#or nightmare. but it's all the same to me.

[genderqueerdykes]

holy shit wait…your 32???

I…im gonna cry

I didn’t know we can live this long…

not just trans mass but…

alterhuman…and plurals..and…

I can’t…

so happy

gonna cry……..

yes i am! i was born in 1992 :)

that's exactly why i have my age in my bio- i've wanted to show people that you don't "outgrow" fundamental parts of your identity. it's natural to adopt and shed identities as we age, but i've been out as genderqueer since 19! nothing has changed, i'm still the same genderqueer person i was all those years ago!

and if anything- life has gotten better in my 30s. as a word of advice to most people out there: your teen years and your twenties FUCKING SUCK!!!!!!!! they tell you those are the "best years of your life" but they're NOT- you're growing into a world that is terrifying and doesn't understand you. you're scared. your brain and body are still developing and you're constantly facing new challenges. those are honestly i think the HARDEST years of your life, hands down

when i was a teenager, i would think to myself "phht there's literally no way i'm making it past 25 lmao" and figure that life ends after 25. well, that day came where i turned 25... and nothing changed.

and then i turned 30. still, nothing changed

now i'm 32 and... nothing has changed. maturation happens with age, yes, but it doesn't mean that you're suddenly a completely different person. people have such a shitty view on 30 year olds, like it's somehow "embarrassing" to be above the age of 25 years old. people in their 30s are constantly picked on, we're constantly told to "act our age" when... we are. i'm happier than ever realizing that I made it to my 30s, still trans, still nonhuman, still plural

i've been in treatment for DID since 2017, and while i've healed a lot, i have not integrated with my alters, and i never will. i don't want to. this is how my brain functions. the dissociation can be a nightmare for me, but my brain needs different people inside of it in order to be able to function properly. we tried to force ourselves to live as a singlet for 3 years and what ended up happening was that host at that time cracked from being under the constant pressure and still has never returned. the amount of stress it placed on us to try to live as a singlet was not worth it. at all

there hasn't been a singular moment in my adult life where i stopped being nonhuman, either. that was something that i never even tried to force myself out of. i never viewed it as weird or something that i should "outgrow"- i told my own mother that i did not identify as human as a child and that never left me. even now, i still wear dog collars, ears, tails, and take nature walks and do things to make myself feel more like my nonhuman selves. i'm still a furry, too!

i might not be a queer "elder" yet, but i'm happy as can be to be able to be an older queer person who can use their experience to help younger folks. thanks for sending this message! trust me, there really is a life after your 20s. your teens and 20s suck massively. but after i passed 30 i became more down to earth about my age. it's not a bad thing to live past 20- in fact, it's a badge of honor. i made it. i'm still breathing, i'm still here, still queer, despite all attempts to prevent me from still being here.

i'm going to continue be here for a long, long time, and you can be here with me, too.

take care of yourself! thanks for stopping by!

[llamagoddessofficial]

Got ideas. Dust and Killer are both crows/magpies, Horror's a harpy egal, Nightmare's a falcon- honestly not sure what bird would fit him cause I'm kinda scared of birds ngl

Anon don't even get me fucking started on harpies I WILL sit you all down and make you listen to me talk for hours about my bird headcanons.

Dust has always struck me as having the wings of a goshawk. A solitary, silent hunter, agile and terrifying, waiting for the perfect moment then striking with frightening precision but ferocious power. Beautiful steely grey wings too - look up "goshawk eyes" and you'll be in for a treat. The dust gathered in his wings makes them very soft to the touch.

Horror is a big beautiful vulture. A large and powerful bird that picks bones clean - and eats the bones too, if that option is available. He might smell a little (the stench of blood and meat clings to every feather), but I imagine he'd be the nicest of them all to cuddle. He fluffs up when you give him affection.

Killer has always given me kestrel vibes. A little smaller than the others but no less effective, far more energetic and active, alarmingly fast, using speed and precision to overwhelm opponents rather than needing brute force. The black and white wing pattern matches him, too. He has a habit of cooing like a dove when you're nice to him.

Also... Kestrels have the same 'tear tracks' as Killer. I feel like this bird was made for him.

Nightmare... an owl. Obviously. The big, beautiful midnight black wings of an owl. He rarely flies, but when he does, he's as silent as death. No one ever sees him coming.

Once, he probably had wings more like this. Beautiful soft plumage. But the miasma has sunk deep into every feather, and now, they're black with an oil-like sheen.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Funny thing just happened at the Friendsgiving I was just at. My friend who is also in danmei hell mentioned Scum Villain fic, and I was like, “oh I’m actually writing one at the moment.” So per their request, I sent them the link, and it turns they were already reading this fic. Like, they had read it within the last 24 hours.

Always bizarre to know real people read my writing. Not bad! It feels very nice actually. Putting stuff online can often feel so abstract and for an often friendly and also faceless audience (hi). Then something happens, and you get reminded that any audience is made up of individual people who exist outside the internet. I’ve gotten the same feeling when I run into someone irl who recognizes my blog. On those very rare occasions, I am so deeply flattered and also blindsided that my higher cognitive functions shut down.

The reverse happened to me last year where I went to a book signing with Shelley Parker-Chan. There was a Q&A, so they’re twenty feet away from me, answering questions about She Who Became the Sun, a novel I absolutely adored reading. And I’m like, that’s just a person. Everything I love and admire were made by people who are just people. There isn’t this clear delineation between me and the people I respect.

I struggle with this idea that I have to become a different version of myself before I can do what I want to do. It becomes a paradoxical nightmare. Authors write novels, and since I haven’t written a novel, I can’t be an Author, and if I’m not an Author, I can’t write a novel. It’s good for me to be periodically confronted by proof that this is complete bullshit. You do the things you want to do to become the person you want to become, and that person is not a dramatic transformation from your current self. It’s just you, having done the thing you want to do and all the work it took to do it.

And at that book signing, for the first time in months, maybe years, I really really really wanted to write. I wanted to write a novel I was proud of and present it for other people to read. I wanted to be on a small stage answering questions about a book I wrote that someone else adores. I hadn’t realized that I thought doing that was impossible until I realized that actually it was attainable. Everything’s just people, all the way down.

[loulovingho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[vanglaggle]

something i do not like in writing, is when people make dust and horror extremely replaceable in the bad sanses

more specifically, when nightmare has had "hundreds" of previous dusts and horrors, and killer stopped caring about them or sees them as disposable too. it feels weird to make killer have the same views as nightmare.

to me, i see it as favoritism. you don't give me reason to care about dust or horror in this context when they just die and nightmare "gets a new one" all the time. it feels like an excuse to just focus on killer.

dust and horror are not weak, and I'd say they're not even weaker than killer. i think it's weird to make him the absolute strongest as an excuse to only keep him.

plus i see a lot of "horror wouldn't join the bad sanses." who would? neither dust or killer would want to, or even decide to. you're telling me they'd trade their situation for a worse one, willingly? okay.

and horror and dust are not stupid, they would also pick up on nightmare's mannerisms just like killer would. horror isn't just paranoid, he's also scarily observant. he wouldn't go "how did you know that??" it's another version of stupid horror. dust is also scarily observant, that came free with him being sans. making them unobservant is just another reason to make killer the smarter one.

this too, i personally not think nightmare would be able to keep any of them. what's the point? they'd be killing themselves at that point. i think they would die by their own hand more often than from in battle. why wouldn't they? sure nightmare can threaten to kill horror's brother but how long would that work? and ESPECIALLY dust. there's no leverage for him because everyone is already dead. the idea that nightmare cam just get hundreds of them and they all do his bidding is bad writing.

they're not replaceable, every version of them is different and unpredictable, and i personally can't enjoy any fiction when it's written like this.

there could be a lot of "well that's the point!!" i don't care. i don't like it.

