit that.. he also stole.

It can't get any worse than this, right? This is definitely the last tier of the iceberg, surely? Perhaps??-

KINGSCHOLARCEST.

Okay, now we're pushing it, this bit is getting old but whatever.

Kingscholarcest can refer to three (disgusting) "ships": A nasty ship of Cheka x Leona, a nasty ship of Falena x Leona, or a nasty ship of Falena x Leona x Cheka.

Sweet home Alabama all around but more extreme..

I think we all know why these ships are not okay and are disgusting (ESPECIALLY CHEKA X LEONA SINCE CHEKA IS A GOO GOO GA GA BABY.)

Finally.. It's over.. I can go back to ranting!-

FELLOW X GIDEL.

JESUS CHRIST STOP.

This madness needs to stop because if not I'm going to pull my fucking hair out!-

LILMAL, SILVER X LILIA, S-

OKAY STOP IT RIGHT HERE,, THE BIT IS OLD NOW.

So, I think you get my point.

Borderline incestuous ships, the drake specialty, and straight up sweet home right to Alabama.

Now, let's put aside the jokes and get serious again.

With all the things I have stated, you can definitely see the absolute horror of some parts of the fandom.

There's accounts that are VERY hypocritical, saying "P3dos DNI" when they are a sh0ta/l0licon. This is the literal definition of hypocrisy at it's finest.

There are mfs who have unironically said that Cheka was hot and romantically cute.. HE'S 7 YEARS OLD. OR MAYBE YOUNGER. I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER BUT I DO KNOW HE IS A CHILD.

I have said this MANY times before and I'll say it again; if that characters looks like a child, THEY ARE A CHILD.

Even if you age up characters like Ortho, Cheka, etc. You are still self-reporting that you're attracted to a literal child.

Fiction DOES affect reality no matter if you try to plug your mickey mouse ears with your fingers (or paws, I don't know) to gaslight yourself into believing it doesn't truly affect it.

In fact, there have been cases where people have been arrested for having l0li/sh0ta on their devices, though, sadly, its not a long sentence despite how it should be lifelong.

But even without the lifelong sentence, the law still considers l0li/sh0ta CSAM. (I hate calling it CP now since that implies that kids can do that in their own will.)

A grown adult proshipper even told me when I criticized Kanna from dragon maid for being a little girl the author sexualizes to no end all because I said that she doesn't have a listed age that I was being "contradicting" and I think this proves that.. proshippers DON'T know what contradictions ACTUALLY are because they've gaslit so much into believing this disgusting behavior is normal and okay to do.

And don't get me started on Dead Dove cai, chai, etc. bots and fanfics.

Dead Dove, proshipping, problematic comshipping, darkshipping, doveshipping, etc. doesn't give out awareness to the horrors of such depraved acts.

Another very nasty thing I've seen in the TWST fandom is people shipping the staff with the students, mainly Crewel with Deuce.

Teacher x Student is disgusting no matter what. Teachers are always more grown than the students, so yeah, teachers aren't the anime boy or girl of your dreams or something, he or she's going to be old and otherwise not "attractive" and young.

The training to become a teacher and any profession in fact will take years, which means you'll grow and turn old.

I understand many say "Well, it's just fiction!" but these people seem to forget that young individuals, especially young girls, can see these teacher x student fiction and will probably, in the worst case scenario, get the wrong impression from it, ESPECIALLY if the media glamorizes and romanticize it, and sadly become a victim.

Crewel, If I'm not wrong, is 31 meanwhile Deuce and the other first years that [Crewel] mainly gets shipped with are 16 years old.

This is not only a disgusting, vomit-inducing age gap but huge maturity gap whether one likes to admit so or not.

Yanderes especially in the twst fandom get romanticized, and people seem to forget the reality of the abuse that yanderes put their "love interest(s)" through.

And I think this is why fandoms (not just twst) should stop romanticizing yanderes and student x teacher, and vice versa.

