#she's got something cool going on i can feel it. i can feel it so much. she is gonna be so cool

[monstersflashlight]

Set up by a baby-orc (Orc’s POV)

A/N: Hi there lovelies, I thought it would be really cute to see what he was thinking in this scene, so here we have it. (Part 1 here)

Orc!reader (POV) x fem!human || sfw, meet-cute, soulmates

When your big sister asked you to pick up her kid, you were more than happy to do so. You were the cool uncle and you had to maintain that status or your brother Inar would take that place, and you loved that big stupid dude, but you weren’t against dirty play to be the cool uncle. Like showing up to the daycare and taking him to get ice cream. Even if your sister would hate you later for it.

You could sense your nephew inside, the line joining you wasn’t as strong as the one linking you with your brothers and sisters, but it was enough to feel his happiness and alert him you were already there.

Your special hearing could pick up his fast steps as you heard a sweet voice asked: "Who?" He appeared through the door with a human woman and your breath got caught in your throat. She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her wide hips and voluptuous figure making your dick twitch in the most uncomfortable moment.

"My uncle!" Your favorite baby orc exclaimed, pointing across the patio directly at you.

If you thought she was beautiful before it was nothing like what you felt when she looked up and your eyes met. She looked amazed at you as she gaped in the tiniest way, making you gape back at her. And then it clicked, she was her. Your mate. The one you’ve been waiting forever to meet. She was your fucking mate and you were gaping at her like a stupid orc.

She walked to you moving her hips, your nephew next to her talking excitedly about something you didn’t comprehend. When she was standing right in front of you, you took a deep breath, her scent hitting you like a tidal wave. She smelled perfect, like the forest in the spring and your favorite food at the same time. She smelled so perfect you couldn’t stop breathing in and out almost driving yourself to hyperventilation.

She looked down at your nephew, and you snapped out of your stupor.

“I told you she was human! Look! Look! Her skin is not green!” Your nephew sounded so excited you smiled down at him, his words making you blush as she giggled. Your heart skipped a beat, her laugh was the most amazing sound you’d ever heard.

“I can see that,” you said in a choked voice, almost too low. She squirmed in the tiniest way, but you were hyper-aware of every breath she took, every tiny movement of her delicious body. Your eyes were fixated on her as your brain filled with adoration and desperation. It was so intense it took your breath away.

Your nephew couldn’t catch the tension in the air as he kept talking. “Isn’t she pretty? She doesn’t have tusks like me!” He said it like it was such a weird thing that you had to bite down on your lip not to laugh. He was so freaking cute.

“Yours will grow eventually, though,” you explained, kneeling on the floor in front of him, you still towered over him but his little green face was closer to him when you said it. You looked at her and realized you were still a bit taller than her, even on your knees, and you couldn’t avoid realizing how hard it would be to fit inside of her… But somewhat you knew she would take you better than any other creature on earth.

“They will?!” Your nephew sounded so shocked by that information that you cursed internally because he should know that. Baby orcs should have that kind of information, fuck.

“Yes, hon, yours will grow until they are as big as your uncle’s,” she explained, touching his head affectionately and making your insides go all gooey with appreciation.

She shivered almost imperceptibly, but you saw. You couldn’t avoid staring at her frame in front of you, your insides turning and moving, asking you to get closer, to touch her, to claim her. But you couldn’t. She was humans and humans didn’t have the mating instincts orcs had. You would have to woo her first, explain everything and made sure she understood what it meant completely.

She looked around uncomfortably and you regretted being such a creep that couldn’t stop staring at her. “I should go back to the kids,” she let out, looking at you and rapidly to the ground.

“Yeah. Yes. I guess so.” He said as she walked a few steps backwards. But you couldn’t let her go just like that, so your impulsive side won and you said: “I’ll be seeing you again… that’s a promise,” you knew you did good when you saw a big smile breaking in her gorgeous face. She didn’t turn back, but you didn’t care, her smile would keep you content for days.

You stared at her until she was at the door of the school, and when she turned around and her eyes caught you, your smile was so big she blushed and ran inside, making you chuckle as you took your nephew to the car, already planning how to woo her completely.

You’d see her soon enough.

[dadbodbuck]

WE'RE BREAKING UP

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.

WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.

GET AWAY FROM ME

hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/

anyway

Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 

He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.

But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.

Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.

“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”

Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”

And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”

“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”

It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 

“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.

Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”

“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”

“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”

Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”

Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.

When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:

Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?

I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.

Text me pls? So I know you’re ok

Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.

OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to

Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.

[mellxncollie]

hiiii alex and now i have no choice but to drop all the process info and the outtakes :)

overall impression: very lovely and moody and spooky!! i kinda expected more blood-reds from devlin house but i should've known better, you wouldn't go for something that cliché. as always the shots you chose are SO good, love the combo of very dramatic shots with way more subtle ones!

aaaaa okay okay yes definitely not a lot of 'expected' shots in this one. couple reasons for this:

episode 3 is not one that i can watch very much, there's too many triggers in there for me. it's only very recently that i'm now able to rewatch it in its entirety, and i still have a hard time screencapping for it. so... not too many gifs from inside the devlin house

not a lot of shots in these episode work well for these palette sets. unlike all the other episodes, this one does not have many establishing shots or wide shots, which are the ones i like to use for these gifs. of the few establishing shots that are used, many are relatively static, so they don't look great as gifs. plus a lot of the devlin house shots have flashing lights and/or are very short. this made it really difficult to just find scenes that would work

so, this is a little less of a cohesive set than the other two, and i think the rest of the episodes will have more cohesive palette sets than this one as well. i love how this episode is shot, cheryl dunye's avoidance of 'filler' shots really reminds me of her film the watermelon woman, and while that movie does have more wide shots and more cohesive colors, the focus in on the characters as opposed to the backgrounds is what makes this episode feel so much like her work. it really drives home this episode as a standout in terms of writing, visuals, and direction.

it just also... breaks out of a form that i rely on to make these gifs work. so: less cohesive colors. i'm glad that this didn't exactly come across, and that we still have a kind of moody vibe :)

gif 1: cindy my beloved!! oh my god i need to see edwin laughing like that. i need CHARLES to see edwin laughing like that! and niko is so precious, i love her and her green coat. speaking of! love the way she moves past the colour blocks and almost adds contrast to them until she reaches the green and basically blends in?? SUCH a cool effect. and i love the colours themselves, the green + goldish vibe is everything. the green in the shot is so dramatic that it's like a fun little puzzle to find the rest of the colours! and then you realise, oh wait, that's the majority of the picture. ceiling, chairs, cabinet, niko and cindy's hair. and cindy being represented by the colour palette, drawing her undeniably into the picture because she can actually be seen by everyone around her, the opposite of ghostly, is SO cool. and then the contrast of the bright (blueish?) white?? the way it contrasts so much with niko's coat that at first i couldn't see where you got it from, only when niko moves back it blends perfectly into the window in the background?? olly you are a GENIUS

honestly i didn't really realize how this looks with niko's movement adjusting how the green and the blue all suddenly mix in with the rest of the gif!! but you're right, it's very cool!

this gif was a bit of a challenge, and with all those browns i initially thought it might be on the chopping block. but then i came around to liking it enough to make it the first gif in the set.

here's a before/after of the colors i put on it, and you can see that the blue is basically not even in the original shot, and it was only after i adjusted the blue channel to decrease that yellow tint that the blue really showed up.

gif 2: JENNY JENNY JENNY! this is a wild one because it's such a mundane part of the scene and yet i can't stop looking at the dramatic colouring. SHE!!! also the colours you chose feel very similar to the jenny gif from ep1, which, to be clear, i mean SO positively. i love that it ties them together! also something something jenny in her black clothes being surrounded by so much colour as symbolism to what crystal and niko bring to her life. brb crying

out of all the gifs in this set, this is definitely one of my favorites. mostly just cause the shot is really cool, nothing to do with the colors or anything. but speaking of the colors!! yes they're a lot like the ep 1 gif, and it's so fascinating to me how they pack so many hues into jenny's shop via the lighting.

gif 3: HI SPOOKY SHOT OF ALL TIME 😍😍😍 one of those dramatic ones i NEVER want to look away from. loveeeeeee the red-orange reflections on them, the purple of crystal's coat, the blue of edwin's shirt. also getting into the symbolism again but the way most of the colours are drawn from crystal and the background (even the blue is present in her grey shirt/jacket/whatever that is) and it makes the boys feel even more ghostly. ESPECIALLY CHARLES?? WHO ONLY RECEIVES RED BACKLIGHTING?? AND SPENDS THE EP GRAPPLING WITH HIS OWN HELPLESSNESS?? THE ONLY ONE UNTOUCHED BY BLUE (AKA SYMBOLIC OF HEAVEN)?? I'M MAKING MYSELF SICK WITH THIS OH GOD

yipeee!! one of my favorite shots of this episode, but one of my least favorite shots in the whole series to gif (that i've been making gifs of more and more to force myself to figure out how to do it best) and honestly because of that, i wasn't sure if this would make the final cut either.

here's two recent(ish) uses of this scene in various gifsets, both of which i don't really like how the final gif turned out.

this is because the original shot is....

so aggressively blue/green on their faces and that it is very difficult to make this look good.

i wanted the final gif for this set to be a bit more orange and a bit less red, but i'm glad i kept the more red toned backlight, since that allowed gif 8 to feel different enough. and i'm actually pretty okay with how this one turned out, espeically because you get the purple and the blues in their costumes.

also, just for fun, here's what this gif would look like if i did some normal brightening and coloring, but didn't do anything to fix their skintones 🫠

and yeah. god. thinking about charles 'untouched by blue.' fuck.

gif 4: SUCH a lovely little shot! the blues from edwin's outfit, the greenish-gray i'm guessing from the stripes (very nice and subtle, love the choice to emphasise them!), the white from his shirt. and then BAM, gold for the bracelet of homosexuality. but even then it's a very subtle colour choice for it, i can see some of the background is the same colour, even the darker parts of edwin's shirt cuffs. it's like you, via the palette, are helping him hide the bracelet and. i'm just in love

one of my favorite gifs in this set! it is really fun, and you got all the color sources right! i did want to include another color from the bracelet, but most of the colors i was sampling just didn't look too good with the blues, so i used the white from his shirt and i think that really worked.

gif 5: monty!! the return of niko's green coat!! love the cool (ha!) colours, mixed in with the warmer browns. the blue is so subtle in monty's plaid shirt (and the port townsend sign if i'm not mistaken?) the brown/burgundy in monty's scarf and shirt and the trees in the background really draws it all together! plus the green in both niko's coat and the trees' leaves! also interesting to see here the colours you didn't choose for the palette, like the white of niko's hair and monty's books. not to get too deep into it but it feels like a sign that it's not niko monty's trying to connect to, even though edwin isn't even in the frame! and the darker brown feels sort of similar to edwin's coat but that might just be grasping at straws lmao

the blue is from monty's shirt, yeah! this one was hard to pick colors for, and you totally got it with all the colors i'm leaving out. also because of the 540px x 500px frame size, we're also leaving out edwin from this shot. so maybe there's something there too about leaving out colors. (and now that i'm looking at it again, i do think that off-white would have been a great way to tie this palette together)

gif 6: OH DEVLIN HOUSE WE'RE REALLY IN IT NOW. obsessed with the way you subverted expectations with the devlin house being so blue and monotone, vs how we tend to read it as this dramatic high-stakes situation with so much blood spilled. again with the symbolism but it feels like it speaks so much more to the nature of the thirty-year (!!!) loop and how to the victims of it it's not dramatic but just the same cycle they can't get out of. over and over and over. and crystal and charles' expressions in this one OUGH. crystal trying immediately to find a way to help, to free these women, and charles is seeing his worst nightmare and trying desperately to suppress it. again, charles' helplessness represented by none of his colours making it onto the palette, even though his shirt is still pretty red. his hero colour is represented only as its worst in this house

i wanted at least one mostly monotone gif in this set, and the devlin house is predominantly teal and yellow, so it's such a strong contender for a monotone shot. problem with the yellows is that they're hard to make look good if there's a person in frame, so blues it was! i had a lot of blue shots to choose from, because every time the loop resets the power cuts and they're plunged into darkness. and i think there's something really symbolic there for charles (oh and now i'm thinking about the way that he drops into the water in the next episode when the night nurse forces the flashback)

and yeah, the first two colors are sampled from crystal's clothes, and the final three are from the wall. and now that i think of it, none of these palettes use colors sampled from charles/his clothes, despite this being really his episode. makes me think about what you said for the tube gif in the ep 1 set, how not sampling from them makes them more of a ghost in their own gif. anywayyyysssssssss

gif 7: can i just say. obsessed with the parallels of the last two gifs, showing the pre- and post-devlin house feelings? at first i thought this one was from the end of ep3, after gif 8, but just from seeing charles and crystal's interaction it's obviously not OUGH. love the wide shot of them (and the cinematography lessons!! the focus falloff at the top. i am Looking), the greens of the trees and the brown of the leaves and the purple of crystal's coat (ooh and the sign!). some of the purple even seems to come across in charles' jacket! and the blue of the statue also being in edwin and charles' socks and crystal's shirt. it ties them all together in a way that contrasts so much with the effect devlin house has in breaking them apart. forever emotional about ittttt

so this one is actually post-devlin house. it's right as charles says he's fine and right before niko shows up. it's the last gif in this set chronologically, but i don't really go by chonological order in these sets, since i want the first and last gifs to be strong, and i don't want any two palettes side-by-side to feel too similar.

i am now thinking about how charles and crystal's interaction in here realllllyyyyy doesn't feel like post-devlin house.

anyway. colors. yeah. that purple being the same in crystal's coat and the sign was such a blessing. and every time i throw a surprise blue in to these palettes i think of you. it definitely is the bit that pulls this palette together.

