#than the people who were supposed to be his friends

[menieres-millennial]

This story was too long for the tags, but this post reminded me of my very dear professor Ray. Ray is still a journalist and has a weekly opinion column in my local newspaper. He interviewed me once for it in a story about how legislature directed at trans people is incredibly harmful and how I, as a trans adult, would have benefitted from HRT and access to trans healthcare as a kid.

Anyway, one semester I had to get Ray to write me into a class. It was an upper level elective that I qualified for, I just had to get Ray to sign me up since it was a 4000-level class that wasn't a necessity.

During that semester, I was taking a class from a professor who was cruel, played favorites, and moved the content along way too fast (ie - a paper that she said we were supposed to be thinking about on Tuesday should have been done and submitted by Thursday, that kind of thing)

I was on top of all my classes but this one and I OFTEN left her class in tears because of the workload. I skipped lunch with my friends because of said workload and practically melted down when they asked me why I wasn't sitting with them. Right before I went into Ray's office to ask if he'd write me into the class, I was crying my eyes out in the bathroom.

So when Ray, just making pleasant conversation, asked me how my day was going, I said "it's going" and tried to move on to ask about the class, but Ray stopped me, genuinely asked me what was wrong, and I proceeded to melt down in his office.

After realizing that I UNDERSTOOD the work, it was just too much, Ray told me that I needed to take at least an hour, go to the library and get myself a coffee, and sit and intentionally do NO homework for 60 minutes. He told me that I needed to prioritize breaks as much, if not more than I prioritized my work. That was probably in 2018, and I still hear Ray in the back of my mind when I'm overworking myself.

Something that literally changed my life was working with a friend on a coding thing. He was helping me create an auto rig script and was trying to explain something to me but his words were just turning into static in my brain. I was tired and confused and there was so many new concepts happening.

I could feel myself working toward a crying meltdown and was getting preemptively ashamed of what was about to happen when he said, “Hey, are you someone who benefits from breaks?”

It broke me.

Did I benefit from breaks? I didn’t know. I’d never taken them.

When a problem frustrated or upset me I just gritted my teeth and plowed through the emotional distress because eventually if you batter and flail at something long enough you figure it out. So what if you get bruised on the way.

I viscerally remembered in that moment being forced to sit at the table late into the night with my dad screaming at me, trying to understand math. I remembered taking that with me into adulthood and having breakdowns every week trying to understand coding. I could have taken a break? Would it help? I didn’t know! I’d never taken one!

“Yes,” I told him. We paused our call. I ate lunch. I focused on other stuff for half an hour. I came back in a significantly better state of mind, and the thing he’d been trying to explain had been gently cooking in the back of my head and seemed easier to understand.

Now when I find myself gritting my teeth at problems I can hear his gentle voice asking if I benefit from breaks. Yes, dear god, yes why did I never get taught breaks? Why was the only way I knew to keep suffering until something worked?

I was relating to this same friend recently my roadtrip to the redwoods with my wife. “We stopped every hour or so to get out and stretch our legs and switch drivers. It was really nice. When I was a kid we’d just drive twelve hours straight and not stop for anything, just gas. We’d eat in the car and power through.”

He gave a wry smile, immediately connecting the mindset of my parents on a road trip to what they’d instilled in me about brute forcing through discomfort. “Do you benefit from breaks?” he echoed, drawing my attention to it, making me smile with the same sad acknowledgement.

Take breaks. You’re allowed. You don’t have to slam into problems over and over and over, let yourself rest. It will get easier. Take. Breaks.

[johnbrand]

(βΓΦ)'s Improper Disposal

Chase grunted as the cooler once again hit the back of his leg. “Dude, why does this thing have to be so heavy?”

“What, all those hours in the gym not paying off?” Tony chuckled. Then the offender in question hit his own knee. “Ow! Dang you weren’t kidding.”

“I told you, bro.” Chase and Tony continued down the dock. “What is in this thing anyway?”

“It’s what’s left of the Beta Gamma Phi Sex Drive,” Tony answered. They carefully navigated down the steps onto the private beach north of the city. 

“Why do they call it a ‘Sex Drive’ anyway?” Chase frowned, but after a moment the pun clicked. Then he continued, “But those initiates were guzzling those drinks like it was their last party ever. How is it still this heavy?”

“This is just the leftovers, bro.” Tony responded. “It’s not like we had them drinking straight jizz, it was just the catalyst in the formula. And we collected for almost a month–Chris had us producing every day, he even measured who contributed the most.”

“You’re kidding,” Chase guffawed, most of the intellectual words soaring over his head.

The two frat boys dropped the cooler as they approached the shore, the cold water lapping at their bare feet. Without further ado, they flipped the container open, watching as the thick white splooge was emptied into the ocean. The waves softly accepted the gift, washing away the mixed jock juices and integrating them into their southbound current.

“So that’s it, huh?” Chase broke the silence once the inside of the cooler was clean. "Is it ok for us to just be dumping it out like this?"

“Yup,” Tony replied, closing the lid. “The water is supposed to dilute it or something, so we won’t have to worry about ‘improper disposal of hazardous waste,’ or whatever βΓΦ’s lawyer said.”

A rancid fart escaped Chase’s back end. “Huhuhuh, speaking of hazardous waste…”

———

“Stop!” Eli could not stop himself from laughing as Simon continually splashed him with water. Of course, he delivered defensive waves back to his best friend, meaning both were struggling to catch their breaths under the onslaught.

“You first!” Simon countered, unbothered as the salty sea stung his eyes, went up his nose, and slipped into his mouth.

Eli licked his lips, “Never!” Although there were plenty of other people of all shapes, ages, colors, and sizes at the beach, the two were not making enough of a scene for anyone to care.

They continued like this for another minute before agreeing to a truce. Once they had finally stopped to take a breath, the pair did nothing but wade in the open water. About a foot taller than his best friend, Eli’s feet could barely scrape the bottom almost six and a half feet below them. But unlike Eli, Simon's skinny, shrimpy body meant he could float with little effort.

“Should we head in?” Eli finally asked, his heart rate having returned to a normal pace.

Simon nodded, “Sure.”

The best friends turned towards the shore and began to paddle in. Neither noticed that within the first few moments, their legs began to twitch. Simon’s shot out within the water, while Eli’s already long tendons shortened slightly. Each stroke brought additional changes. Simon’s abdominals became more pronounced, Eli’s biceps and triceps inflated with muscle. Eli’s hands restructured into fleshy mitts, Simon’s feet widened out into massive flippers. 

But these changes were not unique to just one or the other; they happened simultaneously to both of the men. Each was becoming more muscular and more masculine. Their bodies had ingested the combined DNA of many βΓΦ brothers, every individual strand rewriting the former base and taking control of the resulting figure. This meant they both gained smooth, Ken doll-like tanned skin. They both gained fluffier hair that coiffed naturally at the front (even if Eli’s was hidden behind a white cap, which rotated 180 degrees as if it too was part of a genetic code). And they both gained longer, girthier cocks that would reroute their blood flow, which in turn would reroute their objectives and priorities.

Once they had made it to shore, Eli and Simon had become fraternal twins, and not only in their new dedication to Beta Gamma Phi. The superior DNA bonded them at a molecular level, their brothers’ musculature and masculinity recreating them as Ethan and Shawn. They both accepted their new destinies: to become a βΓΦ brother, with a duty to uphold traditional masculinity and a responsibility to keep the fraternities alive.

And luckily for Ethan and Shawn, they were not alone, for the shore was soon swarmed with many other young, strapping men ready to dedicate their lives to the βΓΦ brotherhood.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ So Kiss Me | OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: McLaren's annual Christmas party means failed gingerbread houses and confessions in the snow.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The McLaren Technology Centre was buzzing with excitement. Fresh off the high of their constructors’ championship win, the annual Christmas party was in full swing. The sprawling MTC was unrecognizable, decked out with garlands, fairy lights, and a massive Christmas tree standing proudly at the entrance. It was festive, loud, and decidedly not where Y/N wanted to be at the moment.

She leaned against a high-top table near the edge of the room, nursing her drink and watching the crowd. As a PR coordinator for McLaren, she’d spent months working tirelessly managing their socials and was supposed to be enjoying herself. Instead, she was contemplating the pros and cons of sneaking out early when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Y/N, you’re not entering the gingerbread contest?”

Caroline. The thorn in her side. Caroline worked in marketing and had perfected the art of weaponized politeness. Tonight, she was wearing a sparkly red dress and an infuriatingly smug expression.

“Nope,” Y/N said flatly, hoping the conversation would end there.

Caroline tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “Oh, I see. I guess some people just don’t have the creative touch for it.”

Y/N’s grip tightened on her glass. She didn’t care about the contest… except now she absolutely did. Caroline’s subtle digs always had a way of lighting a fire under her.

“Actually, I’ve decided I’m entering,” Y/N said, forcing a smile.

Caroline blinked in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, how fun! Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

As soon as Caroline walked away, Y/N’s bravado crumbled. What was she doing? She didn’t even have a teammate.

She scanned the room, hoping to spot someone who wasn’t already paired up or too deep into their drinks. No luck. Her usual work friends were either tipsy or engrossed in other activities. After a fruitless search, she retreated to a quieter corner of the room, sulking.

“Why do you look like someone stole your Christmas cookies?”

She looked up to see Oscar Piastri standing in front of her, hands in his pockets and a curious smile on his face. He looked effortlessly good in a suit, the tie slightly loosened around his neck.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, not wanting to admit her predicament.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, Y/N. Spill.”

With a sigh, she relented. “Caroline made some snide comment about me not entering the gingerbread contest, so I decided to prove her wrong. But I don’t have a partner, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Oscar’s brows lifted in amusement. “That’s it? Easy fix. I’ll be your partner.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No way. You don’t have to do that. This is your party. You should be… I don’t know, celebrating.”

“I am celebrating,” he said with a grin. “And what better way to celebrate than helping you crush Caroline?”

She hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes won her over. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m terrible at this stuff.”

“How bad could it be?”

Very bad, as it turned out.

“This wall won’t stay up!” Y/N groaned, holding a piece of gingerbread that stubbornly refused to stick to the icing.

“Maybe we didn’t use enough icing?” Oscar suggested, frowning at their rapidly deteriorating structure.

“I think the problem is that we’re bad at this,” she said, trying not to laugh.

“Speak for yourself,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “I’m an innovator. This is modern architecture.”

“If by ‘modern’ you mean it looks like it’s about to fall over, then yeah, you nailed it,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

They both burst out laughing as the roof caved in, sending a handful of gumdrops skittering across the table. Around them, other teams were building masterpieces: sleek houses with intricate frosting designs and perfectly placed candies. Meanwhile, theirs looked like it had survived an earthquake.

“This… this looks like something a five-year-old made blindfolded,” Y/N said, choking on laughter as she gestured at the crumbling mess. “It’s somehow defying gravity in all the wrong ways!”

Oscar wheezed, leaning on the table for support. “Hey, it’s abstract. We’re pushing the boundaries of what a gingerbread house can be.”

“Right, because ‘falling apart’ is such a bold statement,” she teased, wiping tears from her eyes.

They tried to salvage their creation, but every attempt made it worse. Oscar’s attempt at adding a candy cane chimney resulted in the entire roof collapsing again, while Y/N’s decorative icing turned into an unintentional Jackson Pollock painting.

“This is a disaster,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t stop laughing.

“The best kind of disaster,” Oscar said, his tone warm. “Seriously, who cares what it looks like? We’re having fun, right?”

Y/N looked at him, her laughter fading into a softer smile. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Oscar. You’re a really good friend.”

His expression shifted slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but the moment was interrupted by Caroline sauntering past with her flawless gingerbread mansion.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so cute that you’re trying. It’s all about having fun, right?”

Y/N forced a tight smile as Caroline walked away. “I hate her.”

