#the way i dreamed they would when i was a kid

[kismetlotts]

cw: angst, mentions of sex, best friend Simon Riley, mentions of knives, mentions of hurting yourself but no implications of actually doing so or having done in the past, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, clueless Simon Riley, crying in each others arms, helping out your best friend, reader is self less

part 2 of Best Friend Simon Riley Angst (I recommend reading part one first to understand certain elements better)

You woke up in the morning, daylight shining through your curtains and you already knew it wasn’t sunshine- bound to be nothing but grey clouds out there, flooding the sky like a polluted ocean. Your nose and head ached in the silent flood of last nights memories, your crying, your actions and worst of all, your best friend.

Oh Simon, what a dickhead you were. Why did you have to come here?

Your body flushed against the cold sheets behind you, a weightless bed, giving you the impression he’d done a runner. Typical him honestly- you wouldn’t be surprised if that was what initiated their breakup; the same breakup that was at fault for all of this.

He was always so forward, front and confrontational within the field. The notorious ‘Ghost’ that installs fear in every enemy he has to face. He’s a fighter at work but ironically, in life, all he knew was how to retreat. Pull away before he can cause anymore damage, pull out before the mess gets bigger.

You flung the covers off you, their pretty, pink, innocent pattern already making vomit surface in your throat. He’d flopped down on that bedding countless times in the past: memories which made it hurt more came to mind. The knives that were already jammed in your gut, heart and what’s seemed as your brain, twisting a little deeper before freezing up in place.

You remembered the times when his body would accidentally fling you around the mattress, grunting and smirking while he settle down and got comfy. You remembered the way his fingers tapped on the cotton as he leaned over to see what you were looking at on your phone. Nosy but never prying in too much.

Imagining how you looked when you watched his hand sweep across the duvet on movie night, pushing every crumb onto your bedroom floor with a laugh and an apology leaving his lips. His hands, shooting into the air as he surrendered in playful shame. Not really paying attention as your voice scolded him for eating in your bed.

Your fingers stripped the bedding from its covers. Tossing them into a pile on the floor beside your laundry basket, the sheets so stained with both of your sweat and dirt from the situation, your nose scrunched up at the sight. You left it there ready to put in the wash later.

Though, a part of you can’t help but wonder if they will ever feel as clean as they did before.

If they’ll ever give you the warm, comforting sensation you got every night before nodding off to sleep. Would you ever hear their soft cries to slip back in bed when you wake up early for work? The covers flopped back in agony, silently pleading for you to come back and have five more minutes?

No. Now they just feel like you never got out of that bed, the duvet still wrapped around your body keeping you hostage and forcing you to go about your day. The weight of everything on your shoulders enough for you to trip and fall on the material.

You’d burn them if they weren’t so big.

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, why the fuck did you let it happen anyway? The sex with him wasn’t anything like you’d wished or dreamed of nor would it have never been.

He didn’t love you but something inside you obviously can’t comprehend that. Every chance you get to show or pretend that the two of you were more than what you were- you’d leap for it: eyes sparkling with the same hope a lost kid has.

He used you last night and you let him like the pathetic, lovesick loser you always were. It wasn’t sex, it was nothing more than a mere distraction and waste of time. A waste of his time, more hassle just for him.

Your fingers wrapped around your smooth doorknob as you pushed open your bedroom door, trailing into the kitchen before an aroma of pancake batter and fresh baking gripped you by the throat. Your big eyes meeting Simons, his familiar, large figure pressed against your kitchen counter as he sucked on his bottom lip.

His face was pale and his brown pupils never left the plate of fucked up pancakes, left on a placemat on the table.

You laughed. You laughed because you couldn’t trust anything else to come out- You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t break down crying, that you wouldn’t scream or hurt yourself in front of him, that you wouldn’t wince at this- idiotic gesture.

Was this an apology? Was this all you meant to him? A plate of sweet treats you’d have to force yourself to eat, to swallow down and help you forget everything bad that happened. Maybe, or perhaps it was pure coincidence it summed up his perspective of the night; perfectly.

“Did you make me pancakes?” The tremble and nerves in your voice was apparent and he nodded slowly, gesturing to the massive bag of groceries on the countertop.

“With berries and sugar on top. I’ve got some other things here though, chocolate- all kinds, some syrup and honey and other fruit in that bag if you want any. I just added berries because I know they’re your favourite.” He rambled on.

“When did I tell you that?” Your head turned to the side, twitching in uncertainty as you sat down in front of the plate. Eyes squinting as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You said when we…-oh.”

That’s not her, Simon.

His hand lifted to his eyes, rubbing them to avoid looking anywhere. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster and you just knew how is heart felt, flooding with guilt and embarrassment at his own actions.

Staying mad at him was hard when you knew him so well. Mistakes get made and feeling get trampled on but he wasn’t a bad person. That’s why you fell for him all that time ago.

The knife in your hand cut through the pancakes like butter, your posture up straight and distant from the plate while your appetite warned you not to bite. Your eyes flickered over to Simon again, seeing his hands still firmly placed over his eyes, broad shoulders retracted inwards as his body jolted in silent cries. The metal rattled against the table as you put the knife down and jumped out of your chair.

“Simon don’t do this-“ You spoke comfortingly, lunging over towards his body. Your soft skin met with the roughness of his arm but before you could say another word he shoved your body away from him.

A voice you’d never heard before coming out loud and brute, as you took a step back from his harsh rejection.

“Can you just fuck off trying to make me feel better constantly- I know i’ve fucked up and I know i’ve upset you. Stop acting like everything is alright when it isn’t, you do this every time- i’m not a kid!” His fist clawed at his shirt. Pulling it away from his chest as if he wanted to rip his heart out to stop the torture he was suffering.

Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes looked red, sunken with despair. Your voice died in your mouth, tongue soaking up all your saliva and you tried to swallow.

He was lost. He ruined the thing he needed the most- fucked about and caused chaos with his lifeline. You were his saviour and always had been. He didn’t need for you to fix his relationship or his problems, he needed you to fix him. He didn’t sleep with you to use you intentionally, it was a drunken mistake and a shitty timing.

He inhaled through his mouth, his throat croaking as he gripped the counter for stabilisation. Face was locked down to the floor, glued and staring at his shoes on your kitchen floor.

The drops of his tears on the black leather of his boots and the drops on your tiles reminding him of how pathetic he was being. He was a man, he worked in the military. He had slept with people before, cheated, and ruined relationships but nothing hurt like this hurt. Nothing knocked him down so hard he was afraid to get back up, he was afraid to lose you. Simon was scared.

“I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I can even do to make it up to you- fucking pancakes- it is stupid I should know better and I should know what to do but I-” The whiteness in his knuckles disappeared as he lessened his grip on the counter. Hands falling to his side as he broke down on the spot.

The hard armour he lived in unraveling like flimsy pieces of ribbon. His wet eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist.

“I can’t think. I can’t be me without you here and I don’t know what to do, please, i’m so sorry just please come back to me. I know i’ve lost a part of you and I will fight until the end of day to get it back, but for now just let me have the rest back. I need my best friend back.” His hands met your lower back as you flung your arms around his neck, your own eyes dripping with tears of outrage and hurt but above all you needed Simon too.

You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he held you close to him finally getting his breathing back to normal. You bit your lips shut and breathed slowly so he couldn’t feel your body shake for air. You didn’t want him to realise how much you were struggling in his arms- how lost and abused you felt. You didn’t want your emotions to worsen his because he had to come first.

He’d lost the love of his life and he needs someone to be strong for him, help him get on his own feet. Be beside him with wide arms and a welcoming face. It wasn’t him being selfish, it was something you had to understand Simon to understand.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you hesitantly sat down and talked. It was a long talk hidden by cheap smiles and forced laughter but of course, he didn’t catch on. You let him speak, you gave him advice- hugged it out and as weeks passed by, the two of you were back to normality again.

He’d found a new girl quicker than you thought he wouldn’t, pretty girl and ironically she your figure and eye colour. The more you watched them interact the more they seemed to happy together, kissing, hugging, buying each other gifts. It felt just like how it was before.

Back to Simon and his lovesick best friend that will always be there for him even if he’s never there for her. Back to Simon and his awful dating life as he hops from one awful breakup to the next because they all are missing something.

All he wants, is girl with your hair colour. A girl with your eye colour and your smile. All he longs for is a girl that he can hold hands with but can also roll his eyes at when she teases him for being too cheesy. He wants a girl who can laugh and joke with him but still support him and by there for him in more ways than one. Not just a girlfriend but almost as if a best friend at the same time. That’s all he wants and asks the world for but for some reason she just isn’t out there for him.

And until he realises why he looks for you in every girl he meets. Until he steps back and opens his eyelids to everything right in front of him. She won’t ever be.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[bardnuts]

im sad

[sungiescheotluv]

champagne supernova ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, emo(ish) jisung, non-idol au.

summary: making friends as an adult is difficult. luckily for you, the rock/alternative online community welcomes you with open arms, one person in particular catching your interest.

notes: hi thereee! 😁 back again with another jisung fic, one that i actually came up with myself lmao. since getting back into the dreamies, i've been a bit surprised by (but absolutely love) jisung's taste in music. hence this silly fic, which i do hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your recent support, it makes my heart smile whenever you like or comment on a post! anyways, happy reading! much loveeeee! <3

The concept of internet safety is lost on you. How else could you explain sharing a hotel room with someone you’d never met before in real life? 

Perhaps, you should retrace your steps. See how you’ve managed to find yourself in such a dangerous position, the front door locked and your body pinned to the bed.

Making friends as an adult is difficult. On par with counting every grain of rice in a field, you’d say.

You underestimated how easy maintaining friendship was when younger, third places like school, daycares, extra-curricular activities demanding your presence, inadvertently strengthening your social life. Not that you were the most social, you had a hard time approaching people actually, but maybe that was a part of your charm. Bringing you out of your shell, like all your friends did before your bond was cemented in tree trunks or sandy beaches. University is the last place you take this ease for granted, exposed to all different kinds of people and relationships, some platonic and not-so much. Either way, despite the barge of assignments and countless nights out, you’d make it into adulthood relatively unscathed.

Adulthood, however, doesn’t turn out as you expect. You’d been sold a dream, one eight-year old you envisioned dabbling with the stars accompanied by a lavish life and all the ice-cream you could get your hands on. Unfortunately, no star would be rubbing shoulders with you anytime soon and any that would, you’d have to pay a large sum of money to even see. A large sum you did not have. So, yeah. Just that, toxic work culture, endless bills and a whole host of other obligations linger above your head like a grey cloud.