(yes i was also thinking about the focus falloff here, it is soooo wildly intense in this shot)

gif 8: AND FINAL SHOT. devlin house is over (or is it??) the colours nearly blending in with the background and then contrasted against charles' coat. i'd say SYMBOLISM but i'm sure you're sick of hearing it by now lmaooo. the bright lights in the background are SO striking. and the green??? the way it reflects so dramatically against the orange specifically on edwin's face??? i know that's not death's light shining on them but it sure is interesting how often edwin is the one bathed in that colour of light.......... also this might be a reach but the way crystal's jacket/hoodie/whatever seems to be a similar shade of green-grey, tying her and edwin together as having found common ground in the devlin house, vs charles again being the least represented by the colour palette -- devlin house might be over but he still feels helpless. i'm sure nothing bad will come of that!

the first 10ish frames of this gif are some of my favorites in this entire episode. i just love how this shot looks, and if it was a bit longer, i wouldn't have even had them running into frame. but that little bit of the trio that we do get is so interesting to get to hear you talk about. because i was not paying attention to how they blend in (or don't) to the palette.

--

so. what about the outtakes? first we have this one:

really like this shot. couldn't figure out the palette. i wanted some of that green from the interior wall of the attic space, but it doesn't sample as very green (yay for color theory!) and the few pixels that do sample as green do not look very good next to the rest of the colors.

here's the other outtake gif:

now that i'm looking back at the whole set, i think this one would have been a really good addition to make the whole set feel more cohesive, but i'm not sure which gif i would have cut instead to keep it at 8, so that's probably why i cut it in the first place. this one is kind of fun since the green is not from niko at all, but from the grass below. i initially made this gif with a monochrome palette, but right before i exported it, i noticed just how much green is in there, and decided to use some of it. glad i did, and i am really happy with this gif.

i'd say i can never be normal about this but you already know that. love this, love you, thank you forever for blessing us with your gorgeous gifs!!!

i'm so glad that you can't be normal about these because i also can't be normal about making gifs and i love that i get the opportunity to do this kind of breakdown for them. thank you thank you thank you alex. you're wonderful!!

Dead Boy Detectives (2024) 1.03 — The Case of the Devlin House (insp)

[anjee0]

Salon Buddies

Female!Reader x B Rabbit (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Rabbit brings Lily to the salon so she can get her hair done, where he meets Y/n.

Warnings - No warnings :)

Requested by anon

Y/n lounged and spun around in her chair as she flipped through her magazine mindlessly. The sounds of chatting clients and workers buzzed in the back. It was a Monday night and it was already pretty packed. Their clients were mainly just old ladies who wanted to get a perm or dye their hair for the third time in a month.

“You gonna keep sitting there on your ass princess?” A female voice asked. Y/n looked up and saw one of her workers, Stacy, who was eyeing her down. She had a stern expression on her face as she crossed her arms.

“Sorry Stace. Anything I can help you with?”

“Well,” She looked around, examining the place, trying to look for a job Y/n could do.

Just then, a little girl and a man walked into the salon. The girl had bright blonde hair and brown beady eyes. She was wearing the cutest pink polka-dot dress ever. The man had dark baggy clothes on and a dark blue beanie, which complimented his eyes.

“Alright, you can help them out.” Stacy said.

Y/n sighed and got out of her chair dramatically in a sarcastic manner. “On it boss.” 

“Don't call me that.”

“Copy that.” Y/n said as she gave Stacy a small salute with two fingers.

“Don't do that either. Come on, hurry up.”

Y/n approached the two new customers with a smile on her face as placed her hands behind her. “Hi there, anything I can help you with?” 

“Uh, yeah, hey.” The man responded. “My sister wants to get her hair done. That cool?”

“It's great. Alright, sweetie take a seat.”

The girl shyly smiled at Y/n before hopping into the seat. Y/n placed a black hair cutting cape over her as she sat down.

“What's your name?” Y/n asked.

“Lily.” The girl responded, softly.

“Lily. Lovely name. So, do you know what you wanna do with your hair?”

“I'm not too sure yet. Can you try a cool hairstyle please?”

“Yeah. Anything you have in mind?” 

“Uh, I'm not too sure.”

Y/n could sense that Lily felt a bit scared to talk to her, she could see the shyness radiating off of her in strong waves. She softly smiled at Lily through the mirror.

“That's fine Lily. I have a magazine with hairstyles I can try doing on you. Why don't you try choosing from there?” Y/n offered.

“Yes please.”

Y/n rummaged through the drawers at the front desk trying to locate the magazine. It was difficult to spot under heaps of paper, books and other materials. Gosh, they really needed to sort that out. She was eventually able to find it as a smile of victory spread on her face. 

“Alright. Why don't you take a look in here?” Y/n asked as she handed Lily the magazine.

Lily beamed at Y/n with a golden smile before she looked through the magazine carefully, her thoughts only concentrated on finding a hairstyle. Her eyes came across one that caught her attention, making her eyes’ pools of chocolate brown twinkle in amusement.

“Can I have this one please?” She asked as she pointed her finger to the picture.

“Yeah, of course. Do you want the same rainbow hair ties on that one too?” Y/n asked.

“Yes please!”

As Y/n went to go fetch the hair ties, Rabbit felt a small smile creep up on his face. Something about Y/n's bright and cheerful energy made him feel a sense of comfort around her. The way she acted understanding and patient with Lily made Rabbit feel an unfamiliar sense of warmth in his heart.

“Okay, so I have the hair ties. Let's get started on this.” Y/n said, as she came back with a small plastic bag full of tiny elastic hair ties of different colours.

As Y/n took a brush and started to detangle the small knots in Lily's hair before Rabbit spoke up. “Hey, is it okay if you can teach me how to do this? Just in case she wants this hairstyle again?”

“Yeah, that's fine with me. I can teach you.” Y/n scooted over a bit so Rabbit could also stand behind Lily and watch the process. “I can do one side of the hair while you try doing the other, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds cool.”

“Oh, I didn't catch your name.”

“Jimmy. But people call me Rabbit.”

Y/n's lips curled into a small smile as she heard his nickname. “I'm Y/n.”

Y/n took the comb as brushed it through Lily's hair, it glided through her blonde silkiness perfectly with no problems. She took a small section of hair and parted it into 2. Y/n made sure to take her time as she explained each step with detail and precision.

“Oh, Y/n. You'll never guess who I saw at the grocery store the other day.” A lady in the chair next to Lily said. She was around in her 60s and waiting for the bleach dye in her hair to set.

“Who'd you see Margaret?” Y/n asked.

“I saw Piccolo.” She hissed.

Y/n faced to turn Margaret, her mouth slightly agape. “No you didn't. Really?”

“Really. I saw him. And I was convinced he was following me around but he said it was just a coincidence.”

“He's crazy. I bet he's still obsessed with you.”

“He is!”

“Have you not filed a complaint or anything?”

“Why should I? These policemen can't do anything.”

Y/n carried on teaching Rabbit the next steps to the hairstyle only to be interrupted by his sly whispering. “What is she talking about?”

“Her ex-husband is stalking her, she says.” Y/n replied.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“And we've been divorced for 20 years!” Margaret exclaimed.

Rabbit chuckled. “He must be crazy.”

“Oh he is alright.” Margaret replied. “And who's this beautiful little lady?” She asked as her eyes landed Lily with a smile. It was unbelievable how quickly she could change the tone of her voice.

Lily giggled, flashing her pearly white teeth as her shoulders pointed up. “I'm Lily. And this is my brother Rabbit.” 

“Say, is your mum Stephanie?” Margaret asked as her voice piqued with curiosity.

“Uh, yeah. How'd you know?” Rabbit asked.

“I play poker with her! She's a monster when it comes to the game!” Margaret exclaimed. “You know, I'm not shocked she's your mother. You both have her charming face.”

Rabbit chuckled softly. “Thank you, appreciate it… sorry, what's your name?”

“Margaret. Margaret Holland.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure meeting you too.”

The two of them continued to exchange some small talk and share some gossip before Rabbit went back to helping Y/n. Y/n felt like at some moments, she was looking more at Rabbit than at Lily's hair. She couldn’t help it, something about him was so captivating. Maybe it was his misty blue eyes, or his adorable pointy nose, or his soft pink lips. Whatever it was, it had Y/n looking over every few seconds.

“Do I have something on my face?” Rabbit asked sternly.

Y/n was a bit taken aback by the sudden question and the tone. “Oh, no. I was just, uh, checking if you were confused or, or anything.” 

Rabbit mentally slapped himself for asking such a dumb question. He was used to getting constant looks whenever he went out. It became a habit for him to put on an intimidating and stern act whenever someone did share a few looks with him. Rabbit didn't want Y/n to think that he was one of those people who got pissed at everything. He especially didn't want such a cute girl like her to think that either.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to come off like that. I'm used to getting looks, that's all.” Rabbit apologised.

“No, it's fine. Don't apologise. It's not your fault.” Y/n insisted.

“So, Lily. Do you have anything special coming up tonight?” Y/n asked, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah, I'm doing a play at school with my grade so I wanted to do my hair.” Lily responded.

“Ooh, what's the play about?” 

“A princess and a night and a dragon.”

“And what do you play?”

“Me and a few other people are villagers. We get some speaking lines and we have a song and dance.”

“Well doesn't that sound fun? After this hairstyle, you're gonna be the cutest villager up there.”

Lily giggled as a soft pink colour bloomed on her cheeks rapidly. She smiled widely as her eyes curled up too.

As Y/n explained the next step that was slightly more difficult to the others, Rabbit's ears were more drawn to her voice. The soft smoothness and gentleness of her voice sent him into a trance almost. His eyes couldn't help but trail from Lily's hair to Y/n. He watched as her lips moved steadily as she instructed the steps. Her eyes had a twinkle in them from the various LED lights hung up in the store. Rabbit felt his gaze softening as he admired Y/n. This didn't feel like him. He wasn't quick to do something like this, but in this case, he thought it was okay.

“Got that?” Y/n asked.

Rabbit's eyes quickly moved off Y/n and to Lily's hair again. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“That's fine. Here.” 

Y/n put her hands over Rabbit's as she showed him how to do the next step. He could feel a small hint of blush creeping its way to his face. Her hands felt soft against his. He watched with anticipation as she did the next step for him. Rabbit felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of his head as he felt her hot breath gently gliding across his neck.

“Okay, and we are done!” Y/n said. “What do you think?” She placed a mirror behind Lily's head so the back of her hair would reflect to the big  mirror in front of her.

Lily’ lips immediately stretched to a wide smile as she giggled shyly. “I love it! Thank you, Y/n.”

“Of course darling.” She replied as she took the cutting cape off.

Lily jumped out of her seat and instantly hugged her brother. She looked up at him with an adorable smile. “Do you like it?” She asked.

“I love it. Thank you Y/n, you're a lifesaver.” Rabbit replied.

“Of course. It's my job after all.”

“How much is it?” Rabbit asked as he fumbled to grab for his wallet that was buried deep somewhere in his pants pocket.

“$5.50.”

“Only?”

“Well, Lily is a pretty young client. And it was just a hairstyle.”

Rabbit pulled out a tenner from his wallet and put it in Y/n's hand quickly so she couldn’t refuse the money.

“Take it.” He said, his voice full of sincerity. “You deserve it.”

“Thank you. Come again another time, maybe I can do something with your hair.” Y/n offered.

Rabbit chuckled as he pulled off his beanie, revealing the buzz cut that had been hiding underneath. “You think you could do anything with this amount of hair?”

Y/n chuckled at the surprise. Her lips curled into a gentle smile, liking how much his hair suited him. “I could try something. Maybe I could bleach it.”

“Bleach it? Doesn't sound too bad.”

“Yeah, I think you'd look good blonde.”

A mischievous smirk formed on his lips. “Thanks. I'll consider it. See you Y/n.”

“See you too Rabbit.”

With one final glance, Rabbit and Lily left the salon as they walked off into the twilight of the night. Y/n could feel that mellow energy that they shared come to a fade as the buzz of the busy salon came back to focus. She'd never felt or experienced something like this with a client before. She's never been left with her heart beating quickly and her stomach feeling light after a customer left. 

“He was cute, wasn't he?” Margaret asked.

“Yeah, he was.” Y/n replied. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned to face Margaret.

“Did you get a date with him?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I'm sure I'll see him again.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Fate.”

“You said you don't believe in that stuff.”

“Yeah, but, I can always change my mind, right?” Y/n replied with a sly smirk.

[physalian]

3 More Character Types the World Needs More Of

Or at least, I do.

1. The denied redeemed villain

I need this. So badly right now. So, so, so many “redemption arcs” are half-assed and carry undertones of guilt by the heroes, gaslighting them into thinking the villain “wasn’t all that bad” right before they make some big heroic sacrifice, as if that’s ever enough to make up for the damage that was done.

But you know what I never see? A villain who’s done some awful shit, wakes up to reality, tries to apologize and… is denied. No, it’s not enough to be sorry. No, you’re not absolved of your crimes just because you cry really hard on your knees. Yes, you have to work for it. Yes, even if you work for it for the rest of your whole life, those you hurt are not obligated to forgive you.

Example that sadly did not happen in canon: Enji Todoroki

2. The liar revealed who loses

This fucker lies and cheats his way into his lover’s arms (and liars revealed are always men, because their love interests are always women put in the place of “but he tried really hard and you need to forgive him uwu” unless it’s gay). Similar to above, no, you do not get rewarded just for feeling sorry.

This character builds an entire relationship (and it’s specifically romance that I take such an issue with) on a lie. They are not who they say they are, specifically, they lie about their identity because they know their lover would not let this happen if they knew the truth.

It’s one thing to lie about something inconsequential, or to lie about something unrelated, but to lie deliberately to present yourself as the perfect suitor—and these are never little white lies, these are usually entirely false identities, or secrets so damning that risking the truth could mean arrest or even death—just. Why?

Yeah, okay, you never thought you’d get this far. Cool. You don’t have to tell her the truth, but you have to leave before you trick her into sleeping with you.

It’s just. So squicky. And the lesson always is that he deserves love, that he makes up for it with everything else, that he’s just got a winning personality. She always forgives him, even if they fight about it, it’s so, so predictable.