“Hey,” Oscar said, nudging her gently. “Forget her. Look at what we made. It’s got… personality.”

Her smile returned, though it wavered slightly as she glanced at the crumbled mess of icing and gingerbread. “Personality is one way to put it.”

Noticing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Oscar leaned in, his voice lower and more earnest. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it.”

Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug. “Easier said than done.”

Oscar studied her for a moment before straightening. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Fresh air might help.”

The chill of the night air was sharp against Y/N’s cheeks as she and Oscar wandered the grounds of the McLaren Technology Centre. The party noise had faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of leaves crunching beneath their shoes and the soft rustle of wind against the nearby trees. Y/N hugged her arms around herself, her thoughts drifting as she glanced over at Oscar. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive.

Oscar broke the silence first, his voice warm and conversational. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Just… everything. The party, the season, life. It’s been a crazy year.”

“Tell me about it.” He shot her a small grin. “But hey, at least we’ve survived.”

She laughed. “Barely. Some days I wasn’t sure I would. Between the endless PR work and trying to keep up with you drivers, it’s a miracle I’m still standing.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “You love it. Admit it.”

“I do,” she admitted, her tone softening. “It’s exhausting, but it’s worth it. Especially when I get to see moments like tonight. You guys deserve it, you know?”

Oscar’s smile turned bashful. “Thanks. It still feels a bit surreal. I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream.”

“If it is, it’s a pretty damn good one,” she said.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation meandering from the highs and lows of the season to lighter topics. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had all night, her usual guardedness slipping away in his presence. It was easy to talk to Oscar, too easy, and she felt a familiar flutter in her chest every time he smiled at her.

Snow began to fall, light and gentle, dusting their hair and coats. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she stopped in her tracks, tilting her face upward. “It’s snowing!”

Oscar chuckled, watching as she spun in place, arms outstretched like a child. Her laughter rang out, clear and bright, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful, her joy infectious, and for a moment, he forgot about the cold entirely.

“You’re going to freeze,” he called out, amusement lacing his tone.

“I don’t care!” she replied, still twirling. “Look at how perfect it is. It’s like something out of a Christmas movie.”

Her spinning slowed as she stumbled slightly, and Oscar stepped forward instinctively, steadying her with his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, her breath visible in the cold air, and suddenly the world seemed to shrink around them. The snow fell quietly, the moment suspended in time as their eyes met.

“You’re shivering,” he said softly. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered for a second, his touch warm against the cold fabric.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart raced as she stared at him, the closeness between them making her acutely aware of every small detail—the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly as their gazes locked.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of emotions. She’d always felt something for Oscar, but she’d buried it under layers of professionalism and self-doubt. Now, standing here with him, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She liked him. She more than liked him. And judging by the way he was looking at her, the feeling might just be mutual.

Before she could overthink it, Oscar leaned in. The kiss was sudden, catching her completely off guard, but she melted into it almost instantly. His lips were soft, warm against the chill of the night, and the world seemed to blur at the edges as her heart pounded in her chest.

When they broke apart, her breath came in shallow gasps. “Oscar…” she began, her voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back slightly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” she interrupted, reaching out to grab his hand. “Don’t apologize. I… I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you…”

“Are you kidding?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just didn’t want to mess things up.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a giddy rush of joy that made her want to laugh and cry all at once. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she said, her tone playful.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me that is.”

She didn’t reply with words. Instead, she pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent. His hands found her waist as hers tangled in his hair, the world around them fading into insignificance. She pressed against him, her back meeting the rough bark of a nearby tree as their kisses grew more heated.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed despite the cold. Oscar rested his forehead against hers, his hands still on her waist.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “do you want to head back to the party, or…?”

She hesitated, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But this is your celebration party. Everyone’s here for you.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’d rather celebrate in a different way.”

She stared at him, half in shock and half in amusement, before bursting into laughter. “Oscar Piastri, I didn’t know you had game.”

He laughed with her, his hand slipping into hers. “Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in quiet magic. For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode four : participation prize . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Setting: 3 years ago . . 

You looked down at your shoes, the expensive pair the brand that sponsored you had provided for the event of the 'century' they call it, and you just wished mentally you drowned a glass of something to ease your nerves before you got into the car. It was your first award show as an actor—as an official actor, and it was right after your first gig had blown up and a few months after your 4 year relationship with your fiancé had ended. 

You took a deep breathe, sinking into the leather fabric of the carseat, your anxiety off the charts, you didn't know how to react—well you knew you shouldn't react in the first place—all that media training would be for nothing if you fucked up now, and the idea of fucking up in itself made the anxiety boil . . they didn't quite explain what fucking up entails, just not to go againest your brand . .  but what even is your brand at this point?

The media was so unpredictable and so was your newfound fanbase, just yesterday you could remember how much of your fanbase turned on you because you joined the influencer to celebrity train by accepting an acting gig—and now you're being praised—your anxiety grew as you recalled how many friends had turned on you that day, as the trailer released, and now you're nominated for three different awards for your role? How fucking stupid. 

You could hear the cheers of the crowd as the car closed in on the red carpet, and you found it overwhelming—suddenly the makeup on your face, the designer clothes that weighed you down . . felt all too overbearing for you to take . . but as the car door opened and you were guided outside . . you put your best face on and walked down that carpet, because you got this far, might as well live through it. 

Time: 1:23 pm Location: arena

Vil sat down on his assigned chair and table at the Arena, a little sigh escaped his lips as he let his nerves finally cool down, he wasn't normally overwhelmed, he worked hard to trample those feelings of unease, anxiety, and perhaps even a bit of envy down to the mud, to the very corner of his very being, so it would never have to be touched.  

He saw someone in blue, walking towards a table just a bit far from his, and he didn't recognize them—to be fair there were tons of new faces all around, this year has been particularly . .  welcoming, if that's what he could even call it—but he couldn’t really make out their face either . . so maybe he’s mistaken.

An hour has passed, and Vil should be sleeping right now, he really fucking should be—relaxing in his new apartment at The Chateau . . it's newly furnished . . his silk bed sheets—he's pretty sure he's drowned about half a bottle worth of champagne as the announcer seems to be worse than last year, why do they feel the need to prolong every second possible and yet give the winners less than 30 seconds worth of time to speak?

Time: 3:33 pm Location: arena

You feel sick to your stomach, sitting alone at your table—you don't know if it was on purpose, or if the people who were supposed to be sitting beside you just hadn't bothered to turn up for tonight's event—or if they were ignoring you, your not aware at all and that just made your anxiety so much worse. 

You honestly felt sick, you haven't even eaten anything just in case you threw up . .  and yet right now, that seemed to be affecting you worse, the emptiness in your stomach made you feel weirdly uncomfortable, and yet you couldn't get up, not when your category was so close to being presented—what if your seat was empty when the camera lands on you? What would the people say? What would your sponsors do? What would— 

"And the winner of best lead actor in a romance film—", the announcer fiddled with the envelope, opening it and throwing it somewhere on the stage, "Y/n L/n!"—everyone started clapping, and for a second all of your surroundings went still, your body stilling from shock and your breathing for the first time in the whole night regulated back to normal . .  after all this fucking time it all felt . .  okay. 

You wanted to cry, tears of joy. You didn’t. And made your way up to the stage like a rational person. 

Time: 3:35 pm Location: arena 

Vil stares at you coming up to the stage, the way you struggled up the stairs—because of course you did—the way your shoulders seem to shake just slightly, and how you gulped on screen—so unprofessional . . you looked like you were about to cry . . and that made him feel . . angry? Angry. 

Vil clenched and unclenched his fists as he leaned back into his chair mumbling, "They look like they're going to break down", and Rook turned to face him, here on attendance in place of his wife, "You got all that from them climbing the stairs?", he asked with a raised brow, drinking his . .  whatever that was. 

“I’m an actor, of course I did.” 

Perhaps it was anger, maybe even envy . . or maybe he just hated that he liked looking at you—or your voice—or .  .  . Vil’s mind went quiet for a moment. 

And bitterness washed over him, he was never upset with losing an award, no not since he’s been in and out of therapy but something about losing to an influencer hurt him—hurt his pride, someone who stood on camera for 30 seconds doing little to nothing . . beating him. 

Wow, way to wreck a man's pride. 

Vil turned to face you as you walked back, eyeing your every movement . . Did you know you walked weird? At a 30 degree angle to be exact.

Rook mention <333

Sorry for the late update our wifi was so slow making and downloading graphics was actually hell and I had to eat.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[4linos]

whispers of the heart

bang chan x gn!reader, (+ slight han jisung x reader)

synopsis/request: caught between two people who matter most, one person must navigate a sea of jealousy, love, and confusion to find a way forward.

wc: 3178 (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)

It was late, and the practice room was dim save for the glimmer of exit signs and a few scattered lights that remained on. The group had ended their practice minutes before, yet the enthusiasm lingered in the air. The members were relaxing, cooling down, and talking casually. You were sitting on the floor with your legs crossed and your phone in your hands, attempting to catch up on messages from your friends. The low murmur of voices was almost comfortable, a sense of familiarity that you had come to like since starting your relationship with Chan.

But tonight… something felt off.

Jisung had been quieter than usual, his attention seemingly divided between the group and you. You hadn't noticed it at first, but now when you notice the way he looks at you, something makes your stomach tighten. It was a different lingering, softer than the typical fun taunting that characterized your friendship. Your glance briefly met his, and he quickly averted his sight, but not quickly enough for you to notice the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. You grimaced slightly, pushing off the emotion, but your eyes couldn't help but return to him. Jisung had always been friendly to you, just as Chan was, and you had never doubted their friendship until now.

However, Chan hadn't missed a single thing. He had been watching you and Jisung from the corner of the room for the last half hour. And with each passing second, the gnawing feeling in his chest intensified. He'd seen how Jisung laughed at you when you made a joke, how his hand lingered on your shoulder as he passed by, and how he laughed at your every word as if you were the only one in the room. Chan had always trusted Jisung and knew that your bond was unbreakable but today it felt like everything was shifting.

He sensed something was wrong when Jisung made a comment about how cute you looked when you smiled, which was far too intimate for someone who was supposed to be a friend. Chan's fingers tightened into fists at his sides, and the talk around him faded into the background as his mind raced.

No. It couldn’t be. Not Jisung.

But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Lingering glances. Jisung constantly found a reason to be near you. You and Jisung talked to each other with the ease that Chan had always assumed was only reserved for him.

He had to know.

"Y/N," Chan said, his voice cutting through the noise like a sudden chill. You looked up, startled by the change in his tone. His eyes were hard and guarded, and he couldn't get rid of the knot in his stomach. "Yeah?" you asked, your voice rising with anxiety as you noticed his demeanor shift. "I need to talk to you," Chan began, his eyes narrowing in a way that made your stomach turn. He approached you without waiting for an answer, his posture tight, and the air between you two felt thicker he signaled for you to follow him to another room.

You stood up following behind quickly, your heart racing. "Is everything okay?" you said, fully aware that something was wrong. "Is it true?" Chan asked simply, his stare piercing yours. "Is what true?" You took a step back, the confusion rising in your chest. "That Jisung... he has a thing for you," Chan murmured, his words sounding forced through tight teeth. His voice, which had before been steady and comforting, now had an edge you hadn't heard before.

You blinked, stunned, as the weight of his words sank in. "Chan, what are you talking about?" you said, your heart sinking as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place.

"I saw the way he was looking at you. The way he talks to you," Chan continued, each word heavier than the last. "You can’t deny it. There’s something between you two. I feel it. What is it, Y/N?"

Your mouth went dry. You could feel the panic rise in your chest as you tried to comprehend what he was saying. "Chan, you’ve got it all wrong. Jisung’s my friend. He’s always been my friend."