What helps is finding the small joys in life. Slow mornings when the city is asleep, the scent of coffee at the crack of dawn, the sunshine against your skin, friends who despite their busy schedules carve out time to see you. All pieces of your life that make it worth living. Music is in there too, the art of melodies and lyrics strung together having the strange ability to carry you throughout even your worst days.

Your moods refuse to stick to a certain genre and in the midst of dark afternoons and frost covered roads, you find yourself gravitating towards alternative music. Slow, steady and aching. Like how your life moves with the severe lack of sun. It’s not a genre your circle of friends dabble in as much as you do. It’s to be expected, anyone who deviates from a standard of ‘normalcy’ was outcasted, one too many examples found in your high school days where kids got called weird and satanic for wearing a Green Day t-shirt to school. The thought makes you laugh now, but back then, when all that matters is fitting in, it was sad and suffocating. Seeing a part of yourself denied before your very eyes. Sometimes you’d hang out with those kids, bond over your collection of CDs and even go to a few gigs together. However, when Monday came around and they’d approach you and your friends, raving about the concert - you froze. Confronted into either owning yourself and being outcasted like the rest of the emo kids or ignoring them, deny yourself for the sake of social standing. 

You pretend like they’ve grown two heads, feigned confusion knitting your eyebrows together while your friends laugh and hurl insults at someone who you considered a friend - a better one than the ones at your side. And yet, you let the laughter continue, a coward with its tail between its legs as you depart, the taste of iron on your tongue.

Maybe this is payback for those poor decisions. A dead-end job, a successful but shitting ex and enough inner turmoil to make a therapist clutch their pearls. 

You abandon those friends when you get to university, getting better ones that wouldn’t make someone feel small due to their own insecurities. You make amends with the emo kids, your apology marking the true end of your friendship. You search online spaces for like-minded people, showing up as yourself and being embraced as. Everyone in the Reddit community is unbelievably sweet, sharing their music recommendations, concert wishlists and pictures of their cats. Some members, including yourself, form a closer bond, taking your conversation to a Discord server that becomes your escape in a way. A channel for heartfelt discussion that extends past your love for music. You’re not as active due to work obligations, but whenever you pop up, one member in particular always greets you with a warmth like no other. 

Linkin.parkjisung is his user, his icon the rock and roll hand sign over his face. Likes Blur, Green Day, Oasis and of course, Linkin Park. He’s like you, dips in and out, types a few responses before he’s gone again. It’s a scenario where other members grow closer, and your anxiety around speaking in the group begins. They’re already close, it seems almost futile to interrupt, right? 

What if you’re ignored? What if you’ve missed your window of opportunity? 

It’s a line of thinking that crosses your mind when you send in an apology for being inactive, moments later your phone pinging with a notification.

Linkin.parkjisung: no need to apologize! life gets busy for everyone, myself included. hope you’re doing ok (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Other group members echo his message, sending in their own real-life obligations that the group ends up bonding over, complaining of rising car insurance and overly demanding bosses. 

It’s the start of it all, really. That one message, a hand extended to yours that breaks you out of your shell and kick starts your friendship with Jisung. From that day onwards, you move more freely throughout the server, making good friends with everyone but better friends with Jisung. Somewhere down the line, you end up privately messaging each other. What starts out as simply giving each other music recommendations (since he apparently always loves the songs/artists you send into the server) becomes sneaking into the bathroom during a busy family reunion to call Jisung about how your grandmother wore a catsuit to impress her ex, your grandfather. You grow that close, no details spared on life events. How else is there space for secrecy when you’re video calling drunk, watching festival performances of Fontaines D.C.?

In any case, you’re close. You text everyday and call every week like clockwork, namely because you live some hours away from each other. During your calls, he’s shrouded in a low darkness, self conscious of the way he looks, he says. You’re unconvinced, slivers of his features in photos he sends you with his roommates’ three cats or on call saying otherwise. Regardless, you let it slide because Jisung becomes more than his face - he becomes a source of comfort, someone who makes you laugh as much as brings you calm, someone you slowly can’t imagine your days without. In hindsight, this is where your romantic feelings develop. And with convenient timing too because one of the bands you recommended to Jisung, Wunderhorse are on tour, set to perform in a city two hours from the both of you.

“Tickets are going onsale at 10 am on Thursday,” Jisung murmurs, the clicks of his cursor coming through your laptop speaker. “Remember to set your alarm.”

“Will do. Lemme set a remin-” opening up your calendar, you see an unwelcome surprise. “Fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jisung’s voice echoes with sincere concern.

“I forgot I have a shift that day,” you groan, already knowing by the time your lunch break came, the event would be sold out. “We’re understaffed as is, so there’s no way I can get someone to cover for me.”

A deep hum vibrates from Jisung’s chest, a few more clicks of his cursor sounding before he asks in a small voice. “Well, I could just get the tickets for us both.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, I’m meant to be working from home that day anyways. And not to flex, but my internet’s pretty decent.”

You laugh. “Is that for your job or your crippling gaming addiction?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles back, the sound blooming a warmth of happiness in your chest. “Working in CompSci has its perks.”

“So, I’m finding out,” you smile, an underlying layer of discomfort shifting you against your desk chair. “Are you sure, though?”

“Of course. I’d hate if you lost out on this knowing I could’ve done something to help,” Jisung explains. “You were the one to introduce me to them anyways. Plus we’d have a better chance of sticking together in the pit if we get them together, right?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, something taking flight in your airy chest. “Yeah, you’re right. Just send me your bank details so I can transfer you the day of.”

“Coming right up!” he jokes, and you laugh, however lame he claims himself to be.

On Thursday, he sends you a photo of his solid black high-tech set-up, a PC he’s constructed himself with more monitors than you can count. The side of his face is included in the picture, silky black hair, a brown eye and a beauty mark on his cheekbone you dream of kissing later that night. You find out he secures the tickets on your lunch break, your debt towards him being booking the hotel you’d be staying at. Due to the limited funds you’re working with, you end up getting a shared room, an option that gives him pause before he agrees in a tremored voice. You’re a bit apprehensive yourself, but you booked for two beds, so it should be fine. If worst comes to worst, and something happens between you two – like him turning out to be a sexist neckbeard loser he couldn’t take no for an answer - you’d sleep in your car (or kick him out, actually). At any rate, you had options (and a friend tracking your live location).

In no time, weeks fly by and Wunderhorse drops their latest album. It’s the best thing you’ve experienced since sliced bread, an opinion Jisung shares as you two listen to it over call late one Friday night, speaking about your favourite songs amongst other things. You don’t know how it starts, perhaps it’s a lyric that sticks out to him that he mentions or something else entirely, but suddenly, you’re reminded of high school you. How deeply you wanted to be accepted by others, and how that satisfaction depended on the person you got it from. That you preferred conformity instead of individuality, because being seen with popular shallow kids meant something to you.

“I wasn’t a good person in high school,” you find yourself admitting, your body hollowed out with guilt. Regret like ash on your tongue. “I hurt people because I valued other people’s opinions over my own. I know I was young, but-”

“You said it yourself: you were young,” Jisung comments, the serious intent in his voice catching you off guard. “The fact you recognise your behaviour and feel remorse for it shows how much you’ve grown. I mean, high school can be very unforgiving because nobody really knows who they are or what the fuck they’re doing, so it’s only reasonably to make choices you may regret. What’s important, I think, is how you’ve chosen to move forward,”

“You said it yourself, you’ve apologised to those you hurt. Not many, if any person in your position, would do the same, which shows how much you genuinely care to make things right,” you sniff, vision blurring with tears of relief and sadness. “So, if you ask me, I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. It’s all a learning curve, you were doing what was best to protect yourself then. And now, you’re a better and kinder person because of it.”

Another time you should’ve known you’d fallen for him. Yet, you remain none the wiser. All the way until concert day, getting off work early that Friday afternoon and making the journey down to the bright city lights of Seoul. Everything twinkles and dazzles, a 180 from your modest living in your hometown. You suppose your excitement for the concert has some role in this too, but considering the lack of vibrancy in your life, you allow yourself to sink your teeth into this. Feel the goosebumps against your skin, the lightness in your limbs and the uptake in your heartbeat.

You check into the hotel first since Jisung has a last-minute team meeting at work, setting yourself up on your side of the cosy room of wooden and white hues. As you slip on your Hello Kitty headband to do skincare, a knock rasps against the door, audible above the sound of your music.

With furrowed eyebrows, you approach the door, revealing a sight that stops your heart in its tracks.

On the other side of the door is who you should’ve expected: Jisung. What you don’t expect, however, is his sharp features, black smooth hair with matching formal clothing to contrast so beautifully with his porcelain skin. The dark, ocean blue contacts he wears with a pretty pink lip tint. Not to mention that beauty mark you’ve been thirsting over for the past few months? Yeah, that’s all in eye-view now, close enough to touch and it’s this fact that sends your brain into overdrive.

While you malfunction, Jisung dips his head, a large fist curled to his lips to hide his sheepish smile. Chuckles in a bit of an awkward and embarrassed way. 

Oh my god?!

“Nice to finally meet you,” he greets, black leather overnight bag clutched to his side. A fluffy blue and pink keychain of Little Twin Stars hangs off the zip, a cute juxtaposition to his intimidating outfit. And height. God, he really wasn’t lying when he said he was nearly 6 ft. 

“I texted you I’d arrived, but you hadn’t read them,”

A forceful blink out of your trance brings you back to reality, one where you’re not openly drooling over how handsome your internist best friend is. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy getting ready.”

“I figured so,” his eyes scan your clothes - your ripped baggy jeans, leather platform shoes amongst what you have on - and his lips curve, admiration in his eyes. “You look great.”

If there weren’t societal ideals of an inappropriate reaction to that compliment, you would’ve tattooed it to your forehead, or on your lower back. Maybe ripped off your shirt and kissed him before combusting because what do you mean, this very handsome man, thinks you look great?!

“Thank you,” you blush, your body running hot like a furnace. Even so, you decide to take advantage of the situation, leaning in for an embrace that he reciprocates as you mumble into his shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you too.”

The rest of the afternoon blurs, the few moments of scattered glances and awkward silence incomparable with the ease of conversation that flows between you once his favourite song, Poppy, comes on. Catching up to speed with each other’s day as you two get ready, it’s not lost on you how domestic the scene is - how familiar, or right it feels. Jisung, in all aspects of the word, is endearing - flustered by the compliments you send his way, brightening up at the new additions to the setlist and best of you, timid with pink cheeks when he hands over a ‘first meeting’ gift - an assortment of snacks, a Hello Kitty plushie and a card that makes you coo. It takes everything in you not to sink your teeth into him, overwhelmed by the sweetness that laces his actions and words, riding the high he and the music gives you as you make your way to the venue after you’re both finished.