Besides, these two tropes are grooming even if the victim is not a minor, adults and the elderly alike can also be groomed especially if they're gullible and need to depend on someone (for either a disability or something).

People will probably invalidate my point but I don't budge from what I said.

Sorry if this posts looks rushed and/or maybe even incoherent to some, I just wanted to get this off my chest and stuff.

I should start ranting more, I like yapping so yeah, expect more whenever I'm bored :3

Anyways, BAIIII!!

YOUTUBEEEEEE flies away into the void to the right

[thefirstknife]

I wasn't aware of the discussions around Eramis being that rancid, personally (although I tend not to look at online discussion around media in general, thanks to how skin-deep at best much of it tends to be).

But the way you've talked about it makes me wonder how much of the people complaining about Eramis's character development are coming at it from a dislike of the idea of that redemption being a thing at all- the perspective that Doing Bad Things makes someone A Bad Person who can no longer be A Good Person, essentially. Seems like that mentality has grown... if not more common, at least louder, over time.

(Although your comment about not seeing why they'd 'pull a shocking twist for the sake of pulling a shocking twist to spite the audience' is a little funny in a sad way, considering how many people seem to think "outwit the audience and surprise them" is more important than "tell a coherent story as well as possible", even changing things if a twist is leaked, even if whatever they change it to makes no damn sense.)

It's really bad out there and it's strange for the exact reason you listed, because the same communities have previously entertained redemption ideas about characters like Calus and even Clovis; characters who have never expressed any wish to change or any beliefs that they may be in the wrong, no regrets and no remorse for what they've done.

So I can't even figure out if this with Eramis is about not wanting redemption stories. I think it's more about Eramis herself; not only is she a female character, but she's very largely and easily misunderstood. A lot of people's interaction with Beyond Light was... not entirely invested (a lot of the community was at the time mad about vaulting and hated everything new on principle), and her other storylines are in seasonal content that's gone now and that was almost universally hated; she was brought back in Plunder and then reappeared briefly in Defiance. A lot of people approached her from the get-go as "just some villain we will kill in the campaign" and then that didn't happen and these people were confused because they never paid any attention to her story. And then by the end of it, it just kinda slipped them by.

I don't know honestly. I may be overthinking it, but I definitely think that a lack of understanding of her story plays a huge role. Whether that's because they missed her story or just didn't pay attention to it or just had no interest in it - and nobody online they interact with offered any insight into her character (lore youtube) - they just don't get what's the fuss and they don't care about her. Some might say this is because the game didn't make people want to care, but I simply disagree. While I enjoy Eliksni stories, they're by far not at the top of my list of favourite things in Destiny so I don't have any special attachment to Eliksni characters, I didn't know Eramis before BL and I was never a diehard fan of her, but I understood her story and what they wanted to do with her for the past 4 years.

And I was happy that she got her character arc completed as was intended. I saw where it was going and this solution is the only one that made sense to me. So I don't think the whole "the game didn't make me care enough because it was badly set up" really holds water. The game can't put thoughts into your brain, sometimes you have to actually think about characters for yourself. Like, we shouldn't have to be spoon-fed that hard. Her arc and the setup was clear and it was written into the game's story, a lot of it even outside of lore books ("It was just in the lore books!" is a major complaint a lot of the time, and one I personally find baffling. You're in the Lore Books The Game. If you don't like lore being in lore books, you're in the wrong place).

We could honestly discuss this to no end, and everyone who dislikes Eramis or the conclusion to her story would probably have a different reason for it, or there would at least be a couple of them, not wanting redemption included. Could also be a combination - not understanding her story will lead a lot of people to think that her being redeemed makes no sense and that it wasn't supposed to happen.

I think it's also a case of people having a really hard time understanding that a character can be our ally while still hating our guts. I've seen plenty of comments from people saying they're annoyed about Eramis constantly being antagonistic towards us. This is baffling to me, because again, it makes sense that she doesn't like us. And it would be bizarre if all Eliksni were now suddenly fans of humanity like a hivemind. Some will never like us. This is good. They will still help us because there's bigger fish to fry, but they don't have to like us.