But Chan wasn’t listening. His eyes were burning now, the jealousy creeping into his voice. "Friend?" he scoffed, voice rising slightly. "Do you think I’m blind? You two are too close, Y/N. It’s been happening for weeks, and now it’s like he can’t even hide it anymore." His voice cracked on the last word, and you saw the pain etched into his features.

You felt a rush of guilt and confusion. What exactly was happening here? Why was this happening right now? "I'm not… I'm not doing anything wrong," you said, your voice shaking. "Chan, you have to believe me. Jisung is just a friend. He's always been just a friend.” Chan's expression faltered for a second before he let out a bitter laugh. "Can I trust you? Do you think it’s that simple? I've been watching him look at you like that, and you expect me to just pretend everything is normal?"

You stepped closer, desperate now. "I swear to you, Chan, there is nothing between me and Jisung. I love you. Just you." You reached for him, but he drew back just enough that your hand barely touched his arm. "I don't know," he said quietly, his voice cracking now. "I don't know if I can believe you anymore." The words hit you like a slap. "What?" you gasped, your heart breaking as the reality of the situation hit home. "Chan, you need to understand. It's just you.”

His eyes softened for a minute, but he quickly looked away, raking his hand over his face in annoyance. "I don't want to hear it right now," he said quietly to himself. "I need some space, Y/N." You had the sensation that the ground underneath you was giving way. "No… Chan, please." But he didn't look back at you. He simply continued walking toward the door, his steps heavy and his body tense with emotion. You stood there, frozen, as if your reality was gradually dissolving. Everything you thought you understood and trusted was slipping away. And you could not fix it. Not now. Not like this.

The door snapped shut behind him, leaving just the echo of your own heartbeat hammering in your chest. Alone. In that instant, you were left with only the crushing weight of uncertainty. And the dreadful, gnawing feeling that you might have lost him. The seconds stretched like hours, the silence stifling and thick in the aftermath of Chan's departure. You stood there, stuck in place, still attempting to grasp the weight of the encounter. The words hung in the air, filled with unspoken emotions and confusion.

I need space.

You couldn't get over the sight of Chan walking away from you. The expression in his eyes, which was a mix of pain and anger, lingered in your mind like a ghost. The door clicking shut was the final nail in the coffin, ruling off any chance of immediate reconciliation. You pondered chasing him, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the realization that the damage had already been done, or you understood that pressing him right now would not benefit either of you. You sank back onto the floor, your knees pulled up to your chest, the phone still in your hand. but it suddenly felt useless. The screen was a flurry of unread messages from your friends, who had no idea what was happening.

You’d never imagined this happening certainly not with Chan, and certainly not with Jisung. But here you were, caught in the middle of something that felt so fragile, so broken.

What had you missed?

Your thoughts drifted back to the moments with Jisung. His lingering glances. His subtle touches. Was it possible that you had been blind to it all? Could it be that his feelings for you had evolved into something more, and you hadn’t even noticed? No. You shook your head. You couldn’t have known. Jisung was always playful, always teasing. You never thought that it could mean something deeper. And now, facing the consequences of that assumption, you didn’t know where to begin to fix things.

Your phone buzzed in your hands, the screen lighting up with a new message. It was from Jisung.

Jisung: Y/N, I need to talk to you.

Jisung: You have a minute?

You looked at the message for a long time. Talk? You weren't sure whether you were prepared for another conversation like the one you just had with Chan. But Jisung's message caused you to hesitate. Maybe, just maybe, you'll get answers. But what if what he said made matters worse? What if he confirmed what Chan was scared of? Your thoughts went in circles. What was the right thing to do?

Before you could decide, you heard the door to the room creak open again. You tensed, half-expecting it to be Chan, maybe returning to apologize. But instead, it was Jisung, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He stood at the threshold, his posture stiff but not unwelcoming.

"Y/N," he started, his voice softer than you expected, as though he too didn’t know how to approach the situation. "Can we talk?"

Your heart sank. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear him out, but you weren’t sure if you could.

Jisung took a step forward, his expression earnest, as though he was aware of the delicate nature of the moment. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear. I never wanted to cause any tension between you and Chan." He paused, taking another step closer. "But I’ve been feeling… something for a while now. And I think you know that. I know it’s confusing, and I should’ve said something sooner. But I didn’t want to make things weird."

You swallowed and spoke with a shaky voice. "Is it true?" He froze, his eyes widening slightly in response to your question. "What do you mean?" "Do you... do you like me, Jisung?" You weren't sure you could handle the response, but the question needed to be asked. The uncertainty was oppressive, and you required clarity. You needed to grasp what, if anything, was going on between you two. Jisung's eyes softened and the tension in his body dissipated as he took a gentle breath. "I... I do. But I didn't mean for it to be this way. I'm not trying to get between you and Chan, Y/N. I just—" He stopped, then added with a sheepish smile "I'm just not good at hiding things."

Your stomach twisted, but you nodded slowly, processing his words. "And Chan?" you asked, your voice small and vulnerable. "I know it’s messed up," Jisung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never wanted to hurt him. He’s like a brother to me. But things have gotten complicated. I should’ve told him. I should’ve told you, too."

You felt a wave of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, confusion, and yet a strange understanding that perhaps none of this was entirely Jisung’s fault. It wasn’t just about him, it was about all three of you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jisung's phone buzzed, and he immediately glanced at it. His eyes flashed with something unreadable before he put it away. "I think I need to talk to Chan," he said quietly. "And I think you should, too. We have to work this out. All of us." You nodded and stood up slowly. The weight of the moment seemed heavy, yet something about Jisung's sincerity made you believe that there was still hope for understanding, for mending the torn threads of your relationships with both him and Chan.

"I'm scared, Jisung," you said gently, your voice shaking. "I don't want to lose either of you." "I don't want to lose you either, Y/N," Jisung whispered quietly, moving closer. "But I think we all have to face this. Together." You nodded, wiping away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. Maybe the truth may sting. But maybe that was the only way to fix what had been damaged. With that, Chan, Jisung, and you would have to confront the difficult conversation ahead. The path forward remained unclear, but for the first time that night, there was a glimmer of optimism that things could be fixed.

The tension in the room was palpable as you and Jisung exchanged a short glance, both of you knowing that whatever followed next would be a turning point in your lives. Your heart was still heavy, and Chan's words echoed in your mind.

“Do you think I'm blind?”

“I don't know if I can believe you anymore.”

You needed to fix this. You couldn't just let things fall apart until you completely understood what was going on. "I'll talk to Chan," you responded calmly, your voice solid despite the fluttering in your chest. "You should, too. You can't let this get worse between you two."

Jisung nodded, his face a mix of regret and determination. "Yeah. I will do that. I don't want things to get weird between us, Y/N. I didn't mean for it to go this far. You gave him a faint, timid smile. "Me neither." He paused for a bit before saying, "I’m sorry Y/N. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting you in the middle of this. I didn't know what else to do." "I understand," you said softly. "I just need to talk to Chan." "I can't lose him."

Jisung’s eyes softened as he met your gaze. "You won’t lose him. But you’ll need to be honest with him. And with yourself. Just… try to make him see the truth."

You nodded, knowing he was right. Whatever was happening between you and Jisung, it had to be addressed. But Chan was the one who mattered most. You needed to make him understand. You walked to the door, heart pounding with each step. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and the air felt thick with anticipation. You found Chan just outside the practice room, standing with his back to you, his posture tense as if he were still wrestling with his thoughts.

You stood there for a time, unsure what to say. But you couldn't stay silent any longer. You needed to be really honest with him. "Chan," you said gently, your voice shaking as you moved closer. He turned, his face still etched with frustration and hurt, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed you. "Y/N," he responded coldly, almost as an accusation. He tried to keep it together, but you could see cracks in his resolve. "Please, just listen," you urged. "I understand this seems horrible, but please understand. I love you, Chan. Only you. It’s always been you."

Chan's jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak right away. You could see him weighing your words, the pain in his eyes conflicting with his feelings of betrayal. "Then why… why does it feel like you’re slipping away from me? Like you’re closer to him than you are to me?" The question hit you like a blow to the chest.

How could you explain this?

"I never wanted to make you feel that way," you said, your voice breaking slightly. "Jisung is my friend, Chan. He’s always been my friend. What you saw… it wasn’t what you think."

Chan’s gaze hardened. "But it wasn’t just tonight, Y/N. It’s been weeks. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you laugh when he talks to you. It’s different. You’re different when you’re around him." His voice cracked, and it was clear that whatever strength he had left was rapidly crumbling. "I don’t know if I can compete with that. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore."

You took a step forward, your heart in your throat. "I’m not asking you to compete with Jisung. I’m asking you to trust me. Trust us. There’s nothing more between Jisung and me. But I can see how it might look like that from your side. I didn’t know how to handle it, Chan. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it because I didn’t want to hurt you."

Chan ran a hand through his hair, frustration laced with pain. "And now it’s too late. You didn’t think I’d notice? I’ve been with you through everything, Y/N. I thought I knew you. But now it feels like I don’t know anything anymore."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "Please don’t say that. Please. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You are enough. You’re everything to me."

He swallowed hard, eyes avoiding yours for a moment as the silence between you grew unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now, raw. "I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to believe."

You could see the cracks in his armor now, his vulnerability beneath all the rage and pain. He was as terrified as you were. "I don't know what to do either," you said quietly, taking another step closer and softly grabbing for his hand. He hesitated for a while before allowing you to take it, his fingers quivering in your grip. "Chan," you murmured softly, "I want you to believe me when I say I love you. And I am not going anywhere." For a long time, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of the situation hanging between you, but the contact of his hand offered you a small glimmer of hope. Maybe it was not too late. Maybe it wasn't the end.

"I need some time," Chan finally said, his voice heavy but more gentle now. "To think. To figure it out. But I do not want to lose you, Y/N. I'm not sure if I can handle this." You nodded, feeling tears fall down your cheeks despite your best efforts to keep them at away. "I understand," you replied softly. "Take as much time as you need. But please know that I'm here. I am not going anywhere." He nodded and squeezed your hand gently before drawing away. “I will be around. When you're ready, we can talk more…about everything."

With a heavy heart, you watched as he walked away, disappearing down the hall. The air felt lighter, but only just. You weren’t sure where things stood with Chan or with Jisung, but at least you had started the conversation. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to begin mending the fractures in your relationship.

You took a deep breath and wiped away your tears, knowing that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. But for the first time that night, there was a glimmer of hope.

Now you just had to figure out how to rebuild everything, starting with the two people who meant the most to you.

//

asks are always open if you have a question, concern or request!

💡masterlist wip request list.💡

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[aventurineswife]

platonic aventurine meeting teen/younger reader whos also an avgin who somehow survived

The Last of Us

Summary: Aventurine, the last surviving member of the Avgins, encounters you, a person with strikingly familiar eyes, in a crowded city. The encounter stirs up memories of his past, leading him to wonder how someone else from his people could be alive. Despite his carefully controlled demeanor, he is intrigued by your survival and offers a gift as a gesture of connection. The encounter leaves both of you contemplating the nature of your shared history and future.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Avgin!Teen!Reader, Slow burn, Survival, Intrigue, Psychological tension.

Warnings: Potential for darker themes (survival, manipulation, past trauma), Subtle emotional manipulation, Complex relationship dynamics(?).

Aventurine leaned against the cool marble of the courtyard, the noise of the city behind him almost lost to his thoughts. His fingers, ringed with gold, drummed lightly on the surface of his watch, and his eyes scanned the crowd with practiced ease.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

He had survived it all—betrayal, the fall of his people, and the cruel hand of fate. He was the last of the Avgins, a survivor by sheer luck, and yet, there you were.

A teenager, no older than sixteen, with the same striking eyes that haunted his past. A gaze that mirrored his own.

