#no connecting thread from beginning to end

[sevenmothz]

Anyway, if you want to play a game with a genuinely really fan-fucking-tastic storyline, a custom protag you can play as you like (complete with a cast of characters you can boink), a really bitching world it all exists in with a lot of lore of its own, that is ALSO really fun to play, may I suggest Cyberpunk 2077?

[nostalgicatsea]

Help. What do you do when you have two viable directions a fic can go (which inevitably lead to two different endings) and you love both so much so you can't pick one over the other? 😩

[mononijikayu]

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

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HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder. 

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.”  Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and  the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji���s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!” 

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back. 

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it.  Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. 

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him. 

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[gentlemanjuniper]

If I could inject just a little positivity to the news...

Season 2 has a lot of filler and stretches out a pretty simple mystery to six episodes. That's the appeal to some, I get it. But tightness and focus was not its strong suit. I remember feeling like it wasted a ton of time on side characters and it's possible shaving the story down to 90 minutes will skim things down to its most essential beats and be stronger for it. Basically, S2 got a lot of time given to it, and this is obviously my personal opinion but I don't think it used all of it well. I think S2 itself could have been half the length simply by employing more efficient storytelling and we'd not mourn too much.

A lot of S2's weaker plotlines feel built around people that Neil wanted to work with again, with so many recurring actors (I'm thinking of the zombies specifically, when that minisode could have easily been tighter without them). A lot of s2 to me feels like Neil just making work for the people he likes and wants to work with and a movie has to be more accountable to things like that.

Lots of entire fandoms exist around single movies. 90 minutes is not nothing. It's enough for many, many films to tell a complete story with cute character interactions and satisfying emotional arcs, especially when A&C are the only real significant connecting threads between both seasons thus far.

I don't think there are as many loose threads that absolutely need resolving as people may be thinking. Would I like to know why Aziraphale did the '40s apology dance? Would I like to see his bookshop gun? Sure. Are either of those necessarily essential to closing out the story? I don't think so. Really, what needs resolving is the second coming and, directly connected to that, Aziraphale and Crowley's rift. To me, not knowing the story obviously, that seems super reasonable to do in 90 minutes?

I don't think anyone involved in the final season can possibly be blind to the appeal of the show being Aziraphale and Crowley over anything else. That's certainly the reason why their roles were expanded to begin with from the book and why the second season was, nominally, all about them. They also now have to pay MS and DT for appearing in a movie rather than an ensemble show, there's no way they won't be front and center. Amazon wants a show that will make money and market itself; there's a reason why all the promo material for S2 was of Crowley and Aziraphale, because people engage with that stuff, reblog it, make art that promotes the show, etc. It makes no artistic or financial sense to make a movie that sidelines them.

GO is at its best when it has Terry's voice most strongly in it. That's why to me, S2 was a weaker, more meandering season overall (that, and I think the minisodes, while fun, just make the season feel comprised of different voices not always working in tandem towards a common goal). If I was a writer hired to condense a season into a film, and one of the authors had been rightfully disgraced, I would go out of my way to ensure the clearly Terry stuff is most significantly emphasized. It's telling to me that the Pratchett estate is producing and it's possible that the end result will result in more Terry, less Neil.

Think of it this way: everything we've gotten after S1 has always been extra. Imagine telling a fan of the book in the 90s that not only will you get a six episode adaptation, you also get a totally new second season, AND a movie?

Basically: I know this is disappointing but I think a lot of the pleasure of the Good Omens fandom was ALWAYS people picking up on and expanding on details, and y'all managed to do that just fine when A&C were only ensemble members in S1. You can and will do that with a movie too. And this solution both a) ensures first and foremost that Neil won't be involved or the allegations swept under the rug, and b) gives an opportunity for the heart of the story to be emphasized with greater focus, clarity and less filler.

Will we lose good stuff? Probably. But it's also possible we will get a tighter, more condensed, focused version of the best bits, the Terry Pratchett-est bits. I can easily see a 90 minute movie that, knowing they HAVE to focus on the important stuff now, is more Crowley and Aziraphale centric than ever.

[satori-runa]

—In fates eyes

Summary: You're the victim of a weird red string that won't let loose of your finger. And you don't know that your stalker is wrapped at the other end, already on the chase.

Tags: Soulmate AU, slight stalking

Words: 0,5

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Ever since you landed in this strange place, you couldn't rid yourself of the pesky scarlet string tied around your pinkie.

It clung stubbornly, snug but not tight enough to cut off your circulation. You’d tried everything—cutting it, biting it—but whenever you attempted to sever it, the string seemed to turn to steel, defying your efforts and leaving you frustrated. It stretched on through the strange landscape like a guiding line, silently inviting you to follow it. Whether you chose to do so was up to you.

What you didn’t know was that someone else was on the other end of the string, far away in another room. Mr. Scarletella had grown quite fond of the little red thread wrapped around his own pinkie. He understood what it meant—it tethered him to you, his beloved. With eager determination, he followed the string’s pull, feeling it occasionally go taut or slack, each shift only deepening his resolve. To him, the string wasn’t a nuisance; it was a blessing.

In your desperation, there was even a moment when you tried to sacrifice your finger to Mr. Gap, thinking it would free you. But to your astonishment, the string merely shifted to another finger, as if mocking your attempt. That was when you realized: you were stuck with it. Perhaps it was time to accept that fact.

Unbeknownst to you, Scarletella was closing in, watching from afar. He wondered if you were following the string as well, and hoped your curiosity would lead you to him. Eager to nudge you along, he tugged on the thread, leaving subtle hints in his wake. Yet you continued to ignore its presence, pretending it wasn’t there.

Scarletella’s patience, while immense, was not without its limits. The string was a bond he cherished, but the lack of response from your end was beginning to gnaw at his resolve. Each time he tugged, hoping for even the smallest acknowledgment—a pause, a turn of your head—he was met with silence. It stung more than he’d care to admit. Still, he pressed on, following the crimson line like a lifeline, his anticipation tempered by a growing desperation.

Meanwhile, you trudged forward through the unfamiliar terrain, the string tugging ever so gently at your finger, a persistent reminder of something—or someone—waiting at the other end. Yet, your wariness of this unexplainable connection kept you from fully committing to its path. What if it led to something dangerous? Or worse, something you weren’t prepared to face?

The chase came to an abrupt end when he suddenly appeared behind you, his eerie smile stretching wider as his excitement overtook him. Before you could react, you found yourself pulled into his arms, a crimson umbrella unfolding above to shield you both, casting everything around you in its scarlet glow.

Truth be told, he never needed the string. It was merely a symbol, a connection that fate had woven between you. But he was content—no, happy—that destiny had decided you were meant for each other. The string was just a reminder that, in the end, he had always been right where he needed to be.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Remade (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

Warnings: I somehow managed to write fluff with goo!Sauron, I guess? You hold and kiss goo!Sauron. You suffer a minor injury by goo!Sauron. You get animals and one person killed to feed goo!Sauron. Heavy make out and implied smut (with non-goo!Sauron). Can you tell I love writing the words ‘goo!Sauron’?

Note: Yet another Sauron x evil!reader fic cause I can’t stop apparently. Can be read as a prequel to the others or as a stand alone.

“Oh, my love,” you breathe out, “what have they done to you?”

What have they done indeed. For you are speaking with the one that is your love, your husband, your very soul—but if he hears, or even understands, he cannot show it. What’s left of him has no mouth no speak, no arms to wrap around you at long last, after an eternity of separation. What your tearful eyes are looking at is a black, amorphous mass, no larger than the heart hammering within your chest, writhing helplessly on the ground.

But it is him. Of that, you are certain.

When you felt his presence again, it was so faint you thought you were dreaming it. Nothing but a glimmer of darkness in the back of your mind, weakly calling out in agony. But as you searched your feelings, reaching out with every sliver of power you could muster, you found that it was real.

You found him.

Long had you travelled since, guided by the unseen thread connecting you to him. Until at last, it had led you into the heart of a mountain where his presence was so strong, it felt as though his skin was beneath your fingertips.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until a sharp squeal had caught your ear, and you had found the source of it to be a rat being devoured into the blackness of a small, but lethal predator. At once, you had understood, and nearly fallen into despair. But in the end, you reminded yourself—he has endured. You have been reunited. That is all that matters.

Slowly, you kneel at his side. The mass ripples like the surface of water under a light breeze, and it gives you hope that, somehow, your presence is known to him. A sole rivulet of him begins to slip towards you, painfully slow. No wonder he has been in this state for so long, helpless to nourish himself lest some unfortunate creature stumbles upon him in the dark.

“I am here,” you whisper as you reach out. “I am—”

The moment your fingertips touch his cold, viscous form, black tendrils of him latch onto your hand, greedily clawing at your wrist. You gasp at the unexpected force of it, the searing sting where the liquid-like matter solidifies to dig sharp needles into your skin. Beads of your blood emerge, and he swallows them into himself with hunger.

You stare in awe as he grows ever so slightly larger. A twisted part of you is elated to be the object of his craving once more, even if he is trying to devour you whole. Especially then.

Unfortunately, that would not do in the long-term.

You shush him gently, caressing him with your free hand as though he were a purring kitten. Instantly, a tendril of him latches to one of your fingers, but you give him a firm squeeze.

“Shh!” you say sharply, fingers sinking into the soft surface of him as you reach out with your mind as well, nudging at his. “Easy, love,” you coo. “Easy. You know this hand. You know me.”

His mind is a mess—mad with hunger, alight with rage, lost to despair. But you keep caressing it with yours, tenderly bringing to the surface his memories of you. His love. His wife.

His grip on you weakens then. He deflates, withdrawing himself from your wounds, and you are left with a soft, pliant mass, which you delicately scoop into the palm of your hands. He rocks slightly against your skin, almost as if caressing it—and through your bond, the ghost of his regret reaches out to you.

“Do not fret, my love,” you murmur, smiling gently. “All will be well now.”

And so you go to dwell in the forest. At first, you bring him small things, no larger than he is himself—insects and rats, the occasional snake. The venomous ones seem to be quite nourishing, aiding in his growth more visibly than the other animals you feed him. Still, the progress is slow, and could not be endured without a great deal of patience and love. Fortunately, you lack neither.

Days turn to weeks, perhaps months. You don’t keep count, nor do you miss the comforts of the Elven realm where you had dwelt for years, waiting on the day your husband might return. A tent and your skills are more than enough when you finally have your love by your side, even if he is... temporarily different. You always keep him close, cradling him protectively at night and speaking loving words to him throughout the day. And in his own way, with ripples of his form and distant echoes of his slowly recovering mind, he holds onto you.

Eventually, he grows large enough for you to embrace at night, and develops a certain manner of breathing that feels as though you’re resting your head upon his chest. Its rise and fall is odd, ragged and irregular, but it brings you great joy nonetheless. With time, you bring him larger game, watching with grim amazement as deers and wild boars are slowly devoured into the beloved black mass that still is your husband. After a time, he grows nearly limb-like extensions, allowing him to more easily crawl around or reach out, and you often wake to find yourself in the closest thing to an embrace he can manage in this state. It never fails to make your heart soar, and he shudders as you press loving kisses to the parts of his surface closest to you.