Examples that did not lose: Aladdin, Evan Hansen

3. The paragon who loses faith

I don’t know that we need a whole bunch of these characters, but so many paragons are painted as heroes with unshakable loyalty to their causes and I’d love to see a devolution of character where they just can’t keep smiling and pretending it’s alright. That there is a limit to how much shit they can take.

They don’t have to go full villain, but maybe they just stop caring, maybe they get cynical, maybe they just don’t show up for work the next day, maybe they’re not there when they’re needed the most.

There’s a few stories I can think of where the masses realize they’ve screwed up and show the hero that their faith has been rewarded (Nolan Bats being one of them) but I mean really a hero who just cannot take it anymore, throws in the towel, and walks away knowing it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do.

Example: (kind of) Captain America

—

Sorry this list is kind of a bummer. It’s a bummer kind of week.

[em-ontv]

Hi I’m the anon who sent you the idea for “sing a song for me” and it’s literally so perfect I can’t wait to read the second part. I might cry a little I’m not even lying this was a dream I had and I was like huh wow that would make a cool fanfic but I can’t write at all. And you made it even better than I could’ve imagined thank you so much 🥰

Sing a song for me. (2/2)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Warnings: injuries/scars, comfort/intimacy (non-explicit), language, no use of y/n, Butcher being Butcher, probably ooc Ben (I made him a bit too gentle, we don't need more trauma), not proof-read

A/n: hello, anon! I'm so glad you liked part 1, this is the long due part 2 I promised. Hope you like it <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :'(

Read part 1 here

Word count: 2.4k

The inside of the van was cramped and smelled faintly of oil and sweat. The seats were worn, the leather cracked from use. The night outside was dense, you saw just enough stars to remind yourself that while you were locked away, there was a whole other world out there beyond your cell.

You sat beside Ben, who kept casting glances your way as if he was afraid you'd shatter. But you couldn't blame him... you must have looked terrible. The bruises, the exhaustion, the haunted look in your eyes. You didn't even bother to look at yourself in the reflection of the window on your way into the van. It felt like too much—like you couldn't handle what Vought had done to you. Not yet.

The ride was mostly silent until Butcher finally spoke.

"Alright, love, here's the deal." he said, breaking the silence. His eyes looked over you, his expression calculating. "We need to know now. Are you in, or do we drop you somewhere nice and safe to rot? We're taking down Homelander. It's not a bloody game."

Hughie shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. You stared back at Butcher, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to form words, but your head was spinning.

You knew what he was asking, but it felt too much to make that decision right now. You just wanted to rest—a bed, a moment to breathe without fear clawing at your throat.

"Alright, back the fuck off." Ben's voice snapped, breaking through the haze of your thoughts. The tension in the van spiked, and for a second, it looked like he was ready to lunge across the seat at Butcher and knock all of his teeth out. "Can't you see she's been through enough? She doesn't need your bullshit right now."

Butcher's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met Ben's glare. "We don't have time for second-guessing, mate. It's a very simple question."

Butcher turned his gaze back to you. "You can help us take down Homelander, the bastard who’s got half the world wrapped around his fuckin' finger, or we can take you back home. But no guarantees, yeah? Vought knows about you. They’ll come for you. Eventually."

You swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over your throat, your mind spinning. Home? That word didn't even feel real. Could that place—that cell—even be worthy of being called something like home?

But then again, if you didn't help, could you ever be safe again? For once in a very long time, the choice was yours, but both paths seemed like a death end.

"She needs time." Ben said, his jaw tensing, quietly observing you as if he knew what you were thinking. The hand that he rested on your back made you flinch slightly, causing him to retract it, his fingers curling into a fist.

Your gaze faltered, your eyes dropping to the ground before you managed to look back at Butcher.

A sharp huff escaped Butcher, his patience worn out. “Time's not a luxury we've got. This ain't a charity." He turned toward you, his tone biting. "Again, you can go back to your cozy little cell, I suppose. Vought’ll just find a new use for you.”

"For fuck's sake, she just got out of an shithole." Ben snapped, his voice simmering with anger. "Give her some fuckin' time."

For a moment, Butcher looked like he might argue with some witty comeback, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the road. "Fine. But time's ticking."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You leaned back in your seat, your eyelids heavy, letting your eyes close for just a moment, the noise faded into the background as you let exhaustion win over.

––––

When you reached the destination, Ben helped you out of the van, his movements cautious, his hand warm and solid on your lower back as he guided you inside. The "safe house" was as secure as it was miserable, but right now, that didn't matter. It was shelter, and it was enough.

The others dispersed, Butcher grumbling quietly under his breath as he stalked off to another room, Frenchie and Kimiko greeted you with a wave before leaving too.

Ben, though, lingered by your side, his hand hovering near yours, gently brushing against it for a second, but he didn't dare to reach for you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough but oddly gentle, his gaze never leaving your face. It wasn't something you expected to hear from him—after seeing his quite violent display in the lab, but here he was, looking at you with more concern than anyone else ever had.

You nodded, a small smile curling on your lips, swallowing thickly. "I'm... yeah. Just... tired," you were almost embarrassed by how weak you sounded, but he didn't judge, a faint understanding in his expression.

Hours passed in a tired blur. You had settled into a room, a worn-out bed, but it was better than nothing. Everyone retreated to their own corners of the place for what little rest they could find. You sank into the mattress, your eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

––––

It was sometime past midnight when Ben jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, running a shaky hand over his face. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight outside filtering through the window. He sat up, his heart pounding, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

Images flashed through his mind—memories of Vought, of his own time in their hands, of the time when he was betrayed, taken away, being tested on, and then frozen for decades. His breathing was ragged, the familiar surge of anger clawing its way to the surface, but something else broke through.

His thoughts drifted to you.

Without really thinking, he got up, slipping out of his room and down the hallway, to the room where you slept. His steps were slow, cautious, not wanting to disturb you.

He hesitated at the doorway to your room, his breath catching when he saw you lying there, on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

In the dim light, your features were softened, the lines of worry and pain absent. You looked peaceful, your breathing slow and steady, and it eased something in him, his shoulders sagging as the tension slipped away.

Ben took a step into the room, but the floor creaked under his weight, and your eyes snapped open, sitting up on the bed, startled.

"...m'sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but hoarse, like something was bothering him. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s okay," you murmured, your breathing becoming steady. Your eyes flickered over his face, the lingering pain in his expression catching you off-guard.

You knew that something was wrong, you'd seen that look before, in patients who had been through a lot, in people who had lost themselves along the way.

He hesitated, glancing away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He looked like he might turn and go back to his own room—but his uneven breathing made him pause. The sight of you was comforting, and that kind look in your eyes made him move closer instead of backing away.

He took a few careful steps closer, almost unsure. "Just wanted to… make sure you were alright," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart still pounding, but not from fear this time, it was something warm. "I’m okay. Just… hard to sleep sometimes."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He sank down to one knee, then both, kneeling beside your bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and his slow breaths. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but comforting.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand, resting it gently against the side of his head, your thumb brushing over his temple. His eyes widened, a brief moment of shock crossing his face.

"What are you—?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the touch almost made him wince in pain from how gentle it was. It was like your fingers brushed against some soft spot inside of him, he almost melted.

"It's okay... trust me," you started, trying to reassure him. His eyes met yours, the initial tension easing. He didn't pull away, but instead leaned into your touch in a quiet surrender. "My powers, they'll help," you added softly.

At your voice, his eyes fluttered shut, his expression softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. The walls he had built around himself crumbled bit by bit the more he felt your touch.

You hesitated, then began to hum—a soft, gentle melody, barely audible but enough to fill the silence. It felt strange, using your powers willingly again, but different this time... it brought you back to the bittersweet memories of your time before Vought. The tune was simple, soothing, a song you’d sung so many times before. Not destructive, but safe, warm.

As the notes drifted through the air, you felt Ben’s body relax under your touch. His breathing slowed, each exhale deeper, more even, and his hand reached up, covering yours as he pressed your palm closer to his face, silently grounding himself in the warmth of it.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a gentle touch, and he felt something he thought he lost... peace. A kind of comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Or something that he thought he'd given up for good, back in the old days, or maybe he'd never had it to begin with.

When your humming finally faded, he stayed there, his hand still covering yours, his eyes still closed. For a second, you thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his tone laced with a sadness that made your heart ache. "You don't understand what I've... the things that I did."

You shook your head, your hand instinctively wanting to fall from the side of his face but he only held you closer with a conflict—whether he wanted to push you away or pull you into his arms and not let go.

"All I know is that I would've been stuck in that lab if it weren't for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "A favor for a favor. I think that's fair."

"Well, it wasn't entirely my choice to break you out," he muttered, that blunt tone of his slipping through, as if it was his last attempt to pull away before sinking too deep.

A soft scoff escaped your lips. "Whatever it was, at least I'm not stuck there anymore."

Slowly, you pulled him up onto the bed beside you, and he let you, his movements careful like he was afraid he might shatter the moment. You shifted, settling so that you were facing him, the blanket fell from your shoulders to pool around your waist, leaving the bruises and scars on your arms exposed under the dim light.

Ben’s gaze traveled over each mark, each scar, but there was no horror in his expression, no pity—only reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing over a bruise on your shoulder, gentle and careful, as if touching something precious.

"They did this to you," he murmured, a hardness in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew too well.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "They're fading." you said, looking away for a moment, as if you didn't want to acknowledge the scars.

Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the bruise on your shoulder, a feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ben...?" you asked hesitantly. The small tremble in your voice made him stop, a flash of worry crossed his face, his teeth biting at his lower lip. He thought he might have overstepped.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, pulling back. He feared that he had ruined whatever small trust that had begun to form between you.

But your fingers threaded through his hair, hand pressing to the back of his head to bring him closer again. "Stop apologizing," you breathed softly.

His eyes met yours and a small smile threatened to curl up on his lips, a mutual understanding settled between the two of you before his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing an old scar, then he kissed another, and another, his mouth trailing over each scar, each bruise, as if he was trying to erase the pain they held. It felt like an apology, like he was mending you.

His touch was careful, almost reverent, and you felt the warmth of each kiss seep into your skin, soothing the ache that lay beneath. You closed your eyes, letting the gentleness of his touch wash over you.

You felt your chest restricting, your breath becoming shallow, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been so taken care of. It was overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Ben’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but the way he touched you was anything but. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped down your cheek without you even noticing. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to your forehead, a kiss so soft, so full of warmth that it made your chest warm and ache at the same time.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're still here, and I'm with you." It wasn't much, but it was the most reassurance anyone could get out of him.

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way you hadn't seen before.

Slowly, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you as you settled your forehead against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

After a long silence, you spoke, your quiet voice breaking the quiet. "Hey... Ben?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice a murmur against your hair.

"I'll help you take down Homelander."

[ducktoo]

Love is War

[Irene x Reader]

Note: I….friggin….love….Kaguya-sama so much. It’s just a funny show to watch and I’ve wanted to make something inspired by them. I had a lot of fun with this.

TW: a lot of second handed embarrassment

(She’s kinda like Kaguya)

You sit across from Irene in the empty student council room, the evening light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows that add a layer of mystery to the already tension-filled silence. Irene is flipping through some papers, meticulously reading, yet somehow ignoring your presence. Her focus, as always, is sharp, precise — but you've noticed the subtle glances, the way her lips curl ever so slightly when she thinks you aren’t watching.

You lean back, determined to stay calm. After all, if you show any interest first, it’s game over. Irene is the president, elegant and controlled, respected and even a little feared. And you, as her vice-president, know every one of her mannerisms by now, but this silent tug-of-war — this feeling she hasn’t just caught your eye but your heart too — has been going on for months. But you’d never give her the satisfaction of saying it first.

“So,” you say, nonchalantly, “another meeting… just us, huh?” You emphasize the “us,” making sure it sounds casual enough to not raise suspicion.

She raises an eyebrow, not even glancing your way. “You’re the vice president, remember?” She flips to the next page. “Or did you forget why you’re here?”

Ouch.

But you can play it cool. “Just making conversation,” you reply with a smirk. “Not everyone spends hours in silence like you do, President.”

She finally looks up, her eyes sharp, and for a second, you’re caught in her gaze. This is all part of the game, you remind yourself. Whoever slips first, whoever lets their guard down, loses.

“I don’t mind silence,” she says with a smirk of her own. “Unless you’re uncomfortable?”

“Oh, of course not,” you scoff, leaning forward. “If anything, I think you’re the one struggling to keep it together.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “You think I’d give in that easily?”

“I didn't say anything,” you tease and put both of your hands up in innocence. Though your heart's pounding, every word a risky gamble. “You seem pretty close to breaking. Maybe you’re just waiting for me to say something first.”

Irene tilts her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s funny. You think you’ve got it all figured out.” She leans in, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence. “But if you’re so certain of yourself, why haven’t you said anything either?”

The challenge is clear, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you practically crackling. You’re staring at each other, each waiting for a sign of surrender, for that one misstep.

Just then, you notice her hand on the table, fingers lightly tapping. You reach out, instinctively, to still them, and in that moment, her eyes widen slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying her usual composure. Your hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and you can feel your own face growing warm.

You pull away, breaking the silence with a chuckle, hoping to cover up your own slip. “Nice try,” you say. “But I’m not that easy to trick.”

She looks at you with an unreadable expression before her lips twitch into a soft smile — a genuine one, not her usual restrained, dignified expression. “I’ll admit, you’re a little harder to deal with than I thought,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a rush of victory. “So, you’re admitting I’m getting to you?”

Irene crosses her arms and raises a brow, leaning back in her chair as if sizing you up. “Well…since you’re so intent on making conversation, how about a game?”

You match her confident expression. “A game, huh? Alright, let’s hear it.”

She holds up her fingers, ticking off each word. “Twenty. Questions.”

The challenge is clear, and your eyes narrow as you smile. This is an opportunity. If you ask the right questions, you might get her to reveal something. “20 questions?"

“Yes,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself. “I’ll ask first.”

You nod, already strategizing your responses. There's no way she’ll get you to slip up.

“Alright,” Irene begins, her tone deceptively casual. “Are you… seeing anyone right now?”