Aventurine's heart, normally calm in the face of danger, stuttered for a moment. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you from across the street. You didn't notice him yet, and he made no move to call attention to himself. No, he needed to understand.

Why do you have those eyes?

His lips parted in a thoughtful smile, though it never reached his eyes. How could this be? He, who had thought himself the sole survivor of the Avgins, had now stumbled upon another. But if you were alive… how?

He pushed himself away from the marble wall and moved a few steps forward. His presence was commanding, yet deliberate. The closer he drew, the faster his pulse ran; a feeling of anticipation ran through his veins. He didn't know whether he was more intrigued or unsettled, but he had to know. Had to hear the story that could change everything for him.

"Hello, my friend," he said smoothly, his voice a mix of warmth and curiosity as he stepped into your line of sight. "It seems fate has brought us together."

You looked up, surprised at first, but something in his eyes made you pause. There was no fear behind that gaze; there was only calculation, the kind of look that belonged to someone who had seen the world's cruelty and yet still found a way to push it into being manipulated to their advantage.

His gaze softened slightly as he took another step closer, hands casually slipping into his pockets, but his eyes—those unnervingly captivating eyes—never left you.

“I must admit,” he continued, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of something deeper, “I didn’t expect to see another Avgin. Not after all these years.”

His words hung in the air, an invitation to speak, or remain silent.

You paused, and it was clear that a thousand thoughts had rushed through your mind. You shifted uncomfortably, but there was something about his presence, something almost magnetic, that kept you rooted in place.

"Aventurine," he added, as if that would somehow make you at ease. "You can call me that. It's not often that someone else comes along with a similar history."

There was no urgency in his tone, no need to pry. It was simply curiosity. But underneath that, there was something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

“I... I don’t know what to say.” You looked away for a moment, your fingers curling around the hem of your sleeve, nervously avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing," he said promptly, his mouth twisting upwards at the corners. "You don't have to say anything, not yet. I'm simply intrigued by your survival. You remind me of someone."

He softened his eyes with the barest trace of nostalgia, before he covered it with a practiced smile. "I won't lie—I'm fascinated. But it's not just about the past. It's about what happens next."

He caught your eyes for a short period; between you, there was some weird sense of understanding, that somehow, he was speaking to himself and not to you. The same loneliness that had driven you both to survive. No pity, though—but in a way, unspoken: You won't be lonely again.

And maybe that was the most shocking of all. A connection, however brief, formed out of sheer chance. And in that moment, the world seemed a little smaller, a little less cold.

Aventurine stepped back, raising his hand in a dramatic, almost theatrical gesture, before pulling out a small, velvet pouch from his coat. He held it out to you, his smile never wavering, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something more serious.

"Take it," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "Something small to remind you that you're not alone in this. Not anymore."

You stared at the pouch, weighing his gesture, before you took it, reluctantly. He beamed with pleasure at your hesitation—he knew you would.

"Consider it a gift," he continued, his voice softening. "And maybe... consider it the beginning of a partnership. You see, I believe we could help each other. The world is full of chaos, but perhaps there's a way to navigate it. Together."

He turned his back to you, his form looming against the backdrop of the city, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already planned your next move.

“I’ll be around,” he called over his shoulder, that knowing smile still evident in his voice. “I’ll be waiting, my friend.”

But perhaps, just this once, you would gamble with him.

As you watched him walk away, a strange sense of camaraderie lingered in the air. You didn’t know what to make of him yet, but one thing was certain—Aventurine was right. Fate had brought you together, and now it seemed it would keep you entwined in his complex game, whether you liked it or not.

[circuitcircus]

-in response to this i'd like to say a lot of the art i see of labru has this very same "racialized" dynamic due to laios being kabru's actual boss by the end of the story. that is way more of a "master/servant" dynamic than having to take care of your loved one sometimes. and kabru's discomfort with laios's monster talk and monster food is always played for laughs or ignored at the same time in the fandom even when it's brought up every single time he interacts with laios in the story and in side comics. it doesn't make sense to only hold this sentiment against kabumisu.

-if you actually pay attention to the way kabru is emoting during the time he's with mithrun you'll see he isn't actually that upset about it after he's gotten over the initial surprise of having this new task, and people often ignore that mithrun plays a large hand in helping them both survive by teleporting them out of danger and helping to procure ingredients for food.

-he isn't just relying on kabru the entire time and kabru would be dead without him. kabru also gets all the information about the dungeon he's ever wanted thanks to mithrun freely sharing it with him when he asks, which leads kabru to change his mind about wanting laios to be the dungeon lord because of how much he loves monsters.

-the panel of kabru screaming in his head about how he doesn't want to become like laios when he realizes he'll have to eat monsters is often used as shipping material for some reason too despite his obvious distress.

-not to mention KABRU is the one who put the both of them in that situation in the first place by grabbing mithrun so they'd both fall into the hole after mithrun was about to defeat thistle. they would have had to work together to survive and kabru likely would have been helping mithrun on his own even without cithis's coercion. i believe kui put that blackmail aspect in because talking to the canaries through the fairy would mean they would threaten kabru for kidnapping mithrun and it foreshadows that they will meet up with the canaries again. it's not to make you hate mithrun for having needs that he can't fulfill himself. HE isn't even the one who blackmailed kabru.

-after the caretaker role of kabru's is over when the canaries come back and he's sure his friends are safe, kabru still takes it upon himself to make sure mithrun doesn't hurt himself when it doesn't benefit kabru at all like stopping mithrun from going after the demon when marcille becomes dungeon lord and, yes, the pep talk.

-in that same chapter kabru even goes out of his way to stop mithrun from using all his magic while he's slicing up meat. there was no one around to get brownie points from, he just cared about mithrun's well-being. your take on that shows how your perception of their relationship just drowns out the emotional weight these moments were supposed to have because you were apparently viewing it through a racial lens.

-as a person of color i can see why someone who isn't a person of color would jump to the conclusion that a dark skinned person in that kind of position might look inherently servile, but i haven't seen in that way at all. it's extremely exaggerated for the sake of hate and i've seen PLENTY of labru art of kabru subjugating himself to laios. there was even one art captioned "[laios] colonizing kabru's womb" are you fucking kidding me? do not put it all on kabumisu or just ignore the racial aspect all together and see them as people NOT by the color of their skin. i swear you're overthinking it. Kabumisu fans enjoy their dynamic in a myriad of ways.

-a ship isn't defined by its fanart considering fans ignore actual text when making it literally all the time.

-many labru shippers even overhaul kabru's entire character as being for the sake of getting in laios's pants and ignore his actual motivations of uncovering the mystery of the dungeon. as such they insist that kabru becoming an advisor in the castle after the story ended was to be close to laios, when it's more likely because he's always desired a position of power and he's just good with diplomatic stuff and acts as a perfect conclusion for his character because of all he went through to make up for surviving the utaya disaster.

don't try make it seem like it's morally disingenuous to ship kabru and mithrun when many of these complaints can be said for labru as well.

also the only genuine, soft smiles kabru has shown during the story are both aimed at mithrun.

this is meant to be informative and i'm tired of seeing this hypocritical take on kabumisu

A healthcare worker’s take on Dungeon Meshi shipping discourse

Hiya y’all! As someone who has become a fan of Dungeon Meshi (honestly one of my favorite franchises at this moment) I’d just like to give more of a nuanced take on a shipping discourse I’ve seen. I’d like to clarify this with I am an NA. I’ve literally been recognized by the country I live in through the sunshine awards system on my contributions to my patients lives. All this to say, I know a bit about healthcare. And I also think that. Personally, people should be allowed to ship whatever they please. They shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for what they enjoy, especially if it isn’t hurting anyone.

I’d like to clarify what I am speaking on, this being the controversy surrounding the ships Mithrun and Kabru, vs Laios and Kabru. Both of which are valid ships in my opinion! I think both are great! And whichever you like you should feel comfortable and happy to indulge in it.

I work mostly with geriatric and bariatric patients, as I work on a cardiac unit. So, by proxy, I witness a lot of disabled people come through. This to say that these people HAVE partners. And their partners care for them. Such as feeding their partners if they need help eating, helping their partners feel safe if they have dementia, I have even seen someone clean their spouse after they had soiled themself. All of which are examples of love and affection, as partners. Not as a provider doing their job.

The argument i see many a time against the ship of Mithrun and Kabru, is that it is unethical. As Kabru would be a “provider” in this case, and Mithrun would be a “patient” to this I say, is Kabru being paid in this hypothetical? Is he following training he has been given? Is he following a code of ethics given to healthcare workers when he helps Mithrun with his disability? Disabled people deserve love. And they deserve a partner that cares for them. So the argument that the ship is gross is kind of… weird. Isn’t it? Again. Mithrun and Kabru as partners do not have to be your cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean that anyone who DOES ship them is gross or immoral. Helping your partner because they are disabled is an act of love, and completely different from a provider helping their patient.

Statistically, everyone will either die able bodied or live to become disabled. It happens to everyone. Disabilities are almost as much of a fact of life as breathing is. I am new to the Dungeon Meshi fandom, but the insinuation that someone able bodied cannot have a disabled partner is kind of horrible to actual able bodied/disabled partnerships? The dynamic is so common, and so to say that it is gross, almost implies that the dynamic in a day to day is gross.

This post isn’t meant to be inflammatory, there are so many dungeon meshi ships I love with all my heart. Some that are rare pairs, some that are common within the fandom. I just think that people should be more friendly with each other. Kabru has two hands guys it’s okay /j /lh. Just please be more friendly guys. Both ships are valid. But the way the fandom gets so angry over it makes me scared. And I imagine it makes other people who are new to the manga/anime a little scared too.

[societyfolklore]

Loki’s Gift-Giving Guide to Mortal Relations

Title: Loki’s Gift-Giving Guide to Mortal Relations Summary: Loki, in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the Avengers, begins leaving them macabre 'gifts' Word Count:  1.7k

Warnings:  Silliness! Fluff nonsense- humor… (Well not funny funny.. just..this is a silly post)   No beta read, and not super thought out either…just go with it it's Christmas damn it! A/N: Not my idea, inspired by a post made @mycroftrh that has now become whatever this is now...since it’s Christmas (ish)

The Avengers were used to weird things happening around Avengers Tower. It came with the territory of being Earth’s mightiest heroes. They had fought alien invasions, battled rogue AIs, and stopped countless catastrophes, but this-this was something entirely different. For the third day running the group was met with the decapitated bodies of a number what looked to be HYDRA agents. Dumped at their front of their doorstep-neatly tied up with glowing green runes spelling out-

‘To the Avengers, with admiration’-it was becoming, disgusting clear that Loki was up to something…bizarre.

“What the hell is this?” The groan came from Stark while taking in the scene from the lobby, arms crossed as the team stared at the latest ‘gift.’ “Is this supposed to be a threat? Some weird, magic mafia message? Are we being punked?”

Natasha crouched next to the mess, her sharp eyes narrowing as she examined them with her usual no-nonsense precision. “It’s Loki. Has to be. Who else uses this much flair for something so unnecessary?” She gestured to the glowing symbols, her tone tinged with exasperation. “It’s practically screaming his name. Plus, well the green.”

Rogers just let out a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Why would he send us bad guys all wrapped up like some demented Christmas present? Does he think we’re- allies now?” His tone was incredulous, as if the idea of Loki’s cooperation was more shocking than the elaborate display before them.

Bruce glanced around nervously as if he half expect Loki to just sudden appear tilted his head looking back at the bodies. “Maybe it’s a trap. They could be booby-trapped with…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the bodies of the HYDRA agents, his mind undoubtedly cataloguing every worst-case scenario.

Thor, however, broke into a broad grin as if he’d just discovered something delightful. He stepped forward with his characteristic enthusiasm. “Nay, friends, it is no trap! Loki is merely…” The grin faltered a little as he looked at the concerned looks of his friends but tried to reassure. “Expressing his affection!”