So the days pass, until it’s time. Between your own instinct and the shape of his thoughts, not quite spoken but slightly more focused through your bond, you know he’s strong enough to finally regain himself completely.

But for that, he will need something more than an animal.

It’s easy enough to stop the first wagon you see passing by, acting confused and lost and asking for direction. The woman at the reins, though half-drunk, is even gracious enough to offer that she give you a ride to the closest village. You decline, of course. Your purpose was never to climb into the wagon yourself.

It was to halt it long enough for your husband to slither inside from the back.

It’s barely a few seconds after the woman has bid you a good journey and gone on her way that the wagon halts yet again—this time, with a piercing scream from its occupant. The wagon shakes, its horse breaking loose and galloping away.

Then, silence settles. From your angle, you can’t see inside. Your feet are glued in place, your breath barely there as you watch and wait. You’ve been waiting so long that now, so close to the end of your suffering, each moment feels neverending.

Finally—finally—a man emerges from the back of the wagon. He takes his time putting one bare foot, then the other, down onto the snow-covered ground. He takes in his surroundings, as though opening his eyes to the world for the first time. Then his gaze lands on you, and his lips curl into a smile filled with relief.

And you know, you’ve always known, but it feels as though you only then realize that this is not a man. Or an Elf, or a Dwarf, or any other being of less than godly nature. It is him. Remade into a form with eyes, and hands, and flesh, same as your own.

Your feet carry you towards him blindly as you stare and stare, almost unable to believe that you are finally standing close enough to touch once more.

“I would not blame you,” he says, his unfamiliar voice rough from lack of use, “if it was you who failed to recognize me now.”

But you know it’s absurd. His appearance may not be as it used to—his hair is shorter, darker, his cheeks covered in stubble, his features nothing like the ones you knew—but there is no form he could take you would not recognize, not as long as your mind still served you. His had been broken, unamde, when he had begun to feed on you as he would any other stranger. None of that matters now.

“This is... different,” you murmur, greedily taking in every inch of him that isn’t covered by the rags he’s wearing. His chest is partially bared to your eyes, and both of your breaths shudder as you lay your hand over his new heart, the smattering of hair there delightfully rough beneath your fingertips. You gaze there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight, then lift your eyes to meet his. The curls that fall in his face are so endearing your chest aches as you brush one aside.

“I love it,” you breathe out. “I love you.”

A dam that had been built over years of longing shatters at your words, and your lips meet his furiously in a long-awaited kiss. His looks may have changed, but his taste is the same, and so is the desire that overwhelms you to the point of insanity. You’re falling into each other, clawing at each other, crumbling to the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs. The snow is cold against your back, but your husband is warm and solid above you, and your world becomes reduced to him and him alone.

You whimper when he suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gazes down at you with raw yearning.

“You came for me,” he says, breathless with elation.

“Of course I did,” you retort, nearly indignated. As if you would do anything but. He goes to kiss you again, but you wrap a hand around his throat and hold him back. Mischief dances in your eyes as he glares and you scold, “And in return, you nearly ate me.”

His eyes darken, and you almost moan at the sight alone.

“I still wish to,” he growls, prying your hand away from his neck and diving in to devour yours instead. “All those years I hungered...” he speaks between ravenous licks and bites of your skin, making you writhe and whimper beneath him, “to feel you once more... even when I could no longer remember... what it was I hungered for...” He lifts his head, wild eyes boring into yours as he lays his hand upon your chest, relishing your heartbeat as you had done his before. “My love,” he pleads, voice trembling with need, “join me in flesh. Let me feast upon yours. Devour mine. Remind me what it is... to feel.”

The last time you felt such unbridled joy was so long ago, you can’t even remember it. And either way, you doubt it held a candle to the bliss bursting within your soul in this moment. This is all you ever wanted. This makes every single moment of torment, past or future, worth it.

“Feel me, love,” you offer most sweetly, your lips brushing his with the last words you speak before you consume each other whole, “Feel everything.”

Next fic with same reader -> Tides of fate

[opbackgrounds]

Brook's backstory has a unique structure compared to other flashback sections. Firstly, it happens at the end of the arc instead of someplace in the middle. Most flashbacks are meant to clear up mystery and inject one final shot of emotional energy to carry the end of the arc through the big fight scenes. Here, we already know everything that happens to Brook; nothing is a surprise. Instead we're learning how it happened.

Secondly, Brook's backstory is the only one that I can think of that intermittently bounces back to the present. In fact, it actually goes on three timelines: Brook alive with the Rumbar Pirates, Brook alone and dead during his fifty years of isolation, and the present day party with the Straw Hats.

The thread that connects these three sections is Bink's Sake. Music is the bridge between past and present, and the instrument by which Brook is allowed to grieve and put his former crew to rest.

Back during the Skypiea arc music was portrayed as a connecting force. I noted at that time all the chapter names that were musically themed (there were a lot) and the ringing of the golden bell was literally called a love song that brought peace to a warring land. Bink's Sake is much the same. There's a reason why Luffy insisted for so long that he needed a musician on the crew.

(As an aside, in an upcoming SBS Oda mentions how he wrote and commissioned the music for Bink’s Sake 4-5 years before it came up in the manga, anticipating that he would need it soon for the story. While Oda is notoriously bad at planning out timelines, it does mean that he was thinking about Brook and Bink’s Sake at the end of Skypiea. Perhaps at one time he was planning on going from the musical theming of the Skypiea chapter titles to actual, in-universe music back to back. We’ll probably never know for sure.)

Ages ago I wrote a long meta on Brook, and at that time I noted that there is nothing strictly necessary about Brook. The Straw Hats have another, better swordsman, and his skill isn't needed for sailing along the open seas.

But the Straw Hat Pirates without Brook is like life without music. You can do it, but it's a life without joy and bereft of the simple connections born from singing a song with the people you love. Luffy has understood that from the beginning, and it's why Brook is so, so important to the crew.

[marlenesluv]

Hullo, hope you're doing okay. I was wondering if I could request a smau with Carlos.

Y/N is an upcoming but less known film scriptwriter and has a significant age gap from him (6-7 years younger than him). A lot of fans bully cause she's a struggler in Hollywood and not your typical model either. (she doesn't make the effort to look good for Carlos they say)

There is an Oscar winning film but her credit was taken away and fans finally support her (something dramátic like this idkk your choice!!) ty tho <3

Doesn’t Come Easy. (CS)

note: hi, i’m doing well, i hope you are too :) and yes, i love this sm!! i hope you enjoy! (no summary for this, j read the rec lol!)

pairing: carlos sainz x film scriptwriter!reader!fem. carlos is 29 and reader is 22.

fc: alani (alanikaii on insta)

warnings: fairly aggressive hate comments (happy ending tho)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 47,104 others

y/n.user: lots of work this week☕️📝

view comments…

carlossainz55: cariño❤️❤️

↳ y/n.user: ❤️❤️

user7: not the messy bun pictures 💀

f1wags: no one could ever make me hate y/n, wtf is wrong with you guys??

vroom99posts: the lack of effort she puts in to talking with the other wags, making herself presentable…why is he even with her?

user2: “work” is making up little movies? nope, babe

cschili55: facecard = 0

y/nhatepage: get this guy OUT. ain’t no way he’s happy with her…

user4: the way carlos doesn’t even defend her in these comments LMAOOOO

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 39,027 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

Claire @claireblogsstuff8 •2hr ago

It’s about time someone made one of these threads:

Why we don’t like Y/n Y/l/n, Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend..:

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Reason 1: She makes no effort to look good for him or the cameras. The only clothing she wears to the paddock is jeans, sweats, tee’s, and tennis shoes. Other wags give us dresses, skirts, like?? Try harder.

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Reason 2: Y/n and Carlos have a 7 year age gap… This one speaks for itself………

Reason 3: Her job makes no money, shes mooching off Carlos. Being a film scriptwriter is great, if you’re actually good. Which she’s not.

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Reason 4: She makes zero effort to be friends with the other wags. As a girlfriend, you should try and connect with your boyfriends friends girlfriends. She just ignores them on race weekends and it’s rude and lazy.

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Reason 5: Y/n has no career in her field.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, landonorris, and 63,248 others

y/n.user: little 5 year old me would be so excited that i’m finally able to say: my film script that i’ve worked four years on perfecting is finally in the works and being casted and filmed!🥹 this is surreal. i’m going to go cry some more.

view comments…

carlossainz55: hermosa❤️❤️ you’re amazing. i love you

↳ y/n.user: i love you more carlos❤️❤️

user3: uhhuh….

landonorris: CONGRATULATIONS 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

↳ y/n.user: TY LANDO!!!!

f1editpics: mmmm it’s gonna be soo bad😭

f1wags: GO Y/N‼️🫶

yourbsf: i’m so proud of you, i love you🫶

↳ y/n.user: i love you so much🫶

user5: mhmmm, we all know where this will lead😐 FAIL

formula1edit: nahhhh💀

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lewishamilton, and 2,945,019 others

carlossainz55: Where do I even begin? Y/n, my world, my bestfriend, my soulmate. Ever since we met in Spain 4 years ago, I knew you knew what you wanted. When you told me your dreams, you didn’t expect them to become reality. Yet, here we are. I’m so proud of you, cariño. Te quiero❤️

view comments…

y/n.user: carlos🥹i couldn’t have done any of it without you. te quiero, amor❤️

↳ carlossainz55: ❤️❤️❤️

f1wags: UGH they’re so cute idcccc

user8: i still don’t think it’ll be good. and when tf is she gonna up her game bro

charles_leclerc: congrats y/n!!

↳ y/n.user: thanks charles!

user1: the way this film will flop and then he’ll break up with her💀

cs0ln0: sloppy, yawning, boring

user9: naurrrr🤧

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

F1 Gossip Blog Post:

Goodmorning…I have no entrance for you, because I am shook to the core today. It has been about a year since Carlos Sainz’s girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, went to the movie premiere of the movie she wrote.

Today I woke up and saw something that shocked me! Last night, this movie won an Oscar, but Y/n was no where to be found. She didn’t attend the awards and she wasn’t even credited.

The petty “I don’t like her” needs to stop. We need to support her, she’s talented, smart, and yes, beautiful. Us, as fans, don’t know how hers and Carlos’ relationship is. Although I would assume pretty good… (via the recent paparazzi photos, lol)

Her credit being taken away is awful, and shouldn’t be glossed over. Sign the petition at the bottom of this post to support Y/n, and bring attention to the fact that this film happened because of HER!

sign here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 167,204 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, lilymhe, and 345,024 others

y/n.user: First off, I want to say thank you to Carlos for being the most patient, loving, and kind boyfriend. I see the “she’s not good enough for him” comments and the hate posts. Carlos doesn’t say anything because I simply don’t want him to. I can’t even count the amount of times I have to tell him to not respond. Judging a relationship you know nothing about is silly.