Long lines snake around the arena, grey clouds permeating the area as rainfall clatters to the pavement. Jisung, ever so prepared, brings along an umbrella that you share, squeezing underneath so much you feel the warmth of Jisung through his bare, very defined bicep. How someone looks so good in a silver sequin top under a tattered sleeveless black vest is beyond you. Then again, him being single is beyond your comprehension too. Considering his calm and thoughtful demeanour, coupled with his good looks, you would’ve expected people lining up by the thousands to plead their case. However, whenever you two talked about this, he’d simply say his go-to phrase and change the topic, his phrase being:

“I’ve got my eye on someone. Just working up the courage to ask them out.”

Whoever managed to catch his eye, you’d thought to be lucky. Maybe they’d saved a small village in their past life because as people push when the doors open, Jisung shields you from any damage, reminding you how good of a romantic partner he could be. Especially so when you’re inside and he snaps all your photos, accompanying you to the bar and merch table where you get matching t-shirts before he keeps them with him so you’re free throughout the concert. Dimmed red lights and chatter fill the spacious hall, a flood of warm bodies surrounding you as you peer at the stage, the band all set up and ready to go come showtime. You sing along to the host of songs the venue plays beforehand, enough nudges in the shoulder to get Jisung to sing along and of course - of course - he has a beautiful voice too. At this point, you were convinced he either had a missing toe or had weird opinions about the order of cereal because the more you spent time with him, the more he shines in your eyes.

Eventually, the chatter dies down and all lights go off, screams rising through the crowd as Wunderhorse comes onto the stage. Buzzing at a frequency unheard of, you bounce off the balls of your feet, hand holding Jisung as you exclaim, “It’s them! It’s really them!”

Missing how flushed Jisung becomes at the contact, you sing with all your heart - offkey and all - to their opening song, Midas. The energy is through the roof, a dizzying world of flashing lights and music that retches the lyrics straight out of you. In a moment’s chance, Jisung and you turn to each other mid-song, smiles bright as the stage lights outline your damp faces, chest heaving with a mouthful of lyrics in their wake. It’s the happiest you’ve been, holding his hand like this, and as the night winds to simmer, you sway to slow songs and thank your lucky stars for finding your way back to this.

After the show, you two chatter with other adoring fans before trekking to your nearby hotel, stomachs growling for food. Jisung finds a great Chinese place that delivers until 2 am, a gesture you simper at, unaware he’d even remembered you’d liked the cuisine. At this point, you’re drained in the best possible way, a dull ache in your feet but riding a high of something you’ll remember forever. 

Now, you’re up to speed. Great. Let’s get back to your current dilemma.

Somehow, someway, your unlaced and stubborn platform shoes cause a stumble, one that Jisung tries to save you from but ends up caught in the mix. How, you might ask? Well, you’re not entirely sure but what you definitely know is that you’ve fallen on one of the beds, Jisung’s body caging yours as he braces his own fall. Face-to-face. With you.

Ok.

You’re close enough to share a breath, within reach to see his long lashes and shaky pupils that dart from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. Suddenly, the room temperature dials to an unprecedented heat, walls closing in on you two as you lie in waiting. Waiting for the other to make their move. To lean in or pull away, heads or tails on a coin.

His phone rings, cutting through the tension-filled air with a knife. The moment, gone. 

“You okay?” he rasps, a knit in his eyebrows as if he’s holding himself back. You blink wordlessly, your answer in an absent nod. “I’ll, uhm…get the food.”

It’s not a suggestion, nothing that you can object to, particularly when he’s long gone and you’re clutching at your chest, months of infatuation knocking the breath out of you.

When Jisung returns minutes later, you’ve turned the TV on, preparing to fill the silence if need be. It proves necessary, only groans of pleasure and compliments to the chef shared between you two as you eat your weight in noodles. Not much is said when you’re getting ready for bed either, brushing your teeth together as if you're a couple and settling into separate beds, all the lights turned off.

Still reeling for the fall, and convinced his shallow breaths allude to his slumber, you’re startled by the call of your name, head turning towards Jisung beside you.

“Yes?”

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks before clearing his throat. “That was…some fall.”

You can say that again.

“I’m ok,” you lie. You’re on high alert, frazzled at every end with a heart you’ve just realised longs for the man not even two metres away from you. “Are you?”

Silence. The only feedback you hear is the crinkle of his duvet as he shuffles in his bed.

“Ask me another question.”

You turn to him, shrouded in darkness. “Like what?”

He doesn’t speak again, lets the silence devour the space between you before he says. “Ask me about the person I’m interested in.”

Water that rivals the arctic pours down your back, a harsh call to reality as you remember. Right, he has someone he’s interested in. Someone who he’ll devout his time to, listen to their music recommendations and hold their hands at concerts. And you? Well, you’ll still be friends, but maybe not as close. Maybe not even friends at all.

The thought closes an iron fist around your heart.

“Why haven’t you asked them out?” is what you manage, because it’s on your mind - what time and place he’ll find himself in when he confesses his feelings.

“Because I’m scared,” he admits, small and in a whisper. “Considering we met online, it’s kind of hard to gauge their interest or read any signs. You don’t give me much to work with,”

You still. “I don’t?’

“I mean, I haven’t been too obvious, but I’m crazy about you,” he confesses. “I love the light in your eyes and the kindness in your heart. You’re so deeply human and live life like it’s your first and last. There’s no one like you and I think the idea of knowing how special you are triggered my fear of rejection. Because what would my life be without watching festival performances while drunk with you? What would it be if you didn’t laugh at my lame jokes and didn’t command my every thought?”

Jisung shuffles again, a flicker of dim light in between you two at a lamp source as he stares over at you, wholehearted and vulnerable. “It’d be an empty one - not worth living.”

Slowly, your body brings you upwards, the two of you hanging off the edges of your bed. So close if you’d reach out, your hands would touch. 

“When?” you croak, unable to meet his eyes. “When did you…start feeling this way?”

His eyes lower, a slight curve to the corner of his lips. “Around November?”

Electricity zaps your back straight. Five months ago? “When we joined the server?”

“Shortly after that,” he admits, a coy grin breaking out against his flushed features. “I was having a really hard day and you’d recommend a song in the chat, Favourite by Fontaines DC, and said how nostalgic and hopeful it felt to you. I gave it a listen and…it was like a battery in my back. I cried, but I also smiled too because I understood what you meant by it all,”

He threads his fingers together, peering up with shining eyes as he adds, “it felt like a peak into your soul, and mine too….I think that’s where it started.”

Your hand finally reaches out, overlaying his as tears fill your sight. “You know you’re my favourite, right?”

“No one stood a chance after that drunk video of you singing along to Champagne Supernova,” you share a laugh, reminiscing of the video he accidentally sent into the server one December night. A die-hard Oasis fan till the end. “I mean it. There’s no one I’d want to spend my days with, listen to music with and discover all there is to life. No one but you.”

His bottom lip gives a wobble, hands unearthing from yours as his thumb grazes your knuckles, bringing the hand up in a searing kiss. One he looks you right in the eyes for as he says, “Can we push the beds together please?”

You bark out an unexpected laugh, fondness shaping your smile as you speak with all of your heart. “I would love nothing more.”

[victoryarchive]

Ok. I’ll bite. Hermit! Tommy? Because that looks an awful lot like a really cool Watcher au something? Please share!

Omg if you insist lmao

Buckle up this is gonna be a lot.

This all started when I was thinking about Greek mythology (a common occurrence I fear) and I was thinking how even though Helios is the sun and the god of the sun many people these days assign that role to Apollo (the god of light). And that got me thinking more and more about how as time progresses stories change and gods become gods of things they never were before. New gods exist. Old ones are completely forgotten. Their names change. Look at Roman mythology for a great example of this.

And because I’m one hell of a nerd this immediately translated to ‘how can I use this in fan fiction’

Another thing you must know about me is I hate to fall back on Minecraft mechanics, it feels lazy for me to do it (it’s fine to read I just hate writing it) and must always find a way to make things like respawn and different worlds fit into the lore of the story.

Thus began the world building:

Every watcher is a god of something, Xelqua/Grian: the sun, Pearl: the moon, Kristin: The underworld, XD: [redacted], etc. Each watcher has the ability to create a world (or multiple depending on their power) for their people to live (Grian: hermitcraft, Pearl: Empires, Kristin: the Antarctic Empire, XD: the DSMP, etc) Within these worlds it is very common practice for the Watchers to choose a devoted follower to give a small portion of their power to oversee their world, to make rules and keep everyone safe, an Admin. (Grian: Xisuma, Pearl: fWhip, Kristin: Philza, XD: Dream, etc.)

Now none of these watchers just spawned as watchers, no they became watchers through people worshipping them and writing stories about them as gods. These stories held power so the person held power and became essentially immortal and can do pretty much anything with that power, at least until they are forgotten.

So far the story begins with Xelqua brining his players back from their silly death game and being intercepted by a very very old goddess, one who had almost been completely forgotten. This primordial goddess is peace, not just the goddess of peace, she is peace. She is called Prime. She asks Grian and Xisuma to take her last worshipper and devotee, Tommy, and protect him from another Watcher. And with a little bit of convincing Grian’s like ‘yeah fine ig I’ll take the kid. How difficult can one child be.’

Now that’s as far as I’ve written aside from the beginning backstory stuff, but I’ve got a lot of stuff planned, including an entire few chapters inspired by ‘god games’ from epic the musical, where Grian has to go fight for some mortals life. One of them. I know which one. Yall don’t :)

There’s also a lot of Grian and Pearl back story from when they were kids and still mortal like thousands and thousands of years ago and how they eventually became literal gods.

Tommy learns how friends are supposed to work and gets mentored by none other than Mumbo Jumbo, or Impulse i haven’t decided yet. The only thing I know about Minecraft is redstone so he’s learning redstone.

Also it would be a damn shame for me to not include False and Tommy flying together a bunch bc they’re the only to avians that can match each others speed.

There’s some stuff going on with techno being an admin on an anarchy server. He comes in later in an absolute rage.

Also Joel is a demigod… it makes sense I swear.

