#or maybe i just like the version of him in my head

[cartersblogabtnothing]

i’m sure we’ve all read at least one or two “peter parker in gotham” fanfics. they’re a personal favorite, especially when they’re done well. and i do get why peter is always in gotham, but…

…why not put one of the batkids in peter’s new york? i think it’d be interesting.

my personal favorite is tim drake, but i do think any of the batkids would be absolute comedic gold. here’s why:

1)

dick would’ve 100% “fallen” into some portal during a fight and ended up in new york. at first he thought it was just that, the portal teleported him into new york. whatever. that’s like a regular tuesday for him.

but then he saw some news program (“The Daily Bugle”) talking about some… Spider-man guy that dick’s never seen! never heard of! who the fuck was this guy and where is dick!?

he momentarily freaks the fuck out before giving himself a mission; find out where the fuck he is and then get back home. easy enough. he’s been stranded before. it should be easy for him to get back home.

at least he thinks so, until he bumps into the aforementioned Spider-man guy, who is surprisingly friendly despite the strange way they move. guess the spider thing was fr.

they bond over acrobatics while peter is attempting to figure out how to build a teleporter (he figures it out quicker than expected and spends far too much time styling it)

2)

jason was on a mission with the outlaws, and one thing led to another and now he and the rest of his team had been teleported to different locations.

he had assumed that bullshit ray gun was some dollar general version of the big stuff until he walks head first into a humongous spiderweb that sticks to his helmet.

jason fucking hates spiders.

he freaks out (duh) and yanks his helmet off and stumbles away, staring at the way it just… hangs there… and suddenly he knew for a fact he wasn’t supposed to be there.

he looks around for a while after that, helmet-less and confused as all fuck. he thinks distantly that maybe he could just restart here. no joker, no batman, no nightwing, no responsibilities. he could make it work.

on his walk, he comes across a mugging. he attempts to get in there, of course, but he’s completely outgunned by some soft-looking fuck in red spandex.

red spandex! what the fuck!

the red-spandex person cleans the mugging up swiftly, and then they turn around to see jason there. they freeze, their mask scrunching up.

jason tries to shoot at them, but his hands get webbed to the wall before he could even reach into his pants.

he’s mildly impressed.

3)

tim is completely whelmed when he just… disappears on his walk back to the manor after school. there’s no portal, no laser beam, no spell… he just… trips once and then falls through the sidewalk. it was so fucking weird.

he’s caught off guard as he’s spit back up from the other side, coughing and heaving breath after breath into his lungs as he takes in his surroundings. he’s in some bad smelling alleyway, and he could feel at least three other people near him.

he’s in a loud, busy city with tall buildings and aggressive crowds. it’s too bright to be Gotham and too gloomy to be Metropolis.

where is he?

he stands shakily, brushing himself off before looking around again. more focused this time, though. he focuses on his location.

he turns to see a homeless man staring, and before he could even open his mouth, the man screams before hissing at him and running the opposite way.

what the fuck?

he tosses his hands in the air before getting cut off by a snort, and he whips around to see a lean, thin, soft-looking person in red and blue spandex. their face is covered by a mask, but even then their mask is so animated that tim feels immediately impressed.

“you scared jimmy.” the person says simply, tilting their head.

“you scared me.” tim responds, tilting his head slightly to mirror them. they laugh, their white eyes narrowing.

“you’re not from around here,” the person says slowly, leaning forward slightly. “let me guess… jersey?”

“huh, how’d you know?” tim snorts, shaking his head.

“accent.” the person shrugs.

the two bond quickly, over everything and nothing at the same time; and they simultaneously figure out that tim is in an alternate dimension and they work together to figure out how to get him home.

by the time tim returns to gotham, he’s picked up more of peter’s spider-like attributes than he’d ever like to admit.

4)

damian doesn’t want to admit that he went head first into a villain’s trap, but… he did.

in his defense, his father did nothing to stop him from doing it. truly, it’s his father’s fault. not his.

he blinks awake to find himself in a puddle, and theres cold rainwater falling onto him and soaking into his suit. it’s uncomfortable, cold, and he feels like curling into a ball and hiding.

but he can’t. he can tell he isn’t in gotham. what if he was somewhere unsafe? he needed to stay vigilant and aware.

he sits up, and immediately feels eyes on him. he looks around, paranoid and on guard.

before he can really understand what’s happening, he sees a person dressed in red spandex hop off what looks like a human sized spider web, landing on their feet with perfect, practiced elegance.

“you’re too young to be dressed like that,” the person begins as they walk closer. “too young to be what you are.”

damian scoffs and stands slowly, hiding a wince as he leans on his left foot. something’s sprained.

“hardly.” damian shakes his head, and the person tilts theirs in response.

“i had a feeling, but i had hoped i was wrong.” the person says softly before walking closer.

the last thing damian remembers before waking up in a warm bed was a warm hand grabbing his arm gently.

the person in red spandex reveals themselves, and they talk. for a while. damian ends up really liking them, especially after they tell damian all about the spider that bit them.

he almost doesn’t want to leave.

5)

while shadow traveling (like in pjo?), duke goes a little too far. he knows he should’ve gone back, but he’s never gone this far and he was so curious it ached.

so he kept going until he walked out the other side, into a very busy alleyway. it smelled of garbage and weed, which didn’t necessarily bother duke but it did tickle his nose slightly.

he decided to figure out where he was first, and then worry about getting back. if he found out a way to get from one timeline to another, then bruce would be extremely grateful to have duke’s abilities on his side.

right?

duke could only hope so.

he walks around for a while, ending up on a very busy sidewalk. he sighs and steps next to a hot dog cart, to which the man stares at him strangely before shrugging and preparing a hot dog. duke goes to refuse, but hears… something in the distance.

he didn’t have time to react before the hot dog cart’s owner held the hot dog out to the street, and a person dressed in red spandex swung past and snatched it up. then, a few seconds later, a five dollar bill was… webbed to the side of the hot dog cart.

duke stared in awe, his eyes wide as he watches the scene. he immediately searches for a library, and immediately begins looking up who this person in red is.

does he forget that he isn’t dressed like a normal civilian half way through? yes. does he fix that? no.

he tracks spider-man down pretty easily, and asks them a million questions all at the same time, to which his mouth gets webbed for. spider-man snorts and answers every single one of his questions.

duke feels so heard it hurts his heart.

he shows spider-man how he did it, bids them farewell after letting spider-man take a picture and several notes of duke’s powers.

duke goes back to gotham feeling light and warm, a smile on his face.

6)

cassandra woke up on a rooftop, feeling sick and tired. she assumed it was some sort of alternate dimensional travel, considering she had been in a space ship beforehand and now she wasn’t.

she uses context clues as well.

the loud bustling streets, the tall but modern buildings, the laughing, the music — none of it is gotham. she knew that very well, but she was still rather confused.

if she wasn’t in space, if she wasn’t in gotham, where was she?

she lets out a silent grunt before slowly sitting, and then standing up. everything hurt. she guessed her spaceship had crashed into some sort of… cosmic ray or portal and she fell out of it. made the most sense.

she looks around slowly, taking in her surroundings like she was taught. she sighs softly when she turns up empty handed, back at square one.

one thing she does notice is the obvious eyes on her. the person isn’t trying to hide, which means she probably in their terf. that isn’t good. not good at all.

cassandra barely turns her head before she feels something pulling at her wrist. looking down, she finds her wrist being tugged by a synthetic spiderweb. it was sticky, silky, and had far too much pull to it.

she twists her arm and pulls on the webs, and then the person comes forward with a heavy step. shiny red and blue spandex fits this person’s body like a glove, and the mask they wear is far too animated to be authentic. must be a function.

the two fight, and as they do cassandra watches the person’s spider-like tendencies. they move with suck fluidity that she feels inferior for the first time in a long time. she’s left in awe, almost.

eventually, she forfeits. she knows when she’s about to lose a fight, when it’s better to stop and give up then die fighting. even if this spider person doesn’t seem hostile, just protective.

“i’m not from here.” she states simply as she’s allowed to stand.

“i know.” the person responds, and cassandra feels more at ease than she did beforehand.

the person - peter takes care of her during her time in new york. gives her a bed, hot food, and even a fake identity for the time being. it works, and eventually she’s back home.

sometimes she tries to mimic peter’s fighting style, but without his abilities, she comes up short.

but the memories are warm and fuzzy and she likes to dream about it.

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 x Reader - Shower Hide Out

Short Version: You're a member of 141. Mission's over. The boys come hide while you're taking a shower. (Hide? Hide from what?)

WC: ~1300

Pairings: (implied) TF141 x (afab) reader | teensy weensy Ghost x Soap

Warnings: none? (nudity ig, but nobody does or sees anything,) extremely brief mention of drowning. (lmk if I need to add)

A/N: my first little cod fic I'm posting! teehee. Just something cute and domestic and simple that I thought of while showering. LMAO I did this instead of writing my thesis today so plz enjoy. More like this maybe to come?

It was late and a shower was long overdue.

You were grateful to finally be at a place where you could shower. It'd been days out on a mission and the sight of the little house was like heaven on Earth. Laswell had gotten it together, and you all met her there with little ceremony, but plenty of thanks. You each made sure each of you were good and not dying before sitting in with Kate.

You always got a little protective over the boys after the high stress, near-death-experiences you go through together. And they were the same with you, and each other, in their own little ways. Sometimes you weren't sure why, but you rolled with it. Soap always made a point to talk with you, helping you and himself destress. Ghost made sure you weren’t hurt, you would do the same, then he’d say something about getting better. You and Gaz liked to eat together, making sure you were both fed. Price was quiet, bringing you tea or coffee in the later hours, but never quiet enough to avoid a bit of banter. Sometimes it was a hearty combination of them all at the same time, and sometimes it was just one or two. Whatever it was, you were grateful. 

This current mission had resulted in you and Johnny both nearly drowning to death, but you were okay, and so was he. Naturally, it left all parties a little on edge. Soap didn’t shut up the whole drive to safety, keeping spirits light while Ghost and Gaz tried to keep the two of you from freezing to death. Laswell was worried too. She insisted, in her stoic way, on getting you all safe and rested for a bit before moving forward.