You blink, but you manage a cool response. “No.”

She hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Interesting. Your turn.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” you shoot back immediately, watching her for any reaction.

She raises an eyebrow, giving you a slow smile. “No. Next question: Do you have a… special someone in mind?”

Your face heats up, but you don’t let it show. You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “No,” you say, stretching the truth just a bit. “Do you?”

She smirks, but her answer is quick. “No.” There’s a spark in her eyes now, and you know she’s trying to rile you up. “Have you ever… spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about someone without realizing it?”

You narrow your eyes. She’s getting clever with these questions. “No,” you lie, feeling like she’s closing in. “But have you ever been caught staring at someone and couldn’t look away?”

Her smirk falters for a split second, but she recovers quickly. “No.”

The room feels charged with each back-and-forth. Neither of you wants to back down, and every question seems to dig just a little deeper, as if you’re both trying to pry open a box that’s already bursting at the seams.

Irene leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone?”

The question catches you off guard, but you’re not about to let her win. “No,” you reply, keeping your expression neutral. “Do you think about me?”

Her lips twitch, almost into a smile, and her answer is a soft, measured, “No.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re sure she’s lying. But you’ve both committed to the game, and there’s no turning back now.

You decide to turn up the heat. “Have you ever wondered… what it would be like if you and I were… something more?”

Irene’s eyes widen slightly, and for a fraction of a second, you see a crack in her calm exterior. “No,” she replies, but the tiny hesitation is enough to make your heart race.

“Are you sure?” you press, grinning.

“Yes,” she snaps, recovering her poise with a steely look. “Absolutely sure.”

You can’t help but laugh, sensing her annoyance. But she doesn’t let you revel in it for long.

“Do you get jealous if I talk to other people?” she asks, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“No,” you answer immediately, fighting the urge to look away.

Irene chuckles, clearly unimpressed. “Liar.”

Your cheeks warm, but you keep your gaze steady. “Sure, like you’re any better,” you say. “Have you ever gotten jealous seeing me with someone else?”

She narrows her eyes, leaning just a bit closer. “No.”

There’s a pause, tension thick in the air. Both of you know the series of no are getting less and less convincing, but neither of you is willing to back down.

Then, Irene clears her throat, her voice softer than before. “Alright, last question. And you have to be completely honest.”

You nod, bracing yourself. “Fine. Go ahead.”

She looks you dead in the eye, her expression unreadable. “Do you… feel anything special for me?”

Your heart pounds, the air between you both thick with unsaid words. You can feel every second stretching, every fiber of your being shouting to say something, anything other than—

“No.”

Irene’s eyes widen, and for a moment, her carefully guarded expression slips, replaced with something almost vulnerable. But she recovers, her smirk returning, even if it’s a little shaky.

“Good,” she says, trying to sound indifferent. “Neither do I.”

You both sit in silence, staring at each other, knowing you’ve just lied through your teeth and realizing that you’re both too stubborn to admit it.

But then Irene leans back, her smirk shifting into a resigned smile. “Well,” she says, standing up, her voice teasing, “it seems we’re both in the clear, then. No one’s losing anything here.”

You watch her walk toward the door, and before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes holding yours for just a second too long.

“Good night,” she says softly, with a smile that tells you maybe, just maybe, she’s as frustrated as you are.

“Good night,” you manage to reply, watching her leave, and for the first time, wondering if this game is even worth playing if it means you’ll never actually win.

-

Back in your dorm room, you close the door and let out a long, frustrated groan. You’d spent the entire day locked in a ridiculous back-and-forth with Irene, trying to make her slip up, but "nooo", she had to be as stubborn as ever. You throw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your pillow and thrashing around in irritation.

“‘No,’” you mutter to yourself, mimicking Irene’s voice in the most exaggerated tone possible. “'No, I never get jealous, no, I never think about you, no, I have no feelings whatsoever!’” You yank the pillow over your face and yell into it, hoping it’ll somehow drain the frustration boiling over inside you.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD BAE JOOHYUN!”

-

Meanwhile, across campus, Irene is pacing in her room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Every step she takes sounds like she’s trying to stomp a hole into the floor. She mutters angrily to herself, face contorted in a mix of anger and — if she were to admit it — embarrassment.

“‘Do you think about me when you’re alone?’” she scoffs, doing her best impression of your voice, throwing her hands up in the air. “Absolutely not, why would I?” She frowns, blushing despite herself. “As if I’d be the first one to say anything anyway!”

She huffs and, in a rare moment of unchecked frustration, grabs her textbook off her desk and slams it down, a futile attempt to squash the annoyance bubbling inside her. She’s never felt so embarrassed — or so irritated that she can’t stop thinking about you.

“No,” she grumbles to herself again, as if the more times she says it, the more true it’ll become. “I am Bae Joohyun…why would I fall for you?”

-

Back in your room, you’ve started pacing now too, every nerve on edge. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your face twisted in frustration, and throw your hands up. “This is ridiculous! I don’t even care!” You stomp over to your desk, slamming your hands down like it might somehow snap you out of this bizarre Irene-fueled haze.

“Of all the people I had to like,” you grumble, throwing yourself back on your bed, arms flailing dramatically, “it had to be the one shortie who won’t admit anything!”

-

Meanwhile, Irene’s found herself in a similar scene, on her bed, legs kicking the mattress in frustration. “And that kid KNOWS what they’re doing,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow she’s now buried her face in. “Just sitting there with that smug little smile, asking all those RIDICULOUS questions like they didn’t care one bit!” She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh, tossing her pillow across the room.

It’s not even five minutes before she stands, determined to shake off the restless energy building inside her, and starts pacing her room again. Each step lands with heavy frustration. She mutters under her breath, trying to convince herself: “It’s not a big deal. This is… nothing. And they were obviously lying anyway, just to mess with me. I mean, why would they ask those things unless they were trying to make me crack?”

-

At the same time, you’re staring up at your ceiling, arms crossed, muttering to yourself. “She just has to be so stubborn,” you say, voice heavy with annoyance.

“Every single answer, every question — it’s like she’s actually trying to lose her mind on purpose!” You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head. “But no, she’s just too proud to admit she feels anything.”

-

In the end, both of you spend the next hour or so in almost synchronized frustration — you, rolling around on your bed, groaning loudly every few minutes, and Irene, sighing dramatically and flopping from one end of her bed to the other, trying not to think about how much it bothers her that you refuse to admit anything either.

It’s only when you both wear yourselves out from the mutual thrashing and muttering that a sense of calm settles, leaving you both sprawled on your beds, staring at the ceiling, each lost in thoughts of the other.

But even in the quiet, both of you have the same thought lingering, echoing annoyingly in your minds:

“Why can’t they just confess already?”

“Why can’t she just confess already?”

-

The next morning, you drag yourself into the student council room, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation clinging to your eyelids like cement. You glance at the clock — 8:15 AM. You’ve barely gotten any sleep, and it shows. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair’s a mess, and every step feels like it’s being weighed down by the universe itself.

You slump into your usual chair, rubbing your face. The room is eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. No one else is here yet — except for Irene, sitting in her usual spot across from you, who seems just as disheveled as you feel. Her hair’s a little frizzy, and her posture is slumped like she might collapse at any moment.

You exchange a tired glance. Neither of you says anything. There's no point in it. It’s obvious you both didn’t sleep well, and it’s all because of that ridiculous game.

"Morning," Irene mutters, sounding less like herself than usual, her voice hoarse and low.

You nod. “Morning. Did you… sleep at all?”

She gives a small shake of her head, eyes slightly glazed. “…No.”

You groan. “Same.”

“I can tell,” she says, voice tinged with equal frustration.

You both fall into an exhausted silence, but just as the tension begins to build between you once again, the door creaks open. Seulgi, the treasurer, strides in, bouncing on her feet as usual, though today she seems extra chipper — like she’s somehow been recharged by a full night of sleep, which you both desperately lack.

She beams at you both. “Good morning, my higher ups! You two look like you barely survived the night.”

“Thanks for the observation,” you mutter sarcastically, leaning back in your chair, trying to ignore the painful throb in your skull.

Seulgi raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tense energy in the room. “You guys didn’t get any sleep, did you?” she teases, looking between the two of you. “Too busy scheming with each other, huh?”

Irene gives Seulgi a deadpan stare. “We don’t need your commentary, Kang Seulgi.”

Seulgi shrugs, unfazed. “Okay, okay, no need to get defensive. You two need a distraction.”

With that, Seulgi pulls a small notepad from her bag, flipping it open with dramatic flair. “Let’s play Would You Rather,” she announces, practically jumping into the chair beside Irene.

You blink at her, too exhausted to even care about the idea of playing another game. But Seulgi’s already too deep into her plans to let you escape.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi starts, voice rising in enthusiasm, “have the ability to read anyone’s mind, but only while they’re eating something, or be able to talk to animals, but only in a language they don’t understand?”

You glance at Irene, already half-suspecting she’s not going to entertain this nonsense, but to your surprise, she lets out a small sigh and leans in, trying to humor Seulgi. “The animals. No contest.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I could ask a certain bear to stop stealing my snacks,” Irene mutters, eyes narrowing like she’s speaking from personal experience.

"I know nothing" Seulgi whistled and looked away, feigning ignorance.

You chuckle, despite yourself, because somehow that seems oddly relatable. But Seulgi’s not done yet.

“Okay, next one!” Seulgi says, flipping her page. “Would you rather always know when someone’s lying, but it makes you physically ill, or never know when someone’s lying, but it makes you constantly question everything?”

Irene shoots you a look, probably knowing where this is going. You tap your chin dramatically.

“I’ll go with the first one,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I already get physically ill just dealing with you.”

Irene doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m starting to think you might be lying about that,” she retorts, a small grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

Seulgi, clearly loving this back-and-forth, just grins wider. “Alright, now for the real fun one…”

You both exchange a look of dread.

“Would you rather,” Seulgi pauses for dramatic effect, “have to sing every time you want to communicate, but only in opera, or be unable to speak at all and only express yourself through interpretive dance?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, processing the absurdity of the question. Then, without missing a beat, Irene responds, deadpan, “I’d go with interpretive dance. At least it’s not opera.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “You would dance? For everything? For your class presentations?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it would be easier than singing opera in front of the entire school.”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “I’d rather sing opera. It’s at least... dignified.”

Seulgi looks between the two of you, laughing to herself as if she’s witnessing the world's most ridiculous standoff. “Okay, okay, one last one. Would you rather accidentally confess your feelings to the entire school, but the person you like doesn’t hear, or have to live your life with a giant embarrassing secret that no one knows except you?”

You freeze. Irene’s gaze flicks to yours, and for a brief, horrifying moment, it feels like the entire world has just turned its spotlight on you both.

Seulgi’s watching, clearly loving the discomfort she’s causing.

“I—” you start, but then you hesitate. “I’d rather have the secret,” you say quickly, then add, “I mean, I don’t want to confess in front of everyone!”

Irene laughs — a soft, almost bitter laugh — and answers quickly, “I’d pick the same thing. Secrets are easier to deal with than... that.”

You both stare at each other, and for once, the silence between you doesn’t feel as tense as before. In fact, it’s almost like... you’ve just admitted something without even trying.

But Seulgi, ever the expert at reading the room, lets out a dramatic sigh. “You two are impossible,” she says, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “But at least we had fun.”

Irene and you exchange a glance. Neither of you says anything, but the hint of something unspoken lingers in the air. Something that wasn’t quite said in the game, but was definitely felt.

“You know,” you mutter, standing up and stretching, ��next time, we’re just playing chess.”

Seulgi grins, already plotting her next absurd question. “You got it. But just so you know,” she winks, “I’m totally adding opera to the rules.”

Irene shoots you a look as if to say, See? This is your fault.

And for once, you can’t help but laugh.

-

A few months pass, and life in the student council room has somehow become a bizarre, ongoing comedy show. You and Irene continue your ridiculous push-and-pull game, each day a new round of Who Will Crack First?. Neither of you has budged an inch, and yet neither of you has let up on the passive-aggressive scheming either.

It’s as if you’re both living in some weird, never-ending loop of “will they, won’t they” — and it’s driving everyone around you absolutely mad.

Seulgi, who’s practically an expert at this point in navigating the absurdity of your interactions, has given up trying to intervene. She now finds it hilarious, often leaning back in her chair with a smug smile as she watches the two of you exchange cryptic looks and challenge each other with passive-aggressive “Would You Rather” questions.

One particularly awful morning, Irene walks in wearing her usual perfectly put-together look — except today, her blazer is slightly askew, her hair a little more chaotic than usual. She’s clearly been running on no sleep, but as always, she gives you a pointed, unamused look when you glance at her.

“Not today,” she mutters, sounding exhausted, and collapses into her chair with a sigh.

You blink. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m tired of you,” she snaps back, without hesitation.

You sit up straighter, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh? So you admit it now?”

Her head whips to face you. “I didn’t admit anything, you idiot.”

“Right, right. Of course not.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, but inside you can feel a small victory bubbling up.

Yes, you’re getting to her. Keep going.

Before you can continue your “I’m always right” victory lap in your mind, Seulgi enters, holding an envelope in her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!” Seulgi greets, sliding into her chair and tossing the envelope onto the desk in front of you. “Got this for you,” she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

You blink at it. “What’s this?”

Seulgi leans forward, grinning. “Well, someone (ahem, our vice-president) just got accepted for the student exchange program. With a full scholarship, no less.”

You freeze, staring at the envelope as if it might suddenly burst into flames. It takes a moment for the words to fully process in your tired brain, but when they do — you can’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Wait… you’re kidding,” you mutter, flipping the envelope open. Sure enough, it’s real. You’ve been accepted into the program — and with a scholarship at that. You can barely wrap your head around it, the magnitude of it overwhelming. A chance to study abroad? This is huge.

"I MADE IT MOM!!!" You shouted, as loud as you just won a well fought war.

Irene, however, is not as happy for you. She glares at the envelope, as though it’s personally offended her. “Congratulations,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You grin, almost smugly. “Thanks, Pres. I’m going to study abroad! How cool is that?”