I also want to say thank you to the other wags for being patient and understanding with me. I do hangout with them, I just keep that private. Not everything needs to be aired out on social media.

A huge thank you to fans of Carlos’ that have supported me and my journey with this film. I appreciate all the kind messages throughout the process of writing and even now with the Oscars.

Thank you to my family and friends, for supporting me from when I was a little girl watching movies and pretending I was in said movie for a week straight, writing alternate endings and embarrassing you at theaters.

There’s nothing that can be done about what happened with my credit for the movie at the Oscars. It’s unfortunate, but true.

Oh, also, Carlos and I got a puppy. His name is Calvin, that’s all.

view comments…

*comments have been limited by the creator of this post*

carlossainz55: I love you, cariño❤️

lilymhe: here for you🫶🫶

landonorris: keep your head up, dude😁 miss you!

maxfewtrell: cute dog!! loved the movie too, goat film writer

francisca.cgomes: love you!!💖

charles_leclerc: amazing film, you’re so talented🙏

lailahasanovic: prettiest girl made the best film and is living her best life 🥰

carmenmmundt: keep your head up!! george and i send hugs🫶💓

danielricciardo: you’re slaying with this post💅

alexandrasaintmleux: ❤️❤️

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and 227,284 others

y/n.user: back to writing🙃 #quentintarantinoishelpingmewiththisscript

view comments…

f1wags: yesss, queen!! so looking forward to the new script you write 😋

carlossainz55: bonita❤️❤️

↳ y/n.user: guapoooo❤️❤️

user3: i want the love they have

jvroom8: i like how everyone switched up on y/n, i’ve been saying she’s the best wag and no oneeee listened

tarantinouniverse: so excited for your new work!! the fact that you worked with quentin is so awesome!

zendaya: can’t wait!💜

↳ y/n.user: 💜🪩

moviecritic: y/n and zendaya?? duo i didn’t know i needed

landonorris: she’s busy writing guys💅📝

user7: living for your posts!!

maxverstappen1: DU DU DU DU BEST WRITERRRR

↳ y/n.user: ….what has gotten into him?

↳ charles_leclerc: 🤷‍♂️

↳ y/n.user: *cough* lestappen *cough*

↳ maxverstappen1: oh my

↳ alexandrasaintmleux: AHAHA i live for lestappen

↳ charles_leclerc: 😐

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated! ^-^)

[clericofgale]

The stars will be our bed

I'm seeing a very popular narrative that asking for physical sex during Gale's act 2 scene is better for his character development, and the astral scene is bad for him. Or at least not as good. While I do prefer the astral version more, I disagree with the notion that either one is better for Gale's plot development. I've done both options depending on the what felt right for that specific Tav at the time. As always, if that's the narrative you want to build, there's nothing wrong with it.

For me personally I think both are narratively sound for his character development. Yes Gale needs to know he doesn't need magic to be loved, but Gale also loves magic. It's his life, his passion and his artistic medium of choice. What he needs is balance, not total rejection. You want the man, and the magic.

"Tactful, Bowing to the player's desires"

If you insist on regular sex, that's the devnote that's attached to it. Gale is acquiescing to what you, the player wants. Gale wanted to share his magic with you, but you refused. He doesn't care either way, as long as he's spending the night with you. The approval numbers are the same. He obviously prefers the astral sex because it's what he's used to and confident in, but either is fine.

One thing we have to remember is Gale also uses magic to find connection. In the act 1 weave scene, Gale and you share thoughts over the weave. It's exactly what he's trying to do in Act 2 as well. It's a mind meld sequence using the weave. I don't think Gale is trying to use magic to as a front in this scene, despite the "I can wow you" sentence if you refuse. I think he's trying to share his inner self with magic as the canvas, and connect with you in this most intimate way. It's akin to Fane's scene in DOS2 where you share Source with each other and also mind meld.

Gale wants to distill a lifetime's worth of affection into one night because he feels he will die soon. The scene is his "Last Night Alive". Gale, the artist of the weave puts on his final and private show for his beloved. He weaves stars and invites light to the land of shadows. He's prepared for days for this whole sequence, and you only need to trust him.

If you do he leads you into his innermost world. First, where he feels safest, and the balcony that brings him comfort. Then the book of a thousand days and nights filled with his love for you. The amount of time he wishes he had left to show you his affection, physical or emotional.

But he only has one night.

"There are endless worlds out there. Countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. Too much for one night.. but we shall try."

The astral scene is him trying. He multiplies as he refuses to let go your hand. He caresses every part of your mind, body, and soul. Gale tries desperately to sear every fiber of your being, of the one he loves onto his own soul. He wants to feel everything you do, and the weave is capable of that.

"Your bodies and minds weave together in a masterpiece of intimacy. Never have you felt such wonder, such love - as vast as the universe itself, and just as heavenly. "

You are one and the same that night. Where Gale ends and you begin is a mystery; he is lost in you and you in him.

"We are all sensual vessels. Illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply."

The scene is beautiful, both narratively and visually. This is not a man trying to use magic to demonstrate his worth so you won't leave him. This is a man trying to use magic to weave a tapestry from two spools of thread in one night. It's ok to let him do so. It's also ok to remind him he doesn't need to. Whichever feels right in that moment is the right choice.

They all end in giving Gale renewed hope. Magic was merely the medium on which it blossomed and thrived. Whether from a bed of stars or a bed conjured under it, your love is what gave it life.

Thanks for reading this way too long cold take.

[mimir-anoshe]

I love that ARCANE is using the MAJOR ARCANA for symbolism.

Chefs kiss.

These are Sevika's tarot cards from season 1.

The Magician (upright) overlapping Death (upright).

Foreshadowing? Oh hell yeah. But its only now after S2 Episode 6 do I understand what they might actually be foreshadowing. People may have talked about this before, so I apologise if this is similar to anyone else's meta. These are all my own thoughts, I usually just watch arcane and don't dabble into the meta but this season has me feral and I just rewatched season 1.

SPOILERS for Arcane S1/S2 below.

I just want to prologue this post with a note about how I've noticed even from season 1 there are thematic parallels and linear symbolism being afforded between Jinx and Viktor. Others in the community have too I'm sure. Its strange. I thought it was interesting in S1 but didn't deep dive into it, but S2 has driven headfirst into it and its making me go "oh... oh ok." Even Viktor in S1 noted Jinx's genius, and in another timeline perhaps Powder would've been a student of Viktors had fate not set them on parallel paths. Two children of Zaun, both mechanical/scientific geniuses. One physically disabled whilst the other mentally disabled. One who "escaped" and was given a chance, rising to the top only to create something that would be used for harm. Fighting that fate at every step. Whilst the other trapped at the bottom of the barrel, forced to use her gifts to become a weapon herself. Such GOOD story writing.

So now let's think about the art of the cards, because in tarot, even the symbolism of the specific art is important. Its why an artists interpretation of a major/minor can be so crucial to a reading.

Here's a figure map I made earlier.

Lets begin with Death.

Thirteenth of the Major Arcana, a "significant transformation and the end of a phase in life." There is death and rebirth symbolism all over arcane, but let's take a closer look at the symbolism mirroring the art.

Figure 7&8 - The one who has "died" a skeleton/skull laid down and being "imbued" with something as something else is taken away.

See that the imbuing focuses on the "chest" area.

It's quick, but it flashes briefly when Viktor is being imbued with the Hexcore. He canonically dies "the skull" and is reborn with the Hexcore on an "altar"/table.

Same with Jinx. Canonically "dies" and is reborn laying on an "altar"/table using shimmer. Purple being used as the visual thread between shimmer and the arcane of the hex; a colour imagery representation of "magical" alchemical/arcane power turning them into something beyond human.

Singed and Jayce. Two hands of death, giving and taking life as if they were a God. One using shimmer, the other Hextech thats imbued with shimmer. Messing with the balance of life and death.

With Viktor, the energy is transferred straight into his chest, just like on the card.

So now we've established the parallels to the death tarot, lets look at The Magician.

The First of the Major Arcana, "the connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the ability to manifest one's desires."

Viktor is the Magician. No doubt. He connects the physical and spiritual world of the arcane, he brings people back from the brink of death, as he was. He manifests his desires through the use of the hex, the arcane. And the dude just looks like a mecha wizard.

Though if you want it to be even more obvious.

Figure 3 - The Third Arm/Third Hand.

The image below is "The Machine Herald" Hero from League of Legends. This is the hero Viktor is based upon.

He canonically has three arms, same as the Magician in the card. The Magician is Viktor, Viktor is the Magician. The Magician is the Machine Herald.

The Magician overtakes/overlaps death. But Viktor by episode 6 still doesn't quite resemble the machine herald from the games. There's no third arm... Yet. So the Magician in the card isn't Viktor from episodes 1-6, this is the machine herald who comes after the one killed in episode 6. Another Rebirth is set to happen for Viktor.

Figures 1 &2 - White mask. Red/pinkish eyes.

Hmmm... Red/pinkish eyes are associated with shimmer. And a white mask, of the machine herald? The mask of a messiah. That the hextech Viktor will most likely also be imbued with shimmer like Jinx, to become the true "machine herald." Messiahs of the hex, monsters of the shimmer.

Its also worth noting that both Jinx and Viktor are framed as messianic figures of Zaun in this season. One the fighter who will rally together the undercity and free Zaun from its oppression. The other a healer and a saint like figure who will free the Zaunites of their suffering and lead them into a better future.

Jinx wanting peace - represented by Isha - and Viktor's dream of peace and healing for Zaun - represented by a lot of things including healing Vander - are metaphorically and literally killed in episode 6. Funnily enough, one symbol of peace killing the other (Isha and Vander - Child and Father). After all, peace and violence are two sides of the same coin, as are Viktor and Jinx. Or should I say, two sides of the same cog...

Figure 4&6 - The Cog shaped Hole in the Magicians chest/The Cog Coin and Jinx's cog.

"I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. Its inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions... Rage. Compassion. Hate. Two sides of the same coin. Inextricably bound."

In episode 6, whilst Viktor is explaining to Vi about what it will take to heal Vander, Jinx is sceptical. She doesn't even believe in herself as a messiah, so this "hero"? This "saviour" coming along to solve their problems? To fix things? When all she can do is break everything around her, jinx her own family, destroy? She's scoffing at Viktor sure, but she's also scoffing at herself. Mirroring. People treat her like they treat him, so to believe in him as a saviour means she would have to look into the water of that well and face her own reflection. And Viktor sees right through it, the pretence, and he sees her potential.

Knowledge is a paradox. Jinx wants to stick with what she knows, to destroy instead of to build, to "Watch it all burn." Or ignore the plight of Zaun, so she can live peacefully with Isha. Jinx - Powder - is choosing to remain ignorant to what's right in front of her. Right up until the moment Isha dies.

