#maybe some of that would have happened anyway. but not all of it
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noah-luck-easterly · 2 days ago
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So if this has been happening for all of human history, let’s say the writing is some kind of mysterious glyphwork, rather than the local written tongue.
It wouldn’t take much for people to notice that people with the same glyphs die in the same way. Imagine the science and the superstition that arises from these. Scholars slowly working out the meaning of subglyphs by comparing causes of depth that share them. Glyphs used to assign personality traits like astrological signs.
There would still be THE CREATURE moments as new ways of dying are discovered. Imagine the paranoia of being blazoned with a glyph nobody recognized. You alone don’t know how you will die, so you don’t know when you are safe.
How much detail does the glyph contain? Could crones tell Macbeth that his subglyphs say no man born of woman can harm him, and that he will not be overthrown until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinae?
What would it mean to wear a hat or a headscarf and hide your glyph? Can you really trust someone like that? Or is it the staus quo, and glyphs are only shown to those you trust? Imagine a multicultural city where each of these perspectives is held by one group, and they cause mutual distrust between them.
Can you obscure it either makeup? Or make a false one? Imagine the youtube tutorials.
A soldier with “in bed” on his head is the butt of many sexual jokes in his unit, but expected to be fearless on the field. He panics inside, knowing a wound can kill slow as well as fast.
How does this change medicine? Triage nurses looking not only at a patient’s status, but also comparing it to their glyph. You can’t trust a glyph for diagnosis, not if you hope the patient will live, but you can try to rule it out. And if the doctor can’t rule it out, do you give in, or try anyway? You may die of a stab wound eventually, but maybe not this one today.
What about religion and philosophy? Here’s fate written out for all to see, constant, never changing. John Calvin would cream his pants.
Murder mysteries. The murderer would have to figure out not only how not to get caught, but have to use a method compatible with the victim’s glyph.
Is it irresponsible to raise children with someone whose shares your glyph? Imagine all the well-meaning busybodies “just making sure” you’ve chosen a guardian for the little one.
Can it be obscured by scars?
everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -
enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.
and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends
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twisted-broth · 3 days ago
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Any of the boys you want do a challenge where (they aren't dating yet) but they are at a fair and they win a bear or a prize and s/o gives them a kiss on the cheek for how many they win and s/o says if they win 10 or more they will give them a kiss on the lips and spend a week together with just them (maybe show like if some did get the kiss and how they would react?) I thought this was cute lol
This has been sitting in my drafts for like a year so I just figured I would post the parts of it that were done.
Leave it to Crowley and Grim to get you into this situation. “Every dorm has to have a booth at the fair, prefect! Maybe you’ll even earn enough money to make some renovations to that shoddy old place!”
Crowley failed to take into consideration how making a carnival attraction costs money to be any good. Any cafe service would need more money and supplies than you could afford, a show would need more than two people, and a game would need prizes.
Grim is not one for bright ideas, but it would seem there was no other solution that wouldn’t cost all your food money for the month. So this is what it came to.
“Knock down all the pins and win a kiss on the cheek from Ramshackle’s prefect! Hit all three targets and he’ll give you a kiss on the lips!!!!”
It was probably in your top five most embarrassing moments of your life as your cat basically prostituted you at the top of his lungs. Surely no one would actually be enticed by a prize like that, right?
Trey
"You always manage to find a way to keep things interesting, don't you? For once I'm glad to be at a school mandated event."
Feels bad. Plays anyway.
No hard feelings, right?
He tells you that you have nothing to worry about, he's really a lousy shot anyway (as if he's not the best spelldrive player on Heartslabyul)
He easily knocks down the first two stacks, but misses the third
Maybe he missed, maybe he found it in his heart to show you mercy
He not-so-subtly implies that he's sure he could find a different way to win the "grand prize"
Despite his big talk, he still has a noticeable blush when you give him a kiss on the cheek
He would also keep an eye on your booth for the rest of the day to make sure not too many people are winning
For your sake, of course
Jade
“It would seem you’ve found yourself in quite the situation there, prefect. Please find it in your heart to forgive me if I take advantage.”
This is the funniest shit Jade has ever seen
How stupid do you honestly have to be to get yourself into this predicament?
Of course he’s playing the game. The scowl on your face when he trades in his tickets to Grim for three baseballs fills him with unbridled delight
His aim is a little wonky and you sigh in relief when his first three balls miss the target
He feigns disappointment before handing over another few tickets to the cat and grabbing the balls again
Of course he was hustling you. He let you think that even for a second you would be safe from this menace. For shame
Each ball is thrown with such force that pins from the first stack fly into the other stacks, easily ensuring that Jade clears the game with ease
He calls it beginners luck. Asshole.
Has the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he leans down to your face to claim his prize
Rook
"Mon amour, what a dastardly situation you've been resigned to! Not to worry sweet dame, I shall save you from the beasts at your heels!"
You knew you were in trouble the minute Rook’s gaze happened to fall on your stall
His eyes narrow and he smirks as he makes his way over to the stall
He's visibly holding back his excitement as he trades his tickets in to Grim
His idea of "saving you" is to hog the game- and the prize- for himself
He hits every stack with effortless accuracy, game after game
The second all three stacks have been knocked down, he prances over to you and leans down for his kiss. You can practically see the flower emojis radiating off his satisfied smile
This will continue until Grim gets fed up with him scaring away customers, or Vil comes to drag him away
You got so used to kissing him that you almost do it again the next time he leans down to talk to you
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littlemissmaples · 3 days ago
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What does your Future Spouse look like?
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Pile One: Flowers
Whether your FS is male or female, I'm getting the impression that they have some similarities to Chapelle Roan, or simply just listen to her. I’ve already written everything I need for this reading, I’m just going back and polishing it, so I would like to take the time now to say that there are three consistent themes within this reading that appeared within this reading for me.
1. Your FS likely resembles a celebrity in some way (you’ve probably read another one of my PAC’s before and you fell under the pile where I talked about Zendaya and Tom Holland)
2. Your imagine of your FS isn’t entirely what you think. There is something here that is a little different than what you image or expected.
and 
3. Some of you are Queer and want your FS to be a woman. (For some of you though, you could be straight but just don’t mind if your FS happens to be queer or a woman who has many partners before. Some of you are looking for a dominant woman lmao. You’ll have it, haha.)
Anyways, if that sounds like you, welcome, welcome, let’s get onto your reading!
If your FS identifies as a woman, there’s a strong chance she has a similar look or vocal tone to Chapelle Roan, this hasn’t leaved me as I typed, although I’m getting that she probably doesn’t sings much, if at all, although she may just have that striking tone to her voice and appearance as a whole. She may also be a theater kid or have more of a theater-kid vibe about her, although this may just be you more than her. There are some parallels between the two of you (I’m also getting red lips, take it if that resonates, drop if not.) they may have a lot of similarities to you if not in appearance than interest. (I’m getting Hamilton and 21 Chump Street for some of you, maybe she likes musicals.) As I mentioned before there is a bit of a queer energy here, although don’t worry if you’re not, i’ll get to those of you who’s partner is likely male in a minute, but I digress. If you’re looking for a woman, I’m getting you’re looking for one who’s not only queer but also has a bit of that femme-fatale, Joan-of-Arc kind of vibe to her, like she’s a mix of princess and knight with a Renaissance-like appearance. I’m getting she definitely has that. Although for some of you this is likely a “Dream” and you’re being asked to be a little bit more “realistic” about your FS, no that they don’t exist or you the way you imagine but some of you imagine this warrior of a woman with big bright red flowy hair, something like maxie from Under the Oak Tree maybe, (but less shy) when in reality, her hair may be more of a brown-ish red rather than that bright almost blonde-ish ginger red you would see in like a movie or something, or perhaps more of a dyed color red. I feel like for some of you your FS may not even have red hair but just have dark wavy brown hair and freckles and while they will be outspoken they’re likely a little bit more introverted than you expected, but this doesn’t mean she’ll be any less fun or into the kind of stuff you’re into, i’m getting this is somewhat of my kinky pile and some of you are looking for a dominant woman, you’ll have it, you’ll have it, but don’t reduce her to only that, okay, haha. <3
If your FS identities as male, I sense a mix of patience and a bit of impatience from you lmao, you’re sick and tired of waiting both for me to get to describing your FS and also you’re sick of waiting for him to show up, but I’m getting there’s this back-and-forth inside you of what you want your FS to look like vs what they’ll most likely look like. (I know what my next PAC is gonna be about now lol.) Look, my love, your FS might not match the exact picture in your mind. 
And that’s okay. I’m literally getting the image of a slightly sun-kissed, blonde-haired, bright-eyed, “golden retriever” type of boyfriend who could be a book lover and surfer who hangs out at the beach often and is a fond of marine life and what not, the “perfect” guy with a chiseled jaw and bright gorgeous brown eyes that make you melt under the sun. Thiiiis is not him lmao, but this does not mean this is “not” him. What do I mean by this.
Much like I told you, or the other side of Pile one if you skipped the first half. Your FS has some qualities about them that are different from what you expected. I get the sense that you’re afraid he’s not going to be your type and that you’re not going to be attracted and perhaps you try hard to let go of this and tell yourself that you’re okay with “any” type no matter how he looks like, but sugar, 1. It’s okay to have a type but 2. It’s okay to allow yourself to be okay to like someone outside of your type. You need to be a little bit more kind to your mind and understand that you have no idea what this guy looks like, perhaps you have very high standards or maybe even a light prejudice that holds you back from imagine him to look like anything except what you imagine him like, I’m not here to judge you but you need to understand that if you want to grow past this, healing does not come from judgment, you can’t grow and shame yourself all at once. If you’re judging yourself, ask yourself why, sit with that thought or feeling and see what it wants and why is it there, do whatever you need for yourself in that moment and then let it pass by and evolve. You’ll be just fine <3 But back to your FS, your FS is a criminally attractive. You might not notice it at first because they don’t look how you imagined in your head, but once you give them the space they need to shine in front of you, oh man you’re never coming back.
I’m getting some of you are looking for more of a “Golden Retriever” type boyfriend but you’re likely to end up with more of a “Black Cat” kind of personality. They might actually be Black, like African American (I’m getting some of you are African yourselves, perhaps you’re from West Africa, you might be the same ethnicity but don’t worry this man will NOOOOOT look like your father lmao) or if they’re a woman, they may have more “Cat-Like” eyes and be a little quieter and have sharper more model like features than what you expected, think Nara Smith but with more of a bolder, Alt style/personality. Anyways, your FS is hard for me to describe because of this very reason, whenever I go to say something about them, your energy comes in with a panic “NO!” you say, hahaha. For some of you, you have NOTHING to worry about and they look EXAAAACTLY what you imagine them to look like, but maybe with one tiny, itty, bitty difference like maybe they longer lashes than you expected or they have a beauty mark on their face. But for others, they look like how you imaged but 1 key treat is just the opposite. If they’re male I get the sense, you’re looking for someone whos has softer feature or maybe they’re “beautiful” in an almost feminine sense, your FS will likely be likely be like this.  I feel like this is a very beautiful guy or maybe this is just your rose colored glasses trying to paint him like that again, haha, guys, please, I promise he’s beautiful, he’s very pretty but I get the sense some of you are attaching an almost unrealistic standard to how he’s gonna look like. You’re really indecisive here arent you? I keep repeating myself in this reading, it’s wild. But I promise I get it, it ain’t your fault. But do know that your FS DOES looks like a celebrity of some sort, if it’s not someone you recognie then maybe they just have the appearance of someone who would do good under the public eye, someone who’s very aesthetic and dresses well. But do keep the whole “1 opposite trait thing.”