I’m having a lot of fun playing around with the world building and each individual characters back story so I will expand on anything if people ask about it :))))

Thank you for asking this has been fun

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟓

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

The first year in New York had been a whirlwind—full of challenges, love, and growth. Drew’s off-Broadway production had been a hit, earning him glowing reviews and even a few new opportunities. Your career had reached new heights, and for a while, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

But slowly, cracks began to form in the life you’d built together.

It started with small things. Drew would come home late from rehearsals, drained from the grind of live performances, and crash onto the couch without saying much. You noticed how the city you once loved—the energy, the chaos—seemed to weigh heavier on you with each passing day. Even weekends together felt rushed, as if you were constantly trying to catch your breath.

One night, as you lay in bed, Drew spoke into the quiet.

“Do you ever feel like… we’re just surviving here?”

You turned to look at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He stared at the ceiling, his hand resting on yours. “I love being with you, but this city—it’s exhausting. Every day feels like a battle. And I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

His words hit a nerve you hadn’t admitted to yourself. New York had been your dream for so long, but lately, it felt more like a weight than a joy. You’d brushed it off as temporary, as something you’d adjust to, but deep down, you knew Drew was right.

“I’ve been feeling that way, too,” you admitted softly.

Drew turned to you, his blue eyes searching yours. “Then maybe it’s time for a change.”

A few weeks later, the opportunity presented itself.

You’d applied for a position at a production company in Los Angeles on a whim, not expecting anything to come of it. But when the offer came—a dream role with better hours, better pay, and a fresh start—you knew it was a sign.

“I got the job,” you told Drew one evening, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and fear.

He looked up from his script, his eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. That’s amazing!”

“But it’s in L.A.,” you added, your voice quieter now. “I’d have to move.”

Drew set the script down and crossed the room, pulling you into his arms. “Then we’ll move.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been thinking about it, anyway. Most of my work is out there now, and honestly? I’m ready to leave New York behind if it means being with you. This city isn’t our forever.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you leaned into him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s start over—together.”

The move to Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air.

You and Drew found a small house on the west side, tucked away on a quiet street with a lemon tree in the backyard. It wasn’t much, but it was yours, and for the first time in years, you felt like you could finally exhale.

Drew thrived in L.A., landing a role in a new streaming series that allowed him to work steadily without the relentless pressure of stage performances. You loved your new job, and the flexible hours meant you could spend more time together, exploring the city and building a life that felt right.

Evenings were spent cooking dinner in your tiny kitchen, dancing barefoot to old records, and talking about everything and nothing. Weekends meant hikes in the hills, lazy beach days, and impromptu road trips up the coast.

One night, as you sat on the patio under the soft glow of string lights, Drew handed you a glass of wine and sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

You smiled, leaning your head against his chest. “All the time. Sometimes it feels like we’ve lived a dozen lives just to get here.”

Drew tilted your chin up, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m glad we did. Every mistake, every detour—it all led me back to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m glad, too. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to seal the promise you’d made to each other.

Months turned into a year, and your life in L.A. grew fuller with each passing day. The house felt more like home, filled with laughter, love, and the occasional burnt dinner. You and Drew had found your forever—not in a city, but in each other.

One evening, as the sun set over the Pacific, you stood on the beach together, the waves lapping at your feet. Drew slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and familiar.

“I know we’ve talked about not rushing things,” he said, his voice steady. “But I can’t wait anymore.”

You turned to him, your heart pounding as he dropped to one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. I want to keep building this crazy, beautiful life with you—forever. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded, your voice breaking. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

Drew slipped the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into his arms as the crowd around you cheered.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, you knew this was it.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

[urgardenandmine]

parker's lab buddy 🕷 (pt. ii) - p. parker

summary: parker and his new bestie have a rocky second meeting genre: fluff (kinda...?) pairing: m!reader x peter parker (spider-man, hehe) word count: 1.5K part one here!

this moment was the moment many had dreamed of. the moment they all thrived to hold out to. as they flooded the room, the sound of many was almost to some dissonant, yet to others, was the sound of their comrades who they hadn’t seen in almost ages. the feeling of the luminescent lights was cold, as they had no purpose other than to shine the light towards what they all coveted in this exact moment. 

the sunlight pouring through the glass panes of the room had warmed the skin of many. in the field of children, there were some who had chosen to embrace the warmth as the sun had reached its peak. to the others, they hid themselves from the glowing orb of star power, deeming it a nuisance. some had found it redundant, being tortured by the lights up above and the double team of the light from outside yet they had no choice in the matter.

as he made their way through the crowd of brash and reckless persons, he had lined up to the front of the line, ready to bear the question thrown at him by the one who had it all…

“apple or orange.” the lunch lady deadpanned.

“oh, uh, apple please.” peter had answered softly, showing off his usual kind smile. the lady sighed, grabbing the apple with her gloved hand and had placed it on his tray. peter stared down at it, nodding as he mouthed a small “thank you” before following down the line of students in the cafeteria. ned was in front, since he wanted to talk to betty. she hasn’t really given him the time of day due to this new “story” she was working on, which was who was the mysterious intruder who breaks into the school’s trash can every night. 

as they left the end of the line, ned and peter had made their way to their usual table in the far back. 

“i think it’s a raccoon but whatever…” ned mumbled, causing peter to chuckle softly.  

“well, what if it’s a new villain?” peter teased, nudging ned as they sat down. ned then dropped his jaw, letting out a loud gasp as he began to beam with delight. 

“you think so?” ned hoped, sitting closer to peter than he would’ve liked. peter scooted away as he began to slink off his backpack to place beside him, stifling a small snort. 

“it’s probably a opossum or a raccoon. if it were a villain, i’d k-”

as the words left his mouth, he could feel the same sensation as from before. the hairs on his nape began to stand on end, and so did the hairs on his arm. they stood up straight, as if they themselves were on high alert. he could his feel the back of his skull tingle, as if he was in active combat now. he still had no understanding of how his “peter tingle” (™ by happy himself) worked but he knew that when it was on, he needed to do whatever it took to help himself and those around him. peter gulped, fearing his first day back at school was going to be thrown into a full-on brawl. 

his eyes began to scan the cafeteria, seemingly making marks of those who seemed suspicious but it was almost useless as he knew most of the faces in the room. he saw one of the band kids who he thought was suspicious but in reality, he knew that kid was probably just hiding his newest self-made contraption in his backpack. 

dismissing what he thought was danger, he brought his head down to his food. as he was going to take a bite of his so-called “burger,” he heard the doors open and he had seen the one who had been the cause of his first tingle (he really needs a new name for this whole thing). 

looking at the denim colored doors opening, he had taken note of the boy who was eyeing everyone himself. the boy seemed more nervous than most students would be on their first days. he had a certain energy around him, which made peter feel somewhat uneasy. peter shifted in his seat, eyeing the other one closely. the boy had made his way down the line of food, picking the usual things everyone else would get. as he finished his selection, he made his way down the aisles of cliques and groups, he could feel that the boy was getting a bunch of stares as well but for another reason. 

ned had noticed the connection of peter’s gaze towards the boy, sensing some “tension.” ned, looking over to the boy who was still walking, waved him over. peter turned to ned immediately, smacking his arm gently. 

“ned! no! what are you doing?!” he hushed, causing ned to smack him back. peter, taken aback, began to smack peter back lightly. after taking a beat, the boys began to slap each other silly like two five year old kids. hearing a faint chuckle from the other side of the table. they both froze in their tracks, the brunette boy looking over to seeing his lab partner from before. 

the boy looked at the two, intaking the sight of two simple teenage boys. he sat down, removing his black backpack from his shoulders as he dusted off his pants, setting down his tray with one hand as the backpack slipped off his other arm. peter coughed softly, as ned fixed his shirt and sat up right, clasping his hands in front of him as he looked at the two. the new boy was in front of peter, and peter looked down at his tray, fiddling with his water bottle. ned’s eyes darted between them, letting out a loud exhale as he then inhaled and spoke.

“hi! i’m ned and this is-”

“peter. i know.” he spoke. peter’s head lifted immediately, almost now on edge as he cleared his throat.

“how do you know my name…” 

the boy eyed him, staring at him before he let out a sheepish chuckle. he scratched the back of his neck, fidgeting gently.

“um, we were lab partners…?” the boy answered, chuckling as he took a small sip of his water bottle. peter relaxed, feeling a bit embarrassed as he slouched, turned his attention to his hands to distract himself from the small mistake he just made. the boy smiled, his [l/c] lips turning upwards as he eyed the boy in front of him. 

ned eyed peter, seeing him act funny. ned, thinking it was of the “hearty” nature, smiled softly as he had a plan in mind. ned had taken out his phone and had feigned a phone call, making sure it was loud enough for them both to hear.

“oh, what’s that, mom? you have my lunch at the front office? o-okay! i’ll come right away!” ned played, causing the two other boys to look at ned as he slowly got up from the table and grabbed his backpack.

“my mom packed my lunch so i should probably go get it!”

peter’s eyes darted from ned to his tray, a finger lifting to point at the food in front of him, “but you-”

“gotta go!” ned spat, before rushing out with an orange in his hand. as he darted off, the two boys stared at one another. the other boy chuckled, looking down at his food as he opened a small juice box. peter nodded, looking away as he smiled at the [h/c] boy, trying to deescalate the weird “tension.” the boy chuckled, before getting up and grabbing his juice with him and his fruit.

“i think i’m gonna go…check out the restrooms.” he informed him softly, waving shyly as he made his way towards the doors behind peter to head towards the restrooms. peter’s head followed him, seeing him leave as he then was now alone at the table. he looked around him, seeing the two empty trays as he sighed, getting up and grabbing his food to follow the new boy (which doesn’t seem weird at all, peter). 

as he entered the halls, he saw it littered with some students who were hanging out with their friends. grumbling softly to himself, peter made his way down the hall to find the nearest restroom he could. having seen how the boy had excused himself, peter felt his “peter tingle” was incorrect and maybe it was something else. i mean, what harm can another teenage boy do? spread a rumor?

reaching the restroom, peter had opened the door slowly. hearing a faint voice talking, peter made sure to not be a nuisance in the restroom. as the door closed behind him, he could hear only a singular voice, the voice of the boy from before. getting closer to the stall further inside, peter “accidentally” listened in.

“yes, yes, i know. gosh, don’t worry. it’s only the first day of school.” he spoke in a soft manner. peter had a small smirk on his face. hearing the boy possibly talk to his parent or whoever seemed like he was panicking for nothing. 

“trust me, parker won’t know what hit him…”

…that doesn’t sound good.