Eramis was a delight this episode to me and she was a really interesting character. She wasn't a huge deal overall and some of her story was fairly on the sidelines, but she was a very unique "villain" and antagonist to us since she was introduced and I think that her character arc was very well done all things considered. This amount of resistance and dislike for her from the wider community is something I simply can't see as anything other than a lack of understanding of the story (personal reasons and stuff like "I get it, I just don't really care that much" not included).

[blushspatula]

Foreign Words

Reader, a young adult, is tired of their monotonous, stressful and depressive life. One day, they absurdly appears in the world of the famous Chinese play called "Journey to the West", but, surprise, they don't know Chinese!

Characters:

Reader.

Aka "little one" or "foreign".

They are a modern, ordinary human who accidentally appears in the ancient world of the Chinese play called "Journey to the West."

A human without magic, but that don't stop them. They are a boundless workaholic, probably managing money even in the middle of an ambush. When they're not trying to work on something (or everything), they can be found playing their beloved guitar, which they carries around like it's they best friend.

As an insomniac musician, Reader possesses the surprising (and worrying) ability to survive on an amount of sleep that would make any normal human collapse. While others are sleeping peacefully, they are awake, making up songs about their misfortunes (as a way of coping) and singing them. They are likely to solve problems faster, although sometimes their ideas are meaningless when sleep deprivation takes its toll. They also have a short-term memory most of the time.

"Who needs sleep when you can put your problems to music?"

They really misses sleeping in a normal bed. Please, someone have mercy on them.

Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong is small, but his power knows no bounds. Impulsive, he always acts first and asks questions later (if he asks anything at all). He doesn't have much patience for following orders, and if someone tells him what to do, he'll almost certainly do the opposite just for the fun of it. A rebel at heart, he's never been a fan of authority, especially if it comes from someone bigger or more important than him (which is almost everyone, given his size). Wukong doesn't have time to think before he acts. Plan? Nah! Better to jump headfirst into danger and see what happens. He's cunning like few others, always finding the quickest way out, or at least the most entertaining one.

However, despite his wild nature, Wukong knows how to get out of any mess he gets himself into (which happens more often than he'd like to admit). And when you earn his respect, he's loyal to the end. He defends his friends with an intensity that shows that, even though he has a hard time admitting it, he has a big heart. He may be mischievous and a bit chaotic, but he's always there when you really need him… Although sometimes you wonder if he does it for you or because he's just bored.

Tang Sanzang.

Tang Sanzang is the kind of person who firmly believes that peace and understanding can solve almost any problem… Even if he’s surrounded by hungry demons who want to eat him. Wise in many things, he always has profound and instructive advice to offer, though sometimes his innocence leads him to underestimate how dangerous situations are (such as when he insists on dialoguing with monsters who would clearly rather devour him than listen to his profound words).

His compassion is so great that he feels bad even when he steps on an ant, making him a pacifist at heart. While his peers prefer the “hit first, ask questions later” approach, Sanzang always advocates dialogue and non-violence, though sometimes that tests the patience of his more impulsive protectors. Despite his apparent fragility, he has an inner strength that drives him forward, convinced that kindness can conquer even the most terrible evil. He'll probably ask you to put the staff away and try to talk him through it, though… Even if the monster looks like he wants to use it as an appetizer.

A pacifist by nature, he'd rather sit down and have tea with a demon than fight, which sometimes makes his companions wonder if he's a little overly optimistic… Or if he just doesn't realize how dangerous the situation is.

Zhu Bajie.

Zhu Bajie is the kind of fellow who is always looking for two things: food and a nap. A top-notch glutton, he seems to have a bottomless stomach, and if there's food nearby, it's sure to be on his plate… Or in his mouth. His personal motto is something along the lines of "work as little as possible and eat as much as possible." In fact, if he can avoid a fight and resolve the situation with a feast instead of a battle, he'll do so without hesitation.