This wasn't the first time you'd all holed up in a small house, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was definitely one of the quieter nights of the five of you together. Laswell and Price wasted little time before discussing and debriefing. The rest of you were hardly as interested, tired mostly, but pulled in all the same.

Finally, they let you head up to the shower first, even though Johnny was shaking from the chill of still being in damp clothes.

"Go on, lass," he had chattered. "I'll b-be just fine."

Ghost had to force another towel around him before you were satisfied.

Upstairs, you twisted the shower on, letting the heat steam as you undressed. You peeled away a still damp uniform and even damper socks. Ew.

You'd need a full body scrub down to feel better.

You stepped in, pulling the curtain closed and letting the hot water soak through your hair and warm you to the bone. It hurt a little at your toes, the way warm water does as blood rushes around you again. You started with shampoo, lathering your hair intentionally, but not in a hurry.

As you rinsed you swore you heard the door creak. Then a relaxed sigh confirmed your suspicion.

"Soap?" You guessed quietly.

The Scot hummed in response.

You didn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd stood by while you showered. Though normally it was because neither of you wanted whatever intriguing discussion you were having to be interrupted. Another of those weird little, post-mission comforts. This was just him, sitting quietly, enjoying the warmth of the steamed washroom.

You heard him kick his boots off as you put conditioner in your hair. Then another sound of the door hinges. At first you thought he'd left-weirdo, just drop your boots and leave- but then you realized from a mumbling grunt that he had not left.

You heard the shuffling of movement and the quietest unidentifiable remark from Soap, and then just the sound of the water again.

"Soap?" You asked, confirming if the man was still there.

He hummed again. "Still 'ere. Got some company too."

If you had to guess, it was probably Ghost. You could imagine him plopped down on the floor at Soap's feet, leaning against the man's legs. Again, it didn't bother you as you rinsed the product from your hair. Ghost had seen you roughed up, helped patch you up enough that his presence couldn't bother you. You'd done a bit of the same for him. Those weird little comforts.

Knowing they were on the other side of the dark curtain, dirty and wet and tired, but alive settled a bit of the hammer of worry in your chest. It warmed you from the inside as much as the water on the outside.

The door hinges creaked again, announcing another arrival. You were grinning now.

"Captain scare ya off, Gaz?" Ghost teased.

There was a moment where he didn't respond. "This is just the warmest room in the house, with how much water she's using."

You laughed lightly as you lathered up. Whatever he was in here for you also didn't mind. You trusted Kyle with your life, and with the times he's seen you drunk after celebratory bar nights, you couldn't chase him off now. Those little comforts.

Before you could rinse off, the door creaked a fourth time. You thought maybe one of them had left. Maybe Kyle. But instead, you heard an unmistakable grumble.

"You moppets. Let the girl shower in peace." Price's voice was low but laced with a tease.

"And wot brings you 'ere, Captain?" Soap poked right back.

You rinsed yourself, a laugh escaping you as you thought about the four grown men occupying the small space. Little comforts. 

"What's so funny?" Ghost's voice was light, or at least as light as it could be when he wasn't too stressed.

"Are you all hiding from Kate?" You teased.

When your question was met with silence, you had your answer. Your laugh burst from you as you turned the water off. It subsided only as the chill of the air entered the isolated space as you extended your hand through the small gap between curtain and wall. There was a moment of shuffling and scrambling, then a towel landed in your hand.

"You'd be hidin' too if you were down there listening to her plans, that woman never rests," Soap's voice grumbled. It made you laugh again as you wrapped the towel around your body. You finally pulled open the curtain to the scene before you.

Like you'd guessed, Soap was seated on the toilet, boots off in the pile next to your own, his clothes still damp. Ghost was seated on the floor in front of him, still fully geared. Kyle had at least taken off his equipment in a different room, sitting on the floor against the sink counter. And Price, also still fully dressed, was leaning just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

While the other men glanced away in their respectful little ways, Soap watched as you stepped out, earning a thump on the leg from Ghost.

"What?" Soap cried. "She's'not naked!"

You laughed, stepping over Ghost and Gaz's legs as you made your way to the door. You rested your free hand on Price's shoulder and his eyes met yours.

"Surely Kate's new ideas aren't that bad," you teased.

The man shrugged, a smile crinkling his eyes. "You can go find out."

You huffed a tiny laugh. You could feel all their eyes on you now, so you made a point to linger just a moment longer. "One of you start showering; you all smell."

You headed for your own room as Soap's gripes and protests hit your ears. You understood something along the lines of “wouldn’t if you’d not taken all the water.” You smiled to yourself. They were protective, always in that weird little way of theirs after the high stress, near-death-experiences you all go through together. Shared little weird-not weird, just your own-comforts to make sure you were all alive and well. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading.

[tritoch]

one thing I find neat about Emet-Selch is that his chauvinism is so intense that it actually prevents him from making the strongest possible case for the unique moral goodness of the ancients, and that this same mental distortion ties into his classic final fantasy need to turn into a Horrible Final Form Monstrosity for your final fight

(for my part I think any minor unique moral goodness the ancients possess they have due to their status as demigods living in eden before the fall. even if they really are morally/intellectually/spiritually/magically/etc. superior to every modern eorzean on a 1:1 level it still doesn't change anything because 1) they are mythical and impossible, that's the whole point and 2) even if they weren't, they still have no particular claim to existence that is superior to anyone else's, no matter how good they are. but the point here is the case Emet-Selch is trying to make, which is that they are more "worthy" of life.)

when he's setting you up for the final amaurot sequence, Emet-Selch hits you with this one:

it's a solid line! stops the party cold for a second.

it's also...not that impressive. do I think if we called a big world meeting that half of everyone would just jump up to be chosen? maybe, maybe not. but, sorry: we're having a big world meeting? are we also demigods with their every material need fulfilled in this version? do we have a one world government that almost everyone seems to fully trust telling us that it knows for real a way to stop the meteor heading towards earth? because honestly i think as soon as we start creating structural similarities like that, it becomes a lot more likely. and every step you take towards making the comparison happen on level ground makes the idea that the ancients were possessed of some unique moral fiber that made them capable of this sacrifice (as opposed to the undeniable abilities in magic and global governance that actually enabled it) seem less and less likely.

and especially if you consider it in the context of what actual people are like. human (and presumably eorzean) history is replete with examples of people sacrificing themselves to save others, even though none of us are immortal wizard philosophers. i don't know how the white-room thought-experiment "will half of you die to save the others???" turns out. but do i think, across a grand rolling catastrophe, that half our population would sacrifice itself to save the other half in a million individual acts of sacrifice to save a parent, a child, a lover, a friend, a stranger? that seems significantly more plausible. altruism and sacrifice for others is even pretty frequent in animals! it's not a very unique moral behavior!

(stanford encyclopedia of philosophy on biological altruism)

but that's not the only sacrifice the ancients made. roll the tape, hythlodaeus!

...Yet oh how the star had suffered. So many species lost. The land was blighted, the waters poisoned, and even the wind had ceased to blow. Once more did our people give of themselves to Zodiark. Another half of our race sacrificed to cleanse the world; to ensure that trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives would sprout and grow and flourish.

(every time I read this speech and hit the ff1/3/5 ref about the land and waters and wind i become mylongestyeahboyever.avi)

this is the step beyond, and it's what separates the ancients from modern humans. they viewed themselves as stewards of the star and really meant it; whatever other criticisms you might level, you can't doubt the depths of their commitment. and this i think really does make them morally distinct from modern people, or at least raises that possibility in a much more compelling way than the first sacrifice. half of the living population sacrificing itself not in a moment of duress and apocalypse but in a moment of calm? when the sacrifice isn't for anything but plants and animals and some tiny proto-eorzeans? that kind of cold, calculated, long-term altruism, aimed at people and living beings that are nothing like you...that does feel like something a little more unique, more worth preserving. even in just the text of the game, we can say with real certainty that the ancients were at least more capable of facing their problems and had greater moral integrity and care for the world than, say, the people who made ra-la.

but emet-selch can't ever say that because rejecting and dishonoring the decision the ancients made as stewards of the star is his primary goal.

like, "my people were uniquely morally good. half the living population sacrificed themselves not for their loved ones or for the survival of their people but simply for the world. for the trees and grasses and the wind and the water. for the humblest insects and for the summer breeze and the tides." that fucks! damn, you got me there! i watch enough people throw aluminum cans in the trash on a weekly basis that i find this sincerely moving and beyond the seeming abilities of my own brethren! oh no, i'm being persuaded by the fascist immortal space wizard!

"and therefore, because they are uniquely morally good, we are going to sacrifice and kill the very things they gave their lives to save, so we can have them back :)" well, shit. i'm experiencing some dissonance here.

but you can't actually lie to yourself as long as emet-selch without distorting your understanding of the truth. you cannot choose to see the world falsely half the time and clearly the other half. in committing to self-deceit and willful ignorance regarding the value of the modern world, emet-selch blinds himself not just to the world as it is but to the ancients as they were. if he could describe accurately the ways in which the ancients were genuinely noble and benevolent, he would also have to able to see clearly how he has entirely deviated from that ideal. and he cannot do that and stay on the path he has chosen, so he simply chooses not to see things accurately.

i cannot help but link this blindness of his to his trial. here, at what seems to emet-selch to be the last stand of the ancients, he says to you "to be clear this fight IS a metaphor, and in that metaphor i stand in for the Entire Unsundered World."

and yet, in standing against you, he betrays both the customs of the ancients and his very title, itself a direct signifier of the mission he was charged with as one of the convocation of fourteen: "to ensure that all is right in creation, that our star may know a brighter future." contra elidibus, for whom remembering his duty to the ancients is one and the same act as remembering his name, emet-selch declares his own to be mere pretense. and that's before we even reach the matter of his transformation.

emet-selch believes the only way he can save the ancients is to betray their principles, forget their greatest triumphs, and abandon their trappings. he renounces almost everything of the ancients, save for his pale and sad and faceless amaurot, in the hopes of bringing them back.

i am reminded a little of borges's three versions of judas, a short story which uses the lens of fictional literary criticism (appropriate for a story as interested in competing narrative interpretations as shadowbringers is) to recast the betrayal of christ by judas not as the greatest of sins but as the greatest of sacrifices.