⋆｡°✩

i hope this a good continuation to my first work for y'all :p

i think i might change the trajectory of this story because i've been making this new guy very...devious

[l/c] = lip color, [h/c] = hair color (i apologize if it looks complicated TT)

[d011zk1ll]

ok ok, this is entirely a stretch and hinges on a guess about something. but here's one of the things i've got a theory about

So, we know, with punnett squares, you have Dominant and Recessive genes. Yes?

Lets put that to SBG

We'll take a pairing of a male and female character, let's say Ashlyn and Aiden. This will make more sense later.

If the Phantom dimension has done what I think it's done, and changed their DNA (infusing with with the dimension and the phantoms themselves) then if they had kids, that would directly affect the kids.

Ashlyns already had the phantom dimension genetics, due to what happened when she was born (being directly born in a rift). so she'll have both Phantom alleles by the end of the series (whether this means she becomes a Phantom or not, isn't my point today. I just think she'd be affet by it in heath, and senses). We'll say this is the recessive gene, since it'll be a lot less common. This means it will be Lowercase, and we'll use p for Phantom.

This will be the punnett square so far.

At the beginning of the series, Aidens DNA would be unaffected, and he would have the dominant gene of, well, no Phantom DNA, so the punnett square would look like this:

However, as the comic progresses, we see him become affected by the phantoms in Ashlyn's dream, and after his death especially. We can now presume he's been affected, and has the Pp alleles. One dominant, one Recessive. Therefore the punnett square would look like:

This means if they had a child, they would have a 50% chance of being connected to the phantom realm in some day or another, unless the main 6 find a way to get rid of this DNA.

In another case, we can take Taylor and Ben. Both of who don't have a connection at the beginning of the series. so their starting punnett square would look like this:

which means their child, like almost all of the population, wouldn't be affected. though, by the point in the comic where we are now, they'll have been affected by the phantoms. So it would look like:

Their child would only have a 25% chance of being connected to the phantom dimension.

Idk i just think that's really interesting

[avonne-writes]

i know a lot of people are feeling for bucky and so do i but i feel like i can just relate to gale a lot. like he had made it clear he doesn’t want kids, he’s had a lot of issues with parenting and parental figures and for bucky to suddenly bring up kids definitely would feel like a whiplash. he doesn’t have a big support system and he’s already insecure. my heart just breaks for him bc he prob thinks he’s not enough for bucky anymore so he feels like can’t express himself as well and so i can see why he acts out.

Yes, exactly! The most important aspects of this fight are that neither John, nor Gale is perfect, they're both at fault and they're both hurt, and that the issue was both avoidable and inevitable. Inevitable because of how they grew individually and together.

It’s the most difficult and painful topic for Gale. There’s literally no other subject that would have affected him this much. Because what are some of the instinctive thoughts that Bucky's question raises in his head?

"I'm not enough to make him happy."

"The future we dreamed of together isn’t enough for him."

"He lied to me."

"I would never be able to connect with a child."

"I can’t subject a child to what I went through."

"I can’t handle a lifetime of that responsibility. It would feel like a shackle."

"He would love the child more than me, and then no one would really love me in this world anymore."

"He’s forcing me to do what I don't want, never wanted and will never want."

"He doesn’t understand me. No one does."

He's just fundamentally shaken and doesn’t have the coping tools to work through this in a managable way. Instead, he lashes out, and when Bucky doesn’t comfort and placate him because Bucky's surprised by the vehemence and gets defensive instead, Gale starts spiralling.

[maxdibert]

Ahem. Crumbs of Kid Severus headcannons/scenarios? 🤲🏼 Crumbs for a poor lad 🤲🏼?

Ahhhh, I love this super refreshing question after talking about such serious topics because Severus headcanons are basically my cardio.

• Growing up in a poor neighborhood, he was very used to violence, and as a kid, there were more than a few times when people tried to rob or even mug him. That’s when accidental magic would kick in, and the bullies would run away.

• He probably earned a reputation as the weird kid no one should mess with because of that.

• On top of that, Tobias didn’t have the best reputation either, which gave the Snapes a bad name in general.

• Since Eileen didn’t want her son to feel bad, she started telling him about the magical world and how wonderful it was to be a wizard—a strategy to help Severus dream of a better place where he could feel accepted.

• Severus was always intellectually curious and eager to learn, so in addition to asking his mother all sorts of things about the magical world, he would also beg her for books to read and expand his knowledge.

• The Muggle environment around him was so depressing that he began to idealize the magical world from a very young age as a way to escape everything around him.

• Tobias couldn’t stand that his son was some kind of “sissy” with his nose always buried in books, so he tried to “make a man out of him” with typical macho stuff like taking him to hang out with his work buddies at the pub or teaching him how to fight—classic 1960s dad behavior.

• Severus thought all of it was the most uncivilized nonsense, which infuriated his father because he felt deeply threatened by such disdain.

• Tobias would brag that Muggles were far better than wizards as a way to compete with what Eileen was teaching their son. He tried to show Severus the “good things about being a Muggle,” like TV or movies.

• Severus ended up hating movies because of this. He was never the least bit interested, as his father would force him to watch terrible films or TV programs that only reminded him of traumatic moments in his life.

• Since the Muggle world felt so depressing because of his father and the environment he lived in, Severus began to lean more and more into his wizard identity. Tobias didn’t tolerate this, and it often led to extremely violent fights.

• Eileen was often so depressed that she wouldn’t even get out of bed, so Severus learned to cook at a very young age because his father demanded dinner be ready when he got home from work.

• The one thing Tobias taught Severus—dysfunctional as it was—was to never let anyone walk over him and to lash out in an extremely aggressive way when someone tried to mess with him. Severus used this against anyone who tried to bully him in the neighborhood, and later, he used it in Hogwarts too.

• Tobias gave him his first cigarette at the age of 11, during the summer before he started at Hogwarts, because “smoking is for men.”

• He used to fantasize about becoming a super-powerful wizard so he could kill his father.

• His relationship with Eileen was complicated. On one hand, he appreciated that his mother was a witch and that thanks to her, he could have a destiny beyond working in a factory and becoming another version of his father. On the other hand, he resented her for never using her powers against Tobias to protect herself or her son.

• He went to a public Muggle school and skipped half of his classes. His parents never found out.

• Eileen often sent him to fetch Tobias when he stayed at the pub late into the night, and Severus hated those moments because his father was absolutely unbearable when drunk.

• He never learned how to ride a bike, but Tobias did teach (force) him to drive a car.

[okkotsuus]

crawlin' back to you (rensuke k.) !

features: rensuke k.

contents: established relationship. spoilers (second selection). a smidge of comfort. cliff hanger because i hate you <3

notes: hey lol, kinda bad because i have to get back into my flow state iykyk

The Blue Lock program: a selection meant to hone 300 high school kids down to 1 legendary striker.

When you sent off Rensuke with a kiss and soft murmurs of your certainty of his success, you never thought that it would end you up here. Sitting on your couch, doing some calculus homework while watching the U-20 v. Blue Lock exhibition match.

It stirred a strange feeling in you when you didn't see that familiar head of tousled orange hair even once on the plasma screen in front of you.

Maybe he was just sick? Or he was temporarily injured, so he couldn't play.

Surely.

But, even then...

Wouldn't he have at least been on the bench?

It sent a wave of unease through you, at the thought that something could have happened to divert his lifelong dream. But thinking that way wouldn't solve anything, that was something Rensuke taught you himself: positivity is key.

So, you blindly cheered for Blue Lock, even running laps around the kitchen when they ended up pulling off a win. Those boys were talented, so knowing that Ren was chosen to be with them made you all the more sure of his success.

The program went nearly radio silent for a two week period following the match.

Still no sign of your ginger striker.

Days were long, all your classes felt so much more droning without him sitting at your side. It was beginning to wear on you.

Then, it came as a sudden announcement. The 'Blue Lock: Neo-Egoist League' would be premiering tonight at 3pm JST. All plans were canceled, you were firmly planted on the couch, shooing away your siblings as you clicked onto the waiting screen.

It started with a click, showing all the players gathering into a room with the former Japanese U-20 Team. No Rensuke.

They featured different players as they explained the different stratum they could choose. The five European leagues that dominated the modern soccer world: France, Spain, England, Italy, and Germany.

Watching all the players debate where they wanted to be, the uncertainty of the U-20 Match prodigy: Yoichi Isagi. You were forced on the edge of your seat, knee bouncing idly as you hoped and prayed desperately to see the face of the boy you really needed to see.

Even as they all went their separate ways, still nothing. You were beginning to lose hope. Slowly, your focus began to fade away, half-way actually watching the broadcast.

"Now enter! The lone survivor of the Wild Card program..." Now that, that had your attention. "The last dark horse..."

It couldn't be...

"Rensuke Kunigami!"

There. That's him.

Even under that ruffled, grown-out, carrot top. Even with those darkened, hollow amber eyes. Even with a change in his physique, his gait. You would recognize him in any and every form.

Your Ren, in the flesh.

Tears welled in your eyes as your ears rang, unable to hear anything as you watched his mouth move a few times back and forth with Isagi. Then, they cut to a training exercise.

Something happened to die out the light in his eyes. And guessing by the way Ego introduced him, he was probably intended to have lost and left the program; but he won his way back.

No wonder you hadn't seen him in the exhibition match.

He was suffering trying to claw his way back to his dream, while you were just sitting here moping. Pathetic.

It lit a spark in you. You had to see him, as soon as possible.

Great minds think alike, ego attracts ego; even if it is at the subconscious level.

It took a lot of calls, letters, and video chats. But, within ten days, you were permitted to enter Blue Lock to observe a match between Bastard Munchen and FC Barcha: the first game of the League, under the guise of enhancing Kunigami's morale.

Ego agreed to this deal on the main term that you would not be able to watch the match, nor take any sort of electronic device on your person past the facility doors. Likely, to prevent copyright infringement.

You didn't have to think before agreeing.

In a cold room, surrounded by metal walls, you waited. The game lasted nearly 70 minutes, with which you had nothing to occupy yourself with other than your own mind.

It was another 20 before the doors slid open, the familiar figure of a face you'd come to know as Anri Teieri leading an even more striking form. "In here, Kunigami-san. You have as much time as you need."

You were on your feet in an instant, it was actually him. God, he reeked of sweat and spice. That damned door clicked behind the JFU associate, amber eyes staring stone cold down at you.

"Rensuke, congratulations on your victory." The words spilled from your lips. Yes, you knew him well, that look in his eyes, it was not forlorn in the way you knew he felt after a loss.