Besides being a slacker, Bajie is a born comedian, always cracking jokes (sometimes too inappropriate) even at the worst of times, making him the comic relief of the group, though not always intentionally. Despite his good humor, he has one very clear weak spot: women. An incorrigible womanizer, Bajie always has his head (and eyes) set on any lady who crosses his path, which usually gets him into more trouble than he can handle. Although he sometimes gives the impression that he doesn't take anything seriously, deep down he's a loyal friend who cares deeply… As long as you don't ask him to make a stale joke about Sun Wukong.

Sha Wujing

Sha Wujing is the rock of the group, the kind of person who always remains calm, even when chaos is unleashed around him (and traveling with Wukong and Bajie, that happens quite often). With his cool demeanor and calm voice, he's the one who manages to bring some sanity to the craziest of arguments, though he rarely butts in directly. He prefers to observe in silence and speak only when he has something important to say, making him a comforting presence for his companions at times.

He's incredibly loyal, the first to offer to shoulder the group's burdens, literally and metaphorically. If there's something heavy to carry, a thankless task to accomplish, or simply someone who needs support, Wujing will be there without a complaint. His resilience has seen him overcome trials that would have broken others, but you'll never hear him brag about it. Humble to the core, he seeks no recognition or glory; he just wants to do his duty and protect his friends along the way.

Despite his serious and chilling appearance, Wujing has a warm heart and endless patience, making him an anchor for the group. In a team full of chaotic personalities, he's the one who remembers that it doesn't always take magic, humor, or impulsiveness to face challenges: sometimes, it just takes someone who won't give up and keeps going, one step at a time.

Bai Long Ma.

Bai Long Ma, once a dragon prince, lived a life of luxury and pride… Until one bad decision led to his banishment. Now, in his white horse form, he accompanies pilgrims with unwavering loyalty. Although he can speak, he rarely does, preferring to let his actions speak for him.

He is altruistic in nature, always willing to bear the burdens of the group without complaint. His presence is calm and pleasant, as if he carries with him a little bit of the majesty he once had as a dragon. Silent but noble, Bai Long Ma is the companion who is always there, strong and reliable, even when no one else notices.

PD: This character reference sheet may change. In any case, notice of any changes will be given.

[chiarrara]

PART THR33 (finallyyyyyyyy):

so after all THAT nobara and megumi are, predictably, avoiding the subject... basically, they were both like "that's crazy, he's crazy right? that's crazy" and focused harder on the obvious distraction of liking yuuji. the whole thing seemed to calm down yuuji a bit though! he's being less cagey with them, and after a few days, the initial weirdness mostly calms down and things fall into a (three-way denial fueled) equilibrium

SCENE - INT. DINING HALL, MORNING

they're grabbing breakfast (again)(as you do) but nobara splits off to eat with the upperclassmen (N: "I don't wanna eat with you assholes today"; she already had plans to eat with maki)((she may also be avoiding one or the both of them))(((any reason honeslty, everyday is a new minefield with these losers)))

SIDE NOTE: for some reason in this, nobara developed a really contentious one-sided feud with yuuta. maki and yuuta might be a thing, or just besties, idrc because that has nothing to do with nobara's dislike of him (really, what it comes down to is in first year she didn't get to go to kyoto because "he won the exchange event last year" and she's held a grudge against him ever since) of course, he's very nice and welcoming to her at all times, which gives her lots of opportunites to snap back at him and roll her eyes and ignore him to talk to maki. he has no idea what's going on.

Things are awkward between yuuji and megumi. things have mostly gone back to normal but this is still the first time anyone's been alone with yuuji since the incident. they're pretty much just sitting in silence until yuuji breaks the tension.

Y: I can't believe gojo-sensei actually assigned us a reading this week. he's never done that before has he?