In the scene earlier in the episode, Jinx accidently destroys a bit of the well, releasing a cog that falls into water. Cogs have been symbolic of Viktor healing people throughout this season, using cogs to "Build."

Powder was thrown into water just like that cog by Silco, and reborn as Jinx. But its not Silco that picks up this cog. Its Viktor. He holds the potential of his creation in his hand, and in paradox, holds Jinx's destruction. Viktor holds Jinx's potential. He's literally holding the two sides of Jinx/Powder in his hand, her - their - fate. Just like Jinx, Viktor has the equal capacity to destroy, and if he is reborn as a weapon later on, perhaps that cog represents Jinx being reborn too. As a creator. A builder.

He holds onto Jinx's cog all the way through the rest of the episode, balancing that potential, that fate, of creation and destruction in his hand. Right up until the moment he dies, and the coin/the cog falls, sealing their fate. His death causing the deaths of Isha and Vander too.

So we've established that the story is viewing cogs/coins in a similar light. We've also established the show is linking Viktor and Jinx through the symbology of the cog.

This is reiterated in the symbolism surrounding the Tarot cards. Around the cards are coins that take the shape of cogs, the currency of Zaun. Fate - coin flips - and cogs, gods and machines. Deus Ex Machina, that is what Viktor is to become, and Jinx creates destruction using machines. She's an inventor, just like Viktor and Jayce. A creator and a destroyer. A god of the machine.

So how does Figure 6 - the coin cogs - relate to Figure 4? The hole in the Magician's chest.

On the Tarot Card, the Magician has a circle in the middle of his chest. A hole. Just like the hole Jayce puts through Viktors chest at the end of Episode 6. The one that kills him.

But if you look closely at the image above, it might be a stretch, but to me, the striations on the inner ring look very similar to those of a cog. The hole is what kills Viktor. Cogs have been given visual symbolism for healing, and are also associated with Jinx's potential for creation. Its a stretch, but it could potentially be foreshadowing Jinx using her abilities to heal Viktor; to build instead of destroy. We've already seen Jinx do it once with Sevika, by "building" her a new arm.

I also find it interesting that we're shown Jinx using her talents to build someone a new arm, and Viktor - the machine herald - still has yet to acquire his third arm. Perhaps he doesn't make it. Perhaps Jinx does?

Maybe, just maybe, Jinx - Powder - is the one to fix Viktor, and flip the cog of fate once again.

Now in Episode 6 we already get foreshadowing that it'll be singe - not Jinx - who saves Viktor by imbuing him with the ultimate shimmer from Warwick/Vander - stabilising him. He says it in the episode, but Viktor refuses to sacrifice Vander in the name of creating the ultimate weapon of destruction.

"It would destroy him."

Viktor's potential for destruction goes hand in hand with Jinx's.

Its even foreshadowed in both the cards. The red/pink eyes of the machine herald foreshadowing shimmer. And the shadow being imbued into the chest of the dead skeleton (Viktor) looks an awful lot like Warwick; the beast that traps Vander.

So why am I talking about Jinx saving Viktor if I'm so certain its Singe? Well I'm certain Singe will bring Viktor back to life, to be used as a weapon. That seems like the most likely outcome.

But like Viktor was saying about Vander "He's not a specimen, he's a man." Viktor was doing everything in his power to save Vander's humanity. So yes Singe will bring the machine herald back most likely - even if I think it'd be thematically cool for it to be Jinx - but I think Jinx will save Viktor. Save the man, the humanity. Be the big fat hero.

Jinx was a girl imbued with Shimmer, and despite having monstrous abilities and doing monstrous things, her humanity has still survived.

I could be wrong, I most likely am, but the the thing that's getting to me is this...

Figure 5 - The Broken Infinity.

At the centre of Viktor's chest, in the middle of Jayce's death blow and Jinx's cog of creation & destruction, is a symbol.

Now a diagonal infinity symbol is associated with the Firelights. Ekko. The boy who shattered time.

Broken Infinity? Shattered time? Seems to go hand in hand.

Though Ekko's symbol is a whole infinity, more akin to a Z than an ongoing X.

There are plenty of theories Ekko will play a role in Viktor's fate and the fate of everyone by rewinding time somehow. And the multiple shots of the coin rolling support that to an extend. Rewind time, change fate, change the flip of the cog. And I agree, I think Ekko is going to have a role to play. But there's also another character who fits with this symbol, who uses shimmer to move faster than humanly possible and defy fate time and time again. Who is the fulcrum of fate in the eyes of the story, the catalyst of everything. And only one character who has solely been associated with a broken infinity symbol before.

Jinx. That's Jinx's symbol. Her champion tag.

Jinx's symbol, right at the centre of Viktors chest. And this line to Jinx from Viktor...

"You have much to offer this commune, Powder. Your talents could be used to build instead of destroy."

And the line from Singe, about Viktor's fate being tied to the commune. Viktor IS the commune, he's the centre of it all. The one who can make the dream of Zaun - Vander's dream - a reality. And that line foreshadowed Jinx using her talents to help the commune. To help Viktor.

Hell, she was technically the reason he "died" in the first place. She fired the rocket that nearly killed him. Wouldn't it be poetic story telling if she was the one who saved him in the end?

I can't wait for Saturday.

I believe whatever happens, Viktor and Jinx's fates are inextricably bound.

[alyrasturnz]

hear me out. i feel like the triplets would wna keep their relationship private bcz the fandom is just crazy.. so can u write a matt x reader fanfic about illicit affairs by ts and jst make it abt matt wanting to keep his relationship private w/reader but reader is just absolutely fed up

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ILLICIT AFFAIRS

❐ summary » matt, a figure of immense fame, fears the wrath of his fans. he hides y/n away to protect her from their potential scorn, but this veil of privacy leaves y/n feeling unwanted and ashamed, as if matt is embarrassed to acknowledge her as his girlfriend.

❐ pairings » influencer!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic relationship, suggestive at the beginning but no smut, arguments (resolved)

❐ a/n && w/c » double update tn! • 2.81k

your fingers, like delicate tendrils of ivy, were entwined in matt's tousled hair, each strand a silken thread in the fabric of your connection.

your back pressed firmly against the cool, unyielding wall, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. his hands, with a mind of their own, traced a path of desire, finally resting at your waist, anchoring you in the moment, a silent promise of intimacy and unspoken words.

your lips were entwined, a union of fervent longing, as your tongues engaged in a bittersweet dance, swirling together like two celestial bodies caught in an eternal orbit, each movement a symphony of passion and unspoken desire, a delicate balance of tenderness and intensity.

"matt..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as his lips embarked on a journey down your neck, each kiss a tender exploration, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, a testament to the unspoken bond that tethered your hearts together in that fleeting moment.

"i know, baby, i know," he whispers, his hot breath fanning your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making your insides tingle with a mix of anticipation and longing, each word a caress that resonated deep within your soul.

you let out soft sighs, each one a whisper of your growing desire, feeling your core heat up with an intensity that seemed to ignite every fiber of your being, a slow burn that consumed you from within.

but the fragile moment was abruptly shattered by the intrusive ringing of matt’s phone, a jarring reminder of the outside world that pierced through the delicate cocoon of intimacy you had woven around yourselves.

matt's lips reluctantly departed from your skin, leaving you to groan softly at the sudden, aching void where his touch had once ignited a symphony of sensations.

matt retrieved his phone from his pocket with a swift, almost reluctant motion, bringing it to his ear. "hello?" he uttered, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience, the single word breaking the spell of the moment.

"where are you?" nick's voice crackled with exasperation, each word laced with urgency. "come to the warehouse! you're late," he demanded, the frustration palpable in his tone.

matt's eyes widened in sudden realization, swiftly ending the call and hastily shoving his phone back into his pocket, his movements marked by a frantic urgency.

his eyes met yours, lingering for a fleeting moment before he pressed one final, tender kiss upon your lips.

then, with a reluctant sigh, he turned and walked away, each step echoing the unspoken words left between you.

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you trailed after him, "matt! where are you going?" you called out, your voice a blend of concern and bewilderment.

"i'm sorry, i have to go to the warehouse," matt said hurriedly, his hands fumbling to put on his coat.

you stood there, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, watching as he prepared to leave.

"i can go with you?" you say softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, as he turns to you with an expressionless gaze, his eyes betraying a hint of inner turmoil.

"we both know that you can't," he murmurs gently, his voice barely above a whisper, as he retrieves his phone, the action a silent punctuation to his words.

"why can't i? it doesn't have to always be like th—" you begin to protest, your voice tinged with desperation, but your words are abruptly silenced as he captures your lips in a sudden, fervent kiss.

matt broke apart, his lips lingering just a moment longer before disconnecting from yours. he glanced at his phone one last time, a sigh escaping his lips.

"i'll make it up to you, i swear," he murmured softly, his voice filled with a blend of regret and determination.

with a final, fleeting look, he pivoted and left your apartment, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

you roll your eyes, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you make your way to the couch. with a resigned slump, you plop down onto it, the cushions embracing your weary form.

you stare at the ceiling, your mind a turbulent sea of thoughts racing at breakneck speed, each one colliding and merging into the next in a relentless cascade.

you were good enough to be with him, to share those intimate moments cloaked in secrecy, but not good enough to be seen with him, to be acknowledged in the light of day?

everything about him was a labyrinth of contradictions, each twist and turn leaving you more bewildered. it irritated you to no end.

but you weren't sure if it was his erratic behavior that grated on your nerves, or if it was the haunting realization that you would willingly shatter yourself into a million tiny pieces for him, over and over again.

and you knew, with an unsettling clarity, that he was acutely aware of this truth.

he was the axis around which your world revolved, yet he moved through his existence as if you were but a fleeting shadow, an inconsequential wisp in the vast expanse of his indifference.

you would find yourself ensnared in the labyrinth of his bedsheets throughout the night, only to awaken to the cold, empty expanse where his warmth once lingered, a silent testament to his absence.

he sought the sanctuary of secrecy, believing it to be a fortress shielding you from harm, yet this very concealment has only served to fracture your spirit further, each hidden truth a dagger driving deeper into the chasms of your heart.

»--•--«

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Hey sweetheart

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Just got out of my meeting. I’m on my way

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: See you in a few

the doorbell echoed through the house, a resonant chime that seemed to ripple through the very walls, heralding the arrival of matt.

you sprayed on your perfume, the delicate mist swirling and dancing in the air, leaving a fragrant trail that lingered in your room like an ethereal presence. with a graceful motion, you carefully placed the bottle back on your vanity, its glass reflecting the soft light as if capturing the essence of the moment.

you reserve this perfume for the clandestine rendezvous with matt, each spritz a silent oath to the secrecy of your bond. the scent, meticulously chosen, never clings to your clothes, a deliberate act to preserve the veil of mystery that shrouds your relationship.

you gaze into the mirror, eyes tracing the familiar contours of your reflection. with a measured inhale, you draw in the air, feeling it fill your lungs, fortifying your resolve before you rise from your seat.

your heels resonate against the hardwood floor, each clank a rhythmic prelude to your approach. as you reach the door and open it, your eyes meet the sight of matt, casually leaning against the doorway, his presence both familiar and electrifying.

he smiled, his eyes twinkling with a secret understanding, and extended his hand towards you. with a gentle yet deliberate motion, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as you both stepped out of your apartment, the world beyond awaiting your shared journey.

on the descent, matt animatedly recounted the details of his recent meeting, weaving tales of ambitious plans for his channel. yet, as his words flowed around you, your mind drifted to distant realms, consumed by thoughts that lay far beyond the present moment.

you harbored a quiet hope that you could broach the subject of going public with matt, the weight of your unspoken words pressing against your chest as you sought the right moment to voice them.