If you expect them to look feminine, they’ll likely be masculine with feminine features.
If you expect them to be be silent and reserved, they’ll likely be calm but very sociable.
If you expect them to be tough and a lonewolf, they’ll likely be warm hearted but stern in a way.
I’ve been all over the place with this reading, let’s focus solely on their appearance.
If female she may look like Nara Smith or Chapelle Roan, If male a celebrity isn’t coming into mind (instagram model for some) but whatever image of a person, celebrity or not it is that you have in mind is the “Base” of their appearance BUT, find a trait, whatever it is that sticks out to you the most and switch it for something else. If her hair’s short, it’s likely rather long. If she’s Tall in your head, she’s probably a littler short. If he’s thin and a bit more on the delicate side, imagine him to be lean in his built or with a slightly rugged edge. Brown or “Reddish” Brown eyes for them.
That’s all for now, haha, as wild of a ride as this was, I had fun, I hope this reading brought you something. If you’d like a more personalized reading though feel free to buy a reading from me off my Ko-Fi! Donations are also appreciated (though never required, your time here with me was more than enough today <3)
I hope to see you again babes!!
Pile Two: Bicycle
Wow.. I don’t know how to describe your FS to you, I suddenly got this overwhelming sense of peace over me. I was just listening to United In Grief by Kendrick Lamar and now my phone’s Playing Blue Dream which honestly tells me so much about them. I feel like this person is just, honestly, a dream, I want to say they’re so pretty, but honestly calling them a beauty would be almost an understatement. They could be very spiritual, I’m struggling to pick up if they’re male or female, they may be non-binary and Identify as they/them or they may just be somewhat genderfluid. If they’re a woman, they have some “masculine” features to them, perhaps thicker eyebrows and wider shoulders, but honestly these features of their just make them appear even more mystical and more elegant. They can have very clear skin. If they’re male they might have some more “feminine” features about them, like soft beautiful lashes or a little beauty mark under the eye like that of a 1920’s actress. This person makes me think of incense, perhaps they meditate often or light some nice incense around the house, they really have this lovely earthy-spiritual vibe about them. If they’re black they may be light skin with soft curls, though for some of you it’s a tighter curl pattern, for others of you this person is simply foreign she could be south african if a woman and kind of resemble someone like Tyla, if male their ethnicity could genuinely be anything, though I’m getting they’re likely very mixed, they really give me Jhene Aiko vibes which makes sense given how she’s Black, Japanese, Dominican and something else I believe??? Correct me if I’m wrong. Overall this man is a beauty, I’m not sure why the Movie Millenium Actress by Satoshi Kon is coming into mind, but like the main character he could have a very calm, yet determined demeanor to him, I’m getting he’s been patiently searching for love for a very long time, much like her, a love that he’s not sure he’ll ever come to cross but he’s possible he’ll find one day. Gosh I can’t wait for you guys to meet. 
Alright let’s continue talking about appearance, they may have a “sleepiness” to their eyes and a sweetness to their smile that’s very calming, they might wear very flowy clothing or comfortable loose fitting clothes. I want to say street wear but honestly it’s a little more modest than regular street wear, this is only for a few of you but they may be muslim. Even if they aren’t they’re very stylish but they have a uniqueness to their appearance you wouldn’t expect to find anywhere else, it’s like a mix of modern and ancient. Like Imagine mixing punk with decora but still somehow making it work. I get the sense your future spouse might either be experimenting with their style or simply not have singular style and likes to try out different clothes. 
This is also something not appearance related, but they may not talk much, they’re likely more a of a listener, they’ll likely like to hear you talk more, although I’m getting the sense you won’t be able to do much talking around them when they’re admiring you lovingly with those deep inquisitive eyes of their, haha. Honestly, being with this person is just going to bring you such a sense of peace and I get when they do open their mouth it’s always going to be the silliest thing that makes you laugh or something that’s thought provoking and inspires soul-searching. I recommend you listen to Blue Dream by Jhene Aiko, their energy to me feels so similar to this. I keep finding myself saying “What a Dream! What a Dream!” this could be you, or them although I get that you’ve never been with a person like this, I get that you might not expect to fall for them as hard as you did, but just know that when they met you, god, they knew it’d be no one else but you from that very moment <3
That is all my dove!
If you’d like a more personalized reading, feel free to purchase one from me off my Ko-Fi! (link at the end of your pile)
Donations are also appreciated (though never required, your time here with me was more than enough for me <3)
I hope to see you again, my dream!! (This could also be a nickname they might have for you or you for them now that I think of it <3)
P.S
Snoop Dogg keeps coming into my head during this reading, Idk why lol, it’s possible they may be very silly and good hearted or just have ADHD or be Neuro-Divergent in some way lmao.
Pile Three: Tabby Kitten
Pile one and two both had people who’s future spouse’s were likely Female, I’m sorry to say that if you’ve selected this pile expecting a woman, this is likely not for you. Wow, this person is MASCULINE like H.E.L.L honestly, they’re almost influencing the way I write, it’s very hard lmao to type casually like I do, but they’re very forward in the way that they talk. I feel like you likely know this person, I wouldn’t say this is an ex or perhaps someone that you’ve had a situationship with. I feel like they have a lot to say to you, I’m getting someone who’s more on the “Rough and Roudy” side, I almost don’t want to give physical descriptions, they’re someone who likes to banter a bit or sometimes be a little bit of a tease. They’re a lot to handle, maybe a bit intense but I don’t get that they’re toxic. This is for a few of you but he gives me “Booktok” vibes lmao, he might have tattoos. Is this guy real? Lmao??
I want today this guy doesn’t exist and I just got sma-OH SHIT!! WAAAAIT I GET IT. LMAOO.
Oh my gosh girl!! It’s not that he doesn’t exist, it’s that Y O U think he doesn’t exist!! This guy that you describe as your “boyfriend” could be like a mix of several book-boyfriends, he’s every troupe that you like but with a healthy-mindset-not-actually-toxic-and-wont-hurt-you-maybe-others-but-never-you vibe. BIIITTTCH AAAHH, oh my gosh, I feel like we’re at a sleep over and I’m geeking out with you. I get the sense that maybe you’ll be hanging out with friends and when you finally show them a picture of him they’ll all be screaming with you like I am. I really want to say this person is not real, but Jesus fuck, you’ve manifested this so hard I get the sense that this man actually does exist, like maybe you’re into super natural and your favorite character was Dean, he may look somewhat like Dean but with Tattoos and black hair and drives a motorcycle. Do you watch Doctor Who?? Are you a 90s kid or do you just like the aesthetic because I feel like I’m time traveling, maybe Dean isnt exactly your type but you’re more into a slender, pretty guy aesthetic who have piercings and isnt afraid to paint their hair and wear dark clothes. Lmao, I have no idea where this is going but sis I get that this person really exists, I’m not getting any opportunities to say no even as a joke. 
The only thing is though that there are two of you here, for some of you, you really want the bad boy boyfriend of your dreams and you’ll get him exactly and you imagine him! But for others of you this – OK, idk wtf I just pressed but my computer like glitched almost and I deleted half of everything I wrote before pressing Ctrl + Z to bring it all back. KEEP THIS MINDSET THAT YOU HAVE AND DO NOT CHANGE IT BECAUSE BABYGIRL YOU’RE ALMOST THERE!! The only warning I am getting is to NEVER settle for less, because for a lot of you, you might fall victim to depressive energies and wanting to heal someone else and trap yourself in toxic relationships with shitty guys who use rock music and punk aesthetic and “nonchalantness” as an excuse to be dickheads to their partners and the people they’re supposed to love. NEVER settle for less, you paved the way, maybe some of you have been in past toxic relationships already LET THIS GO and never fall behind again, pick yourself back up Queen (or King or Your Majesty if you’re male or a they/them <3) and PUSH!! PUSH FORWARD YOU GOT THIS!!
And finally some of you don’t give a damn about no future spouse or tarot stuff but you just wanted to pick a pile and read something for fun haha. For others of you your spouse themselves may be reading this together with you in the same room, haha, I’m rooting for you!
Anyways, whomever you are, I hope you get the experience of your dream with this person and that they treat you like absolute royalty, don’t always remember this, that you don’t need to be reminded by someone else that you’re worth treating correctly, you are and have always been special, you are and have always been worth loving <3
“See ya, princess <3” (they may call you this, that’s for a few of you)
Byeee!! I hope to see ya soon! And if you’d like a reading from me, feel free to purchase one from my Ko-Fi or perhaps leave a little donation! Anything and Everything is appreciated but never required! Your time here with me has been more than enough! :D <3
I hope to see ya again soon!
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jellieland · 2 days ago
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Pearl is pretty sure she was just as much a traitor as Bigb was, today.
The only difference is that she wasn't found out.
Which is to say, the only difference is she had the good sense not to do it within earshot of Cleo, of all people. Honestly, what was he expecting?
She doesn't know, and she's not sure she ever will. Bigb's always been hard to read.
Maybe that's the point? Thinking about it, there is something enticing about the idea.
If people misinterpret you, accuse you, look at you like they don't know who you are. Wouldn't it be so much easier to deal with, if they were right? If you could focus on rebuttals, denials, honeyed words, without also having to nurse the tearing at your heart.
Or maybe that's not how Bigb thinks.
Maybe that's just her.
Not that that was why she did it this time, of course! It just seemed like it would be funny! She was just being a little silly!
Anyway, it's not like it even came to anything, in the end. Scott arrived and immediately heard Mumbo and Skizz and nothing even happened! He didn't even seem to be suspicious of her by the end of the interaction! They totally managed to throw him off the scent!
...Credit where it's due, that was some of the least unconvincing lying she's ever heard from Mumbo, which she does appreciate. She's still kind of surprised Scott bought it, though.
Anyway, nobody in her team knows what she said she would do, and it didn't actually get anyone hurt, so it's basically like it didn't happen. Why would she do anything to her team? They've been nothing but kind to her!
Nothing but kind to her, for as long as she remembers.
Yeah.
Bigb, though? Clearly untrustworthy, that one. Disloyal! A traitor!
She watches him back away, hiding behind a shield, and she lets her arrows fly. And oh, it's so satisfying. This time, she gets to be the one with the moral high ground, looking down, driving out, pushing away!
There's something powerful about it. It feels good. She likes it.
She's in a good position, in this team. She trusts everyone here. Of course she does.
Why wouldn't she?
...
Anyway, all she wants to do is have fun!
...Well, that's not totally true.
All she wants to do is keep Impulse safe.
That was her one condition for them, when she agreed to help them kill her teammates.
Whatever happens, she doesn't want Impulse to die.
The others... well. They're the others! What reason would she have, to wish them harm? And hey, even if she did, she knows full well the consequences of betraying them in a way they'll find out about. Of course she does!
She saw what happened to Bigb, after all.
It's not a total surprise, really. With the bad blood between him and Cleo, maybe it was just inevitable.
Maybe none of them can change who they are, in the end.
Maybe all they can do is get better at hiding it, until it all burns down like it always does.
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hvbris · 30 minutes ago
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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy
It was so late at night that Violet had assumed she would be the only one up in the house. But she was wrong, and she jolted when she saw her mom poking her head around the bathroom door. She opened her mouth in surprise, but no words left her lips. How was she supposed to explain the blood? The big bite mark on her arm? Or the nasty gash on her side? Her mom closed the door again, and Violed hoped that, maybe, she hadn't noticed the blood after all.