M: technically, he's supposed to assign readings every week. it just never matters if we actually read them or not.

Y: wait, really? but...didn't he say he was gonna quiz us?

M: it's probably just because he's going out of town all week. he has to pretend he's still teaching while he's gone.

Y: oh…so you think he's gonna forget by the time he gets back?

M: probably. but even if he doesn't-- you know, right after I graduated middle school gojo told me all of sudden there was an entrance exam for jujutsu tech.

Y: really!? but all I had to do was--

M: trust me I'm getting to that. he gave me like 700 pages of reading and told me I was gonna get tested on all of it. I spent the entire break pulling all-nighters, reading everything, reviewing it over and over, running practice exams and everything. Then I showed up on the first day.

Y: and?

M: Yaga-sensei beat the shit out of me.

Yuuji laughs. Megumi smiles.

Y: was anything in the reading helpful at least?

M: not even a little bit.

It's the first time Yuuji's laughed so easily around him since stuff got weird.

Y: what did Gojo say?

M: "I never said it would be a written exam"

Y: you're kidding

Across the room, Maki's glancing over Nobara's shoulder

Maki: looks like they're finally getting along again. shit's been weird with you three lately. (N: mm.)

Yuuta: the two of them would be cute together, don't you think? (N: glares)

Maki: How would Nobara feel about getting third wheeled in her little trio though?

Nobara peeks over her shoulder to see Megumi smiling softly at a grinning and laughing Yuuji, the two of them looking realllll cozy together.

Nobara: Whatever. I just don't want Yuuji to get a boyfriend before I do.

((((Maki: what about megumi? Nobara: couldn't care less))))

SCENE - EXT. TRAINING GROUNDS, AFTERNOON

that same afternoon, they're out getting ready for the afternoon training session. it's independently lead today. megumi's planning on training with his shikigami getting ready to do another subjugation ritual. he's warming up by himself a ways away from the other two. nobara gets her hammer and nails and approaches yuuji streching on the ground and asks him to spar with her

yuuji: I mean....okay, but are you sure? you're more of a ranged fighter, right? how well you can fight kinda depends on how well you can take advantage of your environment, especially one-on-one against a hand-to-hand fighter. and...well, we're in an open field.

nobara smirks (she's secretly always impressed by yuuji's fight sense, but she's also the most competitive person she knows): you scared?

yuuji looks back up at her, blinks at the challenge, then a smile slowly grows across his face. holding eye contact, he cocks his head and says: no way

they set up about 10 yards (meters) apart. yuuji's bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders ready to close the distance. he drops his chin and locks eyes with nobara. she slots three nails between her fingers on her left hand, adjusts her grip on her hammer and locks in.

nobara has to keep her heart from beating out of her chest

yuuji takes off, a huge burst of speed that kicks up the turf behind him. in practiced motions, nobara slams three nails in a spread pattern into the ground between them. the earth explodes in front of yuuji, breaking and shooting up into jagged crags of earth in his path. he skids, taken aback by a technique he didn't know she had. he quickly changes direction

nobara takes advantage of the moment when yuuji has lost the line of sight and quickly scales one of the new formations jutting out of the ground, pulling as many nails as she can hold at once out of her hip pack. the moment she sees yuuji veering around the obstruction, she shoots a nail directly at his head

he catches sight of her just before the nail whizzes past his face. he has to halt his movement and pull his head back to barely miss being hit. He uses the sudden stop to change directions again, and start bounding up the broken earth toward nobara

she shoots another, he dodges to the left. she shoots one more, and it catches him on the cheek. he doesn't even flinch, bounding forward until he's just a step away from catching up to her

nobara jumps backward off her perch and slides down another chunk of jutting turf, turning as yuuji jumps across to follow her. the moment he touches down, she shoots a nail into the ground right below his feet, destroying it.

she takes the opportunity to gain some distance, running away from the destroyed turf back into the open field. she'll only have a moment to do what she needs to do.