[badler1]

I'm not a Sainz hater. I don't hate any of them because they are just people doing their jobs and they are so far removed from me and all of us (everything F1 shows us is a PR stunt). But I really do love a lot of them, even if a lot of what we are shown of these drivers is filtered. I love Verstappen, I love Colapinto, I love Russell. And my favorite has always, always been LeClerc because I think he is a brilliant driver. He has been a solid driver since he started at Ferrari, even when he's been given a shit car and even shittier strategy. He is fighting for the vice championship right now and WCC, and honestly? If I was in his shoes I'd be pissed as hell too. He had an AMAZING start at yesterday's race and had the chance to make poll but because of his team and teammate's actions he couldn't make it. What Sainz did makes sense for him, yes, maybe, because he's leaving Ferrari. But he's still at Ferrari now. The opportunity for LeClerc to get second in the WDC (which is a pretty fucking big deal) would be amazing for Ferrari and for all those involved, including Sainz. Yes, he's leaving the team. But wouldn't it be better to go out with his team on a high? I think the switching opinions and everything makes this sport really complicated and the online community really shit sometimes. People hated Verstappen for the exact. same. thing. Leclerc did last night: calling out his teammates, calling out the team, calling out the car, being a PR nightmare...and now all those people are posting "M4x" and saying he's the next GOAT. All I'm saying is that I think that Charles didn't do anything that we haven't seen of drivers before. All these guys have an attitude (save for Piastri, maybe, that guy has a cool head on him). All of them want to do their best and get frustrated when they get undermined in doing that. LeClerc has been Ferrari's golden boy for years, championing the team time and time again even when they continually screw him over. Everyone has a breaking point. And if I was jet lagged, adrenaline high, tired, had not gained any positions, narrowly missed poll, suffered through bad Ferrari strategy all year, AND had my teammate ignore team orders when I was the one fighting for vice championship, not him? Yeah. I'd snap too. Honestly, maybe it was time. Maybe Charles anger towards Ferrari is not as misplaced as it seems---I mean, Sainz got screwed over by them too, did he not?

Also, I'm sorry. But the whole debate about the "Tell him in Spanish" thing everywhere is absolutely ridiculous. Carlos Sainz is from Spain and speaks Spanish and is also white. That was not racist; it was just fucking hilarious. Like the level of bitchiness LeClerc has is what I aspire to have. No one has any problems with people making fun of Charles for his English or for derogatory comments about the French. So just. Take it for what it is: a twenty-seven year old being a diva, and enjoy the drama.

so let me this straight, charles leclerc cannot, absolutely, for no reason, lash out ONE time at his team after being constantly screwed over by them, but another driver’s family member can like a degrading tweets about him and it’s all fine? we’re all supposed to forget about that and act like it never happened? fuck that honestly.

charles has always played the team game, always. singapore, australia, mexico, hell even japan because he’s supposed to have faith that the team and his teammate will follow through on what they discussed before hand. they are fighting for a wcc, personal results (getting one over on your teammate) matter less than team results. what was a potential p2-p3 for the team was ruined by a single decision one person made. he made the overtake, overtook verstappen but then couldn’t break the drs train and fucked over the teams overall results.

every single time charles has had the opportunity to fight against his teammate for the win THIS SEASON he’s been told to hold back. there were actual complaints in mexico from his teammate when there was a NINE SECOND gap. there was an agreement this weekend that the team came to that BOTH drivers were aware of. one driver was going to, assumably charles, get priority, over his teammate and his teammate disobeyed those orders. this isn’t the first time it’s happened, but it probably is the last considering his teammate is leaving at the end of the season. one can hope that after today charles won’t take anymore of this bullshit.

it’s hypocrisy, plain and simple. it’s hypocrisy from sainz and it’s hypocrisy from his teammates fans. mind you these are the same fans who threw a tantrum over arthur leclerc ALLEGEDLY driving car 55 in abu dhabi for fp1. they were calling it nepotism as if the call isn’t coming from inside the house. the constant hypocrisy from the other driver and his fans is what makes me glad he’s leaving the team. good fucking riddance.

if you ever, and i mean ever want to question why mercedes or red bull didn’t sign sainz it’s because of this. his actions today, and through out the season alone, have showed that no, he is NOT a team player despite whatever narrative he tried to push. he is only a team player when it is convenient to him, and even then he still find some shit to complain about.

[pandapetals]

Couple Questions

You and Logan answer some cute couple questions!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: not the usual update but I saw some couple questions on pinterest and thought you know what…im gonna do this because it’s cute. i may or may not also have headcanons for them lol.

What were your first impressions of each other?

You : grinning "I thought he was rude. He barely said hello when I first arrived at the mansion, just mumbled something and walked away like I wasn’t worth his time."

Logan : smirking "To be fair, I had a lot on my mind."

You : "But then I caught him staring at me in the library one day, and I thought, ‘Huh, maybe he’s not as grumpy as he looks.’ Turns out I was wrong—he’s grumpier.” teasingly nudges him

Logan : chuckling "You done? ‘Cause my first impression was that you talked too much."

You : mock gasp "Excuse me?!"

Logan : shrugging "But you had this fire about you. Didn’t take crap from anyone. Thought that was… different." pauses, his voice softening "And your laugh. First time I heard it, I couldn’t get it outta my head."

Describe the moment each of you knew you had feelings for each other.

You : thoughtful smile "I think it was when Jean told me Logan liked me. It just… clicked. All the banter, the little glances, the way he’d hover nearby even though he pretended not to care—it all made sense. Once I realized it, it was like… yeah, I like him too. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time."

Logan : scratching the back of his neck, pretending to look annoyed "She’s makin’ me sound soft already."

You : "You are soft."

Logan : ignoring her "For me, it was probably when I realized she wasn’t offended by my attitude. That’s when I knew she wasn’t just anyone. She was my someone."

Did either of you fight your feelings, or was it easy to accept?

You : snorting "Oh, we both fought it. He avoided me a lot of the time. I overthought everything —does he like me? What if I’m imagining it? What if I ruin our friendship?"

Logan : dryly "You do think too much. Me? I didn’t avoid you."

You : glaring playfully "You literally avoided the library for two weeks, and that’s your favorite place!"

Logan : grinning faintly "Alright, fine. Maybe I fought it a little. Was scared I’d mess things up. Didn’t think someone like you would want someone like me."

You : softly, brushing his hand "You’re an idiot for thinking that, but you’re my idiot."

When was the first time you said “I love you”? What prompted it?

You : "It was after a nightmare. Logan woke up in a cold sweat, muttering apologies for scaring me. But he hadn’t scared me—I just wanted to comfort him. And in the middle of me rambling about how it was okay, it just came out: ‘I love you.’"

Logan : quietly "Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from someone. But when she said it, I couldn’t stop myself. Told her I loved her right back."

You : smiling softly "And then you called me a ‘damn fool’ for putting up with you."

Logan : shrugging "I stand by it."

Who is the big spoon, who is the little spoon?

You : "Oh, Logan’s the big spoon, obviously. But sometimes I’ll be the big spoon when he’s had a rough day. He pretends to hate it, but I know he secretly likes it."

Logan : grumbling "I don’t need a damn cocoon, sweetheart."

You : grinning "But you still let me."

What’s your favorite quality about each other?

You : "Logan’s loyalty. He’ll protect the people he loves with everything he has, even when he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved back."

Logan : looking at her, his voice softer "Her heart. She’s got this way of makin’ everyone feel like they matter. Like they’re worth somethin’. That’s rare."

You : teasingly "Stop, you’re gonna make me cry."

Logan : smirking "Good. Payback for all the times you make me feel stuff."

Who is the messiest?

You : raising her hand immediately "Me. Absolutely me."

Logan : snorting "Finally, somethin’ we agree on."

You : "Hey, at least I know where everything is in my mess. Your ‘organized’ piles confuse me."

Logan : "It ain’t hard, darlin’. One pile’s for weapons, the other’s for books. What’s so confusin’?"

Who sings in the shower?

You : grinning mischievously "Logan does. And he doesn’t even realize it half the time. It’s adorable."

Logan : deadpan "I don’t sing in the shower."

You : "Oh, so the other day when I walked by and heard you mumbling ‘Sweet Caroline’ under your breath, that wasn’t you?"

Logan : grumbling "I was hummin’ it. There’s a difference."

You : sarcastically "Sure, tough guy. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Who likes horror movies? Who likes romance movies?

You : grinning "Logan likes horror movies, obviously. He’ll sit there, all serious, like nothing phases him. But I swear I caught him flinch once during The Exorcist ."

Logan : gruffly "Did not."

You : "You did. Anyway, I like romance movies. Logan pretends to hate them, but he always ends up watching them with me."