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She was wrong. Her mom quickly opened the door again, understandably worried. But Violet still didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell her mom what had happened. She couldn't explain why she was injured, or why she was crying.
All she could do was lean in and hug her mom. She was sobbing too much to say a single word, anyway. So, she hugged her mom tight, crying against her robe. She knew that she would have to lie, that she would have to find some excuse to justify all this blood. But for now, just for a little moment, she really needed a hug.
Mia had woken up in the early hours and cried for Andrea. She had only just managed to put her to bed again in the nursery she shared with Sunny when Andrea remerged from the room only to spot the bathroom light coming from under the door. Wondering if Lou or Ben might have fallen asleep on the toilet... again, she gave a gentle knock on the door and then perhaps in some momentary lapse in judgement, poked her head around the door to check.
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"Ooops!" She said in a whisper as she made to step back and out again, "Sorry Violet," she said softly but hang on, was that blood on her arm and side? Andrea paused for a moment outside the door, frowning to herself before she pushed the door open again, slowly and got an eyeful of the blood on Violet's pyjamas.
"Oh my gosh! Sweetie what happened?" She asked in a hushed panic as she stepped into the bathroom, rushing to her to see she was alright, which obviously she was not! She was bleeding!
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yuanist · 2 days ago
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kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.
admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.
a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.
i just moaned your name during sex.
you blink at the screen.
you what?
moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.
you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.
you’re fucking with me, right?
dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.
you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.
you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.
i have hobbies!
non-sexual ones?
he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.
and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.
yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.
and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.
you take a minute, trying to rationalize.
the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.
the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.
you send the text.
there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.
really?
and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.
he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.
now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).
the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.
your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.
are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.
you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?
you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.
you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.
nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.
you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.
a beat of silence, and then, "hi."
that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.
he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.
his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?
"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.
(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).
you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.
he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.
he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.
"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"
oops.
"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."
his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."
and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.
he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.
"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.
"pardon?"
"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."
"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."
"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."
you feel something inside you quiver.
this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.
truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.
"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"
and he grins, because of course he is.
reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
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lixies-favorite-cookie · 14 hours ago
Text
⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’  simple acts of love from skz
—All the times stray kids said I love you in the little things.
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words・6.8k pairings・stray kids x reader genres・fluff, a little crack, established relationships warnings・lots and lots of kisses!! happy tears, drunken re-confessions, silliness, playful living room dancing, minhos a shy baby, he's also a little shit in changbins, erotic painting in hyunjins, hans is a little bit more emotional, silly little proposals, my terrible attempt at writing lyrics, jeongin stalks your goodreads profile and buys your entire TBR list like I don't have at least a thousand tbr books...some of these are silly some of these are sickeningly sweet,
a/n・I wrote these drabbles based on these headcanons, but I did change Minho's because I believed it fit him better!! Also, this has been rotting in my drafts for MONTHS im not super proud of them, but I hope you like them anyways.
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ᡣ𐭩 chan + sneaking into your bathroom to trace hearts onto the bathroom mirror.
"This is a suicide mission!" his lungs scream as he slips into your inferno of a bathroom, a heavy cloak of steam hugging him instantly. His respiratory system begs for release, a moist cough rolling up his throat; but like the magnificent boyfriend he is, he shoves those rebellious bodily functions right back down his windpipe.
Was his silly little plan worth the ability to breathe? Yes. Did he also wonder how you even could? Also yes.
The mirror fogs like the surface of an ancient lake, obstructing the image of his mischievous grin. He brings a pointer finger to the glass, drawing all his ardor in the mist—though it only comes out as lopsided hearts.
Your voice floats out from behind the curtain, absentmindedly humming to a silent tune. Shadows of your hands move through your hair, your body refracted onto the thin sheet.
You are so beautiful...
Cupid smacks his jaw shut.
He manages to slip out right as the water sputters off, sliding into the living room by his socks. He face-plants onto the couch, scrambling to sit upright. The loud smack of your towel echoes in his ears as his wide eyes dart to the table, frantically searching for something to occupy his attention. He snatches the first thing he sees, which just happens to be a... candle?
Whatever, no time!
Chan is intently studying the ocean-blue Bath & Body Works label, when you come pattering out, damp hair dribbling water behind you. The moment you step into his line of sight, his heart plummets—that stupid aromatherapy candle nearly tumbling with it.
There you were, in all your drenched glory, your towel wrapped snug against your chest, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Did you hear that?! Tears!! You were crying?! Why were you crying?!?!
Chan must have embodied the spirit of a kangaroo, because he’s never jumped up faster in his life.
"Why are you crying? You're supposed to be happy!" he yelps, yanking your body into his arms, water seeping into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. His brain becomes the equivalent of the world’s most fucked-up ambrosia when you begin laughing, the curve of your smile pressed into his chest. He blinks—he doesn't know whether to kiss you or call a priest. Maybe he should do both?
Suddenly you pull away, cocooning his cheeks with pruney hands, your bottom lip wobbling as you sob, "I'm so in love with you."
Well, good job—now he's sobbing too.
"I'm in love with you too, baby."
You had drawn hearts on the walls of his soul in the same way he had drawn them in the steam of your mirror. The only difference is, yours would never fade away.
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ᡣ𐭩 minho + randomly sending you songs that remind him of you.
Minho wasn't the type to throw his arms around you, pressing kisses to your face with all his overflowing ardor. Instead, in the minuscule overlaps of time between talking on the phone and constructing a perfect dance routine, he'll find himself sitting dazed upon the lounge room couch, mindlessly nodding to a catchy tune. He had left his Spotify on smart shuffle, finding comfort in the idea of a song found without searching, as if it were fate's gentle finger dusting the path to new adventures. He flutters his eyelids shut, ripples of sound washing over his skin.
And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime
And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine
'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions
Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine
In a rash flood of emotions, he sends you the song just before Chan steps into view, announcing his dire need to finish choreographing the final steps of their newest single. Begrudgingly, he slips his phone into his back pocket, his earbuds following suit. The only thing that keeps him sane throughout the day is the anticipation that he will go home and see you, and that makes it all worth it.
ᡣ𐭩
May I have this dance?" you declare, extending your arm with feigned seriousness, though the playful smile tugging at your lips betrays you instantly.
“What?” Minho chuckles through furrowed brows, observing the unusual surroundings; candles flicker dim lighting on the walls, throwing shadows on the rose petals you had scattered around your living room, forming an intriguing resemblance to a romantic dance floor. He sets the bags of groceries on the ground. Lee Know is so beyond confused, yet also pleasantly surprised, especially when you waltz over to him, tight red dress hugging all your gorgeous curves.
“You still haven't answered my question,” you sing, playfully twirling into his arms. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, tracing mindless circles in his hair. A shiver rolls up his spine as you tilt your face forward, lips so close; his heart flutters like a fragile leaf tumbling down from an autumn tree. He blinks before exhaling—
“Of course, I'll dance with you.”
A delighted squeal erupts from your lips, and you jump away from his arms, heading straight over to your phone to play the song he sent you prior. A warm blush floods his cheeks, painting them a bashful red.
“Did you like it?” His eyes fall away from yours.
“Did I like it?? Of course I liked it!” you squeal, gaping at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet. World War Three rages inside his chest as he fights not to fold like a lawn chair, flopping on the floor like a flustered starfish. Though when your hands rub their way up from his chest to his shoulders, he's surprised he's even upright. Your hips sway to the melody, a warm smile melting away all his defenses; but when you guide his awkward hands to the dip in your hips, it’s game over. He stuffs his face into your neck, littering the sensitive skin with kisses, his brain screaming: distract the enemy!! distract the enemy!!
“Do you know how much I love you?” he mumbles with striking genuineness. Instead of answering his question, you simply twirl yourself around his finger, placing his hand to wrap around the small of your back. He dips you down right as the music swells. It was magical, really—the candlelight twinkling in your peripheral, spills of starlight dancing off the ocean's surface. It was all so perfect—that was until your shoe caught on one of the rose petals, the floor turning slick under your feet. You send yourself tumbling straight to the ground. Minho squeals, grasping at thin air, but then he too also slips, frantically shooting his wrists out so he doesn't crush you.
The music cuts through the deafening silence as petals weave their way into your hair. You roll your lips into your teeth, glancing over to an eerily still Minho, staring at the ceiling like a spooked tabby. As if he could feel your eyes, his gaze finds yours, and only then does he burst out into roaring laughter, which prompts you to also join the fun.
“Are you sure you're the main dancer?” you tease through breathy giggles. He gasps, smacking a dramatic hand over his chest.
“I’ll have you know you fell first.”
And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime
And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine
'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions
Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine
In that moment, as the light hits you just right, he swears he finds the universe in your eyes. Your skin is showered in candlelight, head tilted back—joy flickers on your tongue as honey drips from your teeth. His heart pounds against his ribs, flowers sprouting in his lungs. To the world, he was an aloof grump with smooth moves and an impressive affinity for cats; but to you, with you, he was so much more.
Mid-snort, he captures your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. In a single gesture, he is pouring all the words he wished to say—
though to you, it tasted a little bit like—
If he had to blow a wish on every dandelion in the universe just to keep you, he would; and only through your lips would he find the power to keep breathing.
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ᡣ𐭩 changbin + gushing about you while drunk
The balmy patio is sticky with soju-infused groans, most of the boys slumped in their respective seats, throwing back exasperated swigs of their drinks as they desperately try to drown out Changbin’s relentless rambles.
The two semicircle outdoor couches form a full circle around an unlit bonfire pit. On one of the couches sits a completely unfazed Felix, taking small sips of his soju between chuckles; an extremely annoyed Seungmin, glaring daggers at Changbin; and I.N, who doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything except, well, sleeping—body slumped against the armrest. Hyunjin is sandwiched between Chan and Changbin on the other couch: Chan, who wishes he never even brought up the idea to buy beer in the first place, and Changbin, who is currently slumped over a very irked Hyunjin’s lap. Han is somewhere in the house, probably giggling at his own swirling reflection.
Hyunjin digs his fingers into the roots of his locks, fighting every urge not to yank the tufts straight out.
“N-no, but Jinnie, you don’t u-understand—she’s so pretty,” Changbin slurs, stuffing his face into his friend’s hoodie, which makes Hyunjin frown and swat him away.
“That’s it! I’m calling Y/N!” Seungmin announces, jumping up from his seat. Chan grabs his sleeve, yanking him straight back down, much to Seungmin’s dismay. he sinks into the polyester in a puddle of disgruntled grumbles.
"Or we could record him," Minho calls out from the shadows of the back entryway, only ever appearing when he needed more beer or more entertainment. And right now, it was dinner and a show. Minho simply shrugs as if his evil plan wouldn’t ruin his best friend's bad-boy reputation. "Send it to Y/N later," he mumbles to himself, the devil tilting his cheek up. Nobody seems to hear him, so he slyly pulls his phone from his pocket and presses record.
"No, no, no! You can't call Y/N. She’ll know I love her!" Changbin gasps in horror, stumbling to grab the phantom phone that apparently appears on Hyunjin’s lap with the way he paws at his jeans. Hyunjin takes a nice, long swig of his soju.
"You know you and Y/N have been together for over four years, right?" Felix chuckles, finding the whole ordeal pure comedic relief.