“Right, so you’ll be gone for how long?” Irene’s voice has a sharp edge to it, and you know instantly that something’s bothering her.

“I’m not sure,” you say, waving it off, still too distracted by the possibility of it all. “Maybe six months? Maybe more. It’s exciting, right?”

Irene doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Her lips are pressed together like she’s holding something in.

“You know,” you say, enjoying the rare moment of feeling like you actually have the upper hand, “maybe you should congratulate me properly. This is a big deal.”

She gives you a sharp look. “I don’t congratulate people who act like they’re already the best at everything.”

“Oh, please,” you laugh, “that’s not even true. We both know you’re just upset that you won’t get to have your daily dose of me tormenting you.”

Irene narrows her eyes, leaning forward like she’s about to bite back with something absolutely scathing. But instead, she just sighs. “Fine. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great. Now, I’ll just go back to pretending you aren’t about to abandon me for six months.”

You blink, caught off guard by her sudden change in attitude. It’s almost like she’s… jealous? No, that can’t be right.

“Wait,” you say, your voice sounding strangely unsure, “you’re mad?”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at you like you're the dumbest person alive. “What do you think, Einstein?”

“Are you actually mad that I’m going abroad?” You almost can’t believe you’re asking. This is a new level of absurdity. She’s always acted like she doesn’t care about anything — least of all you.

Her response comes in the form of a heavy sigh, followed by her leaning back again with a dramatic thud into her chair. “I just don’t get it,” she mutters, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most tragic thing in the world. “One moment you’re here, annoying the hell out of me, and then poof — off to some other country like it’s no big deal.”

“Is that jealousy?” you ask, incredulous. “Pres, is that—”

“No!” She snaps immediately. “I’m just annoyed that you’ve been torturing me for months, and now you’re going to vanish, leaving me alone with Seulgi’s stupid games and that.”

You look at Seulgi, who’s grinning at the back-and-forth with a cup of coffee in her hand like she’s watching a reality TV show unfold before her. “I’m just here for the drama,” Seulgi mumbles under her breath, casually sipping her coffee.

“See?” Irene gestures to Seulgi. “I’m stuck here with this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m just as confused as you are,” you joke, tapping the envelope on the table, “since it looks like I’m leaving you here to suffer alone with your secrets.”

Irene glares at you. “Stop talking about my secrets. It’s not like you even have any.”

You grin, sensing that you’ve touched a nerve. “Oh, I do, don’t worry. Just waiting for you to—”

“Stop talking.” Irene snaps, her voice so sharp it’s almost a threat.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you don’t know whether to laugh or just keep pushing her buttons. It’s getting harder and harder to tell if she’s frustrated because of your “secret” or if it’s just the ever-present game you two have been playing for months.

Seulgi, clearly sensing the climax of your endless drama, looks between you both with a smirk. “You two are ridiculous,” she says, sipping her coffee and savoring the war, like a general on the side watching her neighbouring countries fight.

And as always, you and Irene stay locked in your little game — still stubborn, still not admitting anything, but both of you a tiny bit more frustrated than before. You can’t help but laugh, even though you’re not quite sure whether it’s from the excitement of the exchange program or the absurdity of your constant back-and-forth with Irene.

One thing’s for sure — you may be leaving soon, but the game will never truly end.

-

The days leading up to your final day at school felt like a drawn-out episode of Who Will Break First?.

The tension between you and Irene was palpable, like two magnets trying to repel each other while secretly waiting for the other to snap. It was absurd, and yet, you couldn’t help but be thrilled by the idea of ending this ridiculous game once and for all.

The exchange program was looming on the horizon, and you were determined to win this war — no more games, no more indirect jabs. One of you was going to finally confess, and it would be grand. You weren’t just going to do it quietly or casually.

Oh no. You had bigger plans.

Way bigger plans.

You could practically feel the dramatic music building in your head as you sat in the student council room, staring at the whiteboard, mapping out your elaborate scheme. It had to be perfect, a moment so spectacular that Irene would have no choice but to confess. You had one chance, and it had to be memorable.

The idea? A scavenger hunt.

But not just any scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt for the heart.

“How can I make it even more dramatic?” you muttered to yourself, looking over your ridiculous list of clues and challenges. Every challenge would lead Irene closer to her inevitable fate — confessing her feelings, of course. But it couldn’t be too obvious. You had to make it like a game, because she would never confess otherwise. She was too proud.

You could already hear the sound of her internal monologue: I can’t let them get away with this. I’ll show them I’m not some softy.

Little did she know, you were about to turn this into the most obnoxiously grand gesture ever.

The next day, you casually walk into the student council room, where Irene is sitting at her desk, looking as stoic as usual. Her hair is perfect (obviously), and she’s in the middle of filling out some form that looks like it was written in some ancient bureaucratic language.

“Good morning, Pres.” you say nonchalantly, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

She barely glances up at you, just giving a quick nod. “Morning,” she mutters, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Perfect. The stage was set.

“You ready for the game today?” you ask casually, leaning over to get a peek at her papers.

Her eyebrow twitches slightly. “What game?”

“The game,” you say dramatically, “The scavenger hunt. The ultimate scavenger hunt.”

Irene freezes. “What?”

You grin, feeling the thrill of your scheme starting to take effect. “It’s simple, really. I’ve set up a series of clues around the campus. Each one will lead you to the next, until you finally reach your destination. And guess what? You’re the only one who can participate. No one else is allowed.”

Irene stares at you as if you just suggested she run a marathon in high heels. “A scavenger hunt? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” You give her an exaggeratedly dramatic nod. “You’re going to love it. Each clue is going to lead you to a place that’s important to us. You’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

She blinks, clearly confused. “And what’s the point of this ridiculous hunt?”

“The point is,” you say, leaning in like you’re about to share the world’s greatest secret, “by the end of it, you’ll finally admit that you can’t stand it anymore and you will…”

You paused for a moment “…confess your feelings for me.”

Irene’s face is completely deadpan. “You’re out of your mind.”

But she’s intrigued. You can tell.

“Okay, okay. I’ll bite. Where do I start?” Irene asks, crossing her arms with that same defiant, no-nonsense look that always drives you insane.

You hand her the first clue, which is written in ridiculously dramatic handwriting. “Go to the place where it all started,” you say, practically bouncing in your chair, “You know, where we first met. Good luck.”

Irene glares at you for a second before unfolding the note. Her eyes scan it quickly. She’s already halfway out of her seat when she mutters, “This is so stupid.”

And off she goes.

What she doesn’t realize is that you’ve set up each clue in the most bizarre and over-the-top way possible.

The first stop is the fountain near the school entrance. But it’s not just a simple clue — oh no. You’ve surrounded the fountain with floating balloons that spell out “LOVE,” because you’re subtle like that. Next to the fountain, there’s a big, obnoxious banner that says, “First step to confessing your feelings: stop running away from the truth.”

When Irene arrives, she looks at it, rolls her eyes so hard you think they might get stuck, but follows the instructions anyway.

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, lifting the balloon with one hand and searching for the next clue.

Next, the clue leads her to the library — but not just any section of the library. It’s the aisle where you first bumped into her accidentally (totally not planned) on that fateful day. The shelf is stacked with books on love and confession. (Of course, you also made sure the most embarrassing ones were in plain sight.)

By the time she reaches the next clue, which is hidden inside a cookie jar in the student lounge, she’s had enough. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” she says under her breath as she rips open the paper and immediately glares at the next clue.

It’s just one word: Confess.

Irene stares at the note for a solid minute, as though she’s trying to will it to self-destruct. “This is… absurd.”

She’s so close now. You’re practically jumping out of your seat, grinning so wide you’re certain she can hear the smugness radiating off you.

The final stop is, of course, the student council room. You’ve cleared out all the other council members and arranged the room like an oddly romantic restaurant, complete with candles (yes, real candles, because you’re extra) and a giant cardboard cutout of the two of you from a school event that she’ll definitely recognize.

“I swear to god, if you’ve done anything worse than this, I’ll…” Irene trails off as she steps into the room, eyes widening at the display.

You cross your arms. “Well?”

“Are you really going to make me do this?” she asks, her voice dangerously calm.

You grin, barely containing your excitement. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Irene looks at you, deadpan as usual. “You’re impossible.”

You wait, your heart practically beating out of your chest.

She doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches for a few seconds, and just when you think she’s going to snap — she sighs. “Fine.”

She’s this close.

She takes a deep breath, looking you straight in the eye, and says in the most dramatically deadpan voice possible:

“I hate you.”

And just like that, you snap.

“WHAT?!”

“I said I hate you.” Irene smiles smugly, enjoying every second of your frustration. “But I think you’re kind of an idiot. And I’m sort of impressed by your sheer lack of self-awareness. So, confession done.”

You stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

“That’s not a confession!” you shout.

“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Irene retorts, crossing her arms. “But at least I win.”

And with that, you both realize — you’ve just played yourselves.

As Irene starts walking away, her smug expression plastered on her face, you stand there, still stunned, your heart hammering in your chest. You had come so close to victory — and then she just dropped the bomb on you like it was nothing.

I hate you.

What kind of confession was that? Sure, it was dramatic, but it was barely even close to what you had in mind!

But something in your chest tightens. You can’t let this end like this. No way. You won’t let her get away with this. Not when you’re so close

You take one step forward. Then another. You’re walking after her now, and you can feel the heat rising in your face as you approach. The whole scene plays out like a movie, but not the cool action kind of movie. No, this is a slow-motion trainwreck happening in real time.

“I—” You stop yourself. What the hell am I doing?

Irene turns around, still smirking as if she just hit you with the world’s greatest comeback. “What? Did you come to call me an idiot again?”

“No! I mean—YES, but—” You flounder, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you still have. She raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you mutter, realizing that at this point, the only way to salvage your pride is to act like you meant this all along.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cringe crawl up your spine. “I—I think I like you. A lot.”

You don’t stop there. No. That would be too easy.

“Bae Joohyun, I think... I think I’ve liked you for a long time, and... and this whole thing, the games, the scavenger hunts, the balloons... it’s been ridiculous and stupid and—”

Your voice cracks, and you internally scream. This is so embarrassing. Why did I think this would work against the Ice Queen?

Irene just stands there, her smirk faltering for the first time. “Wait—are you—”

“Yes! I—yes! I like you, okay?” you blurt out, and then immediately want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. “Like, really like you. More than I can even explain. And maybe I don’t always show it, and maybe I’m not the best at this, but I’ve spent so long trying to... uh... win this stupid confession game, and now I’m realizing that I... don’t care about that anymore. I just want you to know that I like you—like, like you—and I’m tired of pretending I don’t!”

There’s a moment of silence. You stand there, your face glowing with humiliation, hands clenched at your sides, waiting for Irene to react. You almost can’t bear to look at her. You can feel the awkwardness radiating between you like a thick cloud, and it’s so heavy that it might as well be an actual physical presence.

Irene doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at you with wide eyes. Then she opens her mouth, and you hold your breath, half-expecting her to laugh in your face or walk away.

Instead, she says, “...Are you... done?”

You blink rapidly, still trying to process her words. “What?”

“Are you done?” she repeats, her voice more amused than anything else. “Because that was about the most painfully awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. I mean, are you seriously this bad at confessing?”

Your face turns bright red, and you immediately want to crawl under a desk and live there for the rest of eternity. “I—No! I mean... Yes, I am. I just... I don’t know how to do this! It’s like every time I try, I keep making it worse, and now I’m... I’m...”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

Irene crosses her arms, watching you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “So, what exactly are you expecting from me now? A confession back? Do you want me to one-up you with some dramatic gesture too?”

The secondhand embarrassment is reaching a point where you feel like you might die from sheer awkwardness. “I—”

“Well, guess what?” she interrupts, her expression softening just slightly. “You’re not the only one who’s bad at confessing, you know.” She pauses, letting the words sink in. “I’m just better at pretending I don’t care.”

Your eyes widen. Wait. What?

“You’ve been so obvious for so long. But you’re... you’re a mess,” she says, voice dropping into something a little more serious now. “And I didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. I didn’t want to admit it either.”

Your brain short-circuits. “Wait, so... you—”

She gives a dramatic sigh and steps toward you. “I’m just saying,” she continues, “You’re such an idiot. And I can’t believe it took this long for you to get a clue.”

And then, out of nowhere, she leans forward and kisses you.

For a moment, everything stops. Your brain ceases to function as you try to process what just happened.

It takes about five seconds before you realize that you’ve been kissed, and another five seconds to realize that you’re staring at her wide-eyed, as if this were the most confusing thing to ever happen to you. But you’re also feeling like you might pass out from sheer shock.

As Irene pulls away from the kiss, you’re still standing there, completely shell-shocked. Your head is spinning, the words in your mind tumbling over each other, and your whole body is shaking like a leaf. You can’t believe what just happened — you’d been playing this ridiculous back-and-forth for so long, and now it was finally over.

Sort of.

Irene looks entirely too smug for someone who just outplayed you at your own game. “Well, that was definitely a moment, wasn’t it?”

Your mouth opens and closes, but you’re too dumbfounded to say anything remotely intelligent. You can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your brain still processing the fact that she kissed you like it was some kind of casual Tuesday.

“Um... can I... can I just...?” you trail off, desperately trying to regain your composure, but it’s like trying to catch a greased pig.

Irene, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, smirking as she watches you fumble. “What? Are you still processing it, or...?”

But before you can even think of a response, you hear it.

A very loud click.

Both you and Irene freeze at the sound, and the two of you turn towards the source of the noise. And there, standing a few feet away, is Seulgi — grinning like a cat who just got into the cream.

“Oh, this is rich,” Seulgi says, holding up her phone. “Vice president, you really should’ve told me you were planning on doing a ‘confession’ scene. I thought I was going to have to orchestrate this myself, but lucky for me, I had a feeling something like this would go down.”

“No...” you mutter, feeling the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no. Did you seriously just—?”