Logan : smirking "That’s ‘cause I know you’ll cry, and I gotta be ready to hand you tissues."

You : rolling her eyes "And yet, who was tearing up during The Notebook last week? Hmm?"

Logan : groaning "Alright, fine. I might like some of ‘em. But don’t go tellin’ anyone."

You : "Oh, your secret’s safe with me. But I’ll totally remind you next time we watch Pride and Prejudice ."

Logan : grinning, pulling her closer "You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart."

What’s your favorite memory of us?

You:thoughtfully smiling “That’s hard to pick. But… I think it was when you planned that romantic getaway for my birthday—you bought me that dress. Or when you wrote that for me poem and gave it to me for Christmas.”

Logan:grinning faintly “You mean the one where you cried ‘cause I wrote you that little poem in the book?”

You:mock gasping “You wrote me a poem , Logan. Of course, I cried! I still have that dress, by the way.”

Logan:chuckling, his voice softer now “That was a good one. But for me? I think it’s our wedding. Just you, me, and those vows I wrote on a scrap of paper. You called me an idiot for cryin’ halfway through.”

You:sniffing dramatically “And I’ll call you an idiot for it again, but only because you cried first. You set me off.”

Logan:smirking “You weren’t even gonna cry ‘til I pulled out that damn lucky pen you gave me.”

You:“Well, yeah, it’s our lucky pen, Logan! What did you expect?”

Hugs or kisses?

You:grinning slyly “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Logan:raising an eyebrow “Really? I’d say hugs.”

You:blinking in mock surprise “Logan Howlett likes hugs? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Logan:shrugging, smirking a little “What can I say? There’s somethin’ about you wrappin’ yourself around me that just feels right.”

You:melting a little before recovering quickly “Okay, you win that one. But kisses still come with extra perks.”

Logan:grinning wickedly “Oh, I know.”

Who finds it harder to admit they’re wrong?

You:“Oh, Logan. 100% Logan.”

Logan:gruffly “What? That’s not true.”

You:glaring playfully “Logan, you once argued with me for three hours about the best way to cook eggs—only to realize you were wrong and never admit it.”

Logan:grumbling “That’s ‘cause your way still doesn’t make sense.”

You:crossing her arms “Oh, it makes perfect sense, tough guy. You’re just stubborn.”

Logan:grinning faintly “Alright, fine. Maybe I don’t like bein’ wrong.”

You:“Maybe?!”

Who’s the boss in the marriage?

You:smirking, pointing to herself “Obviously me.”

Logan:laughing softly “Yeah, you think so, huh?”

You:“Logan, who does the meal planning? The laundry schedules? Who makes sure you actually remember birthdays and anniversaries?”

Logan:grinning “Alright, you. But who fixes stuff when it breaks? Who makes sure no one bothers you when you’re havin’ a bad day? Who makes the coffee in the mornin’ exactly how you like it?”

You:softening, smiling sweetly “Alright, fine. We’re both the boss in different ways. But let’s be honest—when it comes to arguments, you fold first.”

Logan:mock scowling “Only ‘cause you give me those damn eyes. Ain’t fair.”

Who has the best jokes?

You:grinning smugly “Me. Hands down.”

Logan:snorting “Yeah, okay. But only ‘cause your jokes are so bad, they’re funny.”

You:“Excuse me?!”

Logan:grinning “Sweetheart, half your jokes are puns. Don’t get me wrong, I love seein’ you crack yourself up, but best jokes? Nah.”

You:frowning in mock offense “Fine, then let’s hear one of your so-called ‘good’ jokes.”

Logan:deadpan “Why’d the history book break up with the science book? No chemistry.”

You:blinking, then laughing despite herself “Okay, that was actually pretty good. Damn it.”

Who is grumpier?

You:“Oh, Logan. No contest.”

Logan:shrugging, unbothered “Yeah, probably.”

You:giggling “You’re basically a walking thundercloud until you’ve had your coffee. And even then, you’ve got about an hour before you start growling at people.”

Logan:smirking “That’s true, but you’re no ray of sunshine when you’re hungry.”

Who gets angry when they’re hungry?

You:immediately “Okay, fine. That’s me. But in my defense, you always know when to feed me before I get too hangry.”

Logan:chuckling “Damn right I do. Learned that the hard way on one of our first dates.”

You:giggling “Oh, you mean the time you forgot to feed me after making me hike five miles, and I almost bit your head off?”

Logan:grinning “Yup. You didn’t even wait for the food to hit the table before tearin’ into me. Thought I was gonna lose a hand.”

You:grinning sheepishly “Hey, at least you didn’t run for the hills.”

Logan:softly, leaning closer “Nah, sweetheart. I’d take your hangry self over anyone else any day.”

[charliekomori]

Hihi Hailey! I was wondering what the diaboys and Yui's hugs would feel like??

If you hold me till dawn.

Summary: What does it feel like, to hug them?

Characters: Shu Sakamaki, Kou Mukami, Ayato Sakamaki, Yuma Mukami, Laito Sakamaki, Kanato Sakamaki, Ruki Mukami, Subaru Sakamaki, Reiji Sakamaki, Azusa Mukami, Yui Komori, gn! reader.

Tags/warnings: fluff, sweet hugs, very very mild angst if you squint.

Author's note: Hi, Mags and thank you so much for your request! I'm sorry it took so long to write it, but I wanted it to be as perfect as I could make it. I didn't include Kino and the Tsukinamis since I don't know enough about them as of now. I still hope you like it ♡

❀ Shu Sakamaki – First dawn.

“The quiet of the world beneath gilded auroras and lingering dreams.”

Shu’s hugs are, first and foremost, warm.

Perhaps it is in his touch when he’s not fully woken yet that he conveys what his words don’t.

Sometimes his shows of affection make you crack a smile, when he claims “I was cold while sleeping” and casually wraps his strong arms around you.

Turning around in his hold, you trace his handsome features with your fingertips.

That is, until he takes your hand in his.

Eyes the color of the sky at the time when the world hasn’t risen yet meet yours.

He softly bites the tip of your finger, before his grip on you tightens and he goes back to sleep.

Neither of you have a blanket.

And yet, you don’t need it.

Not when his embrace is like the molten rays of first dawn.

❀ Kou Mukami – Cornflower blue mornings.

“The beauty of a pure blue sky, with the cheerfulness of sunlight. Yet sometimes, that light is fractured, leaving behind the desperation of cerulean patches amidst stormy clouds.”

Kou’s touches and embraces are another part of the charm with which he puts you under his spell.

And you’d be lying if you didn’t say you fell into it willingly.

His hugs are playful, lighthearted, loving, and at all times. Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or in private, he just needs you in the same way his lungs need the oxygen he breathes.

Kou adores teasing you and flustering you. He loves hugs in the morning, when he’s still sleepy, his messy hair tickling your neck and not letting you leave bed.

When he holds you like that, you feel like you’re in a rose colored world.

Except when the peace shatters and nightmares come to haunt him.

In his sleep, the sparkling idol is nowhere to be seen, leaving in his wake the scared boy he once was, desperately reaching for a promised sky that did not exist.

This time, however, his hand finds another.

Ready to never let him go again, to stay with him, even if the storm won’t cease.

You are there, reaching for cornflower blue mornings with him.

❀ Ayato Sakamaki – The blazing midday Sun.

“He is the intensity of noon’s heat on your back; the searing sensation of Icarus’ wings melting, only to plummet you into the arms of your beloved.”

Ayato is the personification of intensity. The picture perfect image of confidence.

That is palpable in the way he holds you too.

He is not shy to initiate physical contact with you, especially in public, to let others know you’re his.

His embrace is tight, but not so much that you can’t pull away if you so desire (though he’d sulk if you did that - there, there, Ayato).

Then there’s times when he just silently embraces you from behind, no words exchanged.

It’s usually on moments when he knows you’re struggling or feel sad.

So if you’d rather not talk about it, he’ll at least warm your wavering heart, just as the blazing midday Sun on your back.

❀ Yuma Mukami – Fiery afternoon.

“He is both the intensity of a crackling fire and the gentle light that filters through the window as you sit before the swirling flames.”

While he may seem a little rough around the edges, Yuma loves deeply and is one of the most loyal guys you can find.