the ground explodes behind her in a crack followed by a blast that blows her hair around her and sends debris flying past. he'll be on her in seconds. if she's lucky

nobara pulls six nails out of her pack and floats five around her with cursed energy. she spins around, kneels down in the center and slams the last one into the ground, bringing all the others down with it and shooting cursed energy deep into the earth

immediately the ground beneath her shoots up into the sky carrying her up with it

the sudden upward momentum knocks the air out of her for a moment. she stabilizes herself on her hands and knees as the acceleration slows near the peak. she brings her eyes to the ground below her. yuuji is locked onto her, just below bouncing on his toes waiting for the moment she lands.

she reaches the peak and her stomach lurches as she comes to a stop. she takes a deep breath.

the moment the ground begins to fall she stands, reaches out with her cursed energy, and takes aim

one shot to the right. he dodges and rolls. but as he moves to pop back up, he's jerked back by his left arm, stuck to the ground. his head flicks over to see what's holding him back, but the nail she shot is feet away from him. nobara smirks.

three more shots. his right arm is pinned down. then his right leg. and his left.

she launches herself off the chunk of land just before it crashes back into the ground and lands kneeled over yuuji, a nail to his head, hammer over her head

"i win"

yuuji's shocked face pulls into a wide smile as his eyes light up and his body relaxes

"how'd you do that?"

she smiles, and pokes him in the cheek where the nail grazed him at the start of the fight.

"that tiny bit of blood?"

she nods

"on one nail?"

she nods again and smiles

"no way....when did you learn all this?"

"maybe i've been practicing when you weren't paying attention"

"you're amazing, kugisaki"

the praise shoots electricity straight down her spine and sets her skin on fire.

"yeah. i am." she tries to maintain an air of confidence, turning away as her face heats up. she drops her cursed technique freeing yuuji from being pinned to the ground and moves to stand up.

the moment the curse drops he hooks his leg around hers, one hand presses into her shoulder and the other wraps around her waist. before she can process, he's flipped her onto her back, pinning her down by her wrist, immobilizing the hand that holds her hammer. he smirks down at her.

"I win"

nobara's heart is going to kill her. yuuji's face, inches from hers, self-satisfied grin and sparkling eyes is going to kill her.

"get off me, loser" she pushes him off with one foot. He falls off easily laughing.

"let's call it a draw!"

"no way!"

he laughs harder. megumi watches them from across the destroyed landscape. nobara is pushing herself off the ground flicking dirt and grass off her uniform while yuuji is laid out on the ground beside her. she's frowning, but her face is flushed. he knows it's not from effort.

"other people have to train here you know" he mumbles to himself. he's definitely mad about the damage. only the damage. he's not getting anything done today.

SCENE - INT. DORM HALLWAY, EVENING

that night, nobara knocks on megumi's door again for the first time since the incident. she slips in quietly and shuts the door with a soft click. they hold tense eye contact from across the room before nobara finally speaks

n: you think you're slick?

m: what?

n: i saw you flirting up a storm with yuuji at breakfast.

megumi slams his book closed

n: "oh yuuji, you're so funny, yuuuji. let me bat my eyes at you some more yuuuuuji!"

m: I was flirting?? (he gets up from his bed) "spar with me yuuji-kun! let me show my moves yuuji-kuuun! oops i'm straddling you yuuji-kuuuun!"

he's halfway across the room taunting her

n: i don't know who the fuck you think you're talking about, cause I know it's not me

she's halfway across the room up in his face

n: sounds like you're jealous

m: i'm not jealous

n: so you're a liar too

m: (softer this time) not a liar...

megumi's looking down into her eyes, she's glaring up into his. his eyes drop to her lips. nobara just deflates like we're doing this again, huh? megumi just shrugs like can't help it. in moments, they're all over each other again, falling back onto his bed, wrinkling the sheets, and rolling awkwardly over the book he deposited there earlier.

nobara slides her hands into megumi's hair and pulls, he gasps and bites her lip. she pulls her lip through his teeth and sits back breathing heavily. megumi catches her eye and they pause.

he shakes his head and pulls her back in.