The ascetic, for the greater glory of God, vilifies and mortifies his flesh; Judas did the same with his spirit. He renounced honor, morality, peace and the kingdom of heaven, just as others, less heroically, renounce pleasure. With terrible lucidity he premeditated his sins.

and, in turn, the sardonic footnote to that very same line, which unsettles that sentiment as soon as it has been presented:

Borelius inquires mockingly: “Why didn’t he renounce his renunciation? Or renounce the idea of renouncing his renunciation?”

[beyond-far-horizons]

'Ati was once a kind and generous man, and you saw what became of him.'

Just one line from an epigraph of Way of Kings that isn't really related to the main narrative at the time that lives rent free in my head.

This line made Ati one of my favourite Vessels, if not my favourite. Ruin in Mistborn has always been far more intimidating that Odium (the god of literal Hatred) for me. Then we learn that this being was once the total opposite and, if he were ever free of Ruin's influence or 'Intent' would be distraught that he had become something that he loathed. The tragedy of Ati just in the background of the cosmere meta story just makes me feel so sorry for him and love him. I just know Brando is going to make the eventual origin story for the Vessels so tragic.

But two things:

First, his characterisation of Ati is quite inconsistent. In one WoB he implies Ati is quite weak and unable to resist Ruin's destructive impulses, which is in line with what we see in Mistborn. He pretends to be compassionate, but he's sadistic and revels in the destruction he creates. But later, Brandon says Ati actually forced Ruin's Intent into a safer version of 'Entropy', indicating he was strong-willed. Problem is Ati talks about being a version of Entropy, but he's laughing ecstatically at the planetary destruction he's causing (horrific, but also wonderfully hammy and why wouldn't you?) and causing people to horrifically murder each other. That doesn't say Entropy to me, that's scarier than Odium. So which is it, Brando?

Second, I've always wanted to see Ruin go head to head with Odium and I didn't like WaT's implication Ati was afraid of Rayse, because if he's that far gone with Ruin's Intent, my boy would totally be up for a fight! I wish Brando had just said, Ati wanted to help - he's totally up for some Ruination - but he was restrained by Preservation at that point. (Tanavast, you wouldn't have wanted Ati's help at that stage, lol, all of you would would be in the firing line. Except maybe Cultivation, I think her and Ruin make a great pair.)

cannot stop thinking about "Ati, perhaps kindliest among us, who had boldly taken up Ruin." the mistborn brainrot never stops. he was the kindliest among them. the man that became the ruin we know, that the final empire crew had to defeat, was the kindliest of the sixteen Vessels. hello is anyone out there

[soobnny]

we'll never have sex — changbin x reader ; established relationship & hurt/comfort (1.2k words)

there is nothing more beautiful than the promise of love even if you cannot guarantee or give that certain level of intimacy just yet

for my girls with a complicated relationship w sex & yes this is based off of leith ross’ song

Facetimes with Changbin always last longer than they should. 

Had it been anyone else, the call would’ve dropped more than an hour ago. You’d have been found guilty for finding any excuse to warrant you some silence–the slightest tinge of awkwardness, the moment conversation runs out, faking plans.

Never with Changbin.

The static of phone calls stretch on, neither of you having moved much. You can’t remember how long it’d been since either of you said something, but you’ve never minded. The quiet that came with your boyfriend had always felt comfortable. Almost safe.

In your periphery, just at the top most right of your screen, you can see him sprawled across his bed, signature hoodie to match the boyfriend look, and fingers lazily scrolling through his phone. 

“Still awake, baby?” His voice breaks the silence, teasing almost, but still gentle. 

“Mhm.” You hum, shifting in your position a little. “But ‘m a little sleepy.”

“You should go to bed.”

“No.” Changbin chuckles at your refusal, deep and raspy through the phone. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, distinguishably fond even with the poor quality of the video.

For a second, you allow yourself to just watch the boy–his glazed eyes, the softness in his features accentuated by the low light of his room, the warmth of his smile. 

Almost safe. Almost reassuring. 

You wonder if it’s all a facade, wonder when he’d finally break, wonder when he’d leave you because you refuse to let him do anything beyond a kiss. Maybe no amount of love, even from the right person like Changbin, will ever be enough to change that.

You try to scold yourself. Self-destructing thoughts are too familiar, they reverberate in your head like you’d been thinking about it for a while, like they’d been practiced and practiced until permanently tattooed. 

The tears come without warning, mid-scolding. Big and heavy and warm. They pool at the edges of your version, and it makes you feel pathetic that you hurry to press the sleeve of your hoodie against your face. 

Changbin notices immediately.

“Hey.” his voice sharpens, the playful edge he’d been sporting earlier gone in a split second. “(Name)? Baby, hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, and oh god, he’s going to leave you. He’s going to leave you because you’re such a crybaby, and anyone with a normal fucking mind wouldn’t do this to him. Anyone under normal—kinder—circumstances wouldn’t think like this. 

“Baby.” He tries again, softer this time. “Talk to me.” 

Your throat tightens around something akin to a lump. You try to swallow it down. 

“Why’re you crying? What’s wrong?” 

There’s a long pause before you finally speak.

“What if I… what if…” You start, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know how to continue, words disjointed and dismembered. “If I said you could never touch me, would you still want to be with me?”

Changbin pauses for a fraction of a second, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion. But you go on, inundating him with the fears that have spent your entire life trying to catch up with you.

“I can’t give you what you want. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Would you still stay with me even if I told you that I never want to have sex?”

The boy’s expression softens immediately. He can hear his own heart break at how fragile you sound, at how shattering it is to look at your tear-streaked face through a screen, at the things that could’ve transpired for you to think that he’d ever leave you because of that, just because of something so menial to him in a relationship.

“Of course I’ll stay.” He says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “That doesn’t change anything.”

His words are meant to be comforting, the small but sure smile on his lips should’ve been enough to return your peace, but instead, the tears well up again. Heavier this time. 

“Wait. Wait, wait—hold on.” His face suddenly disappears off the screen as he fumbles with his phone. He sounds rushed. “I’m… I can’t just look at you cry and not do anything about it.”

Then the call ends.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later when a sudden knock on your door shakes you from your self-pity do you see him again. And he’s standing there, slightly out of breath, the same hoodie you’d seen earlier half-zipped with his hair tousled from the cold wind outside. 

“Binnie.” Your voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything at first, just allows himself to look at you—eyes tracing over the tear stains on your cheeks, and the way you’re hugging yourself with the sleeves of one of his jackets. 

Then, without a word, he slips a hand beneath your jaw, tilting your face to look you in the eyes. His palms on your skin feel warm, calloused but gentle as he cradles you in his hands. “I think…” He pauses. 

A heartbeat passes.

“I think you look lovely.” He murmurs, tone low and gentle, abating the tempestuous anxieties swelling in the pit of your stomach. “And I love you. Not because of what you think I’m expecting from you, but because I love you. The entirety of you.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as an ugly sob escapes your throat. The tears spill over again, faster, and you feel so ridiculous for crying even more in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulls back, leaning in to press a kiss to your wet cheeks. His voice is firm, but not unkind. Never unkind. And his eyes held no hesitation, no flicker of doubt in the way he’s looking at you right now. “Did I say anything to make you feel this way?”

Changbin tries to hide how he feels about his question, like he could never imagine being the reason why you’re sobbing like this.

“No, oh my god. Binnie, no. It’s not you.” 

“Okay, it’s not me.” His voice is still kind, relieved. “I’m never expecting anything from you, okay?”

And just as gentle as he’s holding you, he kisses you. Nothing desperate, nothing hurried even. Just slow and lingering, like he’s savoring the moment for exactly what it is. He isn’t kissing you to take you to bed, not to ask for anything more, not even to change your mind.

Changbin kisses you just to kiss you. 

Just to hopefully show you that he means everything he said to you. 

“I’ll take care of you.” His fingers thread through your hair. “I love you.”

Quietly, tiredly, you start to show a small smile. “Thank you.”

Loving you is so easy for Changbin. Like second nature. Like falling in love with your laughter, and the little parts of you that make up your sum. And you’re aware that it’s going to take time to heal yourself—that it won’t be so easy all the time, that there will be days like these again, but you also know enough that he is genuine and that he loves you with no expectations even if it’s hard to believe sometimes.

Seo Changbin loves you with every bit of conscience he was born with. He loves you simply. 

You stay like this for a while. Safe. Reassuring. Until you feel the sickness less and less.