The lobby fell silent. Even Clint, who had been quietly eating a bagel in the corner, paused mid-chew to blink at Thor.

“Affection?” Tony repeated flatly. He stared at Thor as if waiting for the punchline to an elaborate joke. “You’re saying your psycho brother, who once tried to enslave the planet, is affectionately dropping off corpses and terrorists like a murderous Santa Claus?”

Thor nodded enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to the disbelief in the room. “Indeed! It is the way of our people. He is offering tribute as a sign of respect and camaraderie. Why, on my two-hundredth birthday, Loki orchestrated the assassination of a minor warlord in Alfheim as a gift. It caused quite the interplanar incident, but it was very thoughtful!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze locking onto Thor. “So… this is normal for him?”

“Aye! Though I… did not realize he extended such courtesies to mortals. This is a great honour!” Thor’s tone was earnest, almost proud.

Tony started rubbing his temple like it would stop the growing headache, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, let’s backtrack to the part where Prince Diva assassinated a warlord for your birthday. Did… Did anyone explain to him that not all gifts need to involve bloodshed?”

Thor frowned in thought, his expression clouding over as he seemed to piece something together. “We may have tried. Though it occurs to me now that perhaps Odin’s approval of those deeds…” He trailed off, his voice softening as a shadow of realization crossed his face.

Tony’s eyes lit up, his tone shifting to one of mock delight. “Ok, hold up. Are we unpacking trauma? Is this going to be fun?” He turned to Bruce with a grin. “Banner, get your therapy voice ready. Point Breaks about to have a breakthrough.”

Thor waved him off with an annoyed huff. “Loki’s past deeds are of no concern now. What matters is that he seeks your acceptance. These…”-he gestured grandly to the bound and unconscious HYDRA agents-“are his way of saying he wishes to be… friends.”

Clint muttered through a mouthful of bagel, “Yeah, friends who dump bodies at your door.” He took another bite, entirely unimpressed with the explanation. “Which of you idiots asked for a cat for Christmas?”

From the rooftop across the street, cloaked in an invisibility spell, Loki smirked as he watched the Avengers examine his latest offering. Surely, this time, this time they would appreciate his efforts. The Midgardians prided themselves on ridding their realm of filth like HYDRA, and Loki had delivered the scum directly to their door. What more could they want?

“Ungrateful mortals,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. He had spent hours dismantling that cell, carefully orchestrating every detail to ensure maximum impact. From slipping past the hapless guards to embedding subtle chaos spells that left the agents confused and disoriented, every step had been an art form. Even the glowing runes adorning the bindings had been a personal touch-a flourish of his own design.

As the Avengers debated his motives, Loki found himself dwelling on the absurdity of it all. Back on Asgard, such actions would have been heralded as heroic-a declaration of loyalty and cunning prowess. The court would have whispered in awe of the intricate methods and decisive execution. Had Thor truly failed to explain their culture to these mortals, or was he intentionally withholding that knowledge for some unfathomable reason? Was this, perhaps, another one of Thor's oafish oversights?

The idea rankled. Loki’s gaze shifted briefly toward the New York Sky line, his thoughts wandering to the many times he had tried to prove himself. All Loki wanted was acknowledgment. A nod, a smirk, even a begrudging ‘thank you’ from Thor would suffice. But no, they always assumed the worst of him. Always the villain, never the ally. Did they not see that he was trying?

A flicker of irritation danced across his features. Were mortals truly so obtuse, or did they simply enjoy painting him as the antagonist? Surely, Thor could have explained the significance of such gestures. Or had Thor dismissed the act himself, brushing it aside as another of Loki’s ‘antics’? The thought stung more than Loki cared to admit.

He sighed, leaning against the cold stone railing of the rooftop. Below, the city buzzed with life, its mortals scurrying about in their endless routines, oblivious to the grander schemes that played out above them. Perhaps his gestures had been… misunderstood. Maybe these mortals needed something more tailored to their sensibilities-something simpler, less grandiose. A gift of flowers, perhaps? No, that was too banal. A box of chocolates? Loki scoffed at the idea.

Yet, as his thoughts circled back to the Avengers, a different notion took hold. Loki’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. If they wanted less bloodshed, he could oblige. He would find a way to outwit their expectations, to craft a gesture so cunning and sincere that even they could not mistake his intentions. But where was the fun in that? Perhaps he could combine his flair for the dramatic with their mortal simplicity. Yes, that might just suffice.

For now, though, he would watch and wait. The wheels of his mind turned, already formulating his next move. After all, Loki was nothing if not adaptable.

Back at the Tower, Thor finally cornered Loki in one of his dramatic rooftop brooding sessions. Loki had been preparing to slip away after leaving another ‘gift’-a dossier containing the locations of several underground arms dealers, meticulously bound with enchanted ribbon-but his brother’s booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Brother,” Thor began, crossing his arms as he approached, “I have come to speak with you about your… gifts.”

Loki turned, his expression an artful mask of indifference. “Gifts? You mean my contributions to your pitiable band of heroes?”

“Aye, those contributions. They do not understand your intent. In truth, they are… concerned.” Thor’s tone was carefully measured, though there was an undertone of exasperation.

Loki’s brows knit together, the faintest hint of a pout forming. “Concerned? I deliver them their enemies, eliminated and gift-wrapped, and they are concerned? Ungrateful wretches.” He sniffed indignantly. “Do they not realize the effort I expend for their benefit?”

Thor clapped a hand on his shoulder, the force of it making Loki’s pristine posture waver slightly. “Brother, Midgardians are… different. They do not view such gestures as we do. Perhaps try a different approach? A… less bloody one.”

“Different,” Loki repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “Different in that they lack the wit to recognize a masterpiece when it is presented to them?” He paused, crossing his arms in defiance. “And what, pray tell, should I offer? Trinkets? Flowers? Shall I craft them little baubles like some mortal craftsman seeking approval?” His voice was biting, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his sharp gaze as he flicked his hands about in mocking gesture.

Thor grinned, ever the optimist Loki sarcasm doing nothing to deter is attempt to correct the mistake. “That would be an excellent start. Perhaps something that demonstrates your intellect and skill without… dismemberment.”

Loki’s scoff was immediate, though he didn’t immediately dismiss the suggestion. He paced the rooftop, his coat trailing dramatically behind him as he mulled over Thor’s words. “They are so fragile, these mortals,” he muttered to himself, though loud enough for Thor to hear. “Always repulsed by the sight of blood, offended by the faintest display of power. Fine. If these mortals are so delicate, I shall craft them gifts more befitting their sensibilities.”

Thor’s grin widened, his pride in his brother evident. “Now that is the spirit! Use your brilliance to show them you are more than they believe you to be.”

Loki rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. “Very well,” he said at last, his tone regal and begrudging. “But if my efforts are once again met with disdain, do not expect me to spare their fragile sensibilities next time. I shall not suffer such indignities endlessly.”

“Agreed,” Thor replied cheerfully, clapping Loki on the back. “I look forward to seeing what you create, Brother.”

As Thor turned to leave, Loki lingered on the rooftop, the wheels of his mind already turning. His expression softened briefly, the faintest trace of uncertainty crossing his features. Could he truly bridge the chasm between himself and these mortals? And if so, would it be worth it? With a deep breath, Loki squared his shoulders, determination hardening his expression. He would try-not for them, but for himself. As he turned to leave, he considered his next move. Perhaps a feast? No… something grander. He had plenty of time to decide. After all, Loki was nothing if not patient.

(And.. I think that might wait till next year... Thank you if you made it to the end of this silly bit of nonsense!)

[aakaneeee]

well people. . It's time, aka Akane's monthly revival because there's Luka content. And gosh do I have a lot to say about this. Except.. I'm not going to market these as theories, but as predictions. I think as an og fan I've seen enough to be this confident in my abilities LOL

Quickly, I'd like to address the lyrics and the title, because I will reference it later and I don't want to have to explain mid-prediction.

Wiege has two meanings, and both are so fitting:

1. Cradle. It feels.. perfect, for me. It makes so much sense. Luka was a cold child.. but I'd like to say only physically. I feel like he genuinely warmed up towards Hyuna and Hyunwoo as a child. And I'm going to bring an idea that might get me a bit of backlash but.. I've gotten worse, and that is, that Hyuna is at fault for Luka's approach on his feelings. (Audience boos) From the little we know about Hyunwoo, I feel like Hyuna treated both him and Luka.. at least a little bit similarly. Or at least, Luka couldn't discern a difference, if there was any. Luka is a tube baby, he probably doesn't know (and I am not babying him here, I'd like to add!) what "siblings" he has. For him, affection might just be all and the same. Yes, it wasn't Hyuna's responsibility to teach him, but I feel like a hint was there "Your life is mine", and she could've explained, in a way. But, back to our discussion, Hyuna was Luka's cradle. She burns as bright as the sun, while he's colder. But most importantly, she was his only true friend (Considering I don't think his relationship with Hyunwoo was extremely close, even though they were 'friends'), someone he thought truly cared about him. Hyuna was Luka's cradle, holding him close, comfortable... until at one point, he outgrows that cradle (Hyunwoo's death).

And the second meaning, beginning. In the picture we got, Luka is centered, he's in the middle.. but he's so small, and overshadowed by the tree. Luka is the best performer of the ANAKT, always first, but has no friends. But perhaps, he was better that way. Then, Hyuna comes, and it's a new beginning. He's finally not alone. What I've noticed in the new banner, Luka is missing, but across the tree trunk, in his place, is a taller shadow. Perhaps, a shadow of who Luka was, hopefully still left in there. Or, the other way around, it symbolizes his real self being left there.

And the lyrics:

When I close my eyes,

Play in paradise.

These, to me, remind me of the interview where Luka said his favorite game was hide and seek. In a way, his whole ANAKT life was a game of hide and seek: hiding all the time, but no one trying to seek him. Until Hyuna did, and found him. Something that intrigues me is the "paradise", which to me sounds like what Mizi once said: Dying in competition means returning to the Great Anakt, which I suppose is to them like Heaven.. or Paradise. This will be important later, so remember it.

And now, my predictions for the HyuLuka episode

! First of all, I think the song will be lullaby-like. When I first saw this teaser, with the lyrics, as weird as it sounds, it reminded me of Richard's song in The Hero in TAWOG, a song that always gets me to cry for some reason, and I've been really stuck on that . It would be interesting, because it would fit Luka's voice (as does everything else), but probably not Hyuna's, even though 6FU; would eat it.. which to me, sounds like their "love", where Luka loves her, but it isn't returned. I'd love to see more German in it than just in the title. And considering the nostalgic, pastel, very cutesy artstyle (that reminds me of the memory part from Jordan River animation!), it seems very viable. But the art style is also noisy, which gives an unsettling vibe. It feels like a 2020's dreamcore wallpaper.

I might be crazy, but the hand holding the flower (with only 3 stamens, like the 3 friends) looks dark-skinned, like it would be Hyuna's or Hyunwoo's, but I doubt it would be his, considering it's the account's profile picture. If this is some kind of reference to.. perhaps, an unrequited Hyuluka but the other way around, with Hyuna still not over Luka.. probably won't happen, but God, would that be awesome.

So, how do I think the round will go?

First of all, I have to say, I'm not sure if this will be a round or a Mizisua type episode.😭 I'd say "oh the wait time is way too small" but also... do you guys remember the production announcement of Round 7? Yeah. You can never be sure.

This isn't necessarily a prediction, but more of a suggestion of what could be: It would be SO cool if it would be both.. in a way, merged. This idea just appeared in my mind and I was like OH. MY. GOD. Imagine if almost the whole thing was just them, as children, having fun, a whole backstory.. but then, when Hyunwoo dies, it pans on his face, and then it's back on stage, the loser's face instead of his. It would be so heartwarming, and then DEEPLY DISTURBING and traumatizing. I also really want some Luka and Heperu backstory so I can hate Heperu even more.