“Oh, you bet I did,” Seulgi replies with a grin so wide it should be illegal. She’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “You two have been at this for months. I was just waiting for the moment when one of you would finally break. And I caught it all on video!”

You can feel the panic rising in your chest. “Kang Seulgi, no! You—You can’t—”

She takes a few steps closer, completely unfazed by your distress. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t post it... yet,” she says. “But let’s just say I also have some... interesting footage that could influence your future decisions.”

“Seulgi, you wouldn’t,” Irene warns, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Oh, I would,” Seulgi chirps, tapping away on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. “I have all the juicy bits. You two were so painfully obvious, I might just have enough material for a whole documentary about your embarrassing little love war.”

(She said the title card! Don’t sue me thank you)

You turn to Irene, a look of pure despair on your face. “Please tell me this is not happening.”

“I swear to God, Seulgi, if you even think about blackmailing us...” Irene starts, but then her eyes flicker to the phone in Seulgi’s hand. She hesitates, realizing there’s really no way to undo this.

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Seulgi says suddenly, and you almost collapse in relief, but then she adds, “Mostly.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” you ask, now suspicious.

Seulgi just looks between the two of you, her grin only growing wider. “Well, I was going to use this footage to make you two suffer with some embarrassing compilation videos... but honestly? It’s more fun to watch you both squirm. You’re so pathetically obvious, it’s hilarious.”

You groan and throw your hands up in exasperation. “I can’t believe this. Of course, Seulgi would have been lurking in the shadows, ready to capture every moment.”

Irene, meanwhile, takes a deep breath and glances at the phone again, looking more irritated than ever. “You better not show this to anyone. Or I will make your life a living nightmare.”

“Oh please,” Seulgi says, tapping the screen. “I’m just going to enjoy watching you two suffer in peace for now. But you know, if you’re ever interested in... making a deal... I’m all ears.”

Irene crosses her arms, giving Seulgi a death glare. “You really want to start blackmailing THE president and vice president of the student council? Don’t forget, I have connections.”

Seulgi raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off... for now. But let’s just say, I’ll be keeping my eyes open. You two are so obvious.”

As Seulgi walks away, still chuckling to herself, you and Irene stand there, completely defeated.

You’re both speechless.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter again, this time to Irene, who’s clearly just as done with the situation as you are. “I swear, Seulgi is too much.”

Irene lets out a long sigh and places a hand over her face, as if trying to hide her sheer embarrassment. “This is never going to be over, is it?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’m stuck with this for life.”

“I don’t think I can show my face at school tomorrow,” Irene admits, finally letting out a little laugh despite herself.

“Same,” you reply, feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. “I’m going to pretend I’m sick. I’ll fake an injury. I’ll fake... I don’t know, something.”

“You should,” Irene agrees, “and I’ll be right there with you. The entire school will know about our ‘confession’ before lunch.”

There’s a brief silence between you both, and then, at the same time, you both erupt into groans of frustration and turned away from each other.

“This is why I hate you.”

“This is why I hate you,” Irene replies, her voice thick with secondhand embarrassment.

And there it is — the grand culmination of months of tension, teasing, and awkward games. And it ended up with you both being caught on video, standing like two idiots while Seulgi secretly enjoyed every moment of it.

Today’s result: Both lost (even with a fcking kiss)

-

The week after you left for the exchange program felt like a blur for you — the excitement, the new environment, and the unfamiliar routines made everything feel like a whirlwind.

But back at school, Irene was in a much different place.

Every day, Seulgi would come to school with a new glint in her eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, and a phone hidden somewhere on her person. She wasn’t as sneaky as she thought; Irene could spot her from a mile away, and each time, she’d smirk to herself.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this way too much, Bae Joohyun” Irene would mutter, though the grin never left her face.

And why wouldn’t she? Each time Seulgi presented her with another batch of pictures — snapshots from the infamous day of the confession — Irene’s heart would flutter in the most embarrassing way.

There was the one of you, mid-sentence, as you tried to pull off your grand declaration. Your face was a perfect mix of awkwardness and desperation, eyes wide as you blurted out the confession.

The best part? The expression on your face was so utterly panicked that it made Irene burst into a fit of giggles every time she looked at it.

Then there was the one of you standing there, your hands raised in dramatic surrender, as Seulgi’s camera flashed. Your face was a blend of mortification and determination. Irene would often catch herself replaying that moment in her head — how precious you looked, fighting so hard for that confession you never thought you’d be able to get out.

But the one that made her giddy the most was a candid shot — one taken right after the kiss. It wasn’t a perfect picture by any means, but there you were, lips still pink from the kiss, standing in complete shock as Irene pulled away with that smug smile plastered across her face. You looked like you’d just been struck by lightning…

…and Irene was absolutely in love with the image.

Every time she glanced at it, she could feel the warmth in her chest, the little skip in her heartbeat.

But the real kicker? The deal she made with Seulgi.

“If you promise to keep these between us... and not use them as leverage against me,” Irene had said one day, as Seulgi grinned with her phone in hand, “then maybe... just maybe... you’ll get something in return.”

Seulgi had raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are we talking about here?”

Irene’s eyes glinted mischievously. “The ‘one’ photo you really want. The one where I’m looking adorably happy in front of that dork. I’ll give it to you... for a price.”

“Deal,” Seulgi said instantly, knowing exactly which picture Irene was talking about — the one of her, holding her phone with a soft smile, staring at all the pictures of you. The one where the subtle joy in her eyes was enough to make Seulgi’s heart melt.

And that, of course, meant that Irene had the perfect little “deal” in her pocket. She now had the ultimate keepsake of her vice president and all those memories of their relationship’s unspoken history — one that no one else would ever know about. Not just the hilarious moments, the embarrassment, or even the kiss itself, but the sweetness of it all — tucked away in her phone, a secret only for her to see.

The first time you sent her a message after you’d arrived at your exchange program, she stared at her phone for a moment longer than necessary, then quickly typed back:

“I miss you already. Do you remember that day?”

She hit send before she could overthink it. Almost immediately, she received a reply.

“Of course I do, Joohyun.” you texted. “How could I forget? My life will forever be haunted by that day, thanks to Seulgi.”

Irene couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m not letting you forget. I’ll be keeping all the best pictures. After all, I did get the perfect shot,” she teased, her fingers flying over her phone.

“You wouldn’t dare...” you wrote back, but Irene could tell you were joking. Your words were playful, the tone light.

“I would,” she replied, sending a winky face along with the message. She then paused, allowing herself to enjoy the quiet connection between you two.

As Irene walked through the campus, heading toward the student council room, she felt oddly content. Despite the distance between you now, despite the teasing and the games and the back-and-forth, there was this undeniable warmth in her chest. She might have started this war thinking she’d win, but now that it was over, she realized she had already won.

You.

Her vice president. The one who had made her life absolutely ridiculous and frustrating, but also the one who had somehow captured her heart in the most unexpected of ways.

Irene flipped through the pictures once more (and the candid shot that she had set as her lock screen)— the ones of you two together — and her smile softened. It was official.

She was never letting go of this.

As she walked into the council room, still holding her phone close to her chest, Seulgi shot her a knowing look. “So, when are you going to send them all the photos and just admit you’re head over heels for your vice president?”

“Soon,” Irene said, her voice thick with happiness, as she swiped through the next batch of pictures. “Just... one more time. I want to keep this to myself for a little longer..”

Seulgi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. “You really are hopeless. It sounds more like you definitely lost this war, isn't it?”

“…maybe.” Irene admitted, unable to stop herself from smiling widely. “But I’m hopelessly in love.”

And with that, she tucked her phone away, heart full of giddy excitement, ready to face whatever came next. After all, she had time. The war might have ended, but this?

This was just the beginning.

(cue the outro)

[megumislovedoll]

super shy? no, super lucky

⠀ ⠀— chapter 2 of the cool with you series

yn pov 3rd person

She sighed, finally finishing her test. Now, it was time to see what she got on it. She'd been lucky enough to remember her test was today just in time, but now let’s see if she was lucky enough to get a good grade despite her last minute studying, constantly leaving online classes early, and turning in assignments late. 

Which the only reason why these things would happen is because of newjeans. 

“ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh,” she whispered, her hand shaking as she reached for the refresh button—or maybe she was just being dramatic. She pressed it, and then—“YES! OH MY GOD!” she cheered, seeing her grade: a B. 

Just as she was about to scream some more, a text popped up, it was utahime reminding the group about an afternoon dance rehearsal for their new song, Supernatural.

“Right, rehearsal,” she murmured, calming down a little but still feeling the excitement. She grabbed her dance bag and was just about to leave when she caught a look at her reflection in the mirror by the door. Maybe she should actually get ready for the day—considering she’d just ran out of bed in panic earlier today and hadn’t even showered yet.

Megumi’s pov 3rd person

morning classes are done, and now he has about an hour and thirty minutes until his afternoon classes. Everyone else is out of the dorm doing something, except Toge, who’s napping on the couch. Megumi opens the fridge—nothing, besides four eggs left. "Of course," but he pulls the eggs out of the fridge and starts cooking them, which makes Toge’s big back ass wake up.

"Can I get some?" Toge asks.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because there’s only four, and you guys are always eating everything anyway."

Toge groans. Maybe a few minutes later, Megumi gets a text from Yuuta: "megumi it’s your turn to get the groceries and share some eggs with toge"

"No way you just snitched on me," Megumi says. "Shareeee, Megumi."

"You know what," he says, "since you wanna be so big..." He puts the cooked eggs onto a plate. "Have the rest. I don’t fucking care."

He moves toward the door and grabs his keys. 

"Wait, where are you going?" Toge asks.

"To get some groceries, since you wanted to tell on me," he replies, leaving the dorm.

Yn pov 3rd person 

It’s been about 15 minutes, and Uber won’t fucking work. She tried reopening the app, restarting her phone, deleting and downloading the app EVERYTHING but it won’t work. She also tried asking the other members to pick her up; half of them are already there, and the other half hasn’t seen her message.

“guess I’m just gonna have to walk.”

The walk isn’t exactly long, just a few minutes, but it’s still risky considering she could get noticed. So, she’s gonna have to wear a mask and some glasses. She went down the stairs, then out the door, walking down the street with her head down as well so she could definitely not be noticed. Amazing idea, right?

Yeah, until you bump int—

masterlist!

TAGLIST @cinnamxnangel @sorenflyinn @beepbopzlorp @angelcakkess @ibeatmywifeandkidss @h-aecat @megumisluciouslashes @gumims @starrysho @tlissablr @kiss-my-asscheeks @good-mourning0 @mikikoo @1l-ynn @stillnotherapy @kzoyu @brideads @mikko-mikko  @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @hanniemylovelyquokka @adoremae    @ocyeanicc @sentifua @sirenla @depressinglyobsessed @m1ndfulsorrows

©megumislovedoll all rights reserved. do not translate, repost on other platforms, modify, or copy.

[johannesviii]

Parallels, foreshadowing and narrative echoes in Infinity Train Book 3 episode 1 "The Musical Car" [1/2]

I can pinpoint the moment I rewatched that episode as the one when my obsession with this show went completely off the rails pun intended in early March 2024. I haven't been normal about it since then even though we're currently in November. Of course almost every series ever made uses parallels and foreshadowing in some capacity, it's just that Infinity Train episodes are about ten minutes long and there's an amazing amount of foreshadowing, parallels and other narrative echoes packed in those first ten minutes and it drives me nuts

I'm not going to explain most of these things. Some of them are incredibly obvious, some aren't. I'm just listing them so we can scream about them together and hopefully I'll feel less insane afterwards

Also I had to make two posts cause I hit the new image limit. Kill me

Let's go

A familiar place becoming hostile and unfamiliar

The first time we see Grace in this Book, she's basically reenacting something she wanted to do as a kid, except now she's the one in control

I also can't help but notice there's three different versions of Hazel from three different angles when Grace is questioning her own decisions in her tape and her mind is basically using Hazel as a mouthpiece for that. When I look at you I see me

Dance lessons foreshadowing

The first time we see Simon in this Book, he's painting a miniature, and it's part of a series of parallels which makes me ESPECIALLY insane. Something about him seeing himself as a little soldier, then treating Grace as if she was one of his miniatures later on. Bear with me for SIX FUCKING GIFS here cause it's a whole extended metaphor which keeps reappearing through the entirety of Book 3 and I've never seen anyone talk about that specific one. Maybe it deserved its own post. Too late now

He clearly loves to collect stuff. I wonder who he got that from, uh

Cool radar design. I wonder where we saw that kind of round, clockpunk-adjacent type of tech before

So there's two halves of one mask, one half is golden and represents comedy and it's on the right, one is the mask of tragedy and it's on the left. Cool, cool, nothing to see here

Grace learned from the best

Not bad, Simon. YEAH UH, SO, ABOUT THAT-

"I was ten"

"never trust an adult!" being weaponised later on

Only one half of the mask survived - the right side, now a tragedy mask and placed on the left side of the screen. Wow I wonder if this foreshadows anything about how this story will end, uh

All of this happens before the title card even appears on screen and I already hit image limit. I'm fine! I'm fine

Here's part 2

[mistriavalley]

Alex is down bad for you (gn!farmer)

Note: Got this idea from @sagegotthesauce

TW: none

Masterlist

Alex is handsome, tall and strong and can be incredibly charming when he wants to. So obviously he thought it would be an easy thing to leave an especially good first impression on the hot new farmer when they walked over to introduce themselves. Just that it wasn't easy at all.