[gotta-winwin]

squidgame!wonwoo x reader

cw/tw: references to squid game, blood, guns, dark!wonwoo, lost!reader, angst, ambiguous ending a/n: squid game s2 has been living rent free in my head these past few weeks (yim siwan has reentered the serena residence as well) and i couldn't help but think... wonwoo frontman angst?

frontman!wonwoo feels immune to the gore and pain. He barely bats an eye now, watching the games run from his spot on the couch, observing through a large flat screen tv. It no longer feels real, as if he was just watching a movie. The sounds of those gunshots used to deafen both his heart and his ear, but now they’re strangely silent, missing his hearing altogether. 

frontman!wonwoo remembers how he used to cry over losing you, body shaking as he begged to the sky, his chest aching with love that had nowhere to go. A past long forgotten - until he’d wake up covered in sweat, his hands shaking, cupping an invisible face he could touch but not see. He barely remembers the reason he lost you - but he sees your face clearly. 

frontman!wonwoo, who never planned to have the job he had now. You had always praised him for being a hard worker, always able to climb his way to the top - even if he had to crawl to get there. It felt like a curse now, as he oversaw the games, a mask replacing his usual glasses. He wore contacts now - the feeling of your hands fixing his glasses that would always sit crooked against his face haunted him, even to this day. 

frontman!wonwoo, who justifies his actions by telling himself it’s not really his fault. It’s not like he’s physically killing those people, and they did give consent! He argues with the better half of himself that life was never especially kind to him, so why should he? In fact, life had been rather cruel - taking you from his reach and trapping him in this cold world. 

frontman!wonwoo scoffs at the people begging him to save their lives. After all, why should he? The question only infuriates him: he couldn’t even save the only person he’s ever loved in this life and they’re asking him to save them? Your disappearance and running the games had changed him - he knew, even if you did return, you’d never love this version of him. 

frontman!wonwoo brings in one of the triangle guards below him, prepared to scold them for going against the rules he had set - no communication with players, no matter the circumstance. He finds himself pausing, as he listens to their reasoning: something about the player being sick and needing the bathroom after hours, and for the first time in a long time, he feels his face relaxing. 

frontman!wonwoo doesn’t understand why he had let the guard off so easily. There was just something about the way they spoke, even covered under the heavy voice modulation, the tone and inflections tugged at his stomach and heartstrings. He found it odd and not at all like him. 

frontman!wonwoo, who slowly becomes entranced by the guard, watching their every move on footage, ignoring the games in front of him. His once calculated and orderly days crumble, leaving him grappling with the idea that just maybe, past!wonwoo was beginning to fight his way out again.

frontman!wonwoo, who starts ordering the guard in more often under the guise of ‘maintenance’ or ‘reprimands.’ He never speaks much, asking a few questions here and there - but instead he listens, ordering the guard to speak, to say anything, to tell him anything. He listens, wholly concentrated on their cadence, desperately trying to pinpoint where he’s heard it from. 

frontman!wonwoo, who hesitates to pull the trigger for the first time since he had first started working for the game. He stares at the young woman before him, her eyes quivering with tears, a brave expression on her face - staring death head-on. Lowering the gun, he gestures for her to run. Leave, he tells her quietly, a part of him still amazed at his own actions. 

frontman!wonwoo, who doubles down on the cruelty once he realizes he’s been slipping. As if he were trying to recondition himself, Wonwoo takes it upon himself to be twice as unforgiving, white hot anger directed solely at himself for letting his guard down. 

frontman!wonwoo, who looks at you with bewildered eyes as you take off your mask, dropping it to the floor as you stare down the barrel of his gun. You’ve had enough - unable to watch him destroy both himself and others, stepping in front of him with heartache coursing through your veins. His eyes widen subtly as he stares, mouth open, the muscles trying to remember how to speak your name. 

frontman!wonwoo, who calls out your name with a slight rasp, his throat closing up as he lowers the gun, arms falling uselessly to his sides. You look the same as the last day he saw you, staring at him with helpless eyes as you looked around, the piles of dead bodies staring back at you. 

At the end of the day, it was the stark contrast of seeing you surrounded by blood and death that jolted frontman!wonwoo out of his stupor. The sight was obscene, sinful (not in the good way) and just not right. His arms reached out to grab you as he neared, frantic eyes roaming across your features to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. 

frontman!wonwoo, who abandons his job and respobsiblites with your miraculous return. He doesn’t care about the target now on his back, happy to fight through fire and ice to keep you by his side - promising you the life he couldn’t give you before: normalcy. Wonwoo yearns for it, to regain the uneventful yet fulfilling life he had once shared with you, leaving the mess behind. 

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Beneath the Apron

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

AU: Baker!Simon

Warnings: Fluff, light teasing, mutual pining

Author’s Note: Simon Has me in a chokehold, tbh I need more baker Simon-

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The first time you walked into Simon Riley’s bakery, it was pouring rain. Not a gentle drizzle, but a torrential downpour that left you drenched from head to toe. You ducked inside, shivering and muttering curses under your breath, only to freeze when you realized you weren’t alone.

Behind the counter stood a man who looked like he belonged in a different time and place—broad-shouldered, with sharp features and piercing dark eyes. He stared at you for a moment, silent, as water dripped from your hair onto the floor.

“Uh… sorry,” you stammered, clutching your soaked bag to your chest. “I’ll just…” You gestured vaguely toward the door.

“Don’t be daft,” he said, his voice a low rumble with a thick accent. “Yer already in ‘ere. Might as well dry off.”

Before you could argue, he disappeared into the back and returned with a towel. He tossed it to you without ceremony, then leaned against the counter, watching as you awkwardly patted yourself dry.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, feeling strangely self-conscious under his gaze.

“Coffee?” he asked, already reaching for a mug.

“Oh, no, I—”

“Yer freezin’. Coffee,” he said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

A few minutes later, you were sitting at a small table near the window, a steaming cup of coffee in front of you. The rain hammered against the glass, but the warmth of the bakery and the rich aroma of freshly baked bread made it feel like a haven.

“Don’t get many people comin’ in this time o’ day,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning to stop,” you replied, smiling faintly. “The weather had other ideas.”

He grunted—his version of a laugh—and you found yourself oddly charmed by the sound.

After that, you started coming in more often. At first, it was just for the coffee—well, that’s what you told yourself. But it wasn’t long before you found yourself lingering, chatting with Simon between customers and slowly peeling back the layers of his quiet, guarded personality.

---

One morning, you walked in to find him hunched over a tray of cookies, his brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced up as the bell jingled, his expression softening slightly when he saw you.

“Late today,” he commented, his accent turning the words into a soft rumble.

“Had a meeting,” you replied, dropping into your usual seat. “But I couldn’t skip my daily dose of grumpy baker charm.”

Simon snorted, shaking his head. “Dunno why you keep comin’ back.”

“Maybe I like watching you scowl at dough,” you teased, resting your chin in your hand.

He gave you a mock glare, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Yer lucky I make good coffee.”

---

One quiet afternoon, you caught him humming to himself. The bakery was empty except for the two of you, the soft rhythm of his movements lulling you into a comfortable silence. Then you heard it—a low, quiet hum, almost imperceptible over the sound of the mixer.

“Is that… singing?” you asked, looking up with a grin.

Simon froze, his hands stilling mid-knead. “It’s not.”

“It so is!” you said, laughing. “What was it? Some folk song?”

“Shut it,” he muttered, though the tips of his ears turned red.

You leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter. “Come on, Simon. Give me a performance. I’ll even clap.”

“Yer impossible,” he grumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

---

Another time, you showed up with a batch of cookies you’d tried to bake yourself. They were… well, let’s just say they weren’t exactly bakery quality.

Simon picked one up, inspecting it with a raised brow. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“A cookie,” you said defensively.

“Looks like a rock,” he deadpanned.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Well, excuse me for not being a professional.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “S’alright. Can’t all be as talented as me.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but you couldn’t stop the smile creeping across your face.

Simon took a bite of the misshapen cookie, chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad,” he said finally.

“Really?” you asked, brightening.

“No,” he replied, smirking.

---

One morning, the bakery was unusually quiet. You sat at your usual spot, sipping your coffee and watching Simon move around the kitchen. His hands were deft and sure, rolling out dough and piping frosting with an ease that came from years of practice.

“You ever sit down?” you asked suddenly.

“Don’t have time,” he replied without looking up.

“You’ve got time now,” you pointed out.

Simon paused, a tray in his hands. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed. To your surprise, he placed the tray on the counter, untied his apron, and sat down across from you.

“Didn’t think you’d actually listen to me,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Figured it’d shut you up,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“You’re full of charm, aren’t you?” you shot back, smirking.

Simon shook his head, leaning back in the chair. Up close, he was even more intimidating—broad shoulders, strong jaw, and those dark eyes that seemed to see straight through you. But there was a softness to him, too, in the way he rested his arms on the table, his posture relaxed for once.

“You come here every day,” he said after a moment. “Why?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, unsure how honest you wanted to be.

“Well,” you started, stalling for time, “the coffee’s good. The croissants are amazing. And the company’s not bad, either.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Not bad?”

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, leaning forward. “The company’s great. Even if you’re a little grumpy.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rumbling, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Grumpy, huh?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Very,” you said, grinning.

Simon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied you for a moment, his dark eyes scanning your face like he was trying to figure something out.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said finally, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

Your breath hitched, and before you could think of a reply, the bell above the door jingled, signaling another customer. Simon stood, tying his apron back on with practiced ease.

“Stay as long as you like,” he said over his shoulder, the hint of a smile on his lips as he walked away.

And just like that, he was back to being the mysterious baker, leaving you sitting there with a fluttering in your chest and a stupid grin on your face.

I hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[berryispunk]

Eres Mi Vida

pairing: Frankie Morales x gn! reader

summary: This man is your whole life. And maybe you are his, too. An argument turned into a fight and now you're here.

tags: argument, fighting, all the angst, slight mention of alcohol, mention of past addiction, mention of trauma, curse words, sprinkle of smut, spanish nicknames (mi alma, mi vida, mi amor...), established relationship, Frankie being a cute puppy, soft! Frankie, Frankie being an idiot, did i mention angst ?

notes: one of my besties imagined there's a voicemail of Frankie after an argument, so i just rolled with it.

word count: 1,2 k

You lay on your bed, face buried in the pillow. Your eyes are puffy and red from all the crying in the last hour.

How did this happen?

How could you let a man dictate your life like this? 

It would be so easy to walk away. 

Never look back, turn off your feelings like you always do.

But you can’t. 

Not this time.

He’s etched onto your heart, seeped into your soul, made a home so deep inside of you and thrown away the key, it’s impossible to simply move on.

You hate him. No, you really do.

The way he looks at you, eyes so full of warmth and genuine interest when you continuously talk about something you’re passionate about. 

He and his damn baseball cap he always claims is part of his personality. He never takes that thing off, only under the shower and in bed. It’s honestly a little disgusting.

He and his silly love for everything spicy. 

He and his cocky smirk standing in the kitchen, something you yourself hate so much, humming a melody to himself, thinking you don’t hear him but you only pretend you don’t. 