That is very obvious in the way he embraces you.

It feels comfortable to lean your head on his broad chest or be enveloped by those strong arms of his that would protect you from anything.

You feel safe, and when he softly leans his head on top of yours, it’s as if time stopped at that moment of day when the world dyes in gold.

There’s other instances, however, when you have to ask him not to squeeze you so hard or you won't be able to breathe.

The sheepish smile he offers you in return is too cute, so it’s totally worth it. Like staring skywards even if you’re busy working at the garden, just to catch a glimpse of the fiery afternoon.

❀ Laito Sakamaki – Sensuous sunsets.

“The sinful secrets concealed in the half light of twilight; a fox-like stare that reads the sweet nothings you want to hear.”

The truth of the words he whispers carelessly hides behind the deadly sin of lust.

Due to his upbringing, Laito sees affection as just a state of pleasure, something physical.

Until you came along.

Now he is at war with himself.

This is not what he usually feels. This warmth in his heart… Is this the meaning of those words he throws like nothing?

His touches are still suggestive every time he hugs you, fingertips lingering a little too long over every spot he knows will make you shiver; those lips of his that used to tell you pretty lies now map out every inch of you in a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

In between Laito’s arms, your eyes meet his.

You wonder if he can see right through you.

You want to hear him say ‘I love you.’

And, above all else, you want him to mean it.

His hold on you tightens.

Leaning against his chest, you watch the golden hour slip away.

His heartbeat is a little erratic.

And when, in the sensuality of an ephemeral sunset, he voices his next words, you know he means every single one.

‘I love you too, Laito.’ Is the silent response you give him with the world’s softest kiss.

❀ Kanato Sakamaki – Vices at dusk.

“An autumn night’s first light, through naked trees; A graveyard that looks as eerie as it is beautiful; As long as you stare into his lilac eyes.”

Kanato holds you like one would his soulmate on the brink of death; he hugs you like you’re going to slip away; his arms tighten around you because you’re only his.

He doesn’t want you to put your attention on anyone else but him, but he is also viscerally terrified of losing you.

Like a child cradling his new favorite toy for the first time, the sweet scent of raspberry pudding intoxicates you eternally now. And you’d be lying if you said you could live without it from now on.

As Kanato holds you, he is both gentle and menacing; the wordless warning that if you leave his arms you won’t make it out alive.

Why would you ever want to walk away, however? When he is the vice you want to drown in, today and every single dusk until the day you no longer breathe?

❀ Subaru Sakamaki – First moonlight.

“Luminescent white petals, guarded by thorns; And yet so delicate on the breeze of witching hours.”

Needles to say, Subaru is not the most physically affectionate at first.

Except when he can’t keep denying his heart has been yours for longer than he remembers.

He finds himself constantly seeking you out, because he is ‘supposed to protect you since you’re such an annoying idiot’ or so he claims.

The deep rosy hue of his cheeks tells you otherwise, however.

And now that you’ve found out he likes you, you won’t let him live it down.

As you constantly seek him out and nestle yourself in between his arms, Subaru finds he likes this quiet closeness; crimson eyes avert, as strands the color of starlit roses cover his shy gaze.

But you know what he means with those flustered expressions. And the way he hugs you a little tighter expresses the words he sometimes struggles to let out.

Though, if you listen, you won’t miss his whispers of “I love you” as the first moonlight sets on fallen ivory petals.

❀ Ruki Mukami – Zenith of polaris.

“In marine eyes, turbulence and tenderness hide. The wings he was denied, he gives to you. Your anchor, when you’re lost at sea.”

To know Ruki is to dive into a tempestuous sea; treacherous on moonless nights, yet captivating and radiant when it mirrors the stars.

His aim at first was to simply discipline you. Who did you think you were, other than his mere livestock?

And yet, there’s this aura around you, like a warm light; like the wings he was robbed of.

And still, he is the one who falls prey to you, wanting to show you heaven

In your darkest auroras, Ruki is your guiding star. His arms around you feel like seraphic feathers, still beautiful despite being crooked and ashen.

His lean figure, where you rest, listening to his steady heartbeat, akin to a forgotten lullaby penned in silver ink.

Ruki holds you as if you’re holy, the oath he swears his life on. He holds you delicately when starlight threatens to fade from your night sky.

Other times, however, he is the devil incarnate, pushing you down on his bed, hovering over you like a man starved.

And either way, you want him as he is. Forever you angel, wings or not; the zenith of polaris in your murkiest oceans.

❀ Reiji Sakamaki – Stillness in the dead of night.

“Some venoms don’t have an antidote, and you’d gladly drink them.”

When you first met him, you’d have never fathomed the idea of his arms around you.

Unless it was to keep you still as he stole your blood, that is.

You remember too vividly, that heinous scent coming off the cup of tea he offered you with a smile that was nothing if not cruel.

Now, that same cup brings a sense of warmth as you sit in his study, watching him work.

Here, the light is warm, in sharp contrast to the darkness out the glass panes, the windows little less than mirrors of darkness at this hour.

You revel in the calm of midnight.

A svelte hand takes your teacup away.

Reiji sets it on the nearby table, not without taking a sip from it first, the marks of your lipstick smeared by his lips.

Lips that then gently brush against your jawline, strong arms looping around your waist from behind.

In the dead of night, utter calm envelops around you.

If you were to be poisoned right this instant, you’d have no regrets; as long as it was by his hand.

❀ Azusa Mukami – Minutes before dawn.

“In his clear eyes, the instants held between night and day reflect. His wounded arms, forever destined to protect you.”

At times, when you spot him admiring his scars in the last minutes of night, he seems so fragile, delicate even.

Akin to daisy petals bathed in the dew of dreams about to end.

You wonder, how can someone capable of constantly drawing blood from his own flesh hold you so gently?

Much in the way he talks and always lingers close to you, his touch is the softness of kisses over fresh bandages.

You wish he wouldn't hurt himself. Your heart shatters a little at the gentleness with which he treats you, knowing how he breaks himself little by little.

So, in this moment, you hold him flush against you, squeezing delicately yet vehemently, letting him know this is your love, no bloodshed needed.

In the minutes before dawn, his opal eyes meet yours.

Through your unshed tears, his smile is brighter than morning stars.

❀ Yui Komori – The first breeze of spring.

“Some would argue she is too soft, cherry blossoms succumbing to snow. You know better. For, after the blizzard, that same tree blooms.”

Yui, the girl who will always put others before herself.

The girl who chooses to see the good in others, even in those who hurt her.

Yui, who loves unconditionally.

And who looks at you as if you hung the very stars in the sky.

She holds you warmly. Hopeful first cherry blossoms after a snowy February.

In her arms, your world dyes in shades of rose; your heart feels at ease, worries flying away like petals beneath an early March sky.

Yui is the tender touch of flower blooms in the first breeze of spring.

Your smile widens as she stares at you with her doe eyes.

Her own lips mimic yours.

Winter is over.

[seasprincess]

bsf!jj who needs comfort angst

warnings: mentions of abuse

JJ is a troubled boy, anyone who knows his name knows that. Luke Maybank being the main cause of that.

So it’s not uncommon for JJ to knock on your window late at night. Bloodied and bruised due to the fact his father had just gotten drunk.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom. Bent over as you carefully wipe his split lip. Him twitching as the cold paper touches his skin.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask this question everytime and usually get the same answer back. And this time it’s no different to usual.

“No.” He says bluntly. He doesn’t mean it to be harsh. He just isn’t great with his emotions. Evident in many prior situations.

“Okay.” You say softly, not wanting to push it and make things worse. All you want to do is make him feel better.

Your hands pulls the wet cloth away, chucking it in the bin as you look into his eyes.

“Don’t do that.” He says, his talking not helping the split lip as it keeps reopening. Not allowing it time to heal. But JJ never shuts up so that lip will be taking a while to heal.

“Do what?” You’re genuinely confused as to what he means. He is always confusing.

“Lookin’ at me like you feel sorry. Don’t want that shit.” JJ’s hand comes and rubs his mouth. Eyes averting your gaze. Thinking if he looks away everything will disappear. That this nightmare will be over.

“Well I am sorry.” You reply before grabbing his cheeks and making him look at you. Thumbs brushing them softly not wanting to hurt any of the bruises on his face. “I’m sorry your dad doesn’t see how special you are.”