"No, you don’t understand. She’ll know I love her... lover," Changbin’s words slur into an incoherent shake of his head. Minho's evil cackles float out from the concealment of the doorway, and Chan perks up.
"Minho, what are you doing?!" Minho slams his phone against his thigh. What the hell?? Does Chan have Spidey senses or something??
"Nothing!" he yelps, sounding super convincing. Chan narrows his eyes toward the darkness where Minho is supposedly lurking, sporting an eerily perfect rendition of a frustrated father. That is, until Changbin begins a very off-tune version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” rolling over on Hyunjin’s lap to tap his fingers up his arm and eventually landing on Hyunjin’s nose with a giggle. When Hyunjin almost bites his finger off, Chan finally diverts his attention. Minho thanks God for the shadows—how else would he have gotten away with recording all of that?
“I’m about two seconds away from bringing you back to Y/N,” Hyunjin sighs, his lips pressed into a tight line as he glares at the man whose eyes just burst with light at the thought of seeing you. Chan smacks Hyunjin on the back sympathetically, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Why me, Lord? Why me?" Chan sings his woes under his breath but just loud enough for the camera to pick up—and for Minho to giggle.
"Y/N, I miss Y/N. Can I go home to Y/N, please?" Changbin hiccups, slumping his head onto Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s eye twitches. "I wanna tell the pretty girl I love her."
Felix emerges from his silence with a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his beer all over the floor. "Weren't you just saying you didn’t want to tell her you loved her?"
Changbin whips his gaze forward, his eyes hardening into a very foggy glare. "Well, now I want to tell the pretty girl I love her," he states matter-of-factly, his eyes fluttering a bit, betraying just how drunk he is.
Felix’s amusement is transparent as he raises his beer in Changbin’s direction. "Somebody needs to bring him to Y/N and let him re-confess his undying love for her."
Seungmin has never jumped up so fast in his life; he’s mid-volunteer when Chan grabs the cuff of his sleeve again and yanks him right back on his ass. Seungmin collapses onto the couch, ready to spit a disrespectful insult at his elder, but he folds like a lawn chair when Chan shoots him that look.
"Seungmin, you are far too drunk to take him home, while I," he looks to the sky with regret, "am very regretfully sober." Chan sounds like he’s going through the five stages of grief in one sentence.
"Okay, buddy, I’m taking you home," Chan grunts, clapping the drunken boy on the back. Changbin beams like he just heard there was a cure for cancer.
"Hell yeah!" He jumps up, only to stumble slightly, the patio swimming in his vision as he catches himself on Hyunjin’s forehead. When he finally, barely stabilizes himself, he throws his hands up. "See y’all bitches later! I—” he dramatically points to his chest in pride, “—am going to see my girl," he declares and marches straight out the door. Chan is mid-goodbye hug turned introspection with Felix, wondering what he’s doing with his life, when he hears a loud shatter in the hallway. Chan falls out of Felix’s arms immediately, his stride turned sprint. 
"Son of a bitch, Changbin, that was my favorite vase!"
ᡣ𐭩
“Go ahead, tell the pretty girl how much you love her,” you tease, playfully mimicking kissy faces while simultaneously poking Changbin’s crumpled form, his boiling cheeks sandwiched between his knees.
Why did Minho have to send you that video? But most of all, why did he have to send it while Changbin was still hungover? All this humiliation can’t be good for his headache.
Changbin groans, falling back on the bed to pull a pillow over his scorching face. The fact that the whole mattress hasn’t burst into flames is truly beyond him. Giggles pour from your lips, even as they settle atop his stomach, leaving kisses all the way up his torso. You can hear his flustered pants from down here.
“Okay, that’s enough bullying for one day,” you say, straddling his waist to snake your arms around his waist, pressing your chests flush together. Your teeth graze his shoulder, softly biting the flesh. “Come on, baby, take the pillow off your face.” You press your smile against his shirt before resting your chin on his chest.
He peeks out from under the pillow, tugging it down just enough to reveal his eyes, still reluctant to fully reveal himself. You bat your lashes at him, pouting ever so slightly. He folds—like a damn lawn chair, at this point, he’s practically collapsing in on himself with how much he’s folded. His face melts into a grin as he finally pulls the pillow down.
He so regrets that.
Your face lights up with laughter as you take in his beet-red cheeks, your eyes disappearing into crinkled slits. “I’m sorry, I just... I just can’t,” you cackle, doubling over in heaves.
“I hate you,” Changbin shouts, flustered, smacking you square in the side of the head with the pillow. It does nothing to quell your amusement; in fact, it only makes it worse.
“That’s not what you said last night,” you snort, falling off him as you kick your feet against the sheets.
Despite his urge to tie a millstone around his ankle and jump off the face of the earth, he can’t help but smile, caught in an unusual state of awe. Your mouth is boxy, laughter filling the air like strands of warm honey.
“Apparently, you think about me a lot,” you snicker, still rolling around. his smile only spreads wider.
If only you knew how much he thought of you.
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ᡣ𐭩 hyunjin + painting perfectly captured portraits of you
“Hold still for me, baby,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice low and intimate, as he lightly drags his brush down the length of your arm, adding the final touches to your portrait. His gaze traces your bare body, memorizing every inch until even the freckle on the upper left side of your waist is drawn onto the inside of his eyelids. The valley of your breasts trembles with each labored breath, your muscles tightening against the couch where you lay.
“I’m really trying, Jinnie, but it hurts,” you whine, fighting to keep your head steady. Your boyfriend lets out a breathy laugh, savoring one final glance at your naked form. With careful precision, he drags the sharpest part of his brush down your thigh, finishing the entire painting with his favorite peice of you.
“Done,” Hyunjin murmurs, settling back into his chair with a satisfied smile, admiring the art he’s just created. Usually when he painted, there was always something he hated about his work—whether it's the proportions or the colors were slightly out of harmony—it was never good enough. but when he paints you, there's never an issue; for he could capture you with children's finger paints, and you'd still find a way to look utterly breathtaking.
“Let me see,” you squeal, jumping up from the uncomfortable spot you’d claimed on his couch. A faint blush appears on his face as he turns the easel around, unraveling his heart before you. And oh, when he does—you collapse into his arms, all your strength diffused into a shuddering gasp. He had dipped his brush into your soul, and with every meticulous stroke, he gathered the very essence of your heart. It was almost unreal how perfect he made you appear to be—your moles speckled across your skin in gold, dusted like stars; your stretch marks adorned in silver, shining like slips of light.
How are you not sobbing right now??
“Is it okay?” he asks, bashfully wrapping his arms around your naked waist, completely unfazed by your current state of undress.
“Hyunjin, this is more than okay,” you sniffle, voice crackling with emotion. You turn to meet his gaze, only for his palms cradle your cheeks with a touch so tender, it's barely there. One second, you’re breathing; the next, you’re transcending, existing only between his lips.
By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. He’s on top of you now, his hands resting on either side of your head, thoughts long forgotten. He moves closer, allowing whisps of his hair to tickle the sensitive flesh of your neck; for his lips to settle upong the delicate curve of your collarbone. He doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop until the sun kisses your skin, until the sky is filled with the very stars he painted upon your skin.
Only in love and art are you eternal and in hyunjin, with hyunjin, you are both. 
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ᡣ𐭩 han + hiding messages into every song he produces
"In every lifetime," a heartfelt promise whispered between shuttering breaths. Han's lips parted, your tongue savoring his astonished gasp. "What did you say?" quickly transformed into "Did you mean it?" when you had tenderly threaded your fingers into his hair, the pad of your thumb settling just under his jaw. Your needy hands had fogged his head, but he never forgot it.
"In every lifetime," you had uttered many moons later, nestled underneath the stretch of midnight sky. The universe had stilled, all of time and space screeching to a deafening halt. You unraveled the scrolls of his soul, and with the eternal vow of "I do," swore forever. So, he, for however long he may live, intends to hold you to that promise.
From: Hannie 🐿 Do not by any means play my new song!!!
From: Hannie 🐿 Im serious!!
From: Hannie 🐿 Promise me Y/N!!!
You giggle at his earnestness, clicking the notification to message him back.
From: My Wife ❤ I won't I promise!
From: My Wife ❤ Scouts honor 🫡
You admired Han's dedication to his craft, but what you admired most was his need to share every single part of it with you.
"You didn't listen to the song, did you?" Han calls out from the foyer, slamming the front door behind him. He urgently throws off his shoes, his heavy footsteps following him all the way up the stairs. Your mirth bubbles up behind a bitten grin, lip firmly tucked between your teeth.
"No!" you shout back, feigning indifference; though when he swings your bedroom door open, you’re overcome with breathy giggles—his hair is tossed around at all angles, puffed cheeks pink and gasping.
Now that was the man you fell in love with.
"Somebody's eager," you tease, chucking your phone somewhere on the bed. His eyes are oddly fearful when you lift yourself up from the comforter, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. His chest heaves, breath labored and shaky; flighty fingers find the knot of his tie, yanking it loose. You reel your head back. Since when does he wear a tie? You flick your gaze down his figure. Since when does he wear suits?? Your confusion only festers as he lets out an anxious chuckle, wringing his hands like wet rags.
"You have no idea." You didn’t know—didn’t know what he was about to risk. His heart was clay in your hands, and with the delicacy of a butterfly's wing, you pressed your fingerprints into his skin. For now, through touch alone, his soul will find you in every lifetime; but first, he must promise you himself in this one, and that appeared to be an impossible feat.
It's now or never, he tells himself.
So, with an arduous breath, he steadies his quivering hands just long enough to slip his phone out of his back pocket. Was it just him, or is it suddenly really hot in here? He swipes to YouTube. Why was it getting so hard to breathe?? He presses play. His heart somersaults its way down to his stomach when the opening melody echoes from the speakers. Your brows lift, lips pursing in your signature concentrated quirk. His mouth forms around a smile, breathing getting marginally easier, but that peace is short-lived as the chorus begins—only then does he feel the symptoms of real fear.
In every lifetime, his warm voice melts from the speaker.
A falling star just shot from space and hit you directly in the chest, rendering you utterly speechless; even as your gaze finds his glassy eyes, you just can’t believe it.
In every lifetime you swore.
It’s just too perfect.
So, for as long as I may live, I wanna be yours.
He’s just too perfect.
In every lifetime I'll dip my knee down.
There’s no way.
And yet he sinks to one knee, slipping a velvet box from the confines of his pocket. Your hands make purchase around your mouth, stifling a wet cry.
In every lifetime I'll ask to be yours.
"Y/N L/N, will you marry me?"
You drop to your knees, tears tracing cordate-shaped rivulets down your cheeks. "Yes, Han, I'll marry you! I'll marry you!"
Your lips swear forever as they land on his, and that promise echoes far into lifetime number twelve.
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ᡣ𐭩 felix + giving you gum wrapper hearts
Lee Felix was stupid in love, heavy on the stupid, figuring he was about to start World War Three to get that gum wrapper out of Seungmin’s hand.
“Please,” Felix begs, drawing out the "e" in an obnoxious whine.
Felix has been professing his love for you through gum wrapper hearts for about as long as he’s been chewing gum, so he is going to be damned if he lets one gum wrapper gets away without meeting his fingers first. Seungmin’s eyes harden into an frustrated glare, about two seconds away from punching a pizza-sized hole in his best friend’s face.
“You know, the more that you beg me for this wrapper, the more I don’t want to give it to you,” he deadpans, voice flat with irritation. Felix throws his head back in an ear-splitting groan.
“Whyyy not??”