"Why are you here."

His words were flat, but it was all a facade. No one in this word knew Rensuke Kunigami quite like you, and no one ever would. "I'm so incredibly proud of you, my hero."

And just this once, for the first time since he walked into that Wild Card door, those broad shoulders of his relaxed.

"Yeah... Yeah, I know you are, sunshine."

© okkotsuus 24 – do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate any of my works to any other platforms.

[red-takami]

HII NORTH ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) do you know a lot about manifestation/how to practice it? if so what has ur experience been with it? i have a follow up question but i dont want to sound like im interrogating you 😭 ill probably ask it after this question/in the comments of this question

Honestly I'm not good at it all that much 😭 besides shifting and actively experiencing a change, I almost never try any other methods of it because of how weird/complicated I make it on accident while trying.

In my personal experience, manifesting is like boomerang, you throw out your intention and you receive it back physically. It's sort of unpredictable, like sometimes you experience results immediately, or not for a long time. Sometimes it's not exactly what you envisioned, or maybe it's EXACTLY what you envisioned - but it's not what you needed in that instance yk?

I don't do it a lot, because unfortunately I get demotivated extremely easily. If I don't see results immediately then the doubts make it almost impossible to keep faith in my own intentions. Which is why whenever I shift, I make sure to have whatever I desire in mind so that way I don't need to go through all of this trouble for it.

When I was a younger kid, I would listen to subliminal messaging RELIGIOUSLY. Like every single day for at least a few hours at a time. I did this for probably around 3 years, starting when I first found out about subliminals and not stopping until I experienced something that had kinda made me realize the gravity of doing so like I did.

Nothing bad, at least not this first experience anyway. I remember back then, I was obsessed with werewolves specifically from twilight. It crossed my mind every single day so of course I was willing to jump into anything that could promise my own experience in such a life as a twilight werewolf 😭. I looked and explored all over the internet for different subliminals made by different sources and different affirmations, and no results at all. Eventually though, I just found I grew extremely patient with the results I was waiting for, I found that I genuinely just enjoyed the couple 3 or 4 main subliminals I had found enough to listen to them without the anticipation in my belly making it hard to be in the moment. Of course, back then I didn't realize this, nor did I realize what happened because of this newfound relaxation until one morning I woke up and the teeth in my mouth had all changed shape entirely. I looked in the mirror getting ready for school and vividly remember just standing there with my mouth open and frozen in my spot. My teeth were absolutely a different shape before this morning. I had fallen asleep that night to a subliminal and coincidentally, one of the affirmations were fangs and sharp k9's. This took the relaxation and turned it into slight intimidation. Made me realize that whatever I was doing, was working somehow. It was intimidating.

Second experience, years later in 2020 I had picked up subliminals once again after a year or two break from it, and instead of wolf subliminals - it was shifting subliminals. I won't name the account because honestly I can't remember but they're extremely problematic. I'm not the only bad experience with this account and their subliminals. I had fallen into the same routine, falling asleep to the subliminals daily, everything was fine enough at first that I didn't realize anything was wrong. Just chalked it up to my brain being an asshole.

Over time, and continuing to listen to those affirmations religiously, I started to experience some scary shit back to back, more than normal. Nightmares that weren't lucid but felt more vivid than reality, where the contents were nothing but darkness and pure malicious invasion of my mind and dream state. It was disgusting. I stopped after I realized what the reasoning for these things was, and eventually even heard the same exact stories from other shifters who used that accounts subliminals.

I don't use subliminals at all anymore, but only because I know I don't need them. However, if I did, I now know for a fact that this shit is serious, manifestation is real and you need to take caution with what you're trying to make your reality. This was my second time being shown this, and now my main form of manifesting is just shifting, so I'm sorry if that's not helpful. Feel free to ask anything else!!!

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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Rowan is honestly having the time of his life. 

From the moment he heard about Alistair’s engagement falling through, he had a feeling it would be a huge sore spot for him. Never in a million years would he have expected Alistair, of all people, to be broken up with. For as long as he can remember, everyone has always viewed him as perfection incarnate. He’s a man without flaws—or at least, he’s brainwashed others into believing that he is. 

And yet, someone rejected him. Someone was finally able to look past all the bullshit and see Alistair for what he truly is. 

Rowan knew right then and there that you were the woman of his dreams. 

“...are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

Alistair is angry. That much is clear as day, much to Rowan’s immense delight. Alistair gets annoyed with him all the time, and it’s no secret that they both hate each other’s guts, but it’s a rare treat to see him get this worked up. He can’t remember the last time he was privy to such a visceral display of anger. It’s ridiculously entertaining.

Despite how badly he wants to break down into a fit of laughter, Rowan tilts his head to the side and decides to feign ignorance. 

“I beg your pardon? I understand you’re upset, dear cousin, but I’m not so sure why you’re taking it out on me. [Name] is the one who ended the engagement, is she not? It hardly seems fair to make me the subject of your anger.” 

Alistair grits his teeth. “Spare me the theatrics. You know full well what you’ve done. Is there really no limit to how far you’ll sink, Rowan? Are you really so pathetic that you’ll pursue my former fiancée purely to spite me?” 

“What a hateful thing to say,” Rowan sighs, shaking his head. “I would never act on such petty emotions. Of course, I realize that this isn’t exactly conventional, and I had a feeling it would upset you, but I’d been interested in [Name] well before you got engaged to her. Now that the two of you are no longer involved, I simply decided to act on my feelings, that’s all.” 

“Bullshit. You never breathed a word about her. It seems rather coincidental that you claim to be so enamored with her all of a sudden.” 

“Well, yes, because I had been holding back on your account. It hardly felt proper to express desire towards another man’s fiancée, let alone my own cousin’s.” Rowan pauses, and soon enough, he can’t hide his smile anymore. “I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted to marry her, of course. This was all just a hunch I had. But now that I’ve spoken to her face to face, I’ve made up my mind. She’s such a charming young woman. A real breath of fresh air. In fact, I dare say I’m already head over heels for her.” 

Alistair’s eyes bulge out of his head, and this time, Rowan simply can’t resist the urge to laugh. 

“Charming…?” Alistair blinks in disbelief. “You say [Name] is charming? That snobby, mannerless woman? Do you even know what she said to me? She called me unattractive right to my face. Me. And don’t even get me started on all the rumors I’ve heard about her off-putting behavior. Are you so shameless that you would willingly tie your future to someone like that?” 

Rowan’s laughter just gets even louder, and watching Alistair’s face become increasingly red really is the cherry on top. 

“Haha… ha.” Rowan wipes the tears from his eyes, still chuckling every now and then. “I’ll admit I hadn’t heard the part about her calling you unattractive. Forgive me for laughing. It’s just too funny. But… she never said anything like that to me, so I suppose I have nothing to worry about. As I said, she agreed to let me court her for a while, and her father seems open to the idea of us getting married in the future.” 

“She was just trying to spare your feelings,” Alistair insists. His face feels uncomfortably hot, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. “She… she’ll reject you before long, just take my word for it. She’s volatile and unpredictable. I’m willing to bet she was just trying to appease her family since they must be worried about the engagement falling through. Besides, you’re not even engaged yet, so I’d hardly call this arrangement ironclad.” 

Rowan’s smile stretches further across his lips. The man he’s resented damn near his entire life is desperately struggling to defend himself and avoid losing face. He’s grasping at straws and offering whatever excuse he can come up with. He’s embarrassed beyond belief, and it couldn’t be any more obvious. 

For the first time… Rowan has something that Alistair doesn’t. 

“Show some humility, Alistair.” Rowan stands up from his seat to look down at his cousin with a cold, vengeful expression. “Your engagement is over. [Name] discarded you, and it’s time you came to terms with that. Besides, I’m not sure why you’re trying to debase her when you were originally going to marry her. If her reputation is as horrible as you suggest, then surely, you should have protested against this in the first place. Uncle and auntie would have understood. It’s rather crass for you to insult her after the fact, purely because she wasn’t interested in you. It shows a lack of character, and worst of all, that you think you’re above everyone else.”

Alistair blinks. He’s so dumbfounded he can’t even think of a rebuttal. It feels like he just got slapped across the face. 

Rowan smiles again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll forgive your rudeness, on account of the fact that you’re still grieving your failed engagement. But from now on, you need to fix your attitude. [Name] and I are romantically involved, and I intend to make her my wife. I’ll urge you not to soil her name in my presence. I have a bit of a temper, you see.” 

Rowan walks off without waiting to hear Alistair’s response, not that he would have known what to say anyways. He watches as the dark-haired man promptly leaves the manor. It seems like he came here purely to gloat, which, considering how much of an asshole he is, doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

All the same, Alistair feels completely and utterly defeated. He can’t recall having ever experienced such a bitter loss. It’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. Honestly… 

He fucking hates it. 

“Goddamn you, Rowan,” Alistair mutters. He clenches his fist and takes a sharp, shaky breath, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm. 

You really chose Rowan over him? So, he doesn’t meet your standards, but somehow, that miserable scumbag does? 

Impossible. No. It just can’t be. He refuses to accept it. He refuses to accept any of it. 

He doesn't know how he’s going to pull it off, but right then and there, he makes up his mind. 

You will take him back.

While Alistair and Rowan were busy comparing dick sizes, you were trying to make strides towards improving your reputation. 

“Name tags, my lady?” 

Fiona stares at you, visibly perplexed. She usually looks pretty confused when she’s dealing with you, not that you can really blame her, but you think you’ve got a pretty good idea this time around. 

“Yes,” you nod happily. “So that I can remember everyone’s names. Oh, it’s not like it’ll be permanent or anything. Once I’ve committed everyone to memory the name tags can be removed, but I just think it would help me remember better. I’d like to address all of the people that work here by name from now on. I’m hoping to connect to them on a personal level, so that they won’t think of me purely as their boss. I want to turn this manor into a comfortable place for all.” 

Fiona still looks confused, bless her heart. In the game, the villainess treated everyone like property—especially if they were lower than her in social status. The heroine was the target of a good chunk of her malice, of course, but it seems like commoners got the worst of it, since she probably felt like she could do what she wanted with virtually no repercussions. Which is unfortunately the truth. If you were an absolute scumbag, you could, in theory, bully all these people with zero consequences. The staggering difference in social classes allows for all kinds of unwarranted abuse, which is exactly why you’re hoping to create a whole new status quo. 