And with that the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes falls down his cheeks. He hates crying, hates it so much. He never cries infront of anyone. But with you. He cares a little less.

Your arms wrap around his head and body as you pull him into a hug. Your shirt getting wetter as his tears pick up. He just cries softly into your chest, arms slowly reaching your back as his breaths stop and start.

You place a kiss on the top of his head as you play with his hair. There’s nothing you can say or do to help him. Just being there for him is enough.

He just needs you to be there.

a/n: need to give him a hug so bad.

[mikimakiboo]

I had a concept idea a while ago for a video game that takes place in the multiverse, so you would meet different aus and, of course, different sanses through the game

Just like in Undertale there would be a pacifist a neutral and a genocide route, except to finish the genocide it's hard af

I honestly didn't think much about it, I only got the encounter with the bad sanses (Killer, Dust and Horror, Cross isn't part of the group here) in the genocide run lol but anyway, you meet them through the game individually and then meet them again all together in the end, you don't meet Nightmare until the very end, after the group encounter

To make a genocide route you obviously have to kill the bad sanses, as they are part of the game, but here's where it becomes tricky:

• you have to kill at least one individually to unlock the group fight at the end, if you spare the three they won't fight you at the end, turning your genocide route to a neutral route and you have to start again to make a new genocide

• if you kill one, the other two will avenge him in the final fight, same if you kill two, the last one will avenge them, so expect the fight to be incredibly hard

• however, if you kill anyone but Killer first, he'll reset your game himself, so you have to kill Killer first, but he's the last one you meet, so you would have to spare the first two and either come back later to kill them or wait for the group fight

• you can kill the three individually, just make sure to kill Killer first or he'll reset your game

• you cannot spare them in the group fight, if you killed one, you'll have to kill the other two, even in neutral, they won't let you spare them and won't end the fight so it's the only way out

• Nightmare will only show up after the group fight once you killed the three, and it'll be his turn to avenge them and fight you, however, Nightmare being immortal and not letting you spare him, you will be trapped in an endless fight that'll force you to reset your game

At that point you might think the genocide is impossible as you won't be able to go past Nightmare's fight, but there is a way to kill him ! It's just hard to figure

• you have to complete at least three pacifist routes and meet Dream each time to complete his quests, on the fourth pacifist route he'll recognize you as someone with a good heart and will give you one of his arrows

• you can now reset, the arrow will stay in your inventory, however it takes three arrows to defeat Nightmare, but Dream won't give you another one if he sees you already have one in your inventory, so you have to put it in a box, complete a new pacifist to get the second arrow, put it in the box with the first one, and complete yet another pacifist to have the third arrow, then you can take the first two back

• you can now start a new genocide while making sure to kill Killer first out of the three and NOT use the arrows

• Nightmare will show up at the end for the final fight, and that is when you'll use Dream's arrows to kill him and complete the genocide

Congratulations ! You completed a genocide route !

I have absolutely zero ideas for the rest of the game so if anyone wanna make their own quests and include their own characters then go on, but please do tag me because I would wanna see :D

EDIT:

You will only be able to fight Dream after you've killed Nightmare, however, he is pissed that you killed his twin using his own arrows that he gave you because he trusted you, due to that he won't spare you and his fight will be very hard, you have no choice but to kill him

[gyubakeries]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww

a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)

word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.

the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.

hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.

the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.

you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.

yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.

"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."

"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"

you wish you could answer that question.

there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.

and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.

at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?

you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.

you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.

it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.

which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.

you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.

one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.

the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."

hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.

—

"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"

"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."

"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.

"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."

hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.

your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.

"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.

"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"

"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.

the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.

the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.

hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"

"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.

"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.

"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."

"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."

hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"

hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.

hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.

"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.

"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.

as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.

you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.

because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.

jeon wonwoo.

—

[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]

"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.

you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.

he's a doctor.

"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"

but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.

"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"

"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"

a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."

your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."

"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?

"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.

"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."

you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.

dr. jeon wonwoo.

the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.

you know that's far from the truth.

"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.

"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."

you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.

you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.

—

[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]

"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.

thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.

you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.

soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.

the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.

—

"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.

"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"

"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.

"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."

you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."

a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.

"i'm sorry, i should've known-"

"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.

"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."

"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."

"i like blue," wonwoo says.

"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.

the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.

you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"

wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.

"stop."

"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.

"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"

"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.

"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.

"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."

"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"

"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."

—

[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]

soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.

it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.

you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.

it didn't work.

it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.

it was wonwoo who took care of you then.

"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"

you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.

"i've fallen in love with you."

the truth it is then.

wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"

he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024]

"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."

"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."

"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"

"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"

"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.

"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]

"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."

"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"

"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."

"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."

"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."

you let yourself believe him.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."

"y/n-"

"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.

"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]

"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.

"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"

"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."

"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.

"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"

"promotion?"

"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."

the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.

"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.

"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."

"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.

“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."

"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.

"please, y/n, give me another chance."

"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."

"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"

"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"

you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.

you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.

you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.

no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.

the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.

"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.

"you were scared too, weren't you?"

wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.

you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.

"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"

"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."

"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.

"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."

"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."

"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."

"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.

wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.

"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.

"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.

wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.

the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.

you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.

"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.

the last thing you see is his name-tag.

you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.

"i love you."

you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.

you're alone.

you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.

your time is nearly up.

you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.

it's almost over.

and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.

your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.

and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.

otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.

you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.

you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.

you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.

you'd taste the kiss of death.

the timer rings; three minutes are up.

dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.

- fin.

taglist: @min-imum @sousydive @k1eev @livelaughloveseventeen

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[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

spent a good hour reading up on your Not What He Seems AU, it’s such a perfect mix of angst and whimsy! Ford waking up to find 30 years have passed in the blink of an eye is is the kind of body horror terrifying i eat up, as an avid enjoyer of time travel and its inherent tragedy.

i got a few questions, if you’ll indulge me:

- what kinds of tattoos you think Bill has gotten over the years? i think i saw some arm bands in one of your pieces, but i’d love to hear if you have any specific ideas for placements or images. if he’s doing it for the safe pain experience, i’d think there are some pretty big/detailed pieces involved? and do you think the pain helps ground him somewhat, to find and fit better in the boundaries of the body?

- in the show, Stan feels a lot of guilt for stealing his brother’s identity and he kinda thinks of himself as a fraud, an actor. do you think Bill ever feels guilty for the same? or would he just miss Ford a lot, without the Stan-specific aspect of pretending to be “the better one”?

also any fun tidbits you’ve been rotating in your head lately! it’s impressive how specifically it seems like you’ve thought out how Bill’s presence would affect the canon show events, while trying to keep them as unchanged as possible. also StanFraud is the funniest, most perfect thing I’ve ever heard!

Thank you!! I’ve always enjoyed writing horror based on human response, so Ford’s perspective is probably one of the most fascinating to me in this AU, although, all of it is fascinating and enjoyable to explore, really!

— I haven’t worked them all out yet, but I know for a fact he has a tattoo of the Cipher Wheel on his back, the arm bands as you mentioned, a hyper-realistic tattoo of his ribs where his ribs would be (if that makes sense), and eyes on the back of his hands. Honestly, I’d be open to suggestions for him! I imagine him having some more grotesque, detailed tattoos that reflect the nightmare realm as well. And yes, the pain definitely helps ground him. It also gives him a sense of control as well, in a situation where he has none.

— If he does feel guilty, it’s a complicated kind of guilt. I don’t even think he’d fully process that he’s feeling guilty. It’s this sort of gnawing feeling he can’t get rid of, and it starts the longer he gets to know Dipper and Mabel — he never really felt it before that. He absolutely misses Ford though. He can’t define that feeling either. I’ve said before that he looks at Dipper strangely, and that’s because Dipper reminds him of Ford in certain moments, eager for discovery!

He and Stan never really talk about it, but the have both acknowledged missing Ford before.

Bill’s response was vague though, not an ‘I miss him too’, but an ‘I think I do too.’ He isn’t sure what to make of that.

Bill Cipher doesn’t feel remorse, or miss people, he does everything with intention and he’s never made mistakes. Or, that’s what he’s meant to be. Maybe he has gone soft.