“Oh my gosh, Seungmin, just give him the damn wrapper,” Chan interjects, exasperated.
“Yeah, listen to Chan. Give Felix the wrapper,” Felix teases, laying his chin on his hand, fluttering his lashes with a shit-eating grin. Seungmin clenches his jaw, crumpling up the foil—much to poor Lixie’s dismay.
“Did you see that, Chan?! Seungmin crumpled my wrapper!” Seungmin squeezes it harder. “Look! Do you see that, Chan?! Seungmin is bullying me!” Chan sighs, digging a knuckle into his eye. He is about five seconds away from sticking both grown toddlers in time out.
“Seungmin, for the sake of my sanity, give Felix the damn gum wrapper.” The fact that he actually had to tell two full-fledged adults that was truly beyond him, yet here he was.
“It’s the principle of it, old man—” As soon as the words leave his lips, Seungmin wants to stuff them right back in. Chan grits his teeth, steam practically whistling from his ears.
Oh, crap.
“You little—” Chan dives for Seungmin, to which he squeals, ducking from his elder’s hand, gearing up to smack him square in the forehead. In the clamber of movements, he ends up dropping the beloved wrapper. Felix lets out a squeal of excitement, lunging for the foil. When the crumpled aluminum sits in his hands, he has never felt so rewarded in his entire life, smiling like he just won a million bucks.
Almost out of muscle memory, he begins smoothing it out, folding up all the right corners. He beams, stuffing the little token into his pocket, fingers itching to give it to you later.
“Thanks, Seungmin,” Felix smirks, taking a proud sip of his drink. Seungmin manages to stick his tongue out while trapped in a headlock.
“You suck,” he wheezes, throwing weak slaps onto Chan's bicep. Felix giggles, his phone buzzing against his jeans. Felix quite literally drops everything to pick it up, his heart singing the same song as your special ringtone.
From: My world 💙 Look, baby, isn’t it so beautiful? I took the pic while I was on my way to work. I actually swerved off the road to take the picture, haha. Just wanted to share it with you. Love you, baby!! [Image.png]
When he clicks the image, his phone is flooded with the most breathtaking view. The sky is stained like melting ice cream, cotton candy colors that burst around your hair, though that isn’t what Felix is looking at—he is looking at you. The moment he looks into your lopsided smile, Cupid shoots him all over again.
From: My star-light 🌟 Wow.
From: My star-light 🌟 No words.
From: My star-light 🌟 I didn’t know my girlfriend could look so stunning.
From: My star-light 🌟 Oh, wait, there was a sunset back there somewhere.
From: My star-light 🌟 Yeah, that was pretty too.
From: My star-light 🌟 Are we still on for tonight?? I miss youuu.
From: My world 💙 Oh my gosh, Lix, you’re making me blush, haha.
Seungmin chokes somewhere in the background. Felix doesn’t notice. Felix is submerged in the silky ocean of rose-colored love.
From: My world 💙 Of course we are!!
From: My world 💙 I miss you too, baby!!
From: My world 💙 Literally can’t wait to see you.
Felix is mid-text when his friends suddenly turn bright red, clambering to untangle themselves from the mess of limbs they got themselves stuck in. Felix doesn��t realize the reason Chan is suddenly fixing his hair or Seungmin is unruffling his shirt is because two of the most stunning women just walked past them. Felix was too focused on making time move faster.
ᡣ𐭩
Felix has never been to space, though he can accurately say that he has tasted the sky.
He sips the stars off your lips, every shared breath an inhale of the galaxy. Felix knows that somewhere, someplace time exists, but not here, not now, not with the blades of grass lacing through his hair; not when he’s pressing your chest flush against his, rolling around on the ground until the night sky is kissing the earth in his vision. Your laughs are buried in his neck when he gets too dizzy to continue, littering kisses on the sensitive flesh there. You pull away for only a moment, brushing a rogue strand of hair off his brow. You smile, dipping to press a soft peck to the tip of his nose.
The two of you had crept into this darkened backyard hours ago; you proposing a date under the stars only to share them between your lips instead. You have been locked in this position for lifetimes, and Felix has no plan to stop.
His palms lift to graze your cheeks before sealing your mouths together again. His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips, his smile curving against your own. “God, I am so in love with you.”
He was; he so, so, so was.
He was so in love with you, he had almost forgotten about his gift. Key word: almost.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he gasps, chasing your warmth when he pulls away, sitting up.
“What?” you playfully whine, biting back a grin, settling your hips against his thighs. He chuckles, poking a finger into his pocket, fishing out the gum wrapper heart.
“I know it’s not perfect,” he whispers, cupping something in his palm, “but I hope you still like it.” He rolls his fingers out bashfully, offering you the crinkled silver heart. He bites his lip, a faint blush falling over the apples of his cheeks. The little gift was by no means perfect; it was ripped, wrinkled, and just a little lopsided. Yet you can’t help the fondness that explodes in your chest. Still cradling the heart with care, you throw your arms around his neck, tackling him to the ground. Your chest flush against his, he grunts when you land upon the earth, smacking slobbery kisses all over his face. You don’t stop, not until he is flipping you over, now attacking you with equally wet kisses. Your giggles live in the balmy summer air.
To you, he was the sun; but to him, you were the universe 
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ᡣ𐭩 seungmin + buying you a bouquet every time the old ones wilt
October 11th, 2020.
That was the last time your apartment smelled like something other than florals. That was also the first time Seungmin had ever bought you flowers—a simple gift for your one-year anniversary that spiraled into a four-year tradition. You don’t ever talk about it, and he certainly denies it, when you thank him for how the wilting tulips magically evolved into beautiful daylilies. You find it endearing, the faint blush that falls over his cheeks when he tries to convince you that it wasn’t him.
Now that you think about it, your white roses did seem to have a little bit of brown on them yesterday.
Mid-wipe of the bathroom counter, you rush down the stairs, almost sliding into the kitchen in your socks. Without fail, there they were: bright red tulips, replacing the withering roses that had been in the vase earlier. A spreading grin pulls at your lips as you check the stove clock, quickly connecting the dots.
You had been cleaning the bathroom most of the evening, your earbuds blocking the world out. He had probably heard you humming from upstairs, choosing the perfect time to sneak in through the door. You squeal, sprinting up the stairs to throw open your bedroom door. You expect to find him lounging on the bed, but instead, you find him below it, cradling a square object in his hands. His head whips around, panic falling over his features. He slams the lid shut before fumbling to shove it right back under the bed, much to your dismay.
“Hey, what?” You yelp, diving for the box. Seungmin blocks you, accidentally knocking it out of his hands, unfurling its contents all over the floor.
It looks like a garden just threw up in your bedroom.
Hundreds, thousands of differently shaped petals are scattered on your floor, tufts of colorful memories spread out like a silky scroll. First, you freeze. Then, you gasp; your muscles thawing like a flower unfurling in the snow. It hits you slowly, blossoming in your chest and spilling from your eyes—Seungmin hasn’t been throwing away the flowers he bought you. He’s been collecting them.
You didn’t realize you were crying—not until you spoke—“Seungmin, what is this?”—then you heard it, your voice withering and wet. When you finally go to meet his gaze, he can’t seem to look at you, tilting his head down in shame.
“W-Well I-I’ve just…” he begins, trailing off with a rub of his burning neck. “Fuck, this is going to sound so stupid,” he flushes, staring down at the single yellow petal that fluttered onto his folded thighs. Suddenly, Seungmin feels your thumb brushing over his knuckles, and something shoots through his skin, something that straightens his spine and evens his breathing.
“I-I’ve um…” This was harder than he thought it would be. “Been collecting them for a while now, I wanted to keep them for when we get married. Wanted to scatter them down the aisle…”
His voice gets smaller with every word, sinking into himself as though that will make the gravity of the sentence less exposed, less raw. For a second, as silence stretches between you, Seungmin feels so stupid, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. You must think he’s such a fool, must think he’s crazy for ever believing he could marry you—his thoughts stop the moment your lips meet his, palms pressed firmly against his cheeks.
“I love you,” you whisper in between breaths, kissing him until it feels like you can’t kiss anymore; until he falls back upon the feathery bed made of magnolias and memories; until, with a star-lit sigh, he pulls away, untucking the red of a dried rose tangled above your brow. Even surrounded by God's most beautiful creations, he can’t bring his gaze to fall from yours, your eyes and all the mesmerizing sparkles they hold.
Seungmin couldn’t trace the exact moment he fell in love with you. Rather, it bloomed slowly over time, a feeling that took root; wrapping around the slabs of his ribs.
With you, he grew, and all of a sudden, with every breath he inhales, he finds you fluttering in his chest. At first, it terrified him. Though, now he knows—some gardens never die.
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ᡣ𐭩 jeongin + stalking your goodreads profile to annotate your favorite books
“So, you’re a stalker, huh?” you muse, brushing your palm over Jeongin’s shoulder, which was clearly not a good idea, cause no sooner do you make contact is he jumping twenty feet out of his skin. You throw your hands up when he swivels around, ripping off his headphones like they were going to materialize into a baseball bat.
“Crap, y/n, you scared the hell out of me,” Jeongin pants, a relieved smile pulling on his cheeks; grateful that the intruder was indeed his girlfriend and not a 6-foot-tall man in a scream mask. For a second, he wonders if you’re possessed, a lopsided smirk playing on your lips while you tweak out, kind of laughing, kind of nodding, kind of looking like you need an exorcism. Then it hits him. Hits him like a 200-pound dump truck, rendering him breathless once more. He puts Flash to shame by how fast he slams his laptop shut, scrunching his face in cringe. The laugh you let out is devastating, a full-belly guffaw that makes you double over, stumbling straight into his arms.
For a second, when the lamplight hits you just right, Jeongin has to stop.
His breath catches in his throat, taking all of you in. There you were, with your hair falling in messy tangles, your eyelids slightly smudged in black, your smile boxy and sun-bright, you were perfect, and you were sitting on his lap. If you didn’t start talking, he would have stared at you for hours—probably would have started drooling as well.
“So, this is how you’ve known all my favorite books, huh?” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. It takes him a hot second to gather himself, heart fluttering at the newfound proximity.
He stuffs his head into your neck, the heat of his cheeks burning into your skin. “Yeah…is that weird?”
“Is it weird?? Yang Jeongin, I’m pretty sure you just inadvertently proposed to me,” you reply, your tone light-hearted though you're dead serious.
“What?” He chuckles with a shy smile, leaning back.
“Yeah, I mean, you stalk your girlfriend’s Goodreads profile to read and annotate her TBR list. That is a proposal. I don’t make the rules.”
“Is that so?” he smirks, inching forward, your noses brushing together.
“Yeah,” you whisper, hot breath fanning across his lips, you lean in, finally sealing your mouths shut. Jeongin groans, your thumb swiping the nape of his neck. His heart pounds with a thousand different translations of 'I love you'.
“How many?”
He hums, slamming back down to earth, still a little bit dizzy.
“How many books have you bought?”
That sobers him up.
His eyes widen slightly before he bashfully chuckles, awkwardly scratching his ear. “Oh, uh…not that many.”
“Can I see them?” He’s two seconds from saying no, until you brush your lips against his cheeks, then his forehead, then the sides of his eyes, before, finally, he is tasting your grin instead, “Please?”
Well, how can he say no now?
He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, biting his lip before sighing and pointing under his bed. “They’re all under there.”
You squeal, clambering off him to dive at the foot of his bed, sticking your hands into the dusty abyss below. It doesn’t take you but five seconds to find the box, though it takes you 5 minutes to actually pull the damn thing out, feeling more like a dead body than dead trees.