"You're the new-? Cool. Yeah. Alex." Wait what the fuck was that? Why the fuck did his breath get caught in his throat when he tried to speak to you? Maybe next time he will do better

His strength is...well, his strength. It's an important asset of his so naturally he tries to catch your attention by lifting weights infront of his house. He sees you by Pierre's or close to the Saloon? The dumbbells and weights are out the same second he lays his eyes on you and then he acts as if he doesn't notice you at all while grunting in an exaggerated way just to make you look at him

Alex craves to have a proper conversation with you, but so far you've only ever greeted him. The most you've said to him was when you introduced yourself. Normally he doesn't struggle with talking to someone he likes, but with you he finds himself to be nervous for the first time since...well...forever

The day he finds you alone at the beach during summer is like a gift from the heavens. With his gridball tugged under his arm, he confidently walks over to you and suggests to play catch. That way he can impress you with his athletic skills. Unfortunately you don't seem too into it and you don't even try to catch the ball which leads to you guys not really playing any catch

Nevertheless, you still tell him that you believe he would make a great gridball player. You might have just said that to be polite, but when I tell you that his growing crush for you makes him absolutely delusional. It definitely gets to his head and he wants, no, needs more. Any sort of compliment or praise leaving your sweet lips is like throwing treats at a dog

You start to live in his mind rent-free faster than he anticipated. His mind goes to you first thing in the moment and he has a mental picture of you in his head when he falls asleep. Hell, you even visit him in his dreams regularly and when that happens he wakes up with a lovestruck grin on his face

Whenever Evelyn mentions that she wants to send you her famous cookies over mail, Alex jumps to his feet. Why send it when he can walk over to your farm by himself?

Then one day you gift him an egg! From one of your chickens! What a time to be alive. Alex doesn't know if he should eat it or keep it, because it's something you gave him. He knows he can't keep it around forever though

Haley makes fun of him over the fact that he's so obviously head over heels for you. I mean, he is acting kinda pathetic with the way his eyes don't leave you for a second the moment you enter his vision or the way he oh so desperately begs asks for your attention. You're also the only thing he ever talks about nowadays

But then you do the unthinkable and ask him to be your partner for the flower dance! Oh, he doesn't know how to react. Alex feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest and he's trying so hard to act all cool, but he's a mess. While he stares at you with a lovey-dovey look, he only manages a hasty nod, accompanied by a side-eye from Haley of course

It's so adorable how he messes up almost every single step of the dance. The same dance he's been participating in for years now and which steps he can usually perform in his sleep. Do you notice how nervous and excited he is? He's really hoping that you don't. Hell, he's even sending silent prayers to Yoba

"Hey, so I thought that uh you'd maybe wanna hang out? With me? Alone?" Just play it cool, Alex. You might have fucked that up on an ungodly level, but you gotta own it now. Wing it, man. "Like a date? I'd love to!"

He short circuits, blinks a couple times and is working hard to process your answer. You wanna go? With him? I mean, that is exactly the result he was hoping for when he was practicing this shit infront of the bathroom mirror, but he genuinely didn't think he'd get that far. Not with you. Not with the way he has been embarrassing himself infront of you the past months

He books a separate room at the saloon and everything is planned out up until the tiniest detail. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Well, unless he's acting like a desperate and pathetic fool again which he normally does when you're in his proximity

And holy shit it's so easy to talk to you? Don't get me wrong, he's still so fucking nervous and so fucking ready to roll out the red carpet for you just for showing up, but you're also such an easy going person. You two basically click immediately which you thought was the case a long time ago already, but he only now properly experiences this. In the past conversations you two have shared, Alex was always too busy not to seem like a complete looser

At the end of the date he of course walks you home like the gentleman he is. Your hands brush against each other during that and everytime that happens it sends jolts of electricity through his arm right into his chest where is heart is beating like crazy

You stop at your front door where you bless him with a smile and place your warm hand on his chest. This man is on cloud 9 and feels like he could fly away this instant. Then you completely rock his world by putting your lips, the same ones he's been daydreaming about 24/7, on his and he fights back a sigh. The butterflies are having a rave in his stomach right now

[sokuly419]

I have so many thoughts and feelings about act 1 of Arcane season 2. I don’t think I could even put them into coherent sentences right now. A few things that I can are:

— I’ve said this on a couple reblogs but I can’t shake the thoughts about it. When Cait finally lets herself break in front of Vi, I noticed Vi almost hesitate. It looks like she takes a small step back before leaning forward to catch Cait. Once she does, she doesn’t seem to hug back right away, hands closed into fists. Even when she does, her hands are still closed. When Cait slides her arms down Vi’s back is when Vi finally opens her hands. I have a feeling it means something (aside from the dropping of her guard) and we might get a parallel to it.

— Speaking of Vi dropping her guard, she does it a lot around Cait in act 1. After their kiss, the gauntlets come off. Before the uh… super heartbreaking breakup, the gauntlets come off. She completely lowered her guard before talking to Cait (who was still armed) which almost makes it worse.

— Vi already drinking a lot.

— Completely unrelated to the show itself… Maddie’s voice actress is the same one who voices the companion Cait in Fallout 4. Kinda found that funny but also a touch irritated with myself for not noticing seeing as Cait is my favorite companion (outside of Dogmeat, of course). Like I should have noticed from the lines “I have to ask…” and “… a heart like yours.” Like… she says it damn near the exact same way in the game. So that makes 2 people in Arcane related to Fallout in some way. Ella Purnell (Jinx) being the other. She plays Lucy in the show. Just a neat little bit of trivia for the Fallout fans.

— Cait, darling, I love you but you’re making it awfully hard to keep defending you. Knock it off and go get your girl back. You better have a damn good apology.

— Jinx was so unbothered for most of act 1 and I am so here for it. Especially with Sevika’s new arm.

— I see a lot of people going on about Maddie. Her vibe is all off to me. Not related to any of the leaks either (sigh). Just… nah. I dunno what it is.

— Can we also talk about the blue guy on the strike team? Come on. He’s cool and doesn’t even say a word. I want to know more about him. He has a good vibe about him… for now at least.

— Cait’s cape is cool looking.

— Heimerdinger was so unbothered. Absolutely love it. Funny lil guy.

— Viktor is Jesus?? Alrighty then.

— Mel got kidnapped?

— Ambessa needs to kindly fuck off and leave Cait alone.

—Jayce needs to not touch things sometimes. I swear. Had to go fuck around with magic at the worst time while our girls were in the middle of a fucking battle.

There’s so much more bouncing around my head but can’t quite put into words yet. I’m sure I’ll get there and have even more to say once act 2 destroys us further. Until then, let’s just focus on that kiss and not what happened after…

[aalixsturns]

Unexpected Harmony

It was a chilly autumn evening, and Y/N was sitting on a bench at the edge of a quiet park, sipping on a hot chocolate. She wrapped her scarf a little tighter around her neck as she scrolled through her phone, lost in her thoughts. Suddenly, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up to see none other than Matt Sturniolo standing there with his usual grin and a hot coffee in hand.

"Hey, Y/N," Matt said, his voice warm and easygoing. "Mind if I join you?"

She felt her cheeks flush, but managed a nod, trying to play it cool. They’d met at a friend’s party a few weeks ago, and since then, Matt had a habit of showing up in the most unexpected places – though she didn’t mind one bit.

"Fancy meeting you here," she teased, scooting over to make room for him on the bench.

Matt shrugged and gave her that playful smirk of his. "What can I say? Maybe I just have good timing."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the crisp autumn air surrounding them. As they sipped their drinks, Matt glanced at her with a thoughtful expression. "So, Y/N, what’s the plan for the night? Or were you just planning on people-watching alone?"

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, people-watching was the plan. But since you’re here… maybe we can come up with something a bit more exciting."

Matt’s eyes lit up. "Now you’re talking! Let’s go do something completely random. How do you feel about crashing a karaoke bar?"

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Matt was already on his feet, offering her his hand. "Come on, I know a place nearby," he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for this moment.

They walked to the karaoke bar, laughing and making jokes the entire way. When they got there, it was exactly what Y/N imagined – colorful lights, loud music, and people who seemed to take karaoke way too seriously.

After a few songs from other brave singers, Matt grabbed her hand and led her to the stage. "Ready for our duet?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "I’m not sure if they’re ready for us, but let’s do it."

They sang, danced, and completely stole the show with a wildly out-of-tune performance, but neither of them cared. By the end of the night, they were breathless, laughing, and feeling like they’d known each other for ages.

As they walked out into the cool night, Matt looked over at her with a soft smile. "Tonight was perfect. We should do it again sometime."

Y/N smiled back, knowing she’d never forget this night. "Anytime, Matt."

And as they walked off together, she had a feeling this was just the start of something unforgettable.

Tags: @madifilipowiczslvt @sophand4n4 @daysonend @phone4pills @sweetreliever

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Black album Jason having a massive crush on reader who is the lead guitarist of the opening act. The boys tease him about it and confesses to them.

This idea is so cuteeee, I hope you like it💕

Soundcheck crush

It’s another soundcheck, and I’m back on the sidelines, bass in hand, pretending to be preoccupied with the controls. But really? My focus is locked on her—Y/N, the lead guitarist of the opening band. She’s up there shredding through her solos, completely lost in her music, and I’m transfixed. Every time she closes her eyes, lips pursed in concentration, I swear I’m about to lose it.

I can’t even begin to explain what it is about her—maybe it’s the way she looks so effortlessly at home up there, the way she seems oblivious to anyone watching. There’s no denying it, though: I’ve got it bad, and it’s getting harder to hide.

And then, of course, James appears beside me with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s been waiting for me to slip. He’s grinning, eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene. “Checking out the opening act again, huh?” he teases, his tone loaded with barely disguised amusement.

I try to keep it cool, shrugging like I’m totally unbothered. “Just making sure the levels are good,” I say, though I can feel my face warming. “You know. Professional courtesy.”

“Oh, really?” Kirk joins us now, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’ve been awfully dedicated to this ‘professional courtesy’ all week. Especially when it comes to watching Y/N.”

Lars sidles up, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “Jason, man, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you’ve been staring at her, like, every single day.”

They keep at it, nudging me and making side comments, and I’m about to come up with some excuse when Lars raises his eyebrow. “Admit it, dude. You’re crushing on her, right?”

I let out a sigh, feeling my face heat up even more. The guys know me too well, and the way they’re looking at me, I know there’s no point in denying it anymore. I groan and rub the back of my neck, finally letting it out.

“Alright, fine!” I say, laughing a little despite myself. “Yeah, I like her, okay? She’s… she’s incredible. Not just her playing—she’s got this presence, you know? Like, I can’t stop watching her. She’s just… different.”

There’s a beat of silence before the guys burst out laughing. But it’s not the mean, mocking kind; they’re just surprised, probably glad I finally cracked.

James slaps me on the back, grinning. There it is. Finally, some honesty from our man here. So what’s stopping you? Go talk to her. She’s not gonna bite your head off.”

I shake my head, still embarrassed but relieved to have gotten it out there. “I don’t know, man. It’s… not that easy. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I’ve been secretly watching you every night’? That’s just… weird.”

Kirk chimes in with a laugh. “Or, you know, you could just tell her you like her playing. Give her a compliment, say something. Anything would be better than staring her down from across the stage.”

I laugh and roll my eyes, but I know they’re right. The truth is, every time I get anywhere near her, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s like I forget how to form sentences, and that’s if I’m lucky enough to remember my own name.

And then, of course, here comes the opening band, just wrapping up their soundcheck. Y/N’s leading the group, her guitar slung over her shoulder, her face still flushed from playing. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she walks over, giving me this warm, friendly smile.

“Oh, hey, Jason!” she says, stopping in front of me. “Didn’t realize you’d be hanging around for our soundcheck again.”

I scramble for something smooth to say, but my brain decides to abandon me. “Uh… yeah! I mean… I’m, uh, a fan. Of… music. And your band. And… you.” As soon as the words are out, I know I sound like an idiot, but I can’t stop myself from turning red.

She raises an eyebrow, laughing a little as if she’s trying to decode what I just said. “Well, thanks, I guess?” she says, chuckling. “Nice to know I’ve got Metallica’s bassist as a fan.”

“Totally,” I manage, forcing a smile. “I mean, you’re… really good. You’ve got an amazing sound and… you, especially, you’re just, uh…” I trail off, mentally kicking myself as I struggle to finish a coherent sentence.

She looks at me with a soft, amused smile, tilting her head slightly. “Thanks, Jason. That’s really nice of you.” She gives me a quick, friendly nudge on the shoulder, sending my heart racing. “Guess I’ll see you out there tommorow?”

“Yeah,” I managed, still dazed. “For sure.”

With one last smile, she heads off with her bandmates, and I’m left standing there, feeling like I just ran a marathon. As soon as she’s out of earshot, the guys completely lose it.

“Oh man, you nailed it!” Lars says, cracking up. “‘I’m a fan of… music. "So smooth,” he mimics, clutching his sides from laughing so hard.

“Seriously, Jason, I thought you were gonna pass out!” Kirk adds, wiping away a tear. “I’ve never seen you that red in my life.”

I let out a groan, rubbing my face. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. At least I actually said something this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” James says, grinning. “Maybe by the end of the tour, you’ll actually be able to have a full conversation with her.”

They keep poking fun, but it feels different this time. I’ve got this stupid grin on my face, and even though I stumbled through every word, there’s a part of me that’s just… happy. She talked to me, laughed with me, nudged my shoulder, and she didn’t seem to think I was too much of a mess. 

For now, that’s more than enough. But next time? I might just take a real step forward.

[dullgecko]

Ok, since you said this is how we play I'll try It, how does Riz react when he learns he's Friends are alive? I guess he feels relive, that means he hasn't got them kill but at the same time why haven't they revivem him?

Yeah baby! Play the game get a prize (the prize is more words)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

There was something to be said about being dead, Riz certainly didn’t feel himself getting tired anymore beyond the general brain fatigue of reading through records for hours on end. Bytopia almost rivalled the nine hells when it came to bureaucracy but the rogue considered himself an expert after helping Fig claim ownership of the bottomless pit. A little angelic paperwork wasn’t going to stop him even if he felt like he was going a cross-eyed from reading through rulebooks and forms.

Once Pok had shown him to the record room, a vast almost endless plain of bookshelves that stretched to the horizon hidden behind an unassuming door in the fields of Elysium, he’d been called away to deal with a problem for the LPRTF. Riz getting left behind to find the information he needed with only what little guidance his father could give him in the few seconds he had spare before sprinting out of the room.