All the love he pours into every meal and it tasting good every fucking time. Even if he claimed to be a poor cook at first which is obviously a lie. His satisfied smile when you lean back into your chair and exclaim you’re full for days. 

Maybe you love him for all of these things instead?

Always showing up, never making you question his love for you even once.

The endless public displays of affection, constantly intertwining hands even when you don’t expect it, the warmth of a big hand on your lower back when he’s guiding you through crowds of people or a squeeze to your thigh under the table when you’re out with his friends, thinking nobody else will notice.

His reassuring smile whenever you feel insecure or anxious. 

He made you fall for him so fast it’s scary. The sheer intensity of your feelings for him are dangerous, because you never felt like this before. He made a huge crack in the wall you mentally built around yourself. You’ve never let someone see this unsheltered version of you and it makes you so weak. 

But it never felt like actually falling, because he was there to catch you every time. His kind, soulful eyes on you and his breath ghosting against your temple. “I’ve got you, mi vida,” when he makes you climax for the second time in a row with his skilled tongue.

And now you’re here. Crying your eyes out, your chest painfully tight with anger and hurt. 

Because even if Frankie is perfect in all the right ways, he’s equally messed up in all the wrong ways too. 

His history of addiction, his short temper, his nightmares. 

All things that scare you to no end. 

When he’s suddenly wide awake in the middle of the night, sweaty and breathing heavily, suddenly covering you to shield you from imaginary bullets, it scares you. 

It always takes some time for him to come back to reality and you holding him for a bit, raking your hand through his bed hair until he falls back asleep snuggled up so close against you there’s not a single inch of space between you. 

His temper always gets the best of him when he’s either drunk or the two of you fight. This ugly side of him rearing its head faster than you can say whiplash or even understand the fact you’re in a fight.

Being the hothead you are it’s not like you can’t bite back, but he finds a way to go lower every time. Targeting your issues, making you feel so small. Catapulting you back into your childhood home where screaming and making you feel worthless was on every day’s agenda. 

It causes you to cry in anger, close yourself up, all defense mechanisms flaring up instantly. 

He keeps apologizing in the best way he knows how, his lethal pleading eyes on you make you melt every time. It’s hard being mad at someone who looks like a damn puppy. 

In your head there’s two Frankies: 

The one that worships the ground you walk on, makes you feel so loved and desired like no one's ever done before. The Frankie that may not be the best with words and rather let his actions speak. 

And then there’s this broken version of him. The hurt, the insecurity, the temper all bundled up in a dangerous mix that makes your blood boil. 

How can this be the same person? 

Your vibrating phone almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t need to look at the caller ID, you know it’s him. It’s the fifth time he calls. You let his call go straight to voicemail. 

You can’t talk to him right now or you say things you’ll regret, or worse, forgive him immediately. 

You take your phone, unlock it and see he’s left three messages in your mailbox. 

With a heavy heart you lift the phone to your ear. 

“Mi amor, look… I am an idiot. I am so sorry, you know I don’t mean it like this. Please call me back, bye” 

You sigh and press play on the next message. 

“Hey, it’s me, your moron of a  boyfriend. You know that you’re incredibly smart, talented and drop dead gorgeous right? Damn, I swear when I first saw you, I was so intimidated by you. I mean… Did you ever really look at yourself? Because hell, I do. You’re incredible and I know you deserve way more than what I have to offer, but fuck...I—”

There’s a short pause. 

“I love you so much and I am sorry. Please… Call me back, yeah ?”

The tears prick hotly in the corners of your eyes and you take a shuddering breath. 

How can one man be such an intricate mess?

You press play on the last message while you nervously fidget with one of your rings. 

“Okay, you may not wanna talk to me right now but I still need you to know that I fucking love you. I may be a stupid idiot but I am your stupid idiot .. If you still want me, that is. What can I do so you talk to me again? I’ll do everything. Just say a word… mierda! This is the third message I leave you, I-I guess… lo siento, baby. You don’t even know how much. I know I’m a mess…”

You hear him sighing, probably running a hand through his hair in frustration. He clears his throat before continuing to speak. 

“Where was I? Oh right, I’d be damned if I don’t tell you you’re the most precious thing in my life ever and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Eres mi vida, mi alma. I hope I didn’t fuck this up for good. I could never forgive myself.” 

Suddenly there’s silence, the message has ended and there’s another tear streaming down your face. Snuffling, you decide to call him back this instant, or you’ll end up ugly crying again. You can’t help it, you love him too much.

After three rings that feel like an eternity, he answers his phone and your heart stops for a beat. Your breath shudders three times when you start to speak.

[beef-brisket]

Adam chuckled: Fine. Sleepy time.

It took a while for Adam to even start feeling tired. His mind was racing. Thinking about Seth, Heaven, Lucifer. He felt ashamed for even believing what Cas and Michael were saying to him. But he was weak and exhausted. And he already felt like Lucifer handed him over to them. But what choice did he have? He's only one guy.

Looking down, Adam smiled at his husbands sleeping face. He looked too comfortable on Adam's chest.

Adam: I thought you were finally sick of me... I've always been prideful. You're the only one to make me feel like I'm not enough, I'm not good enough for you... I've never experienced anything like this... fuck, I'm stupid.

He rested his hand on his head, his gaze looking to the window.

He loved Lucifer, but he's known for years he isn't right for him. So many things have happened to Lucifer that were his fault, and all Adam has going for him is sex.

Things between Heaven and Hell have always been rocky, but Hells main conflict was between the rings. The war has been raging for thousands and thousands of years. Adam knows that all too well.

There was nothing Satan could do to stop them, not that he tried. As soon as he found Adam on the streets working for his father, he could smell the angelic side of him.

Taking him, Satan quickly found out how much power Adam had. And once he did, he threw him into the war, starting on the Ring of Wrath.

Closing his eyes, Adam could still hear the screams of thousands of Hellborns slaughtering each other.

Greed was the worst ring. The sin, Mammon would feed on the fallen, becoming a more monstrous version of himself. Quickly growing too big to move. Half of the Ring was taken up by his body. He's the only flesh that can't be penetrated by the armies' blades. Only Adam was able to cut his way through Mammon, making a path for the armies to travel to the lower realms.

He was there when the first citizens of the Lust Ring were attacked.

For being part incubus, he'd only ever travelled to the Lust Ring once, and it was mainly to be dragged around the bars by his father. He looked ridiculous. A small child trying to follow his father as he hooked up with people.

Adam sighed. Because of him, Heaven was most likely to retaliate. Michael won't be able to handle a slight like this. To be humiliated? This won't end well.

Looking down at his husband again, Adam tucked a piece of his blonde hair behind his ear. Adam smiled as Lucifer shifted, smooshing his face into his chest.

Adam will fight for Lucifer and make things right. Make it up to him. For doubting him.

He'll kill Michael if he had to. Adam will most likely have to kill every archangel. But there was something rattling around in his head. Why did Gabriel help him? And giving him back all of his power? Adam appreciated the help, but he was confused.

Why would he go against Heaven? Adam was more than capable of destroying the very idea of Heaven and every sould and being in it.

So, what was his angle?

Lucifer: Addie...?

Adam: Shhh, go back to sleep, babe.

Lucifer cracked a sleepy eye open and looked up at his husband. A weak, tired smile spread across his lips.

Lucifer: I would love to... but your thoughts are too loud. They can wait till tomorrow, Ad.

Adam: I know- I... I'm just... I don't know...

Lucifer: Maybe you'll know tomorrow...

Adam: And if I don't?

Lucifer chuckled and patted Adam's chest: Then maybe you'll know the day after that...

Adam: What if-.

Lucifer: Adam. Sleep. Your king demands it.

Adam smirked: Oh, you're my king now, are you?

Lucifer: Half of you is a demon, so, I'm your king~.

Adam: Fair enough, babe.

Kissing his forehead, Adam rolled over and pulled Lucifer close. His king quickly snuggled into his warmth and fell back asleep.

As he yawned, Adam thought Lucifer was right about one thing. He'll figure this out another time. But for now, he needs to keep his king safe.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[thevulturesquadron]

I can’t believe this old tweet has resurfaced on my cursed feed after all these years. And I can’t believe that people are still acting like this is the most offensive thing that was ever said to them.

I was about to say ��hot take’ but in reality there’s nothing spicy about it. I feel like this was a perfect humoristic take on Alistair’s character.

Let’s put aside the fact that Gaider wrote Alistair, that he spent the most time with the intricate layers of his character. It’s ok to interact with, and build a version of a story or character that resonates with you. It’a fun. It’s healthy. But to go banging at a writer’s door or to go up in arms online because the person that wrote said character ‘doesn’t get him’, is just bonkers.

I think that some people are going feral about this because the writer’s joke (it wasn’t even a serious talk, it was a silly joke that apparently needs an addendum for people to get) clashes with the version they created in their own play-through of this perfect, devoted, head over heels, love-struck Alistair for their Warden romances. It really just boils down to that.

And you know what? When it comes to the tweet itself I agree completely. Gaider is talking about Dragon Age Origins Alistair - who IS a man child. Alistair in Origins is collecting carved figurines. He giggles and blushed at the thought of sex. He is making mean/childish comment on Morrigan’s behalf. Alistair is 19 years old. Not only that, but he also grew up in an environment mostly void of proper love and care. He was raised by his uncle and kept at arm’s length, which absolutely hindered his emotional growth. Alistair is, during that game, the furthest he could be from understanding or expressing emotional maturity. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have time to grow. And he does! As Gaider proved in Inquisition or in The Silent Grove comics. But it takes time. Your Alistair/Warden romances are not in danger because this one joke. Alistair still falls in love with the Warden. He is still a competent character, he still has a heart of gold and he still has a strong will - the fact that it isn’t focused or directed at something until you journey with him through the events of the game is just a tell that he’s at the beginning of understanding who he is. He behaves very much like a petulant child (with others) when it comes to romance in DAO. It’s ok to admit it and maybe, instead of taking offense, to focus the energy on exploring how he grows up between games, on what it takes for him to understand what love is really made of, with the good and the bad, with the sweet and the bitter, with the butterflies in the stomach but also with the effort it sometimes requires.