However, when you flip open the lid, the struggle is all worth it. Your jaw drops. Jeongin’s stomach flips upside down.
"Yang Jeongin, there’s no way..." You peer at him through dewy lashes, there had to be at least fifty books in this container. "You were planning on giving me all of these?"
"Well, yeah. Just...when I had enough time to annotate them."
"You've already given me like 10. How have you found enough time to read them?"
"I read them every night before I go to bed."
"And annotate them?"
He clears his throat, a faint blush falling over his cheeks like rose petals. "Yes."
"Where did you get the money for all this? These books have to have been like a thousand dollars."
"My check had just come in, and I knew how much you liked to read... I just wanted to do something nice for you. Why is this starting to feel kind of like an interrogation? Are you mad? Is this, like, really weird?" Jeongin can feel his eyes widen, anxiously shifting in place.
“One more question,” you step forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. He shutters when you make contact, gaze fluttering down. Jeongin expects you to laugh, maybe demand that he takes them back, or the worst of them all tell him he’s too obsessed. What he doesn’t expect you to do is drag him forward, and smash your lips together.
“How are you so perfect?” you exhale, puffing onto his lips like a breath of his own. He was going to show you how, he was going to show you how all night long.
ᡣ𐭩
If you thought he was perfect then you definitely think he is perfect now.
The sun slips through the curtains, dyeing your sweaty skin in gold; your mouth is nuzzled into his neck, lashes tickling his skin every time you shift. He draws phantom circles over your naked waist, savoring this moment, soaking your body in until he can remember the feel of your form through memory alone. You stir, feeling his heartbeat pick up.
It must have been a dream that urged you to say it, because somewhere, on the edge of sleep, you murmur, “What’s your favorite story?”
He didn’t have to think about the answer, not when he had thought about it a million times before. Without hesitation, Jeongin whispers, “Ours.”
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(I rushed tf out of some of these I'm sorry)
190 notes · View notes
purple-plum-petals · 2 days ago
Note
Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!
⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader
╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
�� If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯
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Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 
Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 
Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 
You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 
The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 
You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 
What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 
It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 
You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”
The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 
You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”
He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”
Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”
“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 
Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??
After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”
He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 
It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 
“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”
You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 
Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”
“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”
“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 
“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”
He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”
You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 
After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”
Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”
“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 
“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 
“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”
“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 
“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”
He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”
“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”
It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”
“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 
Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”
Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 
“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 
Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”
“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”
“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 
You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 
Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”
“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 
The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 
Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 
Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  
Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”
There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”
“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”
“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.
Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”
You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”
There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”
“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 
“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 
“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 
You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”
Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”
You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”
“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”
You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”
“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”
You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 
“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”
“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”
“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”
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ennn · 3 days ago
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Unpacking the Deals of Ep 8: Why and What They Mean
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So episode 8 is... let's say a bit of a mess. I know there's some confusion around why Agatha proposes her terms for the first deal, why Rio flipped into cackling villain mode, why Rio makes another deal, etc.
Here's my read that hopefully helps draw a line from point A to B to C.
Let's consider the context of the first deal: Agatha's not having a good day. Two coven members who Agatha never expected to care about have died trying to protect her – a thing that has never happened before. And Death happens to be a person she can blame.
Death, who is pressing on that bruise ("Your coven is shrinking") and making her shitty day worse because she wants the kid Agatha is hardcore projecting on (and also didn't plan to care about) to die. Just like Nicky.
But Agatha then realises she has leverage on Rio. For the first time in forever, she has an advantage she can exploit. She can be in control.
And it's almost instinctive for Agatha at this point: finding the best buttons to push, the best terms for her given the opportunity.
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Agatha: If I deliver Billy, you let me go. Rio: You will eventually die, Agatha. Agatha: But I want you to stop pursuing me. I want you to stop making my life hell. And when I die, a long, long, long, long, long time from now, I don't want to see your face. Rio: ... Okay.
The terms that Agatha sets out seem cruel because they are. She says what she does because she wants it to hurt. Agatha's not only rejecting Rio's continued presence in her life, she's denying all the love that Rio's given her, building on what she's said before ("You gave me nothing.")
From Rio's POV, Agatha's cutting words aside, this entire deal sucks. Because the options are:
(a) Agatha doesn't hold up her end, which Rio knows might happen: Rio knows Agatha cares about Billy ("I know how you feel about him"). Rio's constantly reminding her he's not Nicky. She was already doubting Agatha would deliver her usual number of corpses. She saw how affected Agatha was after Alice's death.
If Agatha doesn't help, she'd be choosing a boy over everything Rio's done again – and this time another woman's.
And if Rio somehow manages to take Billy anyway, Agatha will end up hating her twice forever.
(b) Agatha does hold up her end, which might also happen: Rio knows Agatha's manipulative and smart and capable. More than that, she's well aware Agatha hates her. That Agatha still doesn't see what she's done for her ("No one in history has had special treatment like you").
That she knows Agatha does care about Billy but maybe hates her so much that she's willing to go through with this to cut her out from her life. Billy would be a dear price but one Agatha's maybe willing to pay.
Even if it was a 50:50 chance for these options, I think Rio realises her relationship with Agatha is doomed either way.
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Either way she does her job, with or without Agatha's help, she's going to be rejected and lose. One's just a slower path than the other.
I think that's why Rio gives in to her rage and bitterness and spite. Agatha thinks Rio's been making her life hell? She'll show her hell.
And Agatha, well I think there's some merit to the thinking that she didn't expect Rio to fold that quickly and completely.
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Now for the context of the second deal, it's not clear whether Rio knows what happened with Tommy. I assume Rio doesn't – not yet anyway – as she doesn't mention it at all and seems focused on squaring that one life Billy stole.
Now here's where it gets a little squirrely, to borrow Schaeffer's language. Because if you don't look too closely, it seems to make sense: Billy stole a life so to maintain the natural balance, Rio needs to take a life, the one Billy has now.
But how does Agatha's life work as a substitute for this imbalance (“This means you’re coming with me”)? Would any other person’s life work? Could Rio have swapped someone else's life to save Nicky then? Agatha would have been all too happy to arrange for that murder.
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I doubt the show is ever going to explain this so I offer few possible theories to deal with this weirdness:
Billy Maximoff is a product of chaos magic, so his existence and everything he affects already throws off the natural order, just to different orders of magnitude. Agatha’s life works as a substitute because his life is now intertwined with hers e.g. his hex probably saved her life from the Salem Seven and has the potential for greater imbalance
Rio is aware of Agatha’s tendency towards chaos and defiance of the natural order. Rio bent the rules of the universe only for Agatha. Taking her life would protect the balance in the larger scheme of things – if only so Rio won’t be further tempted to give her special treatment.
When Rio’s torturing Agatha it’s before she presents the second deal. So she’s still intending to go after Billy, she’s just removing Agatha as an obstacle while lashing out in rage and heartbreak.
In this moment Rio probably thinks Billy's in the wind. She saw how upset Billy was with Agatha at the end of episode 5. And Rio knows the reputation Agatha keeps ("Why do you let them believe those things about you?"), Rio probably thinks Agatha deliberately drove him off to keep him safe.
Then Billy pops up and Rio sees that Billy and Agatha care about each other and they're both aware they care about each other.
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Fuckin’ great. Rio's not bitter at all.
Looks like you two are finally on the same page. So I'll let you decide. One of you stays with me. The other walks free.
Agatha proposed a deal designed to hurt her? Now it’s her turn.
From Rio's POV, I think here are the possible outcomes:
(a) Agatha sacrifices herself for Billy: Not impossible I think. Rio knows Agatha cares about the boy but she also knows Agatha will do anything to survive. She thinks she's above death. But again, I think Rio also knows Agatha would have sacrificed herself for Nicky if she had that choice.
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What did Lorna want from the Road? To save her daughter.
This isn't an ideal outcome for Rio but she’s already resigned herself to losing Agatha I think, one way or another. This way if Agatha wants Billy to live so badly, this is the price she has to pay. The high cost of living.
(b) Billy steps up and sacrifices himself: Very possible given that Billy’s a young heroic sort and already showed up, risking his life to power up Agatha. Rio gets to do her job. Agatha will probably hate her more given the Nicky trauma but Rio’s already resigned to this on some level already, which is why she's raging.
Either way Agatha's going to hurt, and Rio's going to hurt.
It's interesting that when Billy does volunteer himself and Agatha seizes the opportunity to remind Rio of their earlier deal, Rio just shakes her head and looks amused.
You can also see for a brief moment Agatha looking almost remorseful about doing this before slipping her theatrical villainous mask on, overcompensating for her true feelings.
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Do you remember pain? It kinda tickles doesn't it?
By the letter (not the spirit or intent) of the first deal, Agatha did ultimately fulfil her part:
I can arrange that. I can get him to the finish line and deliver him to you.
This is an opportunity that's almost impossible to resist for someone as calculating and ruthless and selfish like Agatha. She has power (chaos magic no less), she can have Rio leave her alone forever (she knows Rio honours her word), she knows Billy cares about her but can she really trust him?
But Agatha ultimately decides to take a risk. A calculated one sure, but still a risk.
I think the beauty in the kiss and her sacrifice is how – despite her calculating the odds – Agatha is choosing to give in to what she feels and wants in that moment.
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Because she does want to protect the boy in a way no one did for her when she was young. She wants to save Billy like she couldn't with Nicky. And she does want Rio so much despite everything that's happened.
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chaosandmarigolds · 1 day ago
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"How are we gonna get up there?"
It was supposed to be an easy midnight to noon shift, one that you could just sleep through the entirety of it. Maybe a transfer or even maaaybe one emergency so you could have fun and drive lights and sirens. But no, turns out your Lieutenant was on shift AND?? your partner had called out so you got some random solider that happened to have their EMT.
So, that is how you ended up with Johnny MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley on your call. Now, that didn't answer the question as to why you were all staring up at a window that was easily ten feet off the ground. It was supposed to be an easy welfare check, house clinic workers had asked for backup so instead of fire and police they had just asked for military. Counterproductive in your mind..
Well the door was locked, and the only window that was somewhat close was the one you were all looking at.
With a huff of air you take a step back, snow crunching under the weight of you and the bright red med slinger over your shoulder, "I dont know, looks like a bathroom window- it's kinda small."
Johnny shrugs, turning his head back to you, "Couldea jus break down the door."
"No no," You frown, unclipped the bag and let it fall, "We...there's gotta be a way we could get in through the garage-"
"Stitches you're going up," the lieutenant then said, not even bothering to look at you. Maybe because he knew your face would be contorted to one of dismay.
You scoff, "What if they're armed?"
"Does it smell like they're armed?" He retorted and to that you fell silent. And no...it didn't seem like the patient inside had the capacity to be .. well...
It took a few minutes of coaching them both on how to push you up, thankfully the window was cracked so it didn't take long to push yourself through- after a moment of a stinging pain in your leg. And then came the fall, of which was onto the lid of the toilet and then onto the floor.
it took a moment of regaining your composure before you realized Johnny was yelling for you, so you reply with a quip, standing as you stretch your newly sore back. "Three years of schooling to be used as a fucking door opener" You mutter as catch the red med bag as it's shoved through the window.
with a small grumble you go to walk through the home, finding the patient laying in their bed. And against odds... alive.
"Hi, I'm a paramedic, some people were worried about ya." You begin, "here, let me let my friends inside and then we can help ya out."