"let's not talk about it yet"

she nods and crashes back into him.

once they've worked off the initial burst of energy, slowing down until nobara's forehead is pressed against megumi's, breathing evenly, his hands holding her lower back and waist, neither of them making direct eye contact, she falls to the side and burys her face in the bedding.

m: soooo....

n: (groans)

m: we should probably talk about it now

nobara turns her head to look at him, her face still half squished against the mattress, pouting

m: nobara...what are we?

END OF PART 3, PART 4 GONNA BE WILD GET READY

new itfskg based on a hc post i saw on here in my fugue state rbing last night i'll add a screenshot or link or smth later maybe idk. okay so baskially how it goes:

megumi and nobara both have a crush on yuuji. this is especially hard for nobara bc she spent the whole first let's say year of their friendship being extremely vocal about how she'd never be into either of them but oops! she got too comfy and caught feelings

nobara eventually breaks down and goes to fushiguro to lament her plight and ask for advice. she's dramatically revealing the source of her suffering when his face gives him away (a big ol "oh no" written on his forehead) (N: what's that face? M: what face... N: oh my god... do you like him too???) (Megumi doesn't say shit cause he's a repressed loser embarrassed of having feelings)

Turns out meg's had a crush on yuuji basically since he met him. he didn't realize it at first of course cause he's way too good at lying to himself. not that good though. he's been silently fostering a deep deep crush for months.

having learned all this, for the next few weeks, nobara starts visiting fushiguro in his dorm anytime she's too overwhelmed by annoying feelings, or pulling him aside during downtime to let off steam, sharing knowing glances and silent communications across rooms. megu's surprisingly glad to have someone to confide in, especially in a way where he's not the center of attention. Since they're both pathetic losers with a crush, he finds it's easier to talk about his feelings than with anything before.

regularly commiserating about how down bad they both are leads nobara and megumi to spend more time separated from yuuji. it's really good for their friendship actually. previously they were both a bit closer to yuuji than to each other, but having a crush to bond over gives them a lot to talk about. yuuji does notice they're spending more time together. and without him. wonder how he feels about that..

one night, nobara barges into megumi's room to complain about yuuji being way too cute and funny at dinner or something while megumi's laying in bed reading. she just plops down half on top of him and starts in. He reluctantly puts his book down but he doesn't object. they've gotten pretty used to each other. so she's going off, grumbling into his shoulder, gripping his sweatshirt out of frustration, and when she looks up, fushiguro looks down at her. their faces less than a foot apart as she's leaning into him, lying together in his bed and...

N: what's that face

M: what face?

he looks away. nobara turns his face back to hers

N: that face

M: (without breaking *very intense* eye contact) I dont' know what you're talking about

they make out

it's very much teenagers with a lot of pent up energy that needs to go somewhere fooling around like teenagers with pent up energy that needs to go somewhere. they kind of crash together, they're grabbing at arms and shoulders and faces, pulling each other as close as they can without ever breaking the kiss. At one point, nobara in readjusting to keep from falling off the bed ends up on top of megumi, knees on either side of his hips, one hand propping herself up and one gripped in the fabric of his sweatshirt. he pulls her into him and rolls them over so they're chest to chest with him on top. he's pushes his hands into her hair, she wraps her arms around his back and twists her leg around h--

two knocks and the door opens

"Hey Fushiguro, I wanted to see if you..."

Yuuji's halfway through the doorway and his face is morphing into the picture of absolute despair

megumi and nobara are...like this

(they're not naked, they're just microsoft paint stick people)

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I'll just..." Yuuji sputters and stumbles out the door.

(simultaneously) M: Shit.. N: Fuck!

so the mood's kiiinda dead.... megumi ends up leaned up against the wall with his head in his hands. nobara's staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, nobara says, "did you see his face?" M: "mm" N: "so...which one of us do you think he likes?"