But you know… maybe ‘Alistair never loved you.’ 🤣

Maybe this is why we don’t get characters as nuanced as Alistair, Zevran or Vivienne anymore. Cause some of you can’t accept flaws.

[oli-ribbun-ver]

EP 4 RAMBLE PART 3 FINAL!!

(ft the other episodes! but mainly ep 4!)

okay actually i think this is more of a gangle ramble now but thats fine

part 1

part 2

CONTINUATION OF THE GANGLE PEOPLE-PLEASER PART OF THE RAMBLE FROM PART 2!

lets see... where did i leave off... RIGHT!!

There are a lot of parts in ALL episodes where she doesn't want to cause problems for people. Which is typically normal for everyone, HOWEVER. Her idea of 'causing problems' is her opening up to people about how she truly feels, or even voicing her feelings in general if they're about someone.

I've already gone over the Pomni conversation and the bit where she has a mini breakdown, and I said I'd include even more of the other episodes in this, so! Let's begin at Ep 1!

Let's talk about what I've observed in episode one.

YES THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Notice how it's emphasized she says it quietly? (I know it's for comedic effect, but EVERYTHING seems to be important for every character, like how the darkness from the bucket on Kinger's head in Ep 2 helped him remember something about Ragatha before immediately forgetting it and then the reason he only remembers things in the darkness is explained! Seems like a minor detail that means nothing, turns out to be HUGE.

She doesn't want to cause a problem. In this case, the 'problem' would be her fully interrupting the conversation because she's worried about her friend. In the mind of a people pleaser, even if it helps someone out, you feel a sense of pressure on you when mentioning someone needs help to others, because "What if I cause a problem or make them mad? I don't wanna do that!", those thoughts are pretty normal, ESPECIALLY for people-pleasers.

"Wait, what about Zooble?" Is said so quietly, you can barely hear it. She either doesn't want her voice to be heard, or she DOES but is too scared to say it more loudly because of some version of the thoughts I described.

not as important but I'd like to note how she literally says NOTHING. like. nothing. i just think its kinda funny but also she just. doesnt give her opinion at all? she wasnt even asked if she wanted to go with them to check on kaufmo they just dgaf about her 😭

ANYWAY

This is the only time she gives her opinion and its not even an opinion HELP

Also I'm trying to save space so I don't have to make a part 4 so shortly into this, since I know I'll have to make one anyway, but I wanna mention how she hides behind her broken mask to protect herself after he screams which kinda hits different now that we know more about her mask.

But anyway, I'll make a seperate little portion of this ramble for that!

I'd like to mention too, anytime she is shoved, has something mean said to her, or has her comedy mask broken, she doesn't complain or say anything about it except for maybe an "ow". I find that interesting, because I think the reason for this is that she doesn't want anyone worrying about her. AKA, she doesn't want to cause a 'problem'.

She wants to please. One does not please by being a 'problem', right? That's probably how she thinks, anyway.

When Jax tells her to do something she doesn't want to do, whether he pressured her like that or not, it wouldn't have made a difference, because she can't bring herself to say 'no.'

In my opinion, from what it sounds like when she says "I don't think we—" she probably would've ended up saying yes regardless. Hell, if he'd just followed it up with "do it," I don't see a world in which she wouldn't, although she'd probably be more hesitant.

also why does his back bend like that he looks like hes gonna become an old man any second now HELP 😭

Also, when Jax threatens her by saying "Do it, or I'll tell Ragatha about the figurine thing," I think that really does something to her.

Every time she's either built up the confidence to say no, or someone has tried to help her say no, she's kicked down in one way or another INSTANTLY.

Episode 4 did not help with that. I believe in the next few episodes, she will not be better about saying no. She might even be worse off, knowing Ragatha thinks her being happy is annoying.

People-pleasers are in different worlds. Being the type of people-pleaser Gangle is, it's an entirely different world from others. It carries a lot of what I can only describe as delusion to it.

If Pomni had not stepped up when Gangle thought she was alone after work hours, Gangle would have abstracted. I am a firm believer in that. She was breaking. Losing her mind.

Gangle tells herself to stop trying to achieve her dream while breaking down over the fact her efforts to achieve her dream might not be enough.

So let's go there, and get a

Closer look at Gangle's mental state.

(and why she's most likely the least unwell character)

Gangle is mentally ill. Everyone knows that already, but to what extent?

I'm not sure if we'll ever know.

But what we do know is this.

More likely than not, Gangle almost abstracted in Ep 4. And out of everyone who has EVER vented so far, Gangle has shared relatively nothing. Even after the Spudsy's adventure, what we've seen so far is her never mentioning her feelings except that she feels like she messed everything up.

Gangle doesn't know how to help herself. Zooble can make her feel better, but not for long, because Gangle doesn't think she can get better.

When she was about to vent to Pomni, she stopped as soon as she felt like her feelings were REALLY about to come loose, put her new happy mask back on, said she had no time to talk about her feelings, and fled.

What I think is that Gangle thinks everyone is more important than her, so when she FINALLY got to be important she was happy. Really, truly happy.

The worst thing you can do is make someone think they're not wanted or loved.

Something that makes me sad is that Gangle does not feel wanted or loved.

Gangle was almost gone in Episode 4.

We almost lost Gangle. Had Gangle abstracted, she'd die without ever feeling like people cared about her.

For all we know, she could be the first person to abstract after Kaufmo.

I personally believe that.

The end of Episode 4 was a su¡cide attempt. (is that word allowed? im not sure..l ill censor it anyway)

I saw someone say this in the comment section of either the episode itself or a reaction video, and I completely agree.

They say before people commit su¡cide, they have a sudden boost of joy. Everything will be over soon. Why not enjoy that fact?

I think it was a subconscious su¡cide, at the very least.

She was happy. For the first time without a happy mask to hide how she feels deep down, she was happy.

She had a sudden boost of happiness, and then stepped backwards into oncoming traffic. When someone experiences a near-death situation by their own hand, there's a moment of regret before they are gone. I've experienced it myself, and it is horrid. That feeling is one I will never be able to forget. Even if I never so much as blacked out, I felt faint, and I will NEVER forget that fear, that horror, dread, regret.

The shock. Wondering if it was truly me who did it.

And I think. That is what Gangle experienced.

And then, that feeling was brushed off by Caine, whether she knew he doesn't understand the feeling of wanting to disappear or not, she was quick to blame herself for it all. Both about her performance to Caine, and alone, to nobody but herself.

"I guess I just... cracked under the pressure I suppose."

And maybe, just maybe.

That crack will never heal.

Thank you for listening and reading my ramble, everyone!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Bye bye for now, friends! Have a lovely day!

[marchsfreakshow]

I am so sorry but I keep on having these ideas.

Hear me out: a male kind of housewife but make it Colin Zabel. He would cook, clean, take care of the kids, maybe a stay at home dad, idk, I'm bad at this.

A Perfect Father

Fluffff

Aww don't apologise darlin'. I love these requests sm, and these imagines definitely help me write for Colin. I hope these are good for you. 💜

(also using this an excuse to add onto my lore w the twins from that one imagine I posted)

Colin wasn't expecting to delve head first into being a house-husband, but god he couldn't ask for anything better.

The twins were typical little children. Loud, full of energy, and nothing but smiles. Levi resembled you more, with your eye colour, gentle hair colour. Whereas Elke was practically a female version of her dad. She loved having her hair short like Colin's, dark brown and deep boba looking eyes. They were just...the cutest children Colin had ever seen.

"alright, now your mom's gone, let's get you caught up on homework, hm?" The twins started to kick up a fuss, as any kids would about homework. "Come on now, you both have the same page of work. Right?"

They both nodded despite their child rages. Colin sat them down at the small dining table and got them calm with some apple juice each. They both picked up a pencil and Colin sat with him, using general household items along with their toys to help them learn.

"okay...let's see. 10 Lego bricks for you Elke, and 10 for Levi. Take one piece each and start counting." They started with one Lego brick each, pushing them in the middle together until they hit 20. "20! So, 10 and 10 is?"

"20!" The twins shouted together in slight glee.

"Yes! Well done. Okay write 20 down, and let's move on okay?"

Colin was probably the most at peace at times like this. Helping Levi and Elke learn while you were out and bringing money home for the three of them.

[demigodsanswer]

I’m going to thrice you, again, prompt idea: in Princess AU- the conversation on the beach in Greece if the *right* brother had been there.

I am addicted to alt-versions of my own fic universes. Guess we'll call this one "Found You First" They're younger, so they aren't as good at flirting yet.

~

She hadn't seen Percy in a little over a year. The last time they'd crossed paths, he was holding up Yale's Mock Trial National's first place trophy, while Annabeth fumed about Harvard's meager fifth place, even if she had come out with her own attorney award.

It was hard to hold onto that grudge now, though. When they were on opposite sides of a Mock rivalry (mock as in "trial," the rivalry was very real), he really was handsome, tan with dark hair and very pretty green eyes.

Percy bowed his head towards her, and then held out his hand. It was the first time he'd ever bowed to her. "Lovely to see you again, Princess," he said.

Annabeth took his hand, expecting him to shake it, but he simply kissed it. Annabeth's stomach did a little flip flop, and she was glad she'd agreed to this trip after all.

~

"Riley Winter was obviously the worst one!" Annabeth said. It took all of four minutes alone on the beach for them to start arguing about Mock Trial witnesses.

"Mickey Keenan was way more annoying than him! He was an incompetent cop who obviously entrapped someone," Percy said. "I was so happy when they killed him off for nationals."

"Too bad you lost to Miami that year," Annabeth said.

"Too bad you didn't have the chance to win," Percy said back. Annabeth kicked sand at him.

"Are you in law school?" Annabeth asked.

"Oh, absolutely not. Not cut out for the LSAT, let alone the Bar. I'm doing a masters at Yale," he said, as if that was somehow less impressive than law school.

"Oh? In what?" Annabeth asked.