On the topic of the loser... It's going to be Luka. I'm an insane Luka lover and it was hard to get accommodated to this idea, but there is no way that he will survive. First of all, the shadow in the account's banner, in place of Luka. It's implications... are quite obvious. Second, the pattern of characters shown in Sweet Dream, and he is next. Third: "In my arms, you would be protected." I feel like Luka would consider the competition "In his arms". I don't think he would break his promise: hear me out for a second. He wouldn't let Hyuna die this way, because I feel like his sense of possession over her also comes with responsibility and protectiveness. And fourth, the Paradise lyric, to me, is a foreshadowing of his death.

I also think he will die by self sacrifice. First of all, there's no way Hyuna could defeat Luka by pure odds. Yes, her stats are better, but lets be honest, her mental power would NOT be as good infront of Luka, and also, the aliens wouldn't vote her. She's a rebel, wanted for so much time, with technically no guardian: they wouldn't want her to defeat their prince, probably. And second, I have made two categories:

The "perfects": Sua, Ivan, Luka

The "rebels": Mizi, Till, Hyuna

See something similar? Both the perfects that are dead, have died by self-sacrifice. The only other dead character, Till, has been shot while reaching for his freedom, so you can't say this is for all characters. And let's be honest.. Patterns are usually being followed in this series. Id also like to add, even though it's a reach, that in a tier of how 'perfect' they are, it'd be:

1. Luka

2. Sua - not so obvious self sacrifice

3. Ivan - obvious self sacrifice

So, I'd say that Luka's might be even more backstage, as if to sabotage himself in a way that seems viable. It also kind of goes in line with his character, he's not one to break facade on stage.

I think this episode will be quite a deep-dive into their true selves. We know the least about them, so this will be GREAT. I'd love to see a more morally gray Hyuna in this. (Since I'm genuinely kind of tired of only Luka being villainized in the ship, which honestly..  is kind of in line with the other perfects. Let's let Mizi, Till and Hyuna be little freaks too) I also want to see atleast a little bit of Hyunwoo, like a little snippet of his mind, what he saw in Luka.

In conclusion, I'm SO happy and hyped about this HyuLuka episode, they're so mysterious and I really really want to see more of L- I mean, more of them. Getting 2 episodes where Luka is present one after another is literally THE dream to me. Basically, Wiege is killing me and I'm gladly letting it.

@4listr Since you asked to be tagged and also, @rockwgooglyeyes I REALLY want your opinion on this

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 8

You're so, so pissed.

warning/cw for user having a panic attack- basically hurt no comfort

never mentioning how long it takes for me to write a chapter again because wow hi guys it's been two months... i'll be real, it's not my best work, but if i try to nitpick anymore this chapter'll be out when i graduate haha (additional: this is day 25 of my advent calendar! i know this was supposed to be out on christmas day, i'm sorry, i'm sick 😭)

ao3!

ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

(Why Did I Like You? Breaking it Off)

Your realization is a scary one.

It takes you taking an Uber home, collapsing in your bed and passing out and waking up before you realize the consequences:

Holy fuck, you loved them.

Them being a couple.

An established couple.

Who got along like water in a stream.

You came to another realization not too shortly after: there’s no way in hell you can tell them if you want your friendship to remain the same. And if you don’t want them to think of you as a creep- because that’s exactly how you feel. 

You feel like a creep, wanting to be a part of their undoubtedly closed, private relationship, wanting to get closer than what’s acceptable, at least in your head. You don’t know when or how or why these feelings have arisen- all you know is that they are just there. And you certainly don’t appreciate them at all.

No, you determine yourself to push down these frankly irrelevant feelings. There’s no use for them by either party, anyway.

Little do you know that on the other side of the plaster and drywall , Johnny’s feeling the same as you .

He’s a lot less in denial about his feelings than you are, though. He came to terms with his feelings a long while ago, and he’s been a lot less subtle about his feelings, too. What with the way he had snuck food from his plate to your own when you ate dinner with them just because you said you liked a certain dish or how he had stopped you from paying for anything while at the countless (literally, countless) art fairs you had been dragged to or the hopelessly-in-love looks he gave you from the other side of a room.

However, much like you, he’s scared.

He’s been stockpiling, hoarding random facts about you and committing them to his memory, just to randomly delight you with something you assume he’d forgotten .

He and Simon have had thirds before, multiple times. People that had left well before morning, whatever. They’d never seen anyone like you before—sweet, little you. You who had barged into their hearts with your broken one, nestled deep, curled up and settled.

Still, he’s scared. He and Simon had never talked about their relationship like that before, because they never needed to.

You, though, were making him question things. He had always thought- assumed?- that Simon was the one and only person for him. Only Simon could fill a persistent ache in his heart, could soothe his overactive mind and lull him into rest. However, when you came along, suddenly Johnny felt the same way he had when he first met Simon. Suddenly, he was poking the bear that was the 6’4 masked Lieutenant in base after being transferred into the 141, giddy off of boyish nerves and fickle puppy love that soon turned into something more.

Suddenly, you make Johnny feel as though he’s a lot younger than he is.

And don’t get him wrong, it’s bloody amazing . He adores you- well and truly , he does. He’s scared of how Simon will react, though.

He and Simon are birds of a feather, really, and he knows that Simon likes you a fair amount. The real question is if Simon thought of you the way Johnny did, or if to him, you were just a good friend. It’s that thought that makes Johnny scared- that if he introduced the idea of including you in their relationship, Simon would be disgusted, maybe even offended. It’s that thought that gives him pause and stops him from bringing it up to Simon.

More fuel to the fire of your trepidation: you're so anxious about the sculpture. You know they know that it was someone else (technically), but the memory of throwing that sculpture- god, you feel terrible about it. Yeah, you were maybe a lot intoxicated, but it was still insanely terrifying. You just knew that if you were to go up to them unguarded they would split your brain open and see everything within you. They would be able to tell that you broke the sculpture and they’d see your weakness and then they’d hate you for it. You’re convinced that they’d hate you about it so much that they will get you kicked out of your lovely new apartment somehow, maybe from a friendship with the landlord, and then convince your job to drop you for being a deplorable sculpture-shatterer. Maybe they'd even go as far as to go onto the news about you and your deplorable-ness since Johnny had gained internet reach via the homophobic outburst. Maybe they’d turn you in to the cops. Maybe you’d get locked up, like how Simon was trying to get the original vandal to be. Needless to say, you didn’t talk to either of them about the incident, going rigid whenever it got mentioned, going to yourself ‘god, maybe they’ve found you out’ when all it is is Simon grumbling about the local police being little to no help. You’ve also been sort of avoiding them, not responding to Johnny’s texts as much or purposefully timing taking out the trash to catch Simon and Riley on their afternoon walks. You don’t think they notice, since they’ve been caught up in a sudden wave of support on practically all ends- you’re sure you saw a few strangers loitering on their doorstep a few separate times. 

Despite all of your anxiety, life still moves on. You worked nearly every day for the past two weeks before getting two days off. The clinic had been swamped because a nearby elementary school had a lice outbreak; first-time moms who had never heard about lice shampoo came flocking to your practice. It probably would’ve been funny, you supposed, but it was just tiring to deal with back-to-back upset toddlers with upset parents. You were so tired that when Johnny reached out to invite you to watch a horror movie in preparation for Halloween, you couldn’t even bother with your anxiety declining, just wanting some sort of comfort. 

Now, you’re at the boys’ apartment, contemplating the benefits of leaping out of their balcony; just to rid yourself of the near-crippling anxiety of being so close to the two of them. You're settled into the couch to watch Jennifer's Body with the boys, and Simon is lounged with his mask off and he has one burly arm over the top of the couch , practically over Johnny's shoulders as Johnny sort of sits right in the divot between Simon's cushion (since he’s buff enough to warrant his own cushion) and the cushion he should’ve been sitting on, enticing you to sit closer than normal to Johnny.

Knowing what you know now, you don't. Feeling what you do now, you don’t. You even take the opportunity to put a little space between you two, sitting purposefully on the other side of the couch. You’re honestly scared that if you do sit close to him, they'll take you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Johnny wrong.

You settle in, kicking your stocking-clad feet up onto the couch as you watch the first scene of the movie .

You zone out for a while and it’s not until Simon huffs a gruff chuckle at something or other- you weren't really paying attention- that you zone back in. Then, as if recalling something, his brown gaze bores directly through the fucking tissues of your face, right over an asleep Johnny, who had leaned in his sleep, his head now on your shoulder. He’s kind of (really) scary like this, just staring at you. It’s more tense without a lighthearted Johnny to diffuse the tension.

“You’re jumpy,” he observes.

“I’m not.” You’re not.

“Are y’ sure? You haven’t been seeming like yourself for a while, bun.”

“I’m fine.” You are. He scrutinizes you and you can feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach, which quickly turns into an irrational sort of anger. “Don’t look at me like that.” You half-snap. He had just looked at you so closely that you’re utterly convinced he knows exactly what you’re thinking, which only serves to irritate you further.

“Sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t seem sorry, only surprised.

“No, you’re not.” He’s not . His brow furrows.

“Bun, are you-“

“Stop.” You say, and he does. Johnny starts to drool. You look back to the movie. Simon doesn’t, and it ticks you off- his eyes are analytical but soft. Like he’s pitying you, which confuses you- what about you is there to pity? You’re convinced he knows everything about the sculpture now, what with the intensity of his gaze earlier. He should be feeling angry at you, not sorry for you.

“ Stop looking at me like that!” You burst out, making Johnny flinch awake, his head stuttering as it rises up from your tensed shoulders. He blinks blearily at you and your heart stutters, because even mostly asleep, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. He’s so pretty. It shouldn’t be allowed. Unexpectedly, it just adds more fuel to the fire that is your anxiety-driven rage.

“Wh’s-” Johnny starts.

“Bun, it’s okay- hey,” Simon cuts in.

“Fucking stop! I don’t get how you can be so- so calm all the time when you hate me,” you say, traitorous tears pricking at your eyes. “I know you know that I broke the vase, a-and it’s so infuriating when you act like nothing’s wrong! Like it doesn’t matter! Like you’re just- waiting for the perfect moment to strike on me and force me to pay my dues or something! Being quietly pissed off is shitty and rude and dehumanizing!"

You fight through the rising nausea and-

"-I hate that you know that I love you!" Embarrassment rises to your cheeks. It's slick and toxic, because *what the fuck*, no way you just said that?! You're fuming as you get up on unsteady feet and leave their apartment, narrowly avoiding the next wave of trick-or-treaters. You fumbled with your key before prying open the door of your apartment , falling onto your bed and crying into your pillow, frustrated with yourself.

That was awesome. That was great. You'd just confessed everything you knew they knew- if they didn't, they surely did now. They'd hate you. You really had to start detaching yourself from your apartment now, because you were almost 99% they would be reporting you for harassment or something to your landlord.

----------------------------------------

Both Simon and Johnny are confused as they sit on the couch in stunned silence in the aftermath.

"Well." Simon murmurs.

"Yeah.”

“I mean… well, fuck. Right bloody mess, that.”

“Only a mess? More like-” Johnny stops himself and bites his lower lip , hesitating .

“Well? Go’n, then,” Simon interjects, bumping Johnny’s shoulder. “More like what?” 

Internally, Johnny berates himself for the slip-up, since the plan has never been to tell Simon the truth. To confess that he-

No, he’s sure Simon must have an inkling of the direction of the secret he’s concealed for the better half of a month. Simon knows him too well, too intimately, their souls too closely intertwined for any secret to survive longer than a month. He should just fess up, he knows, but speaking the words would only be painful and he feels like they both could do with a lot less pain.