And Tidbits! I have a few! Not as many as usual, only because Arcane’s been taking up a bit of my brain space lately, but I hope these shall suffice anyhow:

(And quickly, thank you again, I think way too hard on all the small details and how Bill’s presence would have a knock on effect. It makes me happy to see it get noticed!)

— In the early days of Bill being trapped, Stan obviously doesn’t open the Mystery Shack, and ends up having to take a few odd jobs around town instead. He’s earned a bit of a reputation for being a decent handyman because of that, and even now, old timers of the town will still come to Stan if they need something fixing, especially cars. He complains about getting too old for it, but he never says no. Money is money! It’s also interesting to think about how the little things would impact his relationship with the townsfolk and how they view him. He’s always been Stanley to them. He’s never had to pretend otherwise.

— I’ve toyed around with making the Blind Eye a bigger threat than they are in canon, being as the kids would have no reason to look into Old Man McGucket. I’ve also toyed around with McGucket ending up slightly different to canon, his mind still broken, but his motivation different, with him being aware early on that the man he sees isn’t Ford, and is in fact the beast he fears and tried to erase from his mind. A more antagonistic Fiddleford who’s been trying to get rid of Bill for years now would actually be really fun? If I can make it work, and make the Blind Eye work in this way, I’ll lean into it! For now though, it’s just an idea I’m throwing around.

— Vague ‘episode’ idea that exists within my brain is Bill accidentally starting a mini cult again after telling some sort of lie that catches on, and it ends up being a Mabel-Bill bonding plot-line as she tries to convince him to just be honest before this whole cult thing gets taken too far. I also love the idea of Bill making a comment about this being like 1952 all over again. He makes comments like that all the time. Surely he’s just joking!

— Another vague ‘episode’ idea I have is Bill taking Dipper and Mabel to the supernatural underground market of Gravity Falls under Stan’s nose, trying to prove he’s the cooler Uncle, and that he can handle the two kids by himself. This goes about as well as you’d expect. Stan isn’t too happy to find out Bill got Dipper and Mabel in trouble, as he tried to get them to do more and more risky things.

— Bill will sometimes start speaking in Euclydian without realising, especially when it comes to cursing, and no one knows how he’s making those sounds with his mouth. Stan’s actually started picking up some of the meanings in context and can roughly gauge what Bill might be saying.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Third Interlude]

First of all, I wanted to apologize for the delay. I got a problem with this story as I found out someone fed it to an AI. I was about to stop posting it and eliminate it altogether, but it'll be unfair for every one of you who had been so sweet and kind with me and so loving with this story.

We're officially in the middle, and I will walk all this way with you guys ❤️❤️ thank you so much for the support, and I'll read you soon!

Viktor x Fem!Reader /Gothic AU; Haunted Sea/----1.8K---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: One fateful night, you two say the thing that wasn't supposed to be.

Tags: Fluff | I'm emotional rn so it may be a bit sad | Some kissing | They say!!! the thing!!! | Needless to say please PLEASE do not feed it to an AI 😭😭😭

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @ultimateslasherfan @beeblybub (it's been so long I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone!! 😭😭 remind me and I'll do it for the next ones :3 pinky promiseee)

Third Interlude: The Stars in Your Eyes

New moon. The perfect witness to keep secrets.

And it isn’t that Viktor wishes to maintain his feelings hidden, resurfacing like the high tide during full moon—rising every night during the solitude of the watch, with the familiar glow of your window visible from the tower until sleep took you for the day, the light of the candle extinguished.

But it a necessary illness he doesn’t mind to be afflicted with.

The place you ought to call house it’s so different to this lonely tower; avant-garde wallpapers are here but starting to chip off. There the candles burn with riches fragrances, while here the beacon illuminates, unforgiving, leaving oil prints all over his fingertips.

At least he can pretend to watch over your dreams from here, peering at the starry night. A childish desire to keep you away from nightmares soaked in crimson tides and women jumping out the cliff.

It’s the same tale of every night—to cocoon in the couch by the control panel, door close to avoid any flicking light filtering inside the room. A book resting on his lap, forgotten pens scattered all over the floor by his shoes. Today isn’t worthy of writing in the logbook. At least not yet.

The door creaks open, metal scratch against wood.

“Viktor,” your voice makes him jump. Between a dream and a ghostly whispering like the sea uses to do with each crashing wave.

He stands up from the couch, leaving the book he was reading closed without any mark. It doesn’t matter. Viktor doubts he knew what the chapter was about even before you arrived.

His hands are eager. They settle in the roundness of your cheeks, finding like a miracle that your skin it’s so soft and warm. “You’re really here.”

It wouldn’t be the first time the water fools him, allowing him to imagine both of you, floating weightless inside an infinite of blue. Hands intertwined.

You oughtn’t to fear the place you come from.

“I almost got caught,” you laugh, leaning against the safety of his touch. Against the cold surrounding you in her way toward the lighthouse, Viktor is your refuge. “They hired new fishermen. Mister Gavin was talking with them in his office up until midnight.”

That catches Viktor’s attention, obliged to recoil his touch. “New fishermen?” Upon his hiring as lighthouse keeper, Viktor had seen the dark silhouettes of the fishing boats sailing on open water during the night, where fish could be easily collected. Every journey, fewer boats get out. And even less returned.

“He has always been a greedy man,” you sigh, sinking into the couch. He hopes your shampoo gets imprinted in his pillow for at least a couple of days. Until he gets to see you again. “He doesn’t wish to understand Piltover will never be the same as it was thanks to her.”

Viktor settles next to you. “I suppose sometimes dwelling in the past it’s the only thing one can do to avoid going mad.”

He observes you, loving that intense gaze that could only be described as a frozen storm, cloudy and deep and dark from all the tears he’s sure you don’t dare to shed.

“I hope he goes mad,” your voice is barely audible. A shivery whisper that crawls inside his chest. “I hope I get to do it.”

That need starts to nudge again the gate of his reason. You’re not like this, he wants to tell you. The poison dripping down every syllable, breaking its enchanting cadence. But it would be senseless to utter so—because your family has sworn upon themselves to forge you into whatever monstrosity the townsfolk’s rumors proclaim.

“There lies the reason behind your current visits?” Part of him lets slip, a terrible weight settled onto his heart.

Your chuckle echoes, a whisper that would remain even after you leave. “No, Viktor. It isn’t.” You drink from his golden eyes, twin stars guiding your way. You aren’t sure what this night has of special. It’s just a moonless night, full of stars in the sky. The sea laps all the same. “I would never drag you into my mess.” Not as Gavin and his new wife had dragged Astraia, hoping for you to grow all alone, feeding the desperation to seek freedom.

“I wouldn’t have minded if you do,” he says, and your eyes start to blurry.

His fingers are rough and cold, yet he touches you with the same delicate nature one would hold a butterfly. Afraid that if he takes too much, you’d be all but a shattered dream.

“I’m happy here,” you mutter, the secret you’re so afraid to say out loud if bad luck ever tries to snatch it. “I can’t go anywhere, but here… here I don’t want to run away.” And it terrifies you. All your life, wishing to be someone else, to forsake the family name impose upon your existence. Yet not even the waves could take what runs through your veins. “I loathe this place with every fiber of my being, but now you’re here and… everything has changed.”

It's like it was before. The blue of the sea is shinier, and the call doesn’t reverberate in your bones with the ache of impossibility. It calls you home. Morphed into one endless way up into the end of every lament.

For the first time in so long, you don’t want to leave.

His smile breaks your heart, and you let yourself cry, letting him hold you while every tear erases the grey colors once painted over the vibrant memories of your mother’s tight embrace, her haunting voice calling you to sleep. The way the sand got under your toes after one swimming afternoon. All the ghostly laughter you blessed upon the cliff.

Before everything turned crimson and empty.

“I will keep this place safe,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair. “For you.”

Your hands grab his shoulders, and for a moment it seems like you wish to disappear in him, to forever echo the rhythm of his heartbeat as another lullaby.

You can’t see him, so he dares to deposit a kiss on your forehead, muttering things you cannot understand.

“Come with me,” he says after an eternity that’s cut too short.

*~*~*~*

The water’s cold, but it lights every nerve on fire once you submerge.