The patient was staring at you, seeming shocked, "How did you get in?"
You clear your throat, "Not important. But...you might was to get your bathroom window resealed."
-
"Damn," your partner laughs the next shift, looking at the black and blues forming on your side and thigh, "you ate shit huh?"
"Not on purpose."
"Yeah, anyway- how was your shift with Lt and Soap?"
"Who the fuck is soap?"
He blinked, "Sergeant Mactavish?"
You gagged on the fourth energy drink of the day and then laugh, "Oh! Yeah it was fine. Lieutenant really likes Blackpink too."
(Based on real events, at least till the end. :p)
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goblin-jr · 2 days ago
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And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.
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Synopsis: Y/N has loved JJ for as long as she can remember. Now, as JJ falls for someone new, Y/N’s heart is pulled in a million different directions. 
Pairing: JJ x Reader x Rafe
masterlist
---
The sun was setting, casting warm amber light across the Outer Banks, painting the world in hues Y/N had come to know by heart. She’d watched these sunsets with JJ more times than she could count, usually from the old dock or one of their secret hideaways. This place, the marshes and beaches, had been their world since they were six years old. They’d grown up as each other’s shadow—two kids with wayward parents and a shared sense of adventure.
JJ had always been the loud one, fearless in the way he took on the world, while Y/N found herself quietly filling the spaces beside him, standing steady when life went off course. But somewhere along the line, her feelings had slipped past friendship. Now, at sixteen, Y/N’s heart raced just seeing JJ flash that mischievous grin she’d memorized years ago.
She wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe during the late-night talks under starlit skies or after he’d shown up at her house that one terrible night when her parents' shouts rattled the windows. He was the only one who could chase away the dark. She wanted to tell him, but there was always something in the way. Mostly, lately, it was Kie.
Kie, with her bright laugh and easy charm. Y/N loved her, she really did, but there were moments when she wished she could be just a bit more like her: braver, more outgoing, effortless. JJ followed Kie with a starry-eyed devotion that broke Y/N’s heart, but she could never resent Kie for it. Besides, wasn’t it enough just to have JJ as a friend? To be by his side, even if she couldn’t hold his hand the way she wanted to?
This particular day at the country club was supposed to be different.
Y/N clocked in and picked up a tray, weaving her way around tables of tourists and regulars, her smile polite but practiced. Working alongside JJ made the shifts easier, though today her nerves twisted every time she thought about what she wanted to say. She’d decided that today was the day she’d finally tell him.
But as she scanned the room, she caught sight of JJ across the dining area, trailing Kie with that familiar, hopeful look on his face. Y/N’s heart sank, but she tried to shake it off. So what if JJ had a crush on Kie? It didn’t change what she had to say. It would just… complicate things.
She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed Rafe Cameron standing by his family’s usual table until he cleared his throat.
“Y/N, right?” he said, giving her a nod that was polite but impersonal, the sort of acknowledgment he probably reserved for the people who worked at his family’s club. “Is there someone I can talk to about the dinner reservations? There’s been some confusion.”
“Oh—yeah, sure,” she stammered, mentally kicking herself for spacing out. “I can take care of it.”
“Great,” he said, offering her a polite, reserved smile. “Appreciate it.”
He was cordial enough, but Y/N knew his reputation. He was practically crowned king of the Kooks, and though he hadn’t done anything wrong, she felt that familiar, instinctual distrust rise up. She turned and made her way to the reservation counter, Rafe already forgotten as her eyes found JJ again.
She could see him chatting with Kie across the terrace, his eyes following her with a soft look Y/N knew too well. JJ looked at Kie like she was a sunrise, something bright and untouchable. Kie was laughing, carefree as always, and Y/N had to look away. She couldn’t help but wish she could be like that—just a little more confident, a little more magnetic.
She took a deep breath. She’d tell JJ anyway. She’d waited too long already, right? They were best friends; he’d understand, even if he didn’t feel the same way.
But when her shift finally ended, she found JJ out by the clubhouse steps, pacing back and forth with that jittery energy he got whenever he was excited. Before she could say a word, he looked up, grinning.
“Hey! Guess what?” he said, his face lit up like he was about to burst. “Kie just invited me out on the boat tomorrow. It’s like, not a date or anything, but… y’know, she wants me there.”
The words she’d been holding in all day lodged in her throat. She forced a smile, trying to swallow the ache that suddenly felt so heavy. “That’s… that’s great, JJ. I know you’ve been hoping she’d notice you.”
“Right? I mean, it’s probably nothing, but it’s a start, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, practically bouncing with anticipation. “You should come too. She’d love it if you came. We’ll all hang out like old times.”
“Yeah… maybe,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
JJ didn’t seem to notice the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was grateful for it. She didn’t want him to see the hurt she was holding back. All she wanted was to be close to him, and if that meant staying quiet, being his best friend even when her heart was breaking, then that was what she’d do.
“See you later, then?” JJ asked, giving her a quick hug before jogging off, probably already daydreaming about tomorrow.
Y/N stood there, watching him disappear, feeling her resolve crumble. She’d come so close, but maybe today just wasn’t the right time. There would be other days, right? Other moments when JJ wasn’t looking at someone else with that same hopeful gleam in his eyes.
She walked home slowly, the sunset painting everything in soft pastels, the familiar landscape feeling just a little emptier. She thought about JJ, the way his laugh sounded like home, the way he’d always been her anchor. Even if she could never tell him, she’d stay by his side.
Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that. She’d tell him someday. But for now, loving him quietly was enough. It had to be.
--
this is a short and sweet intro to what is (hopefully) a new series! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!
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hyperlexichypatia · 20 hours ago
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Yeah, that is definitely a more comforting and hopeful thing to believe. It's also one of the many, many, many contexts in which I, as a liberal socialist, think the dichotomy between "liberals" and "leftists" makes no goddamn sense, but that's a separate issue. Maybe. Perhaps. But sure. It is more comforting and hopeful to believe that a political movement that has all the appearances of being motivated by malice, hierarchy, and domination is actually just motivated by material conditions.
And there is undoubtedly significant truth to this. Polls absolutely show that prices and the economy were a major factor for Trump voters; they weren't looking at any policy positions other than "Biden is president and prices are high, when Trump was president prices were lower, ergo Trump." It's highly likely that if economic conditions were better under Biden, or if Biden-Harris had appeared to have a better strategy for addressing them, Harris might have won the election. That's true! I'm not disputing that!
But we're still talking about a few percentage points -- yes, a few percentage points that could've swung an election in a two-party, winner-take-all electoral system, but still, a few percentage points, not a cultural movement.
The ideological fascism represented by Trump&Co is a cultural movement that has been thriving in the U.S. for decades and is paralleled by similar right-wing, authoritarian, nationalist, and fascist movements around the world, in Europe and India and China and Japan and many, many other countries. It's happening in countries with universal healthcare, and countries without. It's happening in countries with higher GDPs and countries with lower GDPs. It is not connected solely to economic conditions.
Also, right-wing voting correlates positively with income. The people most victimized by economic problems are not making up the bulk of the shift to the right, no matter how many hand-wringing thinkpieces about "the white working class left behind by liberal elitists" get written (you'd think The Hillbilly Elegy Guy becoming Trump's VP would have permanently discredited that theory, but thinkpiece writers have never been able to read the room).
The relationship between the housing crisis and right-wing political movements is sometimes framed as though the phenomenon is "People unable to afford housing vote right-wing on the assumption that right-wing policies will improve their economic prospects," and while there are some instances of that, people who can't afford housing are not Trump's base. Trump's base are housed people who are angry that they see unhoused people panhandling outside their Nice Neighborhood and are angry that Those Damned Liberals won't round them up and put them in debtor's prisons or just shoot them.
And. Like. Again, as a liberal socialist, I think the government should, actually, be guaranteeing everyone housing and healthcare and food and education! Those are policies I support because I think they're the right thing to do anyway! So I would very much like to believe that these policies, that I already believed in for other reasons, would also have the side benefit of making people less bigoted and authoritarian and fascistic, and, I don't know, maybe it would help a little, but for how long?
Because there will always be ups and downs in material conditions, at least until we achieve full post-scarcity. I mean. I absolutely want to abolish capitalism and economic inequality, and want the effects of ups and downs in material conditions to be borne equally across the population rather than the hoarding of wealth we have now, but even in a socialist utopia, there will be shortages. There will be crises. There will be natural disasters. There will be outbreaks at the egg farms (yes even if there are regulations and proper procedures, sometimes these things just happen!), and there will be times when there are no eggs on the shelf. If humanity is going to get hold of our climate/energy crisis before we make the planet entirely unlivable, there will be gas shortages. There will be rationing. There will be reductions in energy and material resources used for leisure travel, and that is the absolute ideal, best-case scenario. And if people's response to being told "Sorry, there's no eggs today" or "Sorry, there's no gas today," or, heaven forfend but completely necessarily, "Sorry, only a limited number of people can own personal vehicles, you'll have to take the bus, oh, and the person sitting next to you on the bus might be queer or Black or Jewish or schizophrenic or another demographic you hate" is to become fascists, then humanity will flat-out not survive. As long as people's culturally ingrained default response to adversity is "Blame a despised minority group, identify as better and more deserving than someone else, divide people into in-group and out-group," fascist ideologies will continue to be a recurring social problem.
And. I mean. That doesn't mean I know the solution! I don't! Scolding does not work! There is some evidence that exposure and personal interactions with actual people one is bigoted against reduces bigotry, as does representation of counter-stereotypical examples, but these are far from foolproof! There was integration in Germany before the Holocaust. There was integration in the Balkans before the Bosnian genocide. "Integration" alone is not sufficient to prevent bigotry nor even to stop it from becoming genocidal. But neither are better material conditions or economic systems, not when Belgium kills disabled children and China is actively committing a genocide (that half the "leftists" on this site are active deniers of) and so is Turkey and I could absolutely keep going.
But not knowing the solution to the problem of authoritarian, bigoted, hierarchical ideology doesn't mean we can write that off as a problem!
I actually think the real solution has to be fundamentally changing education away from hierarchy and competition, changing the system of children beginning in toddlerhood having to "earn" a position of being "better" than other children, but I'm also aware that this is unlikely to happen unless guaranteed material living standards are established for adults, because parents will never support non-competitive education as long as they rationally believe that education must prepare their children to compete for an ever-shrinking number of possibilities for a decent quality of life, because material conditions aren't actually separate from egalitarian liberal values and framing them in opposition is false in the first place.
(I also think a more practical relevance of material conditions to combating authoritarian ideology is not in improving the material conditions of authoritarians to make them less authoritarian, but improving the material conditions of the victims of authoritarianism so that they can better free themselves from their authoritarian abusers. Less "If that domestic abuser had a guaranteed income, he wouldn't abuse his partner" and more "If his partner had a guaranteed income, she could afford to leave her abuser." But for some reason, that isn't acknowledged as much.)
So no, I don't "have the answers" for combating authoritarian, bigoted, hierarchical, fascistic cultural attitudes, but I certainly think acknowledging that they are the problem is better than assuming that bigoted authoritarianism is Just What Happens When High Grocery Prices or Just What Happens When Feminists Are Mean or whatever else. People choose, on purpose, to subscribe to bigoted, hierarchical ideologies. People choose, on purpose, to build a worldview and identity around being intrinsically superior to some other kinds of people. It's not inevitable, and I don't buy that it's unchangeable.
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dadbodbuck · 15 hours ago
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WE'RE BREAKING UP
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WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.
WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.
GET AWAY FROM ME
hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/
anyway
Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 
He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.
But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.
Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.
“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”
Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”
“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”
And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”
“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”
It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 
“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.
Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”
“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”
“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”
“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”
Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”
Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.
When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:
Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?
I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.
Text me pls? So I know you’re ok
Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.
OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to
Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.
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hellsitedotcom · 3 days ago
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*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : SUNDAY *·˚
Yeah, Sunday escalated a little, which is why he was moved to this post, lol. That's...kinda throwing off my initial plan for these posts. Anyways, bone app the teeth??
*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; reader implied to be shorter than Sunday. *·˚ english isn't my native language!
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⭒˚。⋆ Sunday ⭒˚。⋆
⇢ Sunday the kinda guy to have his first kiss after an old-fashioned date or something. I mean, my characterizations of everyone keep changing more extremely than the weather in Germany, but yeah, bare with me for the current one. ⇢ Spending time with Sunday (and sometimes Robin) was almost like an everyday occurrence to you. You were...friends? Well, you certainly were close. It wasn't unusual for you to be alone with him, have long conversations about nothing and everything, go out to get dinner with him. ⇢ And you didn't expect today to look any different when he invited you over to spend time with him at his place, thinking he just needed some company in Robin's absence. After all, you were close, and that's what people who got along with each other did - spend time together. ⇢ But, as you spent time with him, laughing over anything you found funny enough, you felt the energy between you was...different than usual. Sometimes you caught Sunday looking at you a little longer than usual, physical touch lingering, and eventually, you found yourself standing beside him on a balcony, overlooking the Morning Dew Dreamscape, your meeting slowly coming to an end.
''I don't think I'll ever get over this view,'' you sighed, leaning against the railing as you watched Morning Dew's sunrise. You had been to a handful of different Dreamscapes, but nothing could ever compare to those that shared the beauty of the morning sun with you. Beside you, Sunday chuckled softly, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he joined you, ''Well, maybe there's a beautiful sunrise somewhere out there just waiting for you to finally witness it.'' ''I have to find a way off this place first, no?'' you quipped, glancing over at him, ''And I guess I can't really do that until Robin returns. Can't just leave you alone, can I?'' When your eyes met his, you found that Sunday had already been looking at you, a gentle expression on his face. ''Well, I'm glad you're still around,'' he muttered quietly, his smile making you flustered, ''I don't think there's anyone whose company I enjoy more.'' ''Yeah? Huh, I don't think Robin would want to hear that,'' you joked, your voice softer than before, almost hesitant. The atmosphere around you was changing, the innocence of the early morning hours suddenly filled with another emotion, one you couldn't name just yet. Sunday just laughed at your response, turning to face the sun, ''I doubt she'd be surprised.'' ''I'm sure she realized it long before I did,'' he continued, catching you slightly off-guard. With a perplexed expression, you just stared at him, repeating his words in your head. You knew that Sunday considered you someone he shared a close relationship with - otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now - but it still made your heart skip a beat to hear him voice it all so openly. In the pale morning light, you found yourself entranced by him, watching the way the soft rays danced across his face, making his golden eyes shine even brighter than you had ever seen. His words kept repeating in your head, quietly, like a choir as your mind went through all the possible meanings behind the simple sentence. ''I hope she doesn't mind that I'm her brother's favorite,'' you finally spoke again, sounding far more off than you had expected, making Sunday turn to meet your gaze. He was smiling, a mixture of amusement and endearment on his face, ''She knew that it was bound to happen.'' ''Besides,'' he added, turning around to fully face you, ''I care about the two of you in very different ways. Robin is my sister, my family. And I love her the way you love your own blood.'' A heartbeat of silence. The world around you seemed to slow down, the ambiance noise as if muted while Sunday continued his speech, ''While my feelings for you and my sister aren't...that unalike, there is an important distinction. I feel familial love for Robin, while I feel something much deeper for you.'' The beating inside your chest made you think your heart was about to break out of your rib cage, and you didn't even realize that you had stopped breathing, unable to break eye contact as you stared at the man, straightening up while trying to process his words. Neither of you was saying anything right now. You were both just looking at each other, the atmosphere completely changed. Sunday seemed as if he was expecting an answer, but your mind was racing in overdrive, unable to form coherent thoughts. And, while Sunday was starting to grow slightly nervous given your...lack of response to his ''confession'', something inside you just- switched. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, catching not just you, but also the man off-guard. ''May I kiss you?'' Another heartbeat of silence. Then, a soft chuckle, relief flooding Sunday's expression, ''You may.'' And you did, leaning forward, the nervousness terrorizing you as your lips met his in a soft, brief kiss before you pulled away again, your hands shaking slightly.
You were about to say something, comment on...everything that had been said and done today, but before you could come to word, Sunday cut you off with another kiss, this one longer, deeper, and as you stood there in the light of the early morning sun, you found yourself hoping the moment would never pass.
Sunday held you close after that, his forehead resting against yours as you just stood there, allowing the rays of sunlight to engulf you, the pale golden hue like a sign that you had made the right choice, that you had found the right one.
For the longest time, neither of you wanted to leave, lost in the other's embrace until Sunday slowly pulled away, a sigh escaping his lips, ''I fear I probably have to get back to work.''
''I- I know,'' you muttered, looking up at him, ''Just...a few more minutes? Is that alright? I just...I don't want you to leave yet.'' Your voice was quiet, almost fragile. You couldn't remember the last time you sounded this vulnerable.
And Sunday noticed, eyes widening momentarily before he began to smile, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up and place another brief kiss to your lips, ''Just a few more minutes, then I'll have to get back. But you're welcome to stay with me if you want.''
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xxnghtclls · 2 days ago
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Ever since the final chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen came out, I‘ve been wondering who this woman is, that we see in Sukuna‘s final panels. So I decided to read a bit. (Maybe I‘m hella late and y‘all already know this stuff or it‘s already fully settled who this is idk I wasn‘t active until last week lol)
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The woman appears to be a Miko, a type of priestess that works at shinto shrines. This source describes their duty as the following:
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In general, Mikos remained virginal and unmarried for their entire lives. Until the late Heian period, mikos could be married to Yamabushi who belonged to the Shugendō religion. However, these were purely ritual-formal marriages that remained childless. (Wikipedia / Joseph Cali, John Dougill: Shintō Shrines)
Back to the Manga: some people assumed this woman must be Yorozu, since it‘s one of the persons who offered love to Sukuna. However, for me, there is no indication at all that Yorozu of all people, is a virgin, let alone a devoted priestess.
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My personal first thought was, that this woman is Sukuna‘s mother. The only parent Sukuna ever mentioned is his mother. He also hinted at his childhood as well.
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If we assume Sukuna‘s mother was a Miko, Sukuna‘s fate of being unwanted and at the brink of starvation would make sense, since Miko were expected to be childless.
So how could this have happened? As I mentioned above, until the Heian Period they were allowed to have ritual formal marriages with Yamabushi. They also were supposed to remain childless.
But who are the Yamabushi anyway? The followers of Shugendō performed magical-religious rituals and ascetic practices in the mountains with the aim of “becoming Buddha in this life” (sokushin-jōbutsu <<< Hah ring a bell?) and gaining supernatural abilities. These abilities are used for the benefit of the population, for example in the form of fortune-telling or to cure illnesses. (Wikipedia)
This sounds very Sukuna esque for me lol
Doesn‘t prove anything but I think it‘s interesting to mention.
ANYWAY
What if Suku‘s momma was married to one of the Yamabushi? What if they were just… human and did fell in love, putting their duty aside? Getting Suku‘s momma pregnant, and probably punishing her for it. Sukuna was unwanted after all, not only bcs of his appearance but bcs of the circumstances as well.
What‘s super interesting is, what is mentioned earlier, that up until the late Heian Period, Miko were primarily young girls from noble families. So Sukuna being the abomination that he is being born into the forbidden circumstances AND disgracing his mother and her family. Yea… unwanted little wretch.
However.
Maybe none of this is true and the Miko woman is just a symbol for the religious path he could have followed.
Who knows?
Not me. Apparently.
Any further information is very welcome!
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homopopsie · 7 hours ago
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[Sif has been looking at you weird for a while...] "Isa." [CRAB!!!] "Uhh, Yeah Sif?" [He's looking straight at you, his eyes piercing you to your bones. He looks kinda creepy like this... Reminds you of all the times you found him reading late at night with his flashlight eye.] "You mind if we talk for a second? Alone." "UMM. YEAH SURE SIF." [CRAB CRAB CRAB CRAB CRABBBBBB] "Are you alright, Isa? I've noticed you doing some... things. You're acting more- There's really no other way to say it, Isa you've been acting dumb. Acting like you're just 'really lucky' whenever you find a key that we need. I know you, Isa. I know you aren't stupid. You're really smart actually, and I know something is up. So what is it? Can I help?" [CRAB CRAB CRAB WHY IS HE ASKING THIS NOW????] "What do you mean? I really have just been getting lucky?! I don't know how I would know where the keys are, I've never been here?!?" [You feel awful lying to them.] "Right. So you finding the switch to the Death Corridor trap instantly isn't something strange? You always trust me to handle traps, and yet you immediately put your hand out in front of me and stopped me before I could look around, and then hit the hidden switch. I know I only have one eye, but that was really well hidden." "But how would I know where it was beforehand? I just had a feeling."
"I don't know Isa, but I know that people with 'a feeling' still jump at massive falling rocks! And I know that people with 'a feeling' don't just nonchalantly strut into The King's chambers and talk before Odile gets a chance to talk to the man who froze her entire home. I know people with 'a feeling' don't grit their teeth hard enough to shatter. Don't act like nobody noticed that either, maybe the others didn't but I did." [!!!] "But, that'd be impossible, right? It's impossible to have been here before-" "Is it? Because you sure seemed to have a few theories! You knew to ask me about Wish Craft, to ask me to read those books! You knew that I could wish properly, you didn't have an inch of doubt on your face when you said how I taught you. You knew that a wish could have given The King the ability to harness Time Craft. Don't think I believed you when you said you didn't wish for anything. I know you're indecisive, but you aren't going to just ignore something I told you either. I know you wouldn't just listen to me tell you how to wish and not bother with it. You aren't callous. [If only he knew... If only he knew how callous you were!]
"I..." "Isa, I know you're not stupid. And you know I'm not stupid either. If I see something, the only thing I can do is observe for more. And all signs right now point to you. Did something happen? Is that... Is that why you're looping in time? Did-"
"Oh Siffrin... Why? Why did you have to figure it out now? Why couldn't you have figured it out before? Why couldn't you have never figured it out?" "Isa, I-" "Can't you see? It's too late now. Nobody can help, now. It's already too late. Because I was too much of a coward to try and ask for help. Because I was too much of a coward to tell anyone about the loops! Because I was too much of a coward to say anything! Because I was too much of a coward to tell you how I feel! Especially you, Sif. I'm too much of a coward to tell you how I feel about you. And I'll never get that chance. Because it's already too late. "..." [He's just staring at you with a scared expression. Or at least its probably scared. Whatever. It's too late anyway. You coward.]
"...So what is it? Can I help?" "Nope! Was that all?"
[Sif seems... sad, at your response.]
"Alright. I'll miss you Isa. Come visit me sometime on your travels, okay? It'd be a shame if I couldn't look at the stars another time with you."
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Roleswap Sus event combos Everybody gets a turn being the suspect and the suspectee! Nobody enjoys the experience, though.
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