“I’m ashamed of my past behavior,” you continue, frowning a bit. It feels weird to apologize for something you technically didn’t even do, but in the interest of maintaining appearances, you need to show remorse. “Like I said before, I’m trying to be a better person, and a big part of that is treating everyone with the respect they deserve. Especially the people that work so hard to support me every single day. I’ve noticed they walk on eggshells whenever I’m around, but hopefully they’ll soon realize I’m not that scary.” 

Fiona ponders for a few moments, then smiles as she nods her head. “I think it’s a lovely idea, my lady. They’ll appreciate the lengths you’re going to in order to help them feel more comfortable.” 

“Well, it’s really not such a big deal. Remembering their names is the least I can do.” 

“Considering how many people are under your employ, I’d say that’s not such an easy task. Besides, I hear from servants that work elsewhere that it’s rather common for the lords or ladies of the house not to remember their names. We’re only servants, after all. What we do isn’t all that remarkable.” 

She makes a pained face near the end, brushing off her remarks with a weak chuckle. You can’t help but frown, and your heart throbs at the sight of it. It’s horrible that she seems to think of herself and the other servants as expendable. Then again, if they’ve all been mistreated time and time again, it’s not surprising their self-esteem would be so low. 

You lean closer and place your hand on Fiona’s head, offering a gentle smile. “That’s not true. All of you work incredibly hard, and it’s your efforts that allow everything to go so smoothly. You keep this place immaculately clean, you repair anything that needs to be fixed, you help cook my meals… and the list goes on and on. You work harder than I can even imagine, and that’s no small feat. Please don’t demean yourself like that. Take pride in a job well done. You deserve it.” 

You pat her head, which you’ve learned is something she greatly enjoys—even if she won’t openly admit to it. 

Fiona just stares at you, and it doesn’t take long for tears to fill her big doe-shaped eyes. 

“Th-Thank you,” she sniffles, trying to wipe her tears before they fall, but to no avail. “I—I really appreciate it. You’re very kind to say that, my lady. So very kind…” 

You smile and give her some time to calm down. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for her to regain her spirits, and she proceeds to lift her fist in the air, visibly determined. 

“Alright!” she huffs. “I will speak to one of the seamstresses and inform her that we’ll all be needing name tags. I promise we’ll get the job done as quickly as possible. I won’t let you down, Lady [Name]!”

She speeds off before you can say anything else, but it warms your heart to see her opening up to you more and more. Even if you weren’t responsible for the villainess’ wrongdoings, it’s nice to see how positively everyone is reacting to the ‘new’ version of you. 

Well, mostly everyone.

“[Name], darling, Flynn is here to see you,” your mother happily announces. 

You grimace. Goddammit. For the past few days, you kept using your aforementioned sickness as an excuse to ward off visitors, but there’s only so long you can milk that excuse for, and it seems like he won’t be deterred any longer. He is supposed to be your best friend, after all. 

“Have fun,” your mother beams, and she walks off with a spring in her step, heels echoing down the halls. Your parents are both rather fond of you, but she’s been especially chipper ever since she heard Rowan proposed. By now it seems like your parents have completely forgotten the Alistair incident, or they simply don’t care anymore. 

Either way, you’ve dealt with almost all of the game’s love interests so far. Alistair is obviously a thing of the past, and since you’re well on the way towards improving your reputation, Carmine likely won’t have any reason to execute you later on. 

The only person you just can’t seem to shake is this annoying bastard. 

“How are you feeling?” Flynn asks, concern lacing his features. “You look a lot better now, but you’ve never fallen so ill before. I was worried.” 

Sorry, dude. The tales of my sickness were greatly exaggerated. I was basically just looking for excuses so I could avoid you. 

“I feel fine now,” you say, quickly smiling. “Anyways, I’ve got a lot of… math to do later, so I’m not sure how long you can stay.” 

“Math? Ah, yes. Your father was saying you really started applying yourself. He said you were concealing a prodigal aptitude for academics all this time. You sure could have fooled me,” he muses.

You shrug. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” 

Flynn purses his lips, and it looks like he’s resisting the urge to say anything. Even though he’s your so-called ‘best friend’, even he must realize that the villainess wasn’t exactly competent when it came to well, anything. 

But he’s well-mannered enough to keep those thoughts to himself. 

“Well, I’m just relieved you’re okay,” he smiles. “Oh. I also wanted to ask about your engagement. I heard that you’re apparently not seeing Alistair anymore. When did that happen?” 

“A little while ago.”

“Your parents told me that you’re the one who broke it off. Is that true?” 

“It is. I don’t know,” you sigh, “I guess I just wasn’t that interested in him. It happens. I’m fortunate enough that my parents haven’t pushed for us to get back together. They’ve given me the freedom to be more picky from now on.” 

Flynn knits his brows together. “You weren’t that interested in him…? What about all those times you kept gushing to me about how excited you were for the engagement? You seemed to feel very differently up until not long ago.” 

Ugh. This guy is constantly on your ass, pointing out inconsistencies left and right. Like, even your parents didn’t make this big of a fuss after the engagement fell through. Your so-called ‘punishment’ was doing some math problems. Let it go already, man. 

“Feelings change,” you shrug. “I was excited at first, but I gradually found my interest waning. I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I think it was for the best, because he didn’t seem to like me very much either. I’m sure we’ll both find a better match eventually.”

Flynn arches a brow. “You mean to say that you no longer feel anything towards him at all?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Not even a little bit?” 

“Uh, nope. Otherwise I wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place.” 

“Huh.” 

Flynn seems to be having a hard time wrapping his head around all this. Truthfully, you don’t know the finer details of his friendship with the villainess. It’s entirely possible that she bragged about Alistair more times than you can count, which is why your dismissiveness probably seems pretty suspect right now. A good friend knows when something is off, as evidenced by the fact that Flynn’s been on your case since the moment you met. 

But… there’s no way he’ll actually figure it out, right? After all, who could ever imagine that their best friend’s been replaced by some total stranger from a completely different world? It’s way too far-fetched. Practically unthinkable.

Yeah. That’s not something I should worry about. 

Never in a million years would Flynn be able to figure out what’s happening, and nor will anyone else, for that matter. Your foremost concern right now is figuring out a way to slowly push him out of your life, because the sooner you distance yourself from this guy, the better you’ll feel. 

“If you weren’t happy with him, then like you said, it’s probably better this way,” Flynn acknowledges. “I would hate to see you stuck with someone who doesn’t bring you joy. You deserve much better than that. You deserve only the best.” 

Well. You’d like to think that you deserve the best, but the previous owner of this body most certainly did not. 

It’s actually kind of disturbing that Flynn sides with the villainess so much, in spite of all the fucked up shit she’s done. It says a lot about his morality.

Yet another reason why you don’t want him around.

“I think I should get a head start on my homework,” you blurt, already walking away. It’s incredibly rude to brush him off like this after he dropped by for a visit, but you figure that if you treat him a bit coldly, he might eventually take the hint and leave you alone.

“Alright,” Flynn nods. “I’ll spend some time chatting with your parents. I don’t have any other plans for today, so take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

…people around here really don’t know how to take no for an answer, huh? 

You sigh quietly and shake your head. Whatever. It’s going to take some time to completely get rid of him, but you’re confident you can pull it off. Even if he won’t ever hurt you, he’s simply too closely connected with the main plot. You don’t need that kind of stress in your life. 

Flynn watches you walk down the hallway, and he also watches as you grin widely and point finger-guns at one of the servants.

“Duncan!” you exclaim. “Working hard as per usual, I see. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!” 

The servant awkwardly does finger-guns back before scurrying on his way, and needless to say, Flynn finds the whole scene rather confusing. 

Since when do you bother to remember the servants’ names? As far as he can remember, you’ve always just snapped your fingers to demand service, or pointed to someone and said, “Hey, you.” 

It’s all so strange. He can’t help but feel that you’ve changed somehow, and rather abruptly, at that. If there’s something special going on in your life, he thinks he deserves to know about it. He’s your best friend, isn’t he? The two of you have always told each other everything. And yet, he didn’t even find out about your broken engagement until well after the fact. 

Whatever’s happening to you…

He’s not sure he likes it. 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[yell0wsalt]

Fic: Only The Two of Us

For @meljaymicrofics Day 20 Power Couple by Labrinth

Relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

Rating: T

Summary: Gods, he couldn’t wait to marry her. As Jayce pressed his lips to her forehead, he whispered, “I love you, too.” 

OR Even though class differences told them “no,” Mel and Jayce would prove it all wrong.

cw: briefly implied sexual content

word count: 1299

It was a decidedly lazy Thursday night. Nothing in particular was going on, making it the perfect night to relax and spend time for nothingness together. Mel was lying inverted on Jayce’s couch briefly admiring her newly painted nails while watching her boyfriend Jayce sit on the floor before her workon his latest side project of tinkering with materials for his 3D printer.

Playing on the stereo, soft R&B was the perfect background noise for the time to unwind together. Life has been busy lately on both ends they didn’t have much a chance to simply be in the other’s presence.

When Jayce finished what he was working on, he scooted back to the base of the couch, visibly trying to piece together certain words that had been steaming at the back of his head for at least the past couple of hours since Mel’s been over.

“You know…”

Mel’s ears perked up and she turned her head to the side, facing him curiously. “No. Tell me.”

The tips of his ears heated with a soft blush. “I’ve always dreamed of a quiet life like this. Admittedly indulgent in the possibility of marrying you one day.” 

His confession immediately made Mel swivel to an upright position and take her seat from on the couch to the floor beside him. “Jayce…”

“I mean it, Mel. I know we are still pretty young in figuring things out with work and our place, but I… I wouldn’t want to do any of that with anyone else but you!”

Mel cut Jayce off, her lips capturing his in a charged kiss. Pulling away she swatted at the air between them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. “Go ahead,” she offered encouragingly. 

Jayce smiled at that. “I want to be able to work towards building a house with you. A life with you… Kids, too! If… if that’s what you want, of course.”

The sheepish addition to Jayce’s proud confession made Mel stifle her giggle with a hand over her mouth.

“I love you, Mel Medarda. Would you–”

“Yes,” she breathed eagerly.

“Would you at least let me finish asking?”

Every fiber of Mel’s being was vibrating into another plane and she nodded, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. The gold reflected in her green eyes sparkled with excitement watching Jayce compose himself and dig a hand into one of his pant pockets.

“Would you marry me, Mel Medarda?” The small ring box flicked open, Jayce presenting its contents to Mel.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Barreling her boyfriend– fiancé– in a hug powerful enough to tip the both of them over on the floor, Mel placed kisses long and short all over Jayce’s mouth. 