"Classics. I'm thinking about applying for a Ph.D., but I'm not sure. I'm a bit burnt out at the moment," he said, slumping back in his beach chair for dramatic effect.

Annabeth nodded sympathetically. "Classics is cool, though."

"I'm excited to be in Greece and actually see some of the things I write about," Percy said.

"My dad and I are getting a private tour of the Parthenon this week, if you want to join us," Annabeth offered. "Maybe you could teach us something."

Percy was smiling, really smiling, and excited boyish grin. "Really? Would that be okay?"

Annabeth smiled back. "Sure," she said. She needed to get married, and people were starting to worry she had no real interest in men. Taking Percy, a man she was absolutely interested in, on a trip to the Parthenon might help her in a few different ways.

Percy looked like he was about to say something, but then paused. "Your shoulders are pink," he said. "Want me to get them?"

Annabeth nodded. A nice excuse for some contact.

As Percy rubbed the sunscreen onto her shoulders, chest, and back (both politely trying to ignore how incredibly intimate it was), she asked: "Are you single?" Annabeth couldn't remember seeing any women on his Instagram lately, but maybe he kept those things private.

"I am," Percy said. "I did get out of a relationship a few months ago, though. I'm mostly over it."

"Was it mutual?" She asked.

Percy shrugged. "Hard to say."

"So you got your heart broken?" She deduced.

Percy almost laughed. "A little bit."

"What was her name?"

"Frank," Percy said without hesitation, before looking up and meeting her eyes, assessing her for fear, confusion, or disgust.

Annabeth just nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about that. It sounds like he meant a lot to you."

Percy nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "Yeah," and then he squirted more sunscreen in the other hand, and started on her other shoulder. "I'm not here to use you as a beard, though. I am bisexual, if you ... believe in that sort of thing."

"Be a bit of a raging hypocrisy if I didn't," Annabeth said. Percy's eyes snapped to her face, and she just shrugged and nodded. "I had my own devastating gay break up our senior year. I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital," Annabeth said with a laugh.

"Can I guess who it was?" Percy said, finishing with the sunscreen and sitting back in the sand in front of her. Annabeth stretched a leg out, and Percy started reapply sunscreen to that as well.

"Sure," Annabeth said.

"Tristan McLean's daughter?" He said.

Annabeth laughed. "God, were we that conspicuous?"

"Probably not to straight people," Percy said, "I'm sure to them, you guys looked like very good friends."

~

Before long, it was clear that Annabeth simply could not be in the sun for long without roasting, so Percy suggested they go to the shaded bar up by the resort itself, but still close to the sand. Annabeth had accepted his offer graciously.

Percy covertly texted his cousin while Annabeth used the restroom.

Percy

from your pov, how soon is too soon to kiss the crown princess of a sovereign country

Thals

Well if it's you kissing me, any time would be too soon. if it's the swedish girl. idk go for it if she seems into it

Percy waited a full fifteen minutes after she came back to up the touchy flirting, and Annabeth leaned into it, touching his thigh under the bar and tossing her hair over her (lightly pink) shoulders. Two glasses of wine each later, and their faces were tantalizingly close together.

Annabeth kissed him first in the end, closing the distance between them with a sure and steady kiss that was sophisticated and contained, but did linger.

"So, I guess our rivalry ends here?" Percy suggested.

Annabeth smiled. "Guess so."

~

Thankfully, when her father found her, she was no longer kissing Percy. They'd gone on from their first kiss to their second to their third in record time, before deciding to go somewhere more private.

But it was on their walk to this more private place that they found her dad.

Percy sobered up and remembered his manners right away. Her father hadn't been there for his and hers initial introduction, but Percy carried out the expected protocol flawlessly. Annabeth could have swooned.

"Nice to meet you son. Ambritt, would you like to get dinner?" Her father asked her.

"Oh, sure," Annabeth said, "Percy and I were about to find something to eat ourselves," she said, hoping that didn't read an innuendo, even though it certainly was.

"Ah, well, Percy, you're welcome to join us," her dad offered.

Percy nodded. "I'd be honored, your majesty."

"Oh, please don't bother with all of that, unless you'd like me to start calling you Don Percy," her dad said.

Percy laughed. "Certainly not. But I should change before we go anywhere."

"Me too," Annabeth said.

"Alright, you two head up. I'll make arrangements with Hugo. Do you eat fish?" Her dad asked Percy.

"Sure do," Percy said, before looking at Annabeth, his glance telling her that was also innuendo.

They stepped into the elevator together.

"I forgot your real name was Ambritt," Percy said.

"Sure is. What's 'Percy' in Spanish?" Annabeth asked.

"Perseo, but that's actually one of my middle names. My first name is Pedro," he told her.

"Oh, you are not a Pedro," Annabeth said, taking his hand as the door opened to her floor.

"I agree," he said as she unlocked her hotel room door. "Should I leave you to get ready?"

"In five," she reached between his legs, and her eyes went a bit wide as she realized the size of it, even soft, "maybe ten minutes."

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

BROKEN GLASS-RAFE CAMERON

The night had been a blur of music, flashing lights, and people who didn’t matter. Y/N had spent the evening surrounded by her friends, trying to forget about the one thing that always seemed to haunt her thoughts, the one person who could destroy her with just a glance. Rafe Cameron.

It had been months since they’d last spoken, since the last time he’d shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, but still, every time she closed her eyes, she could feel him. She could feel the weight of his words, the sting of his betrayal, and the way he had walked away like nothing had ever mattered between them.

And yet, here she was, pretending that the night wasn’t tainted by thoughts of him.

The party raged on, but Y/N had long since stopped caring about the laughter, the drinks, the distractions. She was lost in a sea of faces, none of them familiar enough to matter. She could feel her friends’ eyes on her, all of them concerned, but too polite to ask if she was okay. They all knew the story; they all knew what had happened between her and Rafe. And they knew she hadn’t truly moved on.

But she wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced at it and froze. The name on the screen was one she had hoped she would never see again.

Rafe

Her heart skipped a beat before the rational part of her brain kicked in. No. She wasn’t going to do this again. She wasn’t going to let him have the power over her that he’d always had. She swiped the notification away without opening it, shoving the phone back in her pocket.

But then, just as she was about to tell herself it didn’t matter, the door to the party swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Rafe.

The sight of him was like a slap to her chest. He looked disheveled, as if he’d been wandering the streets for hours, the wildness in his eyes a stark contrast to the polished, put together version of himself she had once known. His hair was messy, his face flushed from the alcohol, and he wore that same reckless look she had seen too many times before, like he was chasing something he couldn’t have, and it was tearing him apart.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Y/N," Rafe called out, his voice slurred but desperate. "I need to talk to you."

The room felt like it was spinning around her, her legs suddenly weak beneath her as she tried to steady herself. She hadn’t expected him to show up here, not like this, not after everything that had happened.

But there he was, standing in the doorway like a ghost from her past, and Y/N’s heart betrayed her once again.

The crowd around them went silent, the tension palpable, but Rafe didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were locked on her, like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Please, just hear me out,” he said, stepping closer, his breath stinking of alcohol.

Y/N shook her head, her throat tightening. “Rafe, no. I’m not doing this again.”

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I miss you. I miss everything about you. This is a mess. Everything’s been a mess since you left.”

The words hit her like a wave crashing against a jagged rock, and for a split second, Y/N was back there, back in his arms, feeling like maybe, just maybe, things could work out. But then she remembered. She remembered the lies, the betrayal, the way he’d torn her apart without a second thought.

Her breath quickened, and her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to do this, Rafe. You don’t get to just show up and pretend everything’s fine. You broke me once, and I’m not going to let you do it again.”

He staggered closer, his eyes clouded with something darker than just alcohol. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N. I was stupid. I was selfish. I-”

“Stop.” Her voice cut through the air, raw with emotion. “You don’t get to apologize anymore. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the problem, like it was my fault.”

“I’m not trying to blame you,” Rafe insisted, his voice breaking, a flicker of something real crossing his face. “I just-” He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. “I just want you back. I miss you so much, Y/N. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. Please…”

His words hung in the air between them, sharp and fragile, like glass breaking in slow motion. Every inch of her body screamed at her to walk away, to tell him to leave her alone, to remind him that he had broken her once, and she couldn’t let him do it again.

But there it was again, the pull. The temptation. The echo of the love she had once felt for him.

She knew what would happen. She knew that if she let him back in, he would tear her apart once more. But a part of her, just the smallest, most fragile part, was aching to believe him. Was aching to believe that he was different this time, that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

Her heart wavered as Rafe reached out to touch her arm, his fingers warm against her cold skin. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the weight of the past few months wash over her.

“You hurt me, Rafe,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You hurt me in ways I can’t even explain. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like everything we had meant nothing.”

He flinched, his hand falling away as though she had burned him. “I never meant to do that, Y/N. I was stupid. I didn’t know how to handle everything...how to handle us. But I swear, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ll prove it to you.”

Her chest tightened with the familiar ache, the remnants of the love she had once felt for him. But deep down, she knew the truth.

Every time she let him back in, he broke her again. Every time he promised to change, he let her down. She had spent so many nights picking up the pieces of her heart, trying to glue it back together, but with each piece, she lost a little more of herself.

And now, standing in front of him, with those same broken promises in his eyes, Y/N realized she couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep giving him the power to destroy her over and over again.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “I can’t keep letting you in. You’ve broken me too many times. I can’t keep losing myself for you.”

Rafe’s face crumpled, like the weight of her words had physically struck him. “Please, Y/N, don’t-”

But she was already backing away, shaking her head as her heart shattered into a thousand more pieces. “I’m done, Rafe. I’m finally done.”

And as she turned and walked away, she realized that this time, for the first time in forever, she was walking away for herself. Not for him. Not for the promises he never kept. She was walking away because she knew she deserved better than a love that would only ever break her.

She wasn’t going to let him destroy her again.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[blushblushbear]

heyoo! I got a crazy idea to ask about.

what if Marshmellow was a reincarnation of Natsu? 👀 how would the three kits react and if they would still love them?

Oh man-- this is a tricky one.