“Si, it’s-”

“Bullshit,” Simon says nearly immediately, his eyes glaring daggers through Johnny’s skull, making him gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Jus’ spit it out.” He hisses.

“I… Si,” he sighs out. “Si, Ah really like them. Like, really,” he says sulkily. “Ah still love ye the same, an’ I still think you’re my soulmate an’ all, But…. Somethin’ abou’ them, Si, I dunno.”

“Ah, Johnny,” Simon says, sighing, drawing Johnny closer to his side. “Tha’ isn’t anything to worry about,” he rumbles, “I feel the same, y’know. Thought you clued it out by now.”

“Really?” Johnny asks, peering up at his lover.

“Yeah, really, with your dumbass.”

“Oh. Well. I think- I think they feel the same.”

“You think ? They fundamentally confessed, love,” he mutters.

“Yeah, ollright,” Johnny huffs. “What d’ya suppose we do, then, if yer all-knowing?”

“Well, we tell 'em, don’t we? Get them a nice dinner. Some wine. The works.”

“Uh-huh. I think they’re scared of us, though, Si,” Johnny says quietly.

“I think you’re paranoid.” Simon presses a kiss on Johnny’s forehead. Johnny huffs again but offers no further cheek. “I say we take ‘em out to Ivy Springfield’s. Alright?”

“Alright.”

<- back

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Golden Mercy Ch 2 (Hyrule Warriors story)

Summary: When Ganondorf returns during Hyrule Warriors, he’s on a mission to make things right, though what that means is beyond everyone around him. Kidnapping the Hero of Hyrule and telling him he’s protecting him from the Queen is not what anyone expected, and nobody can quite figure out what his ultimate goal is. Link sure is confused, though, and… starting to realize there’s more to Ganondorf than just being a monster. Zelda, on the other hand, is quickly spiraling with panic and fear over losing her friend and Hero, as well as trying to protect her kingdom from such a threat that was so dangerous the previous Hero split his soul into pieces to prevent him from ever returning.

(AO3 link)

Previous // Next

Chapter 2 - The Oncoming Storm

The majority of the coronation celebration was outside, as the castle was still too damaged to house such a party. It did mean it was an easy place to hide from the crowds, though, giving Link a break.

The Hero of Hyrule was easily recognizable in his garb, gifted to him by General Impa during the war. It was strange to think how much had changed since then, how the war was now over, how the princess had just been crowned queen. Link was proud of Zelda, was happy that it was over, but sometimes wandering among the common folk and being gawked became too much, even though he had grown far more accustomed to it.

He hadn’t quite figured out how to handle everyone looking at him as a symbol of victory.

He was always looked to, wasn’t he? When the Triforce of Courage had first claimed him, Impa had known his destiny was far grander than he’d realized. He’d tried everything in his power to live up to that expectation, to the proud green and blue that he wore. And he supposed he had lived up to it, with a few hiccups. But… somehow, he’d hoped, when it was all over, that perhaps all eyes would not be on him anymore.

He certainly was naïve, he supposed. It wasn’t as if the attention wasn’t validating, of course. But still… he hardly knew wha to say to so many. He knew he’d have to step up, to figure out how to navigate this new battlefield of sorts. It wasn’t as if he would be stepping back anytime soon. Hyrule still needed help.

Link leaned against a cold stone wall, disappearing into the shadows cast by a pillar beside him. He didn’t stay hidden for long, though, when he heard the sound of chainmail and metal shoes, and he turned to see his queen.

Link knelt automatically, wishing Proxi were here to verbally acknowledge Zelda so he wouldn’t have to. He wasn’t entirely sure how to acknowledge her now, after all.

“Hello, Link,” Zelda greeted with warmth, motioning for him to rise. When he did so, she smiled at him. She looked… tired in the moonlight.

During the war, they’d held a camaraderie. It had helped that she’d hidden her identity initially as Sheik, making her just a fellow soldier instead of the Princess of Hyrule. After her secret had been revealed, it had created a bit of a tension between the pair, but the war had pushed them together so much it had seemed to finally lift.

Until the war’s end. Until Zelda had started to look at the capital once more, and had started to try and reel in her people as much as the enemy. As soon as her duties had expanded from war to ruling, it had reminded Link of who she was, and though they still were familiar and friendly to each other, it was… he didn’t know. There was something strange to it now, a new knowledge between the two that created awkwardness.

He missed just being friends.

“We have a long road ahead of us,” Zelda noted quietly, looking down. The cheers and festivities from outside seemed so far away. “So much has been lost.”

Her words made his heart ache. Link had seen more battlefields than he could count, and he’d lost so many soldiers. Hyrule had lost many of its people. The one good thing was that the majority of the war had been in open fields – though some attacks had been on settlements and villages, most hadn’t involved civilians. But Zelda wasn’t wrong – they had much to do, and Link was eager to help, even if he wasn’t sure how.

After all… he was a soldier. He’d spent most of his life preparing for battle, and he’d grown up forged in the flames of war. The war was over.

The war was over.

So what was his purpose now? What was he supposed to do?

He shook his head subtly. He’d trained to be a knight in a time of peace. War may have forged him into a man, but he still knew how he could contribute. It was just… far different now, after everything.

Zelda fiddled with something around her neck, showing him a necklace. He’d seen it once in a while, when Zelda had been in more casual attire between fights. It had a locket on it, with the Sheikah eye on the outside. He’d never seen what was inside it, though.

“My parents gave me this,” she said, staring at it with sad eyes.

Link felt compelled to say something, heart moved with grief. “I’m sorry.”

The queen bit her lip, squeezing the locket in her palm. Then she smiled at him, motioning for him to come closer. He did so obediently, and she gently placed the necklace around him. He stared at her, surprised and confused.

“You are the Hero of Hyrule,” she said, her smile remaining, but her tone became more formal. “I was right when I thought it was you. You have proven yourself time and again, Link. As the Hero of destiny, you are my Hero. I want you to have this and remember that.”

Link found himself entirely lost for words. This locket had been a gift from her parents – it seemed wrong for him to have it. But her words held a depth and meaning to them that made his heart skip a beat, it gave him the same shivers he’d always get when people spoke of his destiny to save the world.

Perhaps that was the chasm that had grown between them. They could no longer just be war buddies anymore, he supposed. She was a Queen, and he was the Hero.

He wasn’t just the Hero, though, as she said. He was hers. Lana had said it as well. Two souls, eternally bound together.

Bound together.

Link swallowed, uncomfortable all of a sudden. He wished he had time to actually consider what that meant. It was strange, really, how their primary enemy could be so obsessed with him over reasons he still couldn’t fully comprehend. Yes, he was an attractive man, he knew that, but the idea behind the Soul of the Hero… and his greater destiny…

He’d tried to talk to Lana about it once. She’d been as uncomfortable to address it as he was. They hadn’t gotten far before they’d been interrupted anyway. Now that the ceremony was over and Lana had departed, he doubted he’d ever get that chance again.

Zelda sighed, looking away, taking a step towards the window. “Over one thousand years ago, an ancestor of mine nearly destroyed Hyrule. He accused the Sheikah of becoming too powerful with their technological prowess, fearing their betrayal. He attacked the Gerudo, our allies, over a past war and the whiff of treachery. He nearly destroyed the people’s faith in the monarchy entirely.”

Link paused, blinking, wondering where this was going. Zelda continued, “All it took was one bad king to nearly ruin the kingdom. His wife tried to pick up the pieces as best she could. She named their daughter Zelda, a name that hadn’t been given to a royal since the days of the Sacred Diplomat and the Imprisoning War. It brought a sense of duty and hope to it. People thought that maybe danger was coming as well, with a bad king and a princess named Zelda… but nothing happened. The princess took the throne and was a good queen, and she helped try to patch up the mess her father had made.”

When she didn’t say anything else, Link walked up to her, prompting a response, and she smiled sadly, looking at her reflection. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? The difference one monarch can make. She helped rebuild the kingdom, just like her previous namesake. She became known as Zelda, the Healer. Her life was proof that the Imprisoning War’s seal had worked – a time where a ruler who bore such a name lived while Hyrule was in peril, and not once was there a threat from a demonic force.”

Her smile faded. “Yet I almost let a sorceress release him again. I am the first to bear the name since the Healer, and the kingdom has fallen into ruin under my care.”

Link’s eyes widened, and he took a small step forward. “Zelda—”

“I am a queen of bones, ash, and rubble,” Zelda said sharply, glaring at him, tears in her eyes. “I did this, Link.”

“You fought for your people, you defeated Cia,” Link argued. “You had faith in me when even I didn’t. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the Master Sword, the kingdom would still be at war.”

Zelda’s sharp look softened, and she sighed. “Destiny was on our side, yes. As it always is. It was silly of me to ever doubt it at any point. The goddesses look out for their people. We will fulfill our divine duties together, Link.”

Well, at least she seemed to be feeling better. But what destiny awaited him now? Hers was obvious, but Link… would he simply remain a captain in the military?

Zelda turned to face him fully, reaching out to hold the locket as it hung around his neck. “You are my Hero. Fate has interwoven our lives together, time and again. Together, we will rebuild Hyrule. The last Hero joined with the queen, as the goddesses dictate. Cia knew it to be true, and when she defied it she failed. Even Lana knows it. How can we go wrong, then, with such ties between us?”

An unfamiliar feeling sank over him, like icy water pouring over his body. Zelda wasn’t supposed to be someone who made him feel this unsafe, feel like Cia was whispering in his ear while he stormed her castle filled with idols of himself.

Link swallowed. He wanted to argue a little, to clarify what he thought she was implying. There was no way the two of them could—she surely wasn’t suggesting they married, was she? They were friends, but that—such a commitment—

Was that what was expected of him, as the Hero of Hyrule?

Zelda nodded to herself, sighing. Then she smiled, seeming almost relieved. “With the dreams and everything… I’m glad it was you, Link. I’m glad it was someone I knew and trusted. You’re a good man.”

Link tried to smile in return, feeling somewhat ill at ease with her cryptic words but still somehow comforted by the warmth of her tone. “I’ll always be here for you, Zelda.”

His friend almost giggled, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m glad destiny brought us together.”

Link felt his smile grow strained. Although he shared the same sentiment, the heaviness of the implications nearly crushed him. He wished desperately that Proxi were there as he lost his nerve. Zelda sighed, patting him on the shoulder.

“We should probably get back to the party,” she sighed. “I’m glad you wanted a break too. I thought I was the only one overwhelmed.”

Link did find he could speak to that. “I’m surprised. You… I mean, you grew up with this.”

Zelda glanced away, moonlight cascading through torn curtains, creating patterns on her face and hiding the rest of her in shadow. “I always had my parents before. It’s… different now. When I’m the only one. Besides… I… I chose to hone my skills as a warrior for a reason. I knew I would be in the spotlight eventually, but I… never enjoyed the thought of it.”

Link felt his heart clench, and he unconsciously fiddled with the locket that now sat in his scarf. “You’re not alone, Zelda.”

The queen remained motionless a moment, processing the words, before closing her eyes and smiling. “Yes. I’m not alone.”

She smiled at him once more, all the warmth of a merry hearth radiating from her and filling his heart. “Let’s go together, Link.”

As much as he didn’t want to rejoin the party and the scrutiny, he’d do so for his friend. As much as he was not keen on being gawked at, he felt safer with her. But a touch of unease still made his stomach churn, her words from earlier clenching in his heart and twisting it.

Destiny had tied them together. And he… was grateful for it too, truly. But… Link had… he’d always wanted to help. But perhaps… he didn’t know. He just…

Why did he feel like he didn’t have a choice in this? Why did Zelda act like she didn’t have a choice in this? She was relieved that Link was the Hero, as if… as if she’d been fearing her life would be interwoven with someone she wouldn’t like, as if she had no say in the matter over her own fate.

He didn’t know. He just… he didn’t know.