»--•--«

"alright," matt murmured, his voice tinged with an unspoken melancholy as he gently shifted the car into park. you sat beside him, your gaze lost in the horizon, the distant landscape a silent witness to the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

matt observed your demeanor, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "hey, are you alright? you seem a bit off..." he inquired, his voice laced with a subtle blend of worry and curiosity, as if trying to unravel the intricate tapestry of your thoughts.

you sighed, turning to face him, your eyes reflecting the weight of unspoken burdens. "i'm tired, matt," you confessed, your words cutting through the silence with a raw honesty, laying bare the exhaustion that had settled deep within your soul.

"are you sleepy? i can take you back home and we can just go again tomorrow—" he began, his voice tinged with confusion, but you cut him off before he could finish.

"no matt, i’m exhausted. i'm tired of this clandestine relationship," you declared, your voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "i can't keep being someone you cherish only in the shadows! i want us to be so much more than—than this ambiguous existence!" you finally erupted, each word escalating in fervor, mirroring the depth of your yearning and dissatisfaction.

"y/n..." matt murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mixture of bewilderment and tenderness.

your eyes searched his for a glimmer of understanding. "i can't keep doing this—concealing our relationship as if it's something to be ashamed of," you confessed, your voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

matt sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "it's not that i'm ashamed of you, y/n. it's just—my fans can be intense. i'm terrified they'll come after you if we go public," he admitted, his voice laden with a mixture of concern and helplessness.

your heart ached at his words, a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside you. "so what? we just keep pretending we're nothing more than friends? i feel like i'm living a lie."

he looked at you, his expression torn. "i'm trying to protect you. you don't understand the kind of backlash that could come your way."

"maybe i don't," you said, your voice rising. "but what i do understand is that i can't keep being your secret. it feels like you're more concerned about your image than our relationship."

matt's face softened, but the conflict in his eyes remained. "it's not about my image. it's about your safety. i care about you too much to see you get hurt."

"and i care about you too," you replied, tears threatening to spill over. "but i need to feel like i'm a part of your life, not just a hidden chapter. if you truly care about me, you'll trust that we can face this together."

the room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging in the air as matt grappled with his fears and your plea for honesty.

your voice steady but filled with sorrow, "i can't keep doing this. i've tried to understand your reasons, but it's tearing me apart." you say as you search for understanding in his eyes

he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. "y/n, please, you have to understand. i'm doing this to protect you."

you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "i can't live in the shadows anymore. i need to be with someone who isn't afraid to show the world that they love me. i need to feel valued and seen."

matt reached out for your hand, but you pulled away, the pain too much to bear. "i love you, matt, but i can't keep sacrificing my happiness for your fears. if you can't go public with our relationship, then we can't be together."

his face crumpled, and he tried to find the right words, but they never came. with a heavy heart, you stood up, feeling the weight of the decision you had just made.

"goodbye, matt," you whispered, turning away from him and walking out of the car. as you closed the door behind you, a sense of both loss and liberation washed over you, knowing you had chosen to stand up for yourself and your worth.

outside, the night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the tears streaming down your face.

you walked aimlessly, each step feeling heavier than the last. the memories of your time with matt played in your mind like a bittersweet symphony, each note a reminder of what once was and what could never be.

you found yourself at the park where you and matt had shared so many moments of laughter and love.

the bench where you had first confessed your feelings now stood as a silent witness to your heartbreak.

you sat down, the weight of the world pressing on your shoulders, and let the tears flow freely.

the stars above twinkled in the vast expanse of the sky, indifferent to the pain of the earth below. you gazed up at them, searching for some semblance of solace. "why does love have to be so complicated?" you whispered to the night, your voice barely audible.

as the hours passed, the pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve. you knew that this was the right decision, even if it hurt now. you deserved to be with someone who would cherish you openly, without fear or hesitation. and though the path ahead seemed uncertain, you felt a glimmer of hope.

rising from the bench, you took a deep breath and wiped away the last of your tears. the night was still, and the world felt vast and full of possibilities. with a newfound determination, you began to walk back home, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

»--•--«

as the first rays of dawn broke through the horizon, a soft knock echoed through the stillness of your home.

the house, usually so quiet in the early morning, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. groggily, you made your way to the door, curiosity mingling with the remnants of sleep.

the floorboards creaked softly under your feet, each step a gentle reminder of the world waking up around you.

there stood matt, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

the flowers, fresh with morning dew, seemed to glow in the soft light, their petals a vibrant contrast to the dim interior of your home.

his eyes, filled with a mixture of remorse and determination, met yours. they were the eyes of someone who had spent countless nights wrestling with his thoughts, someone who had finally found the courage to confront his fears.

"i couldn't wait any longer," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. "i needed to see you, to tell you how sorry i am."

he handed you the flowers and chocolates, his hands lingering for a moment as if seeking reassurance. "you are so much more than someone i love in the shadows, y/n," he continued, his voice growing steadier. "you are the light that guides me, the strength that keeps me going. i've been a fool to ask you to hide, but it's never because i'm ashamed of you. it's because i'm terrified of what the world might do to us."

he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "but you deserve to be cherished openly, without fear. i promise we'll find a way to make this right. together, we'll face whatever comes our way, because you mean everything to me. you're not just a part of my life; you are my life."

he stepped closer, his presence warm and comforting. "i know words alone aren't enough," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "i want to show you, every single day, just how much you mean to me. i want to be the one who stands by your side, no matter what. i want to be the one who holds your hand through the storms and celebrates with you under the sun."

matt's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "you are the reason i wake up with hope in my heart. you are the melody that plays in my soul, the rhythm that keeps me moving forward. without you, everything feels incomplete."

he paused, his voice barely a whisper now. "i don't want to hide anymore, y/n. i want the world to know how incredible you are, how lucky i am to have you. i want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand, heart to heart."

as the morning sun bathed you both in its gentle glow, matt's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. in that moment, you felt the depth of his love, the sincerity of his promise, and the unyielding strength of his commitment. together, you knew you could face anything, because with matt by your side, you were never alone.

[apollohears]

DEMO. ( TBD ) ✸ ROMANCES. ✸ PLAYLISTS.

last updated: coming soon !

Step into the shadows of Day of Dusk, a mesmerizing blend of dark fantasy, horror, and romance. Drawing inspiration from the chilling folklore of the Brothers Grimm and the adrenaline-fueled film "Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters," this interactive novel beckons you into a world where mysteries lurk in every corner and romance dances with danger.

In Day of Dusk, the line between magic and malevolence blurs, and you, the main protagonist, hold the key to unraveling its secrets. Will you dare to navigate the twisted paths where witches, witch hunters, and supernatural entities collide?

The choice is yours, but be warned: in the shadows of dusk, nothing is as it seems.

In the heart of a medieval fantasy realm lies "Day of Dusk," a tale woven with threads of mystery and the macabre. Journey alongside a band of young mercenaries, masters of the dark art of witch hunting, as they navigate a world teeming with secrets and shadows.

Their journey begins in the tainted township of Ruel-Mizu, where whispers of many vanished children echo through the fog-choked streets. Tasked with unraveling this enigma, your group treads a path fraught with peril and the weight of history's darkest deeds.

As you delve deeper into the town's grim past, you'll confront not only witches of formidable power but also otherworldly entities lurking in the shadows. Along the way, unexpected allies may emerge, and the bonds of friendship may blossom into something more.

Yet every choice carries weight in this twisted tale of power and love. Betrayal lurks around every corner, and the line between ally and enemy blurs in the gloom. Will you sacrifice everything for the truth, side with who you least expect it, save the town for good or succumb to the allure of forbidden romance?

In "Day of Dusk," the fate of worlds hangs in the balance, and only you hold the key to unlocking its secrets.

How far will you go to uncover the truth?

This game is a work of fiction; content warnings include, but are not limited to, graphic death, depictions of blood and gore, medieval violence, body horror, explicit language, depression, suicide, references to assault, grooming, mental and physical abuse, sexually suggestive themes, and drug and alcohol use. This story is intended for mature +17 audiences; reader discretion is advised.

STORY FEATURES :

Step into the shoes of a diverse protagonist, embracing your identity as male, female, non-binary, or anywhere along the gender spectrum. Explore the rich tapestry of human sexuality, navigating relationships and attractions as a gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, or aromantic individual. Your journey is uniquely yours, shaped by your experiences and choices as you carve out your place in the world.

Embark on a journey of discovery and connection as you navigate the complex web of relationships in a world filled with intrigue and danger. In the end, it is through these connections—friendships forged in fire, love born from adversity—that you might find the true meaning of your existence and the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Have your name written in history tales to come, become a hero beacon of hope, or become a feared figure among the community.

Confide in the unrevealed troubles that settle the mysterious past of your royal company's path to break tradition—or steal the heir's power to the throne for your own.

Learn the dark truth about the horrors that lie concealing just how far some would go to great lengths in order to create life.

Forge the future of a community and companions lives with the supporting changes and challenges schemed upon you and all of those who you know or love.

THE RO CHARACTERS :

Each love interest will have their own route which you will get to choose from at the end of the common route. The four romance options in this game depend purely on the readers preference which include: a man, a woman, one you can choose between their presenting gender and a ç̸̤̞̟̏̀̄̔̚r̷̛̟͕͙̼͚̼̓̒̑͝͠ͅy̷̛͉̭͙̿̒̆̈́́͊͗̅̈̀p̶̟͎̩̩͕̭̀̍̅́͛̚ţ̵̺̬̭̪͂̊̑̋̽̚͝͝ì̴̠̪͊͐̿͊̽̍͘͜͝͠c̴̗͉̭̖͕͕̐̔̾̂͘͝ͅ ̴͓͉͚͔̬͓̩̜͒̂͋́b̶̘̽̔̃̀͂̒̕͝e̷̡̡̫̮̹̻̰̺̖͋̿͂̀͑̈́̌̕̚͝ì̵͚̤͗ͅn̸̫̎̋́ǧ̶̡̳̥̾̚ͅ.̵̧̛̩̯̹̦̊̎̈́̕͝

Silas/Sophia Amon — the needling best friend and a member of your witch hunting team. Forge a deeper friendship and uncover the true meaning of loyalty with your brash yet devoted childhood best friend, whose charming demeanor hides on top of another layer of emotion.