Viktor slips behind you, your hands never leaving his once your tears are erased by the sea water hitting in gentle waves. A moonless night with inky water, yet you don’t have to fear the abyss. You have never.

“Does your leg hurt?” you say, waddling toward him. You could guide him toward the cliffiside where the coral grows meters under the surface, so he could feel the fish between his legs and grab at the rock for safety.

“N-no,” Viktor shivers. “The cold helps to numb sometimes.”

It’s barely visible outside of the lighthouse’s rotating beacon, which give you enough courage to inch shamelessly closer, until your dress it’s tangled in his legs. Because it’s your time to hold him, soak him in your warmth.

Astraia’s words haunt you, but what reputation do you still hold? You don’t care to stain the last name they force you to keep.

“Numb what?” You can barely feel his hands ghosting over your back. Afraid.

He averts your gaze. But you can’t let him; with your warm hands cupping his cheeks. Despite the coldness, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time the lighthouse painted the waves gold.

“Are you afraid of me?” you whisper, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Never.” His voice is gruff, the grasp so tight his knuckles are bone-white. “But… there are some things meant to remain hidden.”

“Why?” You know why, but you have stopped caring about the reason long ago. “I don’t want to keep them locked any longer.” It was as if sometimes they drowned you, blocking every breath from your throat at the mere thought of saying those words your tongue longed to express.

Your name has never been more precious that in the way Viktor whispers it. A prayer he covets for only him to call.

And you’ll let him. Of course you’ll let him.

“I don’t want to, either,” he says, golden stars fluttering close one his lips beckon yours, soft and pliant and so sweet. Barely a sheepish brush, before you push yourself closer, his hands grabbing handfuls of floating fabric on your lower back.

You get lost. Barely keeping afloat in the great tides of emotions sieging you. Yet Viktor doesn’t care if your lips taste like salt, if you’re shivering and breaking in sobs. Despite all the love, he knows it hurts—being loved hurts by the mere thought of all this being stolen with the same easiness it could be taken away.

But he won’t let it.

“You make me feel free,” you utter, breathless. And this otherworldly vision will forever haunt him; your bright eyes, swollen lips. The smile that’s just for him.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice dripping with dread, the ever-present possibility of rejection.

Your laughter fills him with pain, but Viktor quickly realizes, by how you embrace him, that it’s not meant to be mocking. It’s euphoric, triumphant in the way you call for him. “Viktor, kiss me.”

And he does, up until the cold seeps into his bones, threatening into leaving him up to the design of the sea. Yet you hold him close, guide him back to the shore where you both lay in the sand like teenagers laughing at the constellations above because they would never have the brightest stars in all the skies, light only meant to gaze upon you.

And you love those stars, making them close so you can kiss them along with every precious feature of his face that you’re decided to carve in your memory.

Viktor embraces you despite the warmth of the sand seeping through your clothes, the humid summer air blowing hair into his face. You want to tell him the truth, to let your throat sore from a scream so everything and everyone could hear it.

But you’re afraid. You know this place always takes those who you love, and you dread for Viktor to be next. So you don’t, and instead, cuddle up right into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest as his breath slowly grows steady.

He’s asleep, but his hands are still taking yours, his chin over your head.

“I love you, too, Viktor,” you mutter, so low either he or the sea can hear you. Yet the lighthouse sees, casting shadows along your refuge on the coastline like a blanket.

[radicalrascals]

Vaneza stood there with wide eyes, almost in admiration, just a heartbeat from cheering Tisha on for talking to Delegado Colmilho the way he deserved. Well. Almost. Because she was still her father's new girlfriend, and something about that just had the same effect on her as tasting milk gone bad. It'll be fine. It'll be fine in due time. As long as they were granted enough of the same.

Rafael didn't even challenge Tisha's pleading with words of his own, he just pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead feverishly. How could life be this unfair that he would have to choose between getting his daughter out of this nightmare and standing by his love's side until the very end. "I swear, if you're cheating to win the race..." Their race. Their stupid little race to an untimely death. May it be by pissing off the wrong people or at the claws of hellish creatures from the fourth dimension. Judging by the way Colmilho looked at them, he wouldn't have been picky. Either was fine. Hell, he might've volunteered.

"There's a distinct difference between survival instinct and the explosive combination of sheer dumb luck and extraordinary stupidity," the delegado growled, though that was all he had on offer for mean commentary. The situation was too grave, what Tisha and Rafael shared might as well be the last time they saw each other alive. And goodbyes were sacred to him, especially since he never got to say his goodbyes.

"I'll be there when you need me, and gone when you need me out of your way. But if you don't come back to me, I'll come for you. I'll look for you, querida. And I will find you," Rafa promised before he let Tisha go to lead the strange exhibition further towards the centre of the nightmare labyrinth.

"Enough survival instinct to follow his daughter's voice and lead us away from whatever turned your men into fucking puppets." Tisha snaps before she can stop herself. "Not to mention, the balls to follow me up that fucking ladder while you stood there with your thumb up your ass."

She’s tempted to swap to French when she turns back to Rafael, if only to spare Vaneza the schmaltz, but whether it’s Colmilho’s (now probably days old) threat that stops her, or that she doesn’t particularly fucking care if he makes fun of them for it this time, she doesn’t. “Look. Six months ago I wouldn’t have given a shit if I got out of here, alive or otherwise. The only reason that’s different now is you. That probably makes me a... shitty sister, and a shitty daughter, and a shitty aunt, but it's the truth. If I'm gonna get out of here, it's because you two, both of you," funny how fast these things shift, how college kid I don't know becomes family member I'd die for vicariously "are ahead of me, whether it's two meters or two hours, but it's not happening if you're a half a step behind me. Okay?" She can hear it now, a sound like a wine glass or a copper bowl being played. "It's this way."

[belladonnadawn]

We want want a apology 😭😭😭😭

SAY IT WAS JUST A DREMA PLEASEE

"You cheated on me"

Them if you told them that you had a dream that they cheated on you. Ft. Andrew Marston, Kayson Mayer, Isaac Rhoades, Xanthus Claiborne, and Elias (I've been also thinking about making this after I dreamt of Kayson cheating on me with my clone and having a baby with them. Told oomfie @xzhdjsj and they said that they had the same dream but it's Xanthus and Dontis. So I decided to make one for all of them. Thank you for this request!)

Andrew Marston

Waking up after that dream felt heartwrenching, as if it opened a pandora box filled with your fears and insecurities. Rolling over and not seeing Andrew on your side did not help the situation. You sat up with a sigh, the dream— nightmare replayed in your mind.

"Good morning," Andrew greeted you with a soft smile as he continued to prepare breakfast.

You gave him a weak smile as you sat down, which concerned him. "Is everything okay, darling?" He tilted his head, placing the breakfast on the table before sitting beside you.

"I had a dream where you cheated on me," You sighed, defeat evident in your voice.

"Oh, darling, no. I would never do that," He held your hand, kissing the back of it– a gesture that you always found endearing. "I have fought for you— for us. Abandoning you for someone that I would never love as much as you is not just foolish, but also beyond ridiculous. You have my heart, my body, and my soul. And you will always have it."

"It's just… it felt so real. The thought of it feels so scary," You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling the hurt that the dream made you feel once more.

Andrew nodded in understanding, "I understand that. I believe that I'd be upset too if I dreamt of that in a way. But I assure you that this heart only belongs exclusively to you. Reality is different from dreams."

The knife that seems to be lodged in your heart seems to be pulled out. You gave him a smile, feeling foolish for doubting a man who wants your best interest at heart. "Thank you, Andrew," You intertwined your fingers with his, thumb caressing the back of his hand.

"I love you and only you. Always remember that." He spoke, sealing his promise with a soft loving kiss.

Kayson Mayer

"What?! Why would I do that?" Kayson gasped as the words left your mouth.

"You did!"

For a second he looked horrified at the actions that he did not commit, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed. He turned to you, "I-Is it because of my work? You know that I'm only doing it for the tips, right?"

"I know that, Kayson. It doesn't have to reflect what you did in reality."

Kayson almost frowned at your statement, "Then why?"

"I don't know… maybe it's me? I need to do some introspection, though I feel like I know the reason why," You gave him a smile that did not reach your eyes, regretting that you opened this conversation with your clueless— almost innocent boyfriend.