This was fine. Riz was his party’s research guy. If there was something here to find he would find it that was guaranteed. First and foremost? Making sure his party was okay. It took him a couple of hours to track down everyone’s files, the goblin feeling relieved when he checked and found that each of them was still okay and alive in turn. Each of their records was a detailed account of their entire lives, the pages in the ‘future’ were written but even looking at them made his head spin and he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He absently wondered if maybe Adaine would be able to see what was written there given she was the oracle, but the better question would be whether she wanted to read it.

He didn’t want to violate his friend’s privacy too badly though, even though he was very tempted to take a quick peek at their childhoods, only quickly checking their status was listed as ‘alive’ on their files before placing them back where he found them. Checking his own records should be fine though right?

Finding his own records was a lot harder, mostly because they were stored separately from those still on the Prime Material, and when he found it it was almost triple the size of his friends. Reams of paperwork regarding his employment with the LPRTF enclosed between the covers of the folder making it much thicker. He carefully started pulling out and reading through the bundles of paperwork, mostly just curious if there was any information that could be gleaned there but his brows ended up knitting together in confusion. The goblin tucking the folder under his arm as he went to find a reference book to double check everything was filed correctly because he had a niggling feeling still that something was off about his current life-status.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Time, when you’re dead, can get a little bit weird. You don’t need to sleep or eat (even though you can if you really want to) so the normal methods Riz tended to use to track the progression of time were completely absent. Because of this it had been nearly five days after entering that he finally stumbled back out of the records room, clutching his own file and a reference book in one hand and a slightly crumpled wad of paperwork in the other, and at least three files with his tail. The goblin looking a mix between completely and totally manic and gleeful as he stumbled over to the nearest agents desk and slammed the paperwork down in front of them.

“I should NOT be dead. Where’s Agent Gukgak?”

“He is, um, out? Some trouble in the Nine Hells.” The gnoll who’s desk he’d slammed the paperwork onto looked surprised, hyena ears flicking as they glanced between the face of the slightly unhinged looking goblin and the paperwork pinned under his hand.

“Oh okay, cool, never mind I’ll just talk to you then. I shouldn’t be dead.”

“You said… but I’m going to assume you’re going to explain why?”

They knew this was Pok’s kid, everyone in the LPRTF knew who he was and when word came in that he’d ascended at only seventeen they’d felt awful for him. Their wonderfully talented part time lower planar consultant suddenly promoted to full-time agent before he was even legally an adult? Incredibly sad, but there was little they could do about it other than help him through the first few stages of realising your ticket had been punched permanently. He looked WELL and truly into the denial phase right now.

“Yes. Okay, look. I found my file and all my employment paperwork and stuff.” Riz juggled his armful of papers, dumping them onto a clear spot on the gnoll agents desk and flipping open the reference book to the pages he’d marked. “You guys had permission to fast track me to ascended soul when I died and lock in my employment. This form.”

“Sure did honey, didn’t want you having to spend weeks in limbo while we processed everything so it was pre-filled for you.”

“Cool, alright, you know what I’m talking about then.” He shuffled through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. “It’s filled in WRONG. You’ve got it listed as ‘on the event of my death’.”

“Yes dear.”

“No you don’t get it. It’s been filed as ‘on the event of my next death’ not ‘permanent death’. They filled in this bit of paperwork wrong. I’m an adventurer we die all the time but our cleric usually brings us back.” He jabbed at the page, juggling another file onto her desk from the stack he was holding with his tail. “This is my friend Kristens file, she’s my party cleric, she tried to resurrect me within fifteen seconds of my dying but you guys had already locked me in to becoming an ascended soul working here. You stopped me from being resurrected with the protections that stop agents being summonable to other planes without prior approval. She totally could have brought me back.”

“That’s not-“ The gnoll agent blinked, pulling the page Riz was jabbing at closer and reaching over to grab the reference book as well. The agent flipping through a few pages before smoothing out the slightly crumpled page Riz had been clutching, their eyes going wide with realisation. “-oh… oh dear. Well… you’re not wrong.”

“So we need to fix it.” Riz reached behind himself to grab the other files he’d been holding in his tail and stack them neatly on the desk, wings relaxing out of their outstretched position to fold comfortably behind his back as he calmed down.

“Well, we can fix it but you’re still dead kiddo. This is a huge fuck up on our part but we can’t just… zap you back into your old body. Literally all it will do is change the wording on this form to be ‘permanent death’… and it’s been nearly seven days since you died.” They dug a pen out of their desk drawer, waving it over the piece of paper and instantly fixing the wording in front of Riz before placing it back in his file still sitting on their desk.

“Yeah but they could still bring me back. Kristen could try Raise Dead that’s got a ten day time limit.” Riz flicked his tail, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

“Not really? You’re already an ascended soul and like you said, they can’t summon you to a lower plane without permission.”

“So? Just get me to a lower plane? Fig is the mistress of the Bottomless Pit they can just resurrect me there.”

The gnoll agent winced, having to look away when the rogue dropped his ears back and gave them the saddest look they’d ever seen. Holding their hand up to block their view of his face when he purposefully dilated his eyes to make them look bigger. “No, stop that. We could try but the process for approving getting an agent to the lower planes can take days.”

There was a blinding flash of light off to their left that made Riz drop the ‘sad goblin’ expression and stand back up straight, ears flicking into an expression of mild confusion as Pok was left behind in the wake of the beam of light. The older goblins hair smoking slightly and smelling heavily of sulphur as he glanced around the field and zero’d in on his son.

“Hey sport. Feeling better? Find what you needed to find?”

“Yeah. Paperwork was wrong. I shouldn’t be dead.”

Pok blinked, glancing at the gnoll agent who just nodded and shrugged in answer to his silent question. “Oh. Alright then. Glad to hear it. You might want to come with me then.”

Riz ruffled his wings and trot over to take Poks hand when it was offered, his father leading him away from the field full of desks until they were barely visible in the distance. The rogue just making a confused noise before reaching out to dust some of the soot off his dads back while they walked.

“Where have you been?”

“Just a few problems on the lower planes, I had them teleport me back here when I realised where the problem was headed.” He laughed, leading Riz up and over a hill that looked down into a different field of Elysium below them. A jagged tear splitting the landscape like someone had ripped a hole in a piece of paper, the bow of an unfamiliar ship jammed through the crack and allowing several demons to spill into Bytopia unimpeded.

All Riz could really do was stand there in shock as several figures clambered their way out of the ship to the ground, one of them stabbing one of the demons that launched themselves off the ship after them and putting them down in one attack. The figure turning to point their sword at the nearest celestial trying to fight back the incursion in order to ask them a question.

“YOU! Where the FUCK is Riz Gukgak?” Fabian slashed at another of the demons as they tumbled off the ship, giving it a swift kick to knock it back through the rift.

“Oh. Wait are my party the problem or are they helping you with a different one?”

“Bit of both.” Pok laughed, ruffling Riz’s hair after letting go of his hand. “The demons were trying to invade anyway they just hitched a ride on their ship to help fight them back… and probably come to fetch you.”

“Well… saves me a trip to the lower planes for a resurrection since I got my paperwork sorted.”

“I was a bit worried we’d have to fight your friends off too if they tried to take you but it looks like you sorted out the nitty gritty on your own… Good job.” Pok held his arms out, grunting a little when Riz threw himself at him for a hug before glancing back down at his friends fighting below.

“I’m going to go help… and hopefully get revived. Thanks dad.”

“No problem Riz. Just… make sure you don’t come visit again for a long while?... at least outside of normal consultant stuff at least.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Fighting back the incursion had been tough without his weapons but at least he still had claws and teeth that he could fight back with. When the last demon fled back through the rift Riz was left exhausted, covered in gore and with a newfound appreciation for his wings which gave him a bit of an edge when it came to getting into a good position to rip out taller creatures throats.

He was only able to bask in the satisfaction of a fight well fought for all of six seconds though, Fabian dropping Fandrangor to the ground as he scooped the goblin up in a hug that could crush ribs. Riz happily throwing his arms around his neck and hugging back with just as much enthusiasm.

“What the fuck Riz, I take a nap for three hours and you go and get yourself killed? Ridiculous.” The half elf huffed, smoothing his hands along Riz’s back and tucking him more securely against his front as he turned to convene with the rest of their party.

“Sorry. It was an accident. Would have been fine if someone hadn’t fucked up my paperwork up here.” Riz purred happily, not caring that he was getting Fabian covered in demon ichor as he was hauled over to Kristen. Their cleric elbow deep in his briefcase as she pulled out a blanket wrapped bundle and placed it gently on the floor. Unwrapping it just enough that it wasn’t so tightly bound but keeping the sheet draped over the top so he wasn’t visible underneath.

“Oh… that’s my corpse. That is… deeply unsettling.” Riz winced, glad that he couldn’t really see past the sheet that had been left draped over his body. Seeing his own seven-day rotting remains would not be good for his psyche.

“NOT going to be a corpse in a minute.” Kristen reached over to pat his head when Fabian sat down next to her, their cleric reaching into her pocket with her other hand to withdraw a massive purse full of diamonds and slam it on the ground next to the head of the body before her.

“I am going to do this until it FUCKING STICKS this time. OKAY. Riz Gukgak. You are currently available and willing to be resurrected yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Fair warning, this is going to take a while and you are going to feel like shit afterwards. Raise dead is going to leave you exhausted for a while afterwards.”

Kristen reached into the bag for a diamond with one hand, holding it up as she touched Riz’s body with her staff and started the spell. As soon as the staff touched his chest Riz felt something tug at the core of his being. He didn’t resist, letting his consciousness blank out and following the pull as everything went black for what felt like a few seconds.

Riz had to admit, when he next opened his eyes, that Kristen was not lying about how awful he would feel upon being resurrected. The goblin groaning and throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light because everything hurt. He assumed it had worked though, not just because of the sheer exhaustion he was feeling right now but also because of the delighted exclamations of his teammates around him. The goblin huffing tiredly flicking his tail when Fabian picked him up again and held him against his front, Riz dropping his head onto his shoulder and making an unhappy hissing noise at the movement.

“Uuuuugh fuck. Ow? You weren’t kidding. How long will this take to go away?”

“Four long rests. Sorry.” Kristen pat his back soothingly, Riz absently noting that he didn’t have wings there any more and feeling a little sad for their loss. Oh well.

“Gods. Okay that’s going to suck.” He yawned, squinting his eyes open to blink at the ship still lodged in the dimensional tear behind them. “Speaking of sucking… did any of you tell my mom that I died or is that something I’m going to have to do when we get home?”

“Oh fuck… sorry dude we totally forgot.”

[stitchwraith-stingers]

HELLO! (points directly at url)

the stitchwraith is made by phineas taggart - a guy who wasnt incapable of feeling emotions (or something equivalent to that) and he loves to expiriment with agony, so he got acouple of items - including an ella doll, if youve read 1:35 am you mightve recognised him as a little cameo (he speaks to plants, and even called the creation of the stitch his own tin man, hes funny, i think tumblr wouldve loved him) and dies the moment the stitchwraith comes alive

the stitchwraith is compromised of two spirits: jake and andrew

jake was a 9 year old boy who had cancer and is the protagonist in the 6th books 2nd story the real jake, its important to note that his father, while away at war iirc, had a small doll that would speak to jake every night, hidden behind a closet, and jake would tell the doll what 'he did that day' (what he wouldve wished he wouldve done) and his caretaker, margie, would come in every night and draw on a thing related to it - if he said that he got into a baseball game then she would draw on a black eye on him, a missing tooth, red around the mouth to signalise the pizza he said he ate that day, as a surprise for him when he won the battle, unfortunatly both jakes father (whos named evan, funnily enough, he has an uncle named micheal too) and jake passed away, leaving margie with the home, which on a unrelated note became infested w cats lol, phineas had used the dolls head (which, inspite of it being implied that jake possessed the doll and ran away, i have zero clue how phineas got his hands on it)

andrew is the, i guess 'antagonist' of the man in room 1280, where hes been keeping william alive for a good while now and keeps confusing four nurses to the point of them calling a priest, he wears an alligator mask i think thats cool, and because of how much agony he has in him and how bitter he has at william (vaild) he is the reason why phineas had died by his touch, he has such a strong sense of emotion it just. kinda goes into everything, if youre wondering how his spirit got into the stitchwaith andrews spirit was also in fetch's battery, i dont know the story about that either ur guess is as good as mine

andrew and jake, together in this stitchwraith body, would collect the rest of what andrew had 'infected', which i only remember foxy from come closer being mentioned

andrew dissapears in the 6th epilouge iirc, long story short william in a massive trash pile monster form (yes he still has those goofy rabbit ears mentioned) had appeared and the two struggling not to kill our other protagonist - detective larson - had plunged themselves into it, andrews spirit is dragged away from williams, leaving jake alone in this vessiel

jake discovers, via accidently touching a homeless man, that he can go into others memories and make them plesant, so the death touch is gone for good, also by skipping towards the end he kinda becomes like, a guardian angel for the ballpit? with the memories of eleanors victims (also not relevant to the conversation dont worry about it) being in there, when he makes millies last memories her spending happily with her family, a single ball had started to glow, and the rest of them slowly did as well

i liked jake, i think hes a sweet protagonist, i thought andrew was interesting too but thats just me being tumblr user stitchwraith-stingers to each their own lol

if anything i wouldnt really exactly say that the stitchwraith is a villain, yeah andrew going "LETS KILL HIM" to some guy in his 40s is bad, but its more or less of a "dont judge a book by its cover" shtick (ESPECIALLY considering the whole renelle plotline), they arent finding trouble they just happened to be able to do that

TLDR: two ghost jokes in one expiriment body, one of them is pissed enough to kill people by touching them and after his spirit gets dragged away the other one can visit peoples memories and kinda maybe sorta becomes a guardian angel, dont worry about it

i fuckign HATE the latter half of fnaf lore so fucking much. i dont care about the mimic. i dont care about the stitchwraith. i dont care about the glitchtrap virus. i dont care about remnant. i CARE about haunted animatronics. can we please go back to haunted animatronics???? with the ghosts and the dead people and etc?? not whatever sci-fi bullshit is going on nowadays??

.

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?