"I'll be the bad guy if it means keeping us alive. Someone has to make the tough calls around here."

Pavlos Norlenbourne  — the neglected forsaken naive royal with a roaring secret. Draw close to a haunted prince, haunted by the shadows of his tragic upbringing, and unravel the mysteries that surround him as you delve into the depths of his troubled soul. 

"In a world where power is everything, I'm just a pretty pawn in their game. But I'll make my own moves, carve my own path."

Annette Meadowcroft — the obsessive poet with a firing spirit who refuses to be tamed. Uncover the hidden depths of a secret poet, whose words hold the key to unlocking the secrets of the heart. Join her on a journey of self-discovery as she seeks to break free from the constraints of society and embrace the beauty of the world around her.

"The ink flows from my pen like a river of defiance, writing my own narrative in a world that seeks to silence women like me."

Rune — the callow knight who isn't very fond of small talk with a foreboding origin. Dare to tread the path of a cryptic made being, grappling with questions of identity and purpose as they navigate a world that sees them as little more than a weapon. 

"If you have the audacity to think that I am some sorrowful god, then the pain of my fraud in human appearance will be all the more agonizing."

Depending on your play style, you have the ability to create, shape and destroy numerous familial, romantic, platonic, professional and community relationships with a full cast of characters whose genders and personalities vary. 

✸ Dedicated to all the hopeless romance and fantasy fans who are too engrossed in their books to talk and too shy to write, to my momanager Kass, who always likes to keep things real.

[nhlclover]

YOU SHOULD PROBABLY LEAVE WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x fem!reader

word count: 3.54k

summary: will finds himself unexpectedly confronted with his past when you reach out to him

warnings: set in the future-ish when will is a part of the sharks, angst, exes getting back together, drinking wine, heated make out that becomes briefly nsfw, unresolved ending, lots of worldbuilding, not a lot of dialogue

Will shut off the water, pulling the towel off the rack, and wrapping it around his waist. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a rag to wipe off the mirror that had fogged over with condensation. His reflection gradually emerged amid the dissipated steam. Fatigue and depletion etched onto his features as he gazed at himself. He ran a hand through his damp hair, feeling the weight of the day settling on his shoulders.

The grueling morning practice, compounded with the evening's game, had begun to exact its revenge. His right shoulder throbbed with soreness, and his calf threatened to give way under the strain. Though he had hoped the searing heat of the shower would alleviate his aches, it seemed evident that the team's physical therapist would be needed to ease his pain.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, the cool air of the apartment greeted him, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the shower. Will hesitated by his bed to check his phone. His thumb scrolled through the notifications he accumulated during his forty-five-minute shower, pausing momentarily when your name appeared, drawing his attention. Will clicked on the notification, pulling up your shared texts. His breath caught in his throat as he read the message, you asking to catch up.

Will’s mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions and questions, unsure of what surprised him the most. Was it that you still had his number after all this time and after everything that had transpired between the two of you? Or perhaps it was the unexpectedness of you reaching out, breaking the silence that had settled like a brick wall between you. Even more unexpected was the fact that you were seemingly in San Jose. Last Will heard, you were off exploring some islands off the coast of Australia.

As Will hesitated over the keyboard, both bitter and sweet memories flooded back. What would he say? How could he begin to untangle the tangled threads of your past? Despite the pain it might bring, a part of him longed for the connection you once shared. The wreckage of your relationship weighed heavily on his mind as he deliberated, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He knew better than to invite you over, replaying every scene from their time together in his mind. The shared laughter and intimacy were contrasted with the pain and bitterness of your breakup.

He remembered the early days when everything felt effortless. Your laughter was like a melody that he never got tired of hearing, every delicate touch of yours igniting a fire within him that he didn’t think would ever dim. It felt like you were safely together in the honeymoon phase, destined never to end. However, tucked away with those memories were also the ones from the end of the relationship. Shadows of unresolved arguments and eroding trust seemed to cloud the rose-coloured lens through which Will viewed those memories.

The break up wasn’t sudden, but rather the culmination of months of strain, the slow disintegration of infatuation as time wore on. You found yourselves trying to hold onto something that was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The relationship became delicate, the both of you afraid of shattering the fragile peace you clung to. You tiptoed on eggshells around each other, scared of setting off the ticking time bomb that was every argument. Everything soon began to crumble the longer you grasped at straws. Communication became strained. Trust, once strong as bedrock, became as delicate as glass in trembling hands. No matter how much you tried to rebuild and mend the cracks in the foundation of your relationship, it decayed in front of your very eyes.

In the end, you both walked away. The love never vanished between the two of you, but you stepped back because no matter how strong that love was, it couldn’t mend what was already broken. The relationship left behind a trail of emotional wreckage, something neither of you had yet to fully escape despite time passing.

As his thumbs hovered over the keys, Will felt the weight of the unresolved sitting heavy on his shoulders. Every unsaid word, the unfulfilled promise of love and the promise to stay. He knew that responding to your text would only reopen old wounds, feelings that he had tried desperately to bury were bound to bleed out.

The love that dared to remain despite the turmoil took over him. He longed for the familiarity of your presence, the comfort of your touch that he knew would be still burning like an ember. The ensuing chaos was inevitable. It was part of the prophecy written in stone. Chaos followed both of you wherever you went.

Against better judgment, Will’s fingers descended to the screen, sending you his address and extending the offer to come over, to which you agreed.

As he stood in his bedroom, towel clinging to his damp skin, Will suddenly realized the water droplets pooling around his feet, as he stood at the foot of his bed distracted by your sudden appearance. Hastily, he shed the towel, the fabric dropping to the floor with a soft thud, and he scrambled to clothe himself. Each garment he picked up felt wrong, inadequate somehow as if he needed to impress you with his clothing. He changed once, then twice, finally settling on the third choice, which was ultimately simply blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

Will quickly attempted to restore order to his apartment, a task long overdue. The once-tidy space had succumbed to the chaos of life, with the remnants of weeks gone by scattered haphazardly. Hockey had claimed the majority of his time, leaving little room for domestic upkeep. Will went from room to room, gathering stray articles of clothing and corralling them into the laundry basket. The dishwasher became a receptacle for the remnants of meals hastily consumed between games, the clatter of dishes echoing through the now-quiet space as he restored a semblance of order.

As he made his way to the bedroom, his eyes fell upon several articles of clothing strewn across the floor. He shoved all the articles of clothing into the laundry bin, then headed to make his bed.

Pausing mid-stride, Will found himself standing before his rumpled bed, a sense of absurdity washing over him. Why was he bothering to tidy his room? The question lingered in the air, a silent reproach to his futile efforts. After all, you wouldn't be seeing it… right? And yet, despite the logic of his thoughts, he continued to tidy the space, pristinely tucking the sheets into place.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited for your arrival. Apprehension gnawed at him. He knew there was a risk in inviting you over given everything that had transpired. But undeniable and unavoidable longing pulled at his heart, a yearning to bridge the mile-long gap that had slowly grown between the two of you. Questions pounded at his mind, threatening to bring on a headache. Was this the right thing to do? Maybe this would bring you closure? Or would this just reopen the old wounds that took Will months to scab over?

Every sound outside his apartment made Will jump to the peephole to check if you were outside his door. His heart pounded in anticipation, at the idea of seeing you. Part of the healing process for you resulted in removing Will from all social media. The only updates of him you received came through news of his hockey career, the only updates about you Will received were from friends of friends. He wondered how you changed. If you changed.

The delicate knock on his door pulled Will from his imagination. He didn’t even check the peephole, knowing that you were the only possible person who could be on the other side of the door.

When he opened the door and caught sight of you standing there, all uncertainties seemed to fade away. At that moment, there was only you — the person he’d missed more than words could express. The one he had been longing to hold, to talk to, to be with.

You appeared almost unchanged from the girl he had last seen two years ago. Your face retained its familiar features, now with a sun-kissed glow and a touch of maturity. Despite the subtle differences, Will felt confident he could still trace the constellation of freckles he once knew so well. The worn Reeboks, which he had constantly begged you to throw out cause they gave you blisters, stubbornly clung to your feet. Your hair, now shorter, fell just above your shoulders, making you look older. You had new piercings, a notable stud on your nose.

Her dad probably nearly killed her for that one, he thought.

Despite the changes, Will thought you were still just as beautiful as the day you met.

The door opened wider and you stepped inside, it clicking shut behind you. Will gestured towards the couch, silently inviting you to take a seat, which you did without hesitation. For a moment, silence filled the room, thick with unspoken tension. Your gaze wandered around his apartment, noting the familiar sight of old jerseys and team photos adorning the walls. Sensing the need to ease the atmosphere, Will broke the silence with the only words that came to mind.

"Want something to drink?" he asked. He attempted to sound casual despite his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

You almost jumped at his voice, a sound you’d become a stranger to. Was it possible it had gotten deeper?

"You got wine?" you replied with a teasing lilt, a faint smile playing on your lips.

Will almost melted at your voice, a sound he’d become unfamiliar with. Was it possible it had gotten sweeter?

"I do actually," Will answered, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Despite it being a joke, you asked for a glass, and he poured it with a practiced hand, albeit into mugs as he had no wine glasses.

"You drink wine now?" Will asked, taking a sip of his own glass he’d poured.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a sound that tickled Will’s ears. "I guess I do," you replied.

"What else has changed?" Will asked.

You paused briefly, considering his question. A lamp in the corner casts a soft glow onto the apartment, turning Wills’ blond hair golden.

"I guess a lot has changed since we last saw each other," you acknowledged. You swirled the wine in your mug, watching it slosh around. Will nodded, his gaze fixed on your face, noting all the subtle differences. You took his silence as a gesture that you should continue.

"I travelled a bit," you told him. "I went to Thailand and Vanuatu with my friend Gabby… on the way back I finally went to Germany like you said I should."

Will couldn’t help but let a small smile tug on his lips. He’d played in Germany at the U18s a few years back and once he’d met you, he knew it was a country you’d want to visit. He’d recalled the sights and the excursions he’d done to you several times, trying to convince you to visit the country one day. You’d told him you would, but never did before you broke up.

"And?" Will prodded.

"I loved it… just like you said I would."

Will always knew you best. He had an intuitive understanding of your unique quirks, being able to predict your habits with uncanny accuracy. It was as though he had a direct line to your thoughts. Your go-to order at the campus coffee shop? He could recite it by heart probably even after all the years had passed. The way you fiddled with your rings when you got nervous — something he saw you doing as you spoke — or the way you would braid your hair when thinking or lost in thought.

"And you?" you asked, turning the conversation to him. "What’s changed in your world?"

Will’s mood is briefly dragged down, your words a subtle reminder that the two of you exist in different worlds now. No longer ours, but yours.

Will told you about hockey, the one constant in his life. He told you about leaving Boston when he got called up to San Jose. He told you about Gabe, Ryan and all the other guys from BC and what they were up to. Friends you would’ve once called yours too, but you’re not quite sure you’ll ever call them that again. In quiet exchanges over refills of wine and shared memories, you began to realize how much you had both changed, yet how much remained the same between the two of you. You slipped into easy conversation, a nostalgic reminder of your early days together.