He nodded in understanding before speaking once again, "If it helps, I don't see myself loving someone else. The prospect of spending the rest of my life with you is something that I am looking forward to. Not with others. Just you and you only. You're my first and my last. Understood?"

You gave him a small nod, smiling at his assurance, "Understood."

Kayson let out a sigh of relief, "Good, because I don't want you to think that I'm not loyal or something.

Isaac Rhoades

"Would you cheat on me?" You asked, breaking the afternoon silence.

Isaac's brow furrowed at the sudden question, "Did I do something?"

"No– uh, not particularly. No," You rambled, not knowing how to start this conversation with this topic to your rational and logical lover. Somehow, you're sure that if you said that he betrayed you in your dream he'd laugh at the concept. But since you started it, there's no going back.

"What happened?"

You bit your lips, thinking of a way to phrase the situation without sounding ridiculous. "W-Well, I had a dream where you cheated on me. Look, I know it's ridiculous and so silly. But it's bothering me so—"

He stood up, cupping your cheeks, "I guess we reached that point of our relationship," Isaac chuckled softly. "To answer that question: no, I will not cheat on you. Never."

You looked at him once more, tracing the sincerity of his statement, "Really? You promise?"

"Yes, really. I promise," Isaac smiled, kissing your forehead before holding you in his arms, "You're my only one. I will never break your trust or betray you in any way."

"I love you, Isaac."

"And I love you too."

Xanthus Claiborne

"You seem mad. What happened?" He closed the book as you walked in the room.

You huffed, sitting across him, "Well, good morning to you too."

"Please, enough with games. Have you forgotten that I can feel what you feel? You can't hide that much from me," he spoke with a hint of smugness in his tone. So irritating.

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing. It's stupid." You muttered, not wanting to give him an opportunity to laugh at you or find you ridiculous. His views towards humans are already demeaning enough and you don't want to fuel it.

"I won't laugh," He spoke, urging you to let your thoughts out.

"It's stupid."

"But it's bothering you."

"Yeah, cause you're bothering me."

"Come on, love."

"Fine, you cheated on me in my dream!"

Xanthus blinked out of shock at your admission. You can feel his confusion and you know that he can feel your embarrassment. He let out an abrupt chuckle, "What?"

"Yeah, whatever. Laugh," You scoffed, turning your back from him.

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the context," despite his explanation, you refused to look at him. "To clarify, I will not do that especially with what we have. I want to spend the rest our lives together happy. Betraying you, especially when you are my heart, is beyond absurd."

He pats the space beside him, "Now come here." With a huff, you obeyed, flopping on the couch and still avoiding his gaze.

He cupped your cheek, making sure that you're staring at him. "Our time, though limited, is too precious to me to tarnish with doing such thing. So, no, I will not cheat on you. That dream of you is false and you should always remember that I love you and only you."

Elias

"You cheated on me."

Elias looked at you, laughing at the statement. But his laugh faded as your face remained unchanging, realizing how serious you were. He paused his game, "Are you for real?"

You nodded, "I am for real."

"What? Where did you get that?!"

"In my dreams."

He looked at you with a deadpan expression, in disbelief how you believed your dreams over him. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

Elias ran rubbed his face with his hand, "Babe, there's no way that you believe that." He turned to you with a huff, "You know that I am monitored, right?"

"That's your response?!"

"W-Well, I'm only saying! Like, you have proof that I don't sneak or hide something. It's not worth the risk," He babbled, which got a glare from you.

"Not only that, losing you is beyond stupid for me. I don't want to fumble someone like you, especially after what we've been through," Elias spoke with a quiet tone, hiding the fact that he's now vulnerable and bare.

You chuckled, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arms around him, "You promise?"

Elias blushed at your gesture, "I promise."

With a soft chuckle, you leaned towards him, kissing him softly as he wrapped his arms around you.

[eerna]

Hiii I have some thought contributions to the Arcane symposium if you'll have me!

I see people understandably angry at how Arcane handles who is or isn’t a villain and I suppose my two cents is that I didn’t have any hope of them handling it right in the first place, even back in s1 there were always parallels made, always some “both cities have good and bad” nuance when one city doesn’t have air to breathe and is colonized by the other. If anything the beginning of s2 was more consistent in that the second Caitlyn is personally inconvenienced she goes full chemical warfare and mass institutional violence

Personally I thought it unlikely that they suddenly change narrative tones and resolve the plot in a way that was satisfying to me, and I knew the pacifist “choose love not hate <3 zaun and piltover arms in arms” both-sides ending was inevitable, so I’m glad they at least had that whole thing with Viktor and Jayce and the timelines to distract me from it

“they shouldn’t have made Viktor, a Zaunite, the villain” but Arcane always made the villain a Zaunite! Before Viktor there was Silco, Piltover chooses peace but Jinx blows the council up and now they have to do a whole “look what you made us do” arc. This was my beef with Arcane from day 1 (it wasn't emphasized enough, IMO, that the villain is Piltover's oppression and marginalization of Zaun, and that this context renders null any "both cities" comparison)

Also Vi was written so poorly this season what's up with that

All that being said I suppose it’s more complicated to discern “writer’s intent” from that kinda show than it would be in a book or an indie project where there are fewer people involved in the plot writing and less interference. Like one deleted scene or one line of dialogue omitted radically changes the message. But well, there's the intended message and there's the manifest message and as the audience we are allowed to criticize both

Of course we shall, step to the podium~ Truly, the "writer's intent" is truly so complicated here, because anti-capitalist messaging in mainstream art powered by capitalism is always a nightmare to get through.

Oh yes it's a good take, I remember the discussions from s1 era well! However, I still don't think the "both sides have good and bad" thing is a red flag in stories, simply because it's true IRL. A ton of people have trouble committing to a side in a conflict because neither is totally morally pure, which completely blinds them to the truth that NOTHING is morally pure and choosing the lesser evil is the way to go. Silco was a brilliant villain to me because he was an oppressor himself, as people in power are rarely anything else, but that didn't mean that Zaunite ideals were worth any less! After all, Ekko held the same anti-Piltover ideals, but he is morally pure and thus unable to become an influential politician. He can support a small society, but not a large one, because no one really can do that without resorting to some bad shit. Just because Silco dreamed of being the same as Piltover's elite and became a class traitor by forcing his citizens into another toxic work culture, except this time they made HIM rich instead of Piltover, doesn't mean we should just give up on trying to make things better. Zaun during Silco's reign is just as worthy of freedom and equality as Zaun during Vander's reign. It doesn't matter that there are terrorists living there now - that doesn't excuse Piltover's violent actions. And s1 seemed to be aware of that, considering how the Enforcers were depicted, and in the end it's the Piltover council who are forced to give up instead of the Undercity. And the choice of peace wasn't as morally pure as it sounds: the council opposed it and was forced into it by Jayce and Mel's combined power, even Jayce was resistant to the terms at first, AND it still left the Undercity in Silco's hands, fixing absolutely none of the sins they committed there. It wasn't an evil terrorist blowing up a bunch of hippies, it was a hurt Undercity girl setting in motion an event that has been brewing for a long, long time, against a system which gave too little, too late.

So yeah, in short, I don't interpret s1 as ever trying to question whether Zaun was right to demand more from Piltover by saying "well both sides are bad so nothing should change". It simply showed the ugly truth to any revolution: leaders are practically never good people, and those who get too close to it are doomed to very cursed lives. And yet, giving up isn't an option, because the system IS bad and the system HAS to be changed, and if that isn't gonna happen by the way of peace, then you can't help but sympathize with those who were wronged when they do something horrible.

That's why it only worked when it focused on individual characters - that way you can understand why everyone is acting the way they are acting, and you avoid falling into broad strokes. S2 instead focuses on the aesthetic of revolution and war and the characters get lost in the big picture, which absolutely sucks and completely negates everything I've been typing about here. In fact, who knows, maybe my opinion changes too after I sit with s2 for a while and contextualize s1 within it. Maybe I was just wishfully thinking and misinterpreting this whole time. I already feel like a clown for defending this show, so I can totally accept that I could probably be wrong here. But I just wanted to write it all out in the name of discussion and interpretation!