What did it truly mean, he wondered, to be the Hero of Hyrule? What lay ahead now that the war was over?

The war that had been fought because of him.

Because of him.

Link suddenly felt cold dread freeze his blood, and he stopped as Zelda continued ahead. Cia’s obsessions, her whispers, her desire still made his skin crawl. He felt like he didn’t even have control of his own body, his own being, and…

You are my Hero. Fate has interwoven our lives together.

Link stayed hidden in the shadows, hugging himself, suddenly cold and alone.

XXX

General Impa watched the festivities from afar. She wasn’t uncomfortable in the crowds, but she wanted to keep an eye on someone.

Queen Zelda reemerged from one of the castle entrances, looking far more content than when she’d entered, and the Sheikah woman sighed a little, relieved. She figured some time with Link would help cheer the girl.

Impa had watched Zelda grow up. She’d served the king and queen faithfully for ten years, and had been the princess’ guardian in that time, tasked with the highest honor a Sheikah could ask for. Zelda had always been a good and cheerful child, enjoying her time by playing music, having imaginary tea parties, and, eventually, training both her magic and combat abilities. It had been a strange turn of events to Impa when the young princess had asked her to teach her how to fight. When questioned on the matter, Zelda’s response had simply been, “I want to be brave.”

Impa could still hear the little ten-year-old’s voice as if it were yesterday, could still hear her rebuttal. “You don’t have to hold a sword to be brave.”

“You make me brave,” the little princess had replied, as if that explained everything.

The general watched the queen now, how she squared her shoulders as if marching onto the battlefield. Even now, she still held fear in her heart. Impa knew the teenager was insecure, knew that she’d fought hard to protect herself from her own anxieties, how the beginning of the war had nearly destroyed her, and she knew she would triumph over that fear now. Zelda had survived the war, the terrors and mistakes and victories and losses. If she could handle that, she could handle being queen. The people loved her, and she had Link and Impa to help her.

There would be hardships, Impa knew that. But with the conflict behind them, she knew that whatever the future brought, it would be easier in comparison. Zelda’s nightmares that had scared her throughout her childhood were over.

Far from the festivities, blades clashed amidst the desert sands. To the north the white sorceress sat alone in her destroyed home, head in her hands, body wracked with pain, heart wracked with guilt.

And, just like that, the cursed cycle forged anew as amber eyes glared into the ruins of the desert.

[hawkins-batman]

hey dude um so i saw the post you made replying to someone else's post about noah and, while i do agree with you, i don't think that you or any of the anons should be specifically finding noah antis. that just kind of starts discourse and people are allowed to express their opinions, even if they differ from yours.

i know this happened to one of my good friends recently (noihavenosanitythanksforasking) and they were kind of shook up from what happened. i'm glad that you try to educate people, and it also comes across as a bit more personal and rude than someone who just wants to help.

i'm very sorry if any of this has come across as rude, i promise that is not my intention and i'm just trying to show that those people are also just people and its not their fault that they don't have all the information. i dont know if "kindness is the key" sounds cheesy, but it is very true.

blocking them and not interacting is probably the best thing to do instead of finding them just to disagree and having anons find posts and send them to you. if you or anyone else doesn't like what someone else posts, it's best just to scroll (and even block! that is definitely an option and i see you're doing that already so good job 👍)

sorry about this ramble and when you reply to this, if you do, i just want you to know that this was sent with the best intentions and also this is not about noah, anything that happened with him, or other people's views on it. this is just about how you could deal with people with differing views from you a bit better than what you have done in the past.

kisses kisses and byler endgame, love, anon

You weren’t rude — so don’t worry! However, I am going to push back (kindly - since you were kind).

First, I suppose I should say that I don’t seek these people out. Most of them I find during my daily scrolls of socials. Other times, mutuals will link me to them, and sometimes people will send them via Ask. But I don’t go looking for “Noah antis.”

Second, and more importantly, I want you to do a hypothetical with me. You saw someone getting viciously bullied. Not a friend, but nevertheless, other people were threatening them, calling them slurs, and harassing their family. They were also spreading lies to continue to inflame others to bully them.

With me so far? You’d want to stick up for them, right? Because there’s really no pretext before which any of that behavior is okay, right?

Now imagine, a year in to this relentless bullying campaign, you STILL see people spreading the lies, getting others inflamed, reigniting the bullying again and again. Imagine you KNOW that this endless bombardment has sent them to therapy and driven them from any place that gives them joy.

Would you just ignore that? Would you turn a blind eye? Would you chalk that up to just a “different opinion”?

I hope not. Because I won’t.

I’m sorry your friend was shaken up. But I’m one person. Noah gets the treatment I just described to you from HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of people. There are hate accounts with 40K+ followers solely dedicated to posting things like this bit of homophobia:

Look at the likes on that.

And that’s one post. That doesn’t even show the ones wanting to kill him. Or do viler things.

Or how about these cheering for his suicide (EDIT —> see the bottom of the post)

He can’t just log off and ignore them or block theee people either because they send it to his home. His family. They track him in public and send his location to big accounts that will tweet it out hoping someone will hurt him.

So, I mean this with sincerity: Good. I’m glad your friend was shaken up. I hope to shake up more people before I’m done. Maybe they’ll think twice before spreading lies that inflame people to post shit like that 👆🏻

That’s not a difference of opinion. I don’t mind if people simply don’t like Noah. But be honest. Do you post about people you don’t like? No. This is not simply disliking Noah. It’s contributing to homophobia and antisemitism and it’s wrong.

And until people get their senses back, I carry on.

[twopoppies]

Larries getting the blame for no family pics gee color me surprised.

Yeah maybe it was because he wasn’t there a well placed cardigan on the same chair over days when so many people were supposed to be there and no one moved it from a dining room chair? Personally I think and I hope he had a nice quiet one with Harry.

Also the queens of putting family members pics online all of a sudden post none, I’m sure there will be some but it’s not Christmas.

And the man who could evade a camera so much all of a sudden makes a vid for a fan when he’s out with his friend. Guess him wanting privacy only extends so far.

Are they trying to imply he was with them bowling when it was posted it was 11 at night there and they had a baby with them? After a 5 hr car ride back to Donny from London? No he was out with his friend proving he was in Donny and what better way to make it look like he had been than to wear the same cardigan for a 5 day stretch.

But of course it comes out on the 28th and the day of the sale on his clothing line

I wonder if it’s a tradeoff he got Christmas with Harry now has to do this, plus let’s not forget Malibu was obviously supposed to be more but it couldn’t be.

I’ve seen spider webs less complicated than the story they’re weaving

🤣🤣🤣🤣 spider webs. I’m dying.

[1toreyouapart]

Right Through Me

***FANFICTION THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT. 18+ MDNI***

Summary: Rae arrives on her former best friend’s doorstep, asking only for a place to stay while she gets back on her feet after moving across the country to escape her ex. Nick gladly opens his door to her, quickly pulling her into the fold with his friends and band mates.

Noah is just trying to survive. He wants to make it. Needs it. He has no time for anything other than the band. He’s got a point to prove. Nick’s friend challenges that and upends his entire world. She drives him crazy with her laid back, carefree ways.

Everyone can see the collision coming from a mile away, and nobody can stop it. Much less the two of them. Who will make it out in the end?

CW/TW: domestic violence, miscarriage, alcohol use, swearing, smoking, smut, more to come as story is written.

Prologue

Clutching her stomach she collapsed on the bathroom floor. It felt like someone had stabbed her in the groin and was slowly twisting the knife. White hot and insistent, the pain was enough to make her want to vomit. Sweat broke out on her brow, a low groan escaping as another cramp, this one worse than the last, nearly caused her to blackout. Something was desperately wrong. She shouldn't be in this much pain. Her thighs were hot and sticky, and that coupled with the pain had her terrified to look down.

Footsteps outside the bathroom door. Heart rate skyrocketing she reached up, making sure the door was locked, pressing herself back against it. He couldn't get in. She couldn't let him in. If she did she was dead. She was sure of it. A soft knock.

"Rae? I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Rae stayed silent, pressing so hard against the door she knew she would have bruises down her spine the next day. How many times had he said that? That he was sorry. He never meant to hurt her. He would never do it again. But he did mean it. He always did. And he always hurt her again.

Tonight was supposed to be a happy night. He had always talked about wanting kids, so when she showed him the ultrasound, she had thought for sure he would be happy. She had never been more wrong. The ultrasound now lay somewhere in the living room, amidst the destruction. She had tried desperately to protect her stomach from his attacks, but he was bigger. Stronger.

"Goddamn it, Rae! Open the fucking door!"

This time she felt the door shake as he threw his body against it, trying to break it down. Rae reached into her pocket for her phone, finding her pocket empty. She must have lost it somewhere in the fight. Fuck. The door continued to shake and rattle behind her, his shouting growing more insistent. She had to run. That was her only option. If she stayed there she was dead.

Swallowing her the terror and pain she waited for the footsteps to retreat again. One. Two. Three steps. A brief steadying breath and she was on her feet, running for the small bathroom window. She had to be quick. Any second he would be bursting through that flimsy door and she was dead. She threw open the window, shoving the screen out.

Halfway through the door burst open and she screamed, shoving herself the rest of the way through. A jolt of pain in her shoulder as she collided with the ground. She was fairly certain she heard something snap. There was no time to waste. Any moment he would be down the hallway, through the living room, and out the door after her. Adrenaline surged and she hauled herself to her feet, running. She had to get to the neighbors. That was her only chance. If they were even home.

"Rae! Get back here, you fucking bitch!"

Don't look back. Keep running. Footsteps behind her. Fuck. Everything hurt. Her lungs burned. She wanted to collapse on the ground. If she did that he won. She couldn't let him win this time. Digging down deep she urged herself forward, faster.

Just up ahead. The neighbors house was right there. Each step closer she pushed herself faster, desperation clawing at her insides. Someone was outside, taking the trash out. She had to get their attention before they went back inside. What had her father taught her? Fuck! Never yell for help, always yell-

"Fire! There's a fire!"

The person stopped in their tracks, turning in her direction. Thank fucking God. Rae pushed on, not slowing down. She was almost there. The person up ahead started towards her, grabbing onto her to haul her the rest of the way to the house.

The door slammed and locked behind them. Free. She was free. Her vision started going dark around the edges, legs giving out beneath her.

"Mom! Call 911!" The last thing she heard before everything went dark.

[beevean]

I will fill you in: People said Frontiers was peak because it has “lore”, other characters than Sonic TECHNICALLY play a significant role in the story, and it kind of reminds people of that shonen anime they only watched the fight scenes of.

I think it says something bad about me that when I read the first line I was like "WHAT shonen anime, they do nothing but stand around and talk 😭" and then I remembered. the titans. ah.

Anyway, my theory is that Frontiers is like Colors and is what the fandom needed at just the right time. I remember when people went apeshit for Colors, clamoring that it "broke the Sonic Cycle", for things like "it doesn't have a long ass boring intro like Unleashed, you press start and play like the Classics <3". People found the jokes funny, because it was better than the cringy Adventure games that took themselves way too seriously when Sonic is supposed to be a Saturday Morning cartoon. People were happy that the cast was stripped down to Sonic, Tails, Eggman and his minions, because they were sick and tired of all the new shitty friends. And holy shit, a mix of 3D and 2D without annoying gimmicks or Werehogs? Sign me up! Sonic is finally back, baby!

The game was tailored to appeal to the Classic fans who hated the direction the series took with the Adventure games. Similarly, Frontiers is tailored to appeal to the Adventure games who hated the direction the series took in its efforts to appeal to the Classic fans (who at this point I assume just left). Add to this a generally... apologetic tone in the writing (something something wildly inconsistent), and you have the perfect "we are so fucking back" for that kind of disappointed fanbase.

So we will see how Frontiers will fare in 5 years or so.