The wine disappeared as your stories spilled. It grew late, the hour slipping well past midnight, however, neither of you made the move to end the night. At that moment, the boundaries between night and day, past and present, blurred into insignificance.

Will draped his arm across the back of the couch, bringing his mug up to his lips. Your gaze instinctively gravitated towards his hand which sat mere inches from you, the closest you’d gotten all night. Your eyes traced the contours of his fingers, the veins in the back of his hand. Yet it’s his wrist that captured your attention, adorned with a familiar bracelet. The wooden beads had faded over time but you know it’s the same one. You shifted closer, reaching out, and thumbing the beads between your thumb and forefinger. A jolt of energy surged right to his core as your fingers softly brushed his skin.

"You kept this?" you asked, a little surprised that he hadn’t completely rid himself of every bit of your presence when you split.

Will’s eyes stayed locked on your fingers, putting his now empty mug on the table. "‘Course I did," he said. "Some things are too precious to let go."

Will didn’t mean for it to be a reference, but his words applied to both situations. The bracelet, a gift from you after you came back from a spring break trip to Costa Rica, had become a good luck charm for Will. He wore it in one match, having a multi-point game. During the next game, having forgotten the bracelet back in his room, his passes seemed to keep missing, pucks bounced off his blade, and he repeatedly found himself on the bruising end of crushing hits. He determined that it was the bracelet that had been the cause of his good luck in the first game, so he never took it off. Despite Will having subsequent bad games, the bracelet stayed. Even after you broke up, Will desperately trying to erase you from his life, memories of you being too much to bear, he kept the bracelet.

Will finally brought himself to tear his gaze away from the gentle pressure of your fingers against his wrist, meeting your eyes that were fixed on him. Your eyes, dangerously soft, spoke about a million words in a silent language. It was a look he was familiar with, one that hadn't lost its impact despite the passage of time. Amidst the intensity of your gaze, a sense of doubt crept into the back of his mind. Was this the right thing to do?

"It's getting late," Will remarked, though his voice lacked conviction.

"I know," you said softly. A beat passes before your whispered confession comes out. "I don’t want to go."

"I don’t want you to leave," Will admitted, his voice betraying the longing he could no longer conceal.

Reaching out, Will gently took your hand in his, the touch igniting a familiar spark. Your fingers intertwined effortlessly as if no time had passed. His thumb traces slow, deliberate patterns across your knuckles, each movement a silent declaration. With each caress, your heart quickened, the warmth of his hand sending shivers down your spine.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips, tracing the subtle curves that were faintly stained from the cheap bottle of red you'd shared. The dim light of the room cast shadows, accentuating the allure of his mouth, and a soft sigh escaped your lips, betraying the pull of desire that lingered between you. Will felt the tension mounting, his heart pounding in his chest as he met your gaze, the depth of emotion reflected in the depths of your eyes.

As if guided by an invisible hand, Will shifted forward, bridging the space between you until your faces were just a heartbeat apart. Will’s nose gently brushed against yours, his delicate lips hovering over yours as he cautiously gaged your response, waiting to see if you would retreat. When you didn’t, his hand tenderly cupped your chin, pulling you in until your lips collided in an all-familiar kiss. Your lips moved together, finding the rhythm that had once been second nature to the both of you, the pain and bitterness of the past melting away.

Your tongue delicately parted his lips, tasting the wine that lingered in his mouth. Will groaned into the kiss as he felt your tongue on his. His hand fell from your chin, going down to your hip, holding it tightly. As you detached your lips from his, Will's chest rose and fell heavily, his lungs aching from the lack of oxygen. Your lips traced a path of soft kisses along his jawline, up to his ear, teasing him with delicate nibbles on his earlobe. Will’s breath hitched in his throat, escaping in choked moans and soft cries. Will reached over, gripping your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. His hands went down to your ass, holding you in place on top of him.

Will placed quick kisses along your neck to where your pulse point beckoned, as you tipped your head back to grant Will complete access. He teased the sensitive spot, your moans vibrating against his lips. Every needy, seductive sound you made caused Will to harden underneath you. You felt him straining against his pants, pressing into your core.

Will scooped his hands under your thighs, lifting you off the couch. You trusted him as he guided you out of the living room and into his bedroom, all while not unlatching his lips from yours. Your back hit the soft comforter as Will gently lowered you to his bed. You both recalled the things that got you off. You remembered the way he got off on being praised, stroking his ego with your carefully chosen words, while he remembered that you got off on hearing every desperate noise that escaped his mouth.

As the night deepened, the air hung heavy with the scent of desire. Each breath you shared echoed with the rhythm of two bodies wrapped together, lost in the moment of ecstasy. Skin met skin with primal urgency, ripples of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. Outside the world slept, unaware of the passionate reconnection unfolding within the four walls of Will’s bedroom.

In the hazy embrace of dawn, Will stirred from his slumber, the first rays of sunlight painting the room in a soft, golden hue. His eyes fluttered open, landing on you curled into his side, your hand delicately resting on his bare chest. With a tender gaze, Will studied your features, illuminated by the soft morning light. Your face was serene in sleep, every line and curve etched with a quiet beauty that captivated him. He reached out a hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light as though afraid to disturb the peace that enveloped you. A tender smile graced Will's lips as he admired you, a wave of affection and longing melting over him.

Time seemed to stand still as Will's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. Memories once again flooded Will’s mind. He remembered the way your laughter used to fill the room, how your smile never failed to brighten even the darkest of days. Those moments had become distant echoes, clouded by the turmoil of the end of your relationship. However, at that moment, with you curled into his side, everything felt familiar again. The once-forgotten, out-of-reach relationship was now back in front of him as if no time had passed at all.

But amidst the tender moment, a nagging fear lurked in the depths of Will's thoughts. He worried that the blissful moment was too fragile, too fleeting and that it was moments from slipping away like a dream upon waking up. He knew that reality waited just beyond the confines of the intimate cocoon. Will silently prayed that you’d awaken and choose to stay, that the warmth of your embrace will linger a little while longer.

Will wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into an embrace. You stirred slightly but stayed in your slumber. Will was aching to stay suspended in what felt like a stolen moment, something that didn’t belong to him and was on the precipice of being ripped from his grasp. Desperate to prolong the stolen moment, to freeze time and remain in the refuge of your togetherness, Will succumbed to the lull of sleep.

[eternaldecisions]

˙ . ꒷ slytherin!matt . 𖦹˙—

slytherin ! matt pays for you, as you didn’t bring money.

you step off the carriage, your boots sinking slightly into the snow-covered cobblestones of Hogsmeade. The winter air nips at your cheeks, and a shiver runs down your spine. The faint glow of fairy lights hanging from the eaves of the shops twinkle through the falling snowflakes, making the whole place look like something out of a storybook.

you inhale deeply, the comforting scent of pumpkin pasties and the spiced aroma of butterbeer mingling with the crispness of the snow. The stress of recent exams slowly begins to melt away with every breath you take. This was exactly what you needed—a day to yourself, to wander through the village.

pushing open the heavy wooden door, a little bell jingles overhead, announcing your arrival. Inside, the warmth is immediate, and you smile as you take in the rows upon rows of sweets, each more colorful and whimsical than the last. You approach the counter, where a friendly witch with rosy cheeks stands ready to take your order.

“Just a simple Honeydukes bar, please,” you say with a soft smile, your voice almost getting lost in the lively hum of the shop. As she nods and turns to prepare it, you let your gaze wander around the cozy interior. Your eyes trace the shelves stacked with Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, and glittering sugar quills.

but then, as your eyes move towards the far end of the shop, they land on a familiar figure. Matt, with his brunette hair and that unmistakable crooked grin, is standing with a group of his friends, laughing at something one of them just said. Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly turn your head, hoping he hasn’t seen you.

why no matter where you went, Matt always seemed to be there? It was like an invisible thread tied you together, pulling him into your orbit every time you tried to get some space. You can’t help but wonder if he feels the same, if he ever notices this strange connection as much as you do

you try to focus on something else, anything else, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your heart races whenever he’s near. The bell on the door rings again, and for a split second, you think about leaving before he spots you, but before you can move, you hear the familiar, almost musical sound of his laughter.

taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that today is supposed to be about you, about finding peace and enjoyment in the little things, like a simple chocolate bar from Honeydukes. You try to center yourself, grounding your thoughts on the warmth of the shop, the comforting smells, and the gentle hum of people around you.

but as you glance up, you catch his reflection in the glass display case—a small, almost imperceptible moment where his eyes meet yours through the array of shimmering sweets. It’s brief, just a flicker, but enough to send a rush of warmth through you, even in the middle of the winter chill.

you couldn’t help but glance at Matt’s outfit as he walked past, your eyes drawn to the boldness of his red and black plaid jacket. The large checks of the fabric seemed to suit him perfectly, the rich colors standing out against the muted tones of the snowy surroundings. The jacket had an intriguing design—both classic and modern, effortlessly blending style with comfort.

his baggy black pants completed the look, adding a casual, laid-back vibe to his ensemble. They hung loosely around his legs, the fabric swaying slightly as he moved, giving him an air of confidence.

you quickly snap out of your trance, Matt’s presence momentarily forgotten as the witch behind the counter breaks the silence. “Honey? That will be $2.65, please,” she says kindly, her voice warm and patient. You reach for your skirt pocket, expecting to feel the familiar texture of your coin pouch. But your fingers meet nothing but the smooth fabric. A wave of panic washes over you as you realize you’ve left your money back in your room. How could you have been so careless and forget about a important thing?

“I-I didn’t bring…” you stammer quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Embarrassment colors your cheeks as the reality of your situation sets in. The thought of having to tell the kind witch you couldn’t pay, and possibly upsetting her, knots your stomach with nerves. You curse yourself inwardly, feeling foolish.

but before the witch can respond, a shadow falls over you, and suddenly Matt is beside you, his presence both unexpected and disarming. He doesn’t say a word as he smoothly places a bill on the counter, paying for your purchase without a second thought. The witch smiles and takes the money, handing him the change before moving on to help the next customer.

your mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide as you look up at Matt. Of all people, he was the last person you’d expected to step in and help. Yet here he was, composed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You’re surprised, and more than a little flustered.

“Sweetheart,” Matt says with a chuckle, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease, “I expected you to be smart enough not to forget your money in your room.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. You feel a mix of emotions—gratitude, embarrassment, and a flutter of something else that you can’t quite place. All you can do is nod, managing a small, sheepish smile in response, the words you want to say tangled up in your throat.

"Why would you ever pay for it?" you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can catch them. Gratitude hangs somewhere in the back of your mind, but curiosity and confusion push it aside.