---END OF PART ONE---

(I'll continue it in like... 5 minutes probably)

[nicollekidman]

so true s&b social media manager! now put his resurrected corpse back on my screen!!!! 

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[mythicalcoolkid]

Just wanted to say I've read through a lot of your posts, and you are amazingly well-spoken and thoughtful, particularly in regards to LGBTQ issues in society. I am a follower and a fan. You rock!🏳️‍🌈❤️

Thank you so much, this made my day. I pride myself on being nuanced and thorough but sometimes on the Worst Faith Approach website it's easy for me to feel like I explain myself poorly. It means a lot to hear that other people understand what I mean and that I actually do explain myself well - some people just love getting angry and that's not my problem

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

While we're here, I just want to add an example of a good response to Harris' video.

In the first half of the video, Harris briefly mentions a creator called Lukeypoo (who now goes by Luke Stephens) who had plagiarised Harris' Bloodborne review, and his response at the time was to deny it, signal to his alt right buddies and insult Harris.

After the video came out, Luke Stephens made a post on his community page regarding it:

For those, who can't see the screenshots, it reads:

A video went up on YouTube last night that showed something I did 6 years ago in early 2017, of which I'm very ashamed. I've talked about it on stream plenty since then and try to be very open about it, but I know a lot of people haven't been watching me since 2017 or have not heard me discuss this before. I don't want to hide from my mistakes or deflect, so very plainly here's what happened:

I was just starting on YouTube and I ripped off a phenomenal video on Bloodborne. It was a fantastic video by hbomberguy and after finding it through a Reddit post I tried to take his 1.5 hour masterpiece and make my own suckier version at around 7 minutes. I copied the premise, jokes, structure, and then pretended like it was all just a coincidence that they were so similar. I was a 19 year old idiot who thought it didn't matter because "he's a bigger creator so it's fine" and "it's just the internet." When I was rightly called out for copying his video I dodged, lied, and even attacked and insulted the appearance of those holding me to account, including hbomberguy himself. I copied someone's video, in parts word-for-word, and I pretended like *I* was the victim and *they* were being unreasonable. Unbelievable. There is no question at all: I was in the wrong, fully.

Let me be very clear: I whole heartedly disown who I was back then and what I did. Politically, religiously, and even morally/ethically I was a person that I hate today. I was an extremist, a bully, a religious zealot, and above all, a prick. This event sparked a spiral in my personal life that I didn't document online, but that has led me to who I am today. Someone who tries very hard to respect my fellow creators, audience, and to uphold a high ethical standard for myself. I strive every day to be a better man for myself, my family and kids, and for the community around me. And that's why I'm writing this, because I don't think we should hide from our mistakes or pretend they didn't happen. I screwed up, big time, and I stole the hard work of an incredibly talented creator and for that I'm incredibly sorry. I was 19, hard headed, and above all arrogant and unwilling to acknowledge I had screwed up. It took a couple years after that before I could openly admit what I had actually done, and that it took that long is all the more shameful.

I don't expect a response or certainly forgiveness, but for what it's worth, I am truly sorry for everything, @hbomberguy

For the last 6 years I've been working my butt off to be someone I can be proud of being and I hope you all can see that the man I am today is not the shameful excuse of a person I was back then.

I've never watched a video or stream by Luke Stephens so I can't attest as to his content, but this is one of the best responses I've seen to any kind of accusation, and so I lean towards believing him to be a better man than he was six years.

I thinks it's important to highlight the good response/s to Harris' video, to remind ourselves that plagiarism is not such an immoral action that from which you can't redeem yourself (though in Somerton's case, I'm less sure of that) if you take accountability for your actions, and to remember that in most cases, we should give people space to grow and become better.

The swiftness and brutality of Hbomberguy’s complete evisceration of James Somerton’s career cannot be overstated.