For a long time, Mel and Jayce laid on his bedroom floor, chests heaving trying to catch their breaths. When they finally evened out, Jayce wrapped a strong arm around Mel’s waist, holding her steady as he pressed themselves up to an upright position once more. 

Cupping his face tenderly, Mel whispered sincerely against his lips, “Yes, I would love to marry you, Jayce Talis”

Caressing her left hand in his, Jayce slid the ring onto her finger delicately. A perfect fit.

Admiring the new jewelery from all angles, Mel’s eyes widened in awe. “Jayce… you made this, didn’t you?”

His lips twitched to a half smile. “You caught that? I wanted to get you one of the nicer rings from one of the stores in the fashion district downtown, but the tight salary of a budding engineer doesn’t have much grace right now. Metallurgy has been a skill paying dividends, though.”

A kiss planted on his lips silenced such doubts and insecurity. “Your signature touches to your crafts are unmistakeable. I love it and you, Jayce. I wouldn’t have wanted this any other way.”

“Part of me wanted to wait until our futures were more secure, but I don’t think I could have waited any longer,” he sheepishly admitted.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I do want to ask your mother for permission, first.”

Mel’s eyes fluttered into a soft eye roll. “You know that’s a long outdated practice. You don’t actually have to do that anymore.”

“I know, but I want to. This is a big deal and your mother deserves to know. I’ll probably do it tomorrow.”

“Mhm. Okay,” she murmured, pressing soft kisses to his neck and strong jawline. 

That night they rode the high of commencing a new chapter into their lives in making love, bubbly with anticipation of what the future could bring them.

As they laid together under the sheets on the precipice of slumber, Mel nuzzled deeper into Jayce’s firm chest. “I love you, Jayce,” she said dreamily.

Gods, he couldn’t wait to marry her. As Jayce pressed his lips to her forehead, he whispered, “I love you, too.” 

 ****

Ambessa Medarda was one of those women whose aura alone could make even the strongest of soldiers cower at her feet. 

Due to distance and scheduling conflicts there were few opportunities Jayce and Ambessa got the opportunity to meet, but every time they did, Jayce could feel his balls shrinking up into his stomach. It was hard to admit that feeling never got any easier.  

Pouring his heart out to Ambessa, Jayce’s hands itched to fiddle with his ascot, as if the action would bring more air into his lungs. He chose to cling to his dress pants instead.

Ambessa’s critical eye and heavy silence only amplified the tightening around Jayce’s neck and blood thundering in his ears. The drumming finally ceased when her answer cut through the tension as a spear. 

“No.”

Jayce slowly blinked. His face contorted into multiple depictions of confusion. “Wait, what?”

Ambessa took a brief sip of her tea and shook her head. “The Medardas are a conglomerate force who have their hands in industries from entertainment to politics to general education. You think my daughter would be truly satisfied by someone such as yourself? You have a fraction of a fraction to your name compared to the Medardas. Be honest with yourself, child. She can do better. And she will. For that I cannot give you my blessing.”

Jayce could not have been more grateful that in that moment he was already sitting. His kneecaps were jelly.

“But…” Jayce began to scramble in his justification, which turned futile. “But I love her! I would live and die for her!”

The sentiment rolled off Ambessa as a water drop on impermeable stone. “Your chivalrous nature is commendable, child. My answer, however, is set.”

As Ambessa called for one of the butlers to escort Jayce to the exit, he shrugged it off bitterly. He knew his way out, clearly unwelcome in the Medarda’s circle. Fuck it all, he would prove them all wrong. Ambessa, tradition, matters of worth…

All of it.

****

As he laid in Mel’s lap recounting the events with her mother, the light scratches Mel provided by the nape of his neck abruptly ceased. “She what?!” 

“I’m sorry, Mel.”

Coaxing him to sit upright next to her, Mel wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Granted her disapproval stings, it is honestly surprising, knowing we’ve been dating for a while now. We’ll figure this out… together, okay?”

A glimmer of light returned to Jayce’s eyes. “You’d still want to get married?”

“Of course. She doesn’t get us and we’re going to be okay with that. Career matters and other affairs will be sorted another day. I don’t want or need the Medarda name, Jayce. Only you.”

A kiss to Mel’s inner wrist then on her lips, Jayce’s chest bloomed with warmth and he smiled. It was the first genuine one that reached his eyes all day.

[artirov]

i love you love you love you sam winchester, love writing you because you've been built of iron and salt, silver and ichor—but instead of being a timeless titan you keep on melting yourself into something different, something that isn’t you, but isn’t not you, either. that song has been sung before—can you recognize the notes? your father used to sing it to your brother when you were kids; your brother would sing it to you instead of a lullaby because he never knew other songs. and now you are cursed to cast yourself into shapes and sharpen the edges as if it might save you in the end. but it doesn’t—it never does.

you've been torn into pieces and stitched back together incorrectly, time over time, rebuilt from all the wrong parts. stripped of vital organs of your existence and left alone to bleed out everything that hasn’t faded yet. you cling to the pointless hope that maybe someday, somewhere, somehow, the tide will turn and wash everything away—that it’ll leave nothing but you and all the broken pieces behind so you could mend them with gold. 

all that mess, that—that electromagnetic buzz and the static, almost psychedelic interference in the black-and-white noise and descending lines of resolution on that old tv screen in the corner. the rattling tape behind your sternum—the one your past is recorded on. the one you have no means to play ever again: burned and tangled, ripped out from its case and shoved back in wrong. all of this is making the hairs on your neck stand up. how could it not? you are stranded here—in this filthy old room inside your own head, with feet planted on a carpet half-eaten by moths, bacteria and mites smearing across your skin, inching up. with wallpaper peeling off the walls, the smell of old cigarette smoke and sweat clinging to them. you can feel yourself unravel, fraction by fraction. 

you think of your brother and you think of being found later, bodies cold and motionless, hand in hand, flesh against flesh, bound together in life and in death. it's a vision imprinted behind your eyelids, vivid and alive. for a moment, you consider it, this idea—that it doesn't matter as long as you're together. but then the moment passes. the blood is drying on your skin, and you're still alive, still hopeless and angry, and alone. 

you close your eyes and for a brief second you almost dream. almost dream of breathing, of opening your eyes to a reality where all of this was just a bad dream; you almost dream of dreaming of nothing. in this exile of yours, you can never remember how long it's been. the track you tried to keep has become blurry, unrecognizable, incomprehensible. it's become synonymous with you.

i love writing you sam winchester you make me go insane in ways that are beyond mortal understanding and i hate every second of it, i hope it never stops <3

[spideyanakin]

I can’t stop thinking about Sirius Black x malfoy+slytherin! reader , younger sister to Lucius.

please send some more thoughts about these two, I've had a brainrot for days

maybe they were promised to each other since they were kids, grew up together, spent summers playing in the grounds of their homes. contrary to the obvious I think they’d be happy to be betrothed. Like you tell 8 years old Sirius that when he’s older he gets to marry his best friend whom he spent his life so far playing in fields with? Oh he’s happy. Your happy as well, I mean you’ve been taught your entire life how to be a proper pure blood, and that your life’s purpose would be to please a great husband whose standing in society was important. The fact that it just happens to be your best friend is a plus side that little you couldn’t stop dreaming about. Mr and Mrs Black written all over your journal with hearts (it’s giving Fiona’s bedroom in Shrek 2). Of course you’d call each other future wife and future husband (until you were old enough to find it cringe, but then once you were like past the weird pre-teen phase he'd still call you that to tease you. )

Then you went to Hogwarts. Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, you into Slytherin, and even though you still grasped at the relationship, things kinda went downhill from there.

Your parents had a fit, his parents had a fit, Lucius had a fit. And after several heated discussions, both parties decided to keep the deal.

You don’t know how many times you wiped the tears off of Sirius’s cheeks the following few summers.

The two of you realised you hadn’t kissed until you started fourth year. It had been so ingrained in you that you were together for life. that it was the two of you and no one else. That he was yours and you his—that for the longest time nothing else had been needed.

But now, as people started getting together, as you noticed your classmates kissing and starting to go further, things you didn’t know were asleep were waking up inside the both you.

The brush of a hand, your knees colliding as you sat next to each other in transfiguration, Sirius’s hand resting on your back as you walked through the corridors—you both felt it, everything was starting to intensify.

Sirius kissed you first. You hadn’t had some time for the two of you in ages, and when he finally managed to escape with you he took you to the astronomy tower. You spent the evening looking at the stars, right until you noticed he was looking more at you then the night sky. That night you kissed each other until the sun was up.

The grin on Sirius’s face and the blush on yours the next day was enough for the marauders to tease him for weeks.

From then on the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. The boys were surprised, to be frank. Because as the years went by, Sirius grew more and more away from the pure blood mindset, while you were well, still, and always your pure blood self--with your brother seemingly always somewhere next to you, sneering at anything that didn't fit into his tight box-like vision of the world.

But everything changed when Sirius had enough of his family’s torture.

You can still remember the way your heart leaped in your chest at the knock on your window. It was raining, and lighting stroke a tree far up the grounds of your manor. You frowned, watching as a desperate Sirius clung to your window seal, worry seeping through your veins as he tumbled in—wet, tired, and red-eyed.

You wiped his tears away as you listened, begging him that he changes into some dry clothes before he catches a cold. But Sirius won't listen—he keeps on talking, letting everything on his chest out in the dim light of your bedroom.

You still remember his touch as took your wrists and pleaded; ‘come with me’.

You still remember his broken voice, the heartbreak in his tone, 'come with me’

You still remember the hot tears falling from his eyes, ‘come with me’

But you couldn’t. You had a sick mother to take care of, you had duties to attend. You couldn’t just leave, not like this. What would you even do? You were nothing without the pretenses of your world.

Your world crumbled as you watched the light in his eyes dim when he understood you wouldn’t be coming with him.

You can still remember his touch, his desperate kisses as you tried to remember each other; for what you thought would be the last time.

So you watched with nothing but pain in your eyes as he picked up his clothes from where they had been scattered across your bedroom.

You refused for him to put his still wet shirt back on, so you grabbed the only thing in your closet that would fit him. A crisp white shirt that you purposefully bought oversized, you loved it, it was your favorite one to wear and probably the most 'casual' item you owned.

He let out a short smile when you did the buttons for him--the shirt smelled like you.

With a last kiss to your lips, tucking away a loose strand of your hair and drying your lone tears with a light stroke of his thumb; he left into the night.

by September, you were promised to Regulus Black.