Matt’s response is a low chuckle, the sound rolling effortlessly off his tongue, as if the whole situation is amusing to him. He glances at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Felt generous,” he says, as though it’s the simplest explanation in the world. “Didn’t really feel like watching you embarrass yourself in front of everyone in here.” His tone is teasing, but not unkind, more like he’s pointing out something endearing rather than a fault. “Besides,” he adds, his grin widening, “forgetting about money? That’s quite a move. Thought you might need a little saving.”

you shake your head, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Well, it’s not like I planned to forget,” you retort, but your voice is softer, the initial embarrassment slowly fading.

“That’s the nicest I’ve caught you being," you chuckle, your voice softening as you glance up at Matt. Your eyes linger on his jawline, tracing the sharp angles, before drifting down to his hands. Two silver rings catch the light, glinting like promises unspoken. You can't help but imagine what it would feel like to have that cold metal brush against your skin, preferably, feeling it against your thighs, his fingers pumping in and ou- no, you can’t think about dirty thoughts,not certainly with Matthew.

Matt’s smirk deepens as he catches the flicker of something more in your eyes, something that sends a subtle charge through the air between you. He leans in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "Careful. I might start thinking you’re enjoying my company."

your heart skips a beat as the space between you seems to shrink. His words are laced with a hint of challenge, a dare that you can feel humming beneath the surface. You let out a soft laugh, trying to keep things light, but the tension lingers, wrapping around you like a slow, tightening coil.

“Maybe I am,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. There’s a boldness to your tone that surprises even you. You glance back at his hands, those silver rings now a magnet for your gaze, drawing you in with a pull that’s hard to resist.

Matt’s eyes follow yours, and for a moment, it feels as if the world has stopped, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment of possibility, and once again, you’rs wondering what it would feel like if he reached out, if those cold bands of metal met your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with thoughts like that,” he murmurs, his voice smooth, but there’s an edge to it—a warning, or perhaps an invitation. The way he looks at you now, his gaze steady and unreadable, makes your breath catch. It’s as though he’s daring you to take the next step, to close the gap that hangs between curiosity and something much more dangerous.

and as you meet his eyes, a thrill runs through you—a thrill that whispers of all the things you’ve only ever imagined but never dared to reach for.

the air between you thickens, charged with an electricity that neither of you can ignore. Matt’s eyes darken, and there’s a tension in his jaw, a flicker of restraint that only makes your pulse race faster. He shifts slightly closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way, making it harder to remember why you should be cautious, why you should hold back.

“Am I being too reckless?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carries the weight of a deeper question. You’re not just talking about your words; you’re talking about the line you’re both toeing, the unspoken boundary that’s grown thinner with every second.

his gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a heartbeat, but it’s enough to send warmth pooling low in your belly. “Maybe,” he replies, his voice rougher now, the careful control slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the desire simmering beneath. “But that’s never stopped you before, has it?”

the way he says it, almost like a challenge, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes you ache with a need that’s becoming harder to deny. You don’t move away, don’t even flinch, as he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, the heat rising in your skin each second passing.

it’s the smallest touch, barely there, but it feels like a touch you wanna feel it every minute. His thumb traces a slow, deliberate path, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. Your eyes meet his, and you see the resolve in them waver, just for a second, before he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“I can’t promise you this won’t end badly, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice so low it sends a shiver down your spine. “But if you want to keep going… I won’t stop you.”

his words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and you realize the decision is yours now. The space between you is a heartbeat away from disappearing entirely, and the temptation to cross it, to feel his hands—those rings—against your skin, grows stronger with every passing moment.

but just as the tension reaches its peak, Matt pulls back, his expression shifting to something more guarded, but the smirk still there. The warmth that had been building between you cools in an instant, leaving you feeling suddenly exposed.

“This is not the end of our banter,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if wrestling with some inner conflict. His hand drops from your arm.

for a moment, he lingers, his eyes searching yours, as if he’s about to say something more. But then, without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a mix of needing and disappointment churning in your chest.

but you’re not letting him tease you with his touch like he’s winning.

a/n: i love but just love edging 🤭🤭 hope this is good prayer

[kanmom51]

WHO JM

This is going to be a bit of a ramble of thoughts on my part. It took me around 24 hrs. to take it all in.

Before I start talking about everything, I do want to thank my good friends, you know who you are, with which we had these discussions and back and forth trying to figure it out. Said it once and will say it again: Love you guys!!!

And on that note, let's get to it.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything we got with Who, not to mention the whole Muse concept, the configuration of the album, the order of the songs.

Unlike Face this is less of a autobiographical album. This is more about a concept. We have the connecting thread from Face to Muse through Rebirth (Oh, I'm gonna talk about that song for sure). Then we go into Interlude: Showtime, leading into SGMB and then Slow dance, Be mine, Who and Closer than this in that order. Interlude showtime being the switch from personal (ME) to showtime/performance (US) perhaps. A show themed around love. And an interesting thing happens when you look at the placement of the songs. First of all, Who, the only song JM isn't credited for writing, is last. Then, and this to me is the interesting part of it, the songs go from SGMB having that love, being sure of it, wanting even to help others find it as the first song you hear all the way back to searching for that unattainable love (Who). Starting the story from the end, when love is found, rather than from the beginning when love is being searched for. Starting from the happy ending. And if you do want to link it to his own story (not sure it is, but for funsies) then it's basically going back chronologically. SGMB is the now JM, the happy one who found love, while Who is the JM who didn't even know what he was looking for, or more so Who he was looking for. And if we are already going in that direction than basically going full circle with Face in the sense of Face being in chronological order of things and Muse mirroring it in the sense of going present to past rather than past to present (yes, I definitley did not major in arts and it shows, lol).

Let's talk about Who now.

First thing first, once again, and thank you for that amazing post, I'm going to link to @andy-wm's post right here. Because basically it says most of what I wanted to convey, and as usual, written so so well.

You would think this is all about a guy looking for a girl, right?

NOT.

More so a guy looking for love, thinking that it's in a girl's image. "HER". @andy-wm explained it beautifully. I am going to emphasise a couple of points and/or add to them.

No. It's not just you. Although I do admit, it took me several reads and re-reads to have that eureka moment. When you take in the full picture. It's there.

JM is looking for someone. In his head he thinks it's meant to be a girl. That's what society has told him. That's what is expected of him. That's what makes sense to him. Again, in his head.

And yet, his heart, it's still searching.

And he continues to search but he isn't finding 'her'.

First the use of "think" again. The mind thinking versus the heart finding.

And pay attention to the lyrics: "If every day I think about her..."

Not "Every day I think about her..."

The way I see it, this is again about challenging society's expectations of him. If he's doing it right, if he's thinking about finding 'her' every day of his life, then why hasn't he found her? And the emphasis is on the question why, repeated multiple times.

He's asking why not how. And why do I think that means something?

Think about it for a second.

If he's looking for her every day, thinking about her all the time, wouldn't the question be "how is it that I haven't I found her?" But by asking "why haven't I found her", it feels more so like "am I doing something wrong here? Why isn't this working?" Perhaps because the Who he's looking for, the Who his heart is looking for, is not a "her"?

And this kind of disconnect between what his mind thinks he is looking for - "her", and what his heart is looking for "who", continues throughout the song.

Another thing I noticed, and I don't know if it means anything, is the repeat of the number five in the song.

That second one hit me the first time I heard the song. Why? Why count to five? So random. And yes, I know it could mean absolutely nothing, and yet, it is curious why we get these two fives.

So I went looking what the number five could mean, cause we know numbers do mean something to them.

On my search I found this:

And this is about this piece of art:

The name of that piece of that famous piece of art: "Sun, Moon and Five Peaks".

And this:

The sun and moon are incarnations of yin and yang and symbols of brightness. The five peaks represent the center of the Earth and correspond to the sky and the seat of the king, who is the Son of Heaven. The number five is significant, as it is the midpoint of the decimal system.

Another coincidence?

Then there is what the number 5 symbolises spiritually (not specific to Korean culture):

Was this on purpose? This is one of those things I really don't know. And yet...

But again, we have to remember that this is the only song on JM's album that he isn't credited for being part of the lyrics writing.

And yet, we know that he did sit with John Belian telling him what the story was he wanted him to tell.

We don't know just how much of it is JM and what he wanted to convey, at least with the lyrics. We don't know just how much say JM had in the direction the MV went in, but it does feel like at least some of these things we are seeing are not pure coincidence and are intentional, for example the next thing I want to talk about.

Let's talk about the falling billboard screen for a sec.

The timing of it falling, the WHO without the question mark, the why...

JM is singing, dancing, the storm is brewing, wind blowing, he sings about "her" and then asks: "who is my heart waiting for?"

The dancers split up, and he starts walking towards us and this falls from the sky:

"Who is my heart waiting for?"

It has a blue frame that breaks apart (perhaps symbolising how this love is framed differently or that the barrier that was there between them now broke - yes, pure drivel on my part, but let me have this, I'm really enjoying it, lol).

This is who, is what the screen is screaming out!!!

"keep going" it tells him, as he's walking in it's direction.

But the screen, it's facing us. We can see it, but he can't see it yet.

He is walking in it's direction but still oblivious to what it's showing him.

Another thing I noticed there is that the screen falls from the sky but doesn't collapse or break or topple over. It stands there, strong and stable. Just as strong and stable that love is. The Real love he talks about in Rebirth. And then we cut to the next scene. We don't see what happens when JM comes closer in. Does he see it? Does he see Who?

Thank you @theendiswherewestarted  for sending me the next couple of links I want to address.

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A post shared by 🌞La_93🌜 (@jikook_la93)

This one I noticed myself - the colours of that fire stood out to me, seeing as they were different from other fires on screen.

The Yellow purple that we also got in the poster question mark.

The way the signs are basically around him (the fire, the screen), but he passed them by unnoticed, perhaps because of how he perceives his love is meant to look like. It's a she, not a he, and even if it is on fire or on a neon sign, something he should be noticing, he just doesn't.

The second is this:

I have seen some that noticed this and I admit, it took me a very long time to see the face (some saw a face in smoke in the teaser as well), but I have to admit, it does look like a face. Could it be JK? Idk. Is this intentional? Well, it doesn't look like the actual smoke, it does look like a projection or add-on, so... I guess this one I'm going to leave as a question mark. A possibility.

But this one, I'm feeling the need to go back to this one because this is just WOW...

I am aware there are those that claim it to be another member. All I will say that they are wrong.

Also want to thank @lastride1981 for your ask.

And then the MV ends with this:

You know, if we didn't get the message just yet (which I can assure you many didn't), then let's end it with rainbows. Yes, that is who your heart is waiting for!!!

Nothing JM does is not thought about, is not intentional.

And that rainbow at the end is again one more of those things!!

As I said, not everything is intentional. But a. saying not everything is intentional inherently means some of it is. and b. this is JM we are talking of. The master of layering his art.

This is art. Intended for us to ponder about. It's up for interpretation. Even a song with rather simple lyrics like Who, especially with a MV attached to it and JM being the artist behind the two.

So this here is how I see it. My interpretations. Sharing them with you.