I really think a lot of it comes down to what their relationship was like with Natsu before hand.

So obviously I have my own bias, I have my own version of the way things all played out in my head, but it DOES seem to be the general consensus that Natsu's relationship with everyone was-- at least at one point-- positive.

But the biggest aspects of it all really are going to come down to the nature of those relationships (for instance, your version of Natsu and Fuyu have a father/son dynamic that I can't imagine not getting weir after everything starts to click and marshmallow starts to remember things lol)

but for the sake of argument let's go down two routes--

route 1 is going to be the relationship with everyone was good and positive but not necessarily overly familiar (as non-overly familiar as what is essentially powerful immortal co-workers your stuck with for hundreds of years goes) so basically they know him but no body's like--- DATING or anything

and then route 2 is, regardless of whether or not they were actually dating before hand, there was a closeness there that bordered on the romantic or there was just sparks their otherwise

Also for the sake of all this this isn't like--- a second Natsu. This is not Natsu 2 electric boogaloo, they just have the same spirit and energy about them but Marshmallow is DEF their own individual

So-- all of them, at one point or another, thought it at least once while getting to know you.

'They remind me so much of Natsu.'

And this thought-- it was always a bitter sweet mix of wistful and mourning.

They always chalked it up to a quintessence. In all their years, all 3 have known too many people to not know that some people are just alike. That they have the same energy and way of going through the world. Kindred spirits, and such.

But then comes a time, and the details are ultimately superfluous to the revelation that follows, where it's confirmed that you share the spirit of Natsu quite literally. Through some twist of fate, they have all met and have fallen for Natsu's reincarnation.

And what happens next-- well...

Aki;

Route 1: Aki is actually a little excited to hear that you were a kistune in another life. And even more excited that the summer clan has hope to come back. I think he jokes a bit that you're Natsu (like he calls you Natsu for a bit), but ultimately he knows you're you. And he loves that you. And whatever you decide to do with this new information, he intends to stay by your side. Just, maybe keep your distance from Fuyu...

Route 2: He's actually a weird mix of excitedly relieved and panicked confliction. On the one hand it's very sweet that his first loves soul made it's way back to him and he fell in love with that spirit all over again. But on the other, he was sure he'd finally gotten over that heartbreak, and now that it's all back on his door step he's sort of realizing that whoever you are, either now or before, he never really got over you. One thing is for certain though, Aki just got a whole lot more protective. He's not going through that loss again. And he's DEFINITELY keeping you away from Fuyu.

Haru;

Route 1: He finds it a bit darkly hilarious. Can't keep the spirit of the summer clan down I guess. He wonders a bit if he'd be this resilient if he were in your shoes. Regardless, he is legitimately revealing in the fact that Fuyu's biggest dramatic act of power is being undercut by one lone mortal. This should knock that pompous asshole off his stuck up high horse. Also he has to admit, it is pretty sweet how he was so appealing your spirit just couldn't stay away. ;3 (also if Fuyu thinks he's coming near you he has another thing coming.)

Route 2: He still finds it funny you're undermining Fuyu by existing, and he still finds it romantic that your immortal souls just couldn't stay apart, but he's a lot more worried about what all this means. He's also processing how-- he was definitely heart broken when Natsu died, but they were never anything too deep (at least not yet), so he could mourn and then move on. And he thought he had moved on to you, and he did, but now with this complication, made all the more messy by the fact that he's in so much deeper than he's ever been before-- he's almost certain losing you this time would kill him. He's got a lot of thinking to do... mostly about how you get rid of any winter foxes that may darken your door...

Fuyu; (OH BOY)

Route 1: He is SO. UTTERLY. CONFLICTED. On the one hand your very existence undermines his biggest display of power and magnitude that he has ever managed to accomplish. Not to mention the fact that the spirit of the summer clan lives in you means that they may return-- and they may return in force? Can he do that all again? Can he wipe out the summer clan a second time? No. He couldn't... even if he was physically capable, he no longer has the heart to do so. The amount of regret that weighed on his heart since that day-- it's a weight he couldn't carry again... if for no other reason that you had lifted it off his shoulders. After holding onto it so desperately for so long, after centuries of convincing himself he was ultimately in the right because to be otherwise would make him a monster, he had doubled down. He had become the worst possible version of himself, trying to convince himself that the ends justified the means. But you helped him heal. You helped him move on from the bitterness that he allowed himself to stew in. Helped him cope with the grief he had only himself to blame. Helped him to feel warmth for the first time in who knows how long. After you opened his eyes, he finally felt like himself again. And yet here you were-- standing before him, once again in innocent defiance. But maybe that is why you were here. Maybe this was fate. Maybe this was your way of returning to him to show him true mercy. Forgiveness.

Or maybe this is just another way to torment him. All his love poured into you. And yet any love you give to him feels so undeserved. Maybe he doesn't deserve this forgiveness. This happiness. This relief. Your smile.

Maybe he has a lot to think about...

Route 2: Once he found out, his eyes were locked on you. In a way, his biggest regret had come back to haunt him. His grief had been given human form and came to be his salvation. And as the pieces fall into place he realized how undeserving he is of this all. He drops to his knees in an instant, tears streaming down his face and he heaves out shouted apologies between sobs. His head on the ground before you, begging forgiveness he knows he will never deserve. He can't look at you in the eyes... You were all he had ever wanted, but how is he going to face you...

[mylovesstuffs]

Suga version !

series masterlist

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Suga has always had a soft spot for you, even if he hides it well. He’ll listen intently when you talk, offering quiet advice or sarcastic quips, but he’s much softer with you than he is with most people.

He notices everything about you: the way you furrow your brows when concentrating, the lilt in your laugh, or the way your eyes light up when talking about something you love.

While he seems indifferent to most people, he gets uncharacteristically protective of you. If anyone bothers you at work or on the street, he steps in with a calm but menacing aura.

He shows his affection through actions: fixing your broken headphones, bringing you coffee when you’re stressed, or leaving little notes reminding you to take care of yourself.

Suga doesn’t outwardly react when he notices you spending more time with your guy best friend, but he observes everything. His sharp eyes catch the way you smile at your friend, and it stings more than he’d like to admit.

He starts making sarcastic comments like, “Wow, you’re spending a lot of time with him lately. Does he have a punch card for your attention or something?”

Normally calm and collected, he becomes more irritable and distant when jealousy consumes him. If you ask him what’s wrong, he just mutters, “Nothing,” and brushes it off.

When he sees you laughing with your guy best friend, something snaps. He walks over, mumbles a curt excuse like, “We need to go,” and practically drags you away, ignoring your protests.

Once you’re alone, he doesn’t explain himself. He’s annoyed—both at you and himself for caring so much. He eventually mutters, “It’s nothing. Just forget it,” leaving you confused but worried about him.

Suga debates whether he should confess or stay quiet. He knows you like someone else, and the fear of ruining your friendship holds him back.

When you ask him why he’s acting strange, he stares at you for a long moment, his lips parting as if to say something—but he just shakes his head and changes the subject.

He starts pulling back, thinking it’s better for his sanity. He avoids your calls and texts, hoping to smother his feelings, but it only makes him miss you more.

One evening, after you confront him about his behavior, he finally snaps. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, frustration spilling over. “Do you know how hard it is to watch you chase after someone else when I—” He stops himself, looking away.

His words linger in your mind, and you start piecing things together: the way he’s always been there for you, the small gestures. You realize his feelings and begin to question your own.

Days later, you approach him, hesitant but determined. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t think you’d feel the same,” he admits softly.

You surprise him by saying, “Maybe I didn’t see it before, maybe I didn't believe it before but I’m starting to.” His eyes widen, disbelief flickering across his face before softening into a hopeful smile.

True to Suga’s style, your relationship develops slowly and naturally. He’s still reserved, but his actions speak louder than words—like holding your hand when you’re nervous or pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before saying goodnight.

Closure: Suga’s love is quiet but unwavering, and once you start to see it, you realize it was there all along. Though it took jealousy and frustration to bring his feelings to light, the bond between you only deepens, evolving into a love built on trust, understanding, and the quiet moments that mean everything.

After realizing your feelings for each other, things between you and Suga take a turn for the sweeter—and spicier heheheheh.

Suga loves quiet moments with you, like napping on the couch while your fingers run through his hair.

He has a way of catching you off guard with sudden affection. One minute, he’s scrolling through his phone, and the next, he’s pulling you into his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Yoongi doesn’t hover, but he’s always looking out for you. If you’re cold, he’ll drape his jacket over your shoulders without a word. If you’re stressed, he’ll brew your favorite tea and quietly leave it on your desk.

He won’t say it outright, but you can tell when his lyrics are about you. The way he describes love—gentle, steady, and consuming—sounds suspiciously familiar.

Suga’s sarcasm turns into playful teasing in your relationship. He’ll smirk and say something weird like, “Who knew someone as chaotic as you would catch my attention?” but his eyes are full of fondness.

He’s always touching you in subtle but electrifying ways. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing your neck as he tucks your hair behind your ear, or his thumb tracing circles on your palm while you’re holding hands.

Yoongi knows the effect his deep, raspy voice has on you (AHH). He’ll lean in close, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmurs something teasing or affectionate, leaving you flustered.

His kisses are either feather-light, teasing you just enough to leave you wanting more, or slow and lingering, like he’s savoring every second. There’s no in-between, and it always leaves your heart racing.

Yoongi has a way of looking at you that turns your knees to jelly.

While he’s reserved in public, Yoongi is surprisingly confident and assertive when you’re alone. He loves making you blush and revels in how easily he can leave you speechless.

He’s attentive and focused, always making sure you’re comfortable and happy. His approach is patient and deliberate, ensuring every moment feels special.

Post-intimate moments, he’s incredibly caring. He’ll bring you water, wrap you in his arms, and quietly hum a tune to help you relax. It’s these small gestures that show how deeply he loves you.

He won’t say it outright, but you can feel it when his arm snakes around your waist at a party or when he gives a warning glance to anyone getting too friendly with you.

He loves you a lot.