#them and being involved in their violent crimes! ...or something like that

[bigeyedchangelingchild]

Tagging @fierceawakening because it's thoughts regarding mostly the prison abolition argument I've been reading on your page, but not about any specific thread that feels reasonable to reply to.

So personally, I don't really think about this too much because in practice I'd much rather focus on specific achievable harm reductions I can currently fight for, however, I have another complication with prison abolition.

I agree that involuntary confinement is problematic, but I've also seen it work? Like my grandfather went to prison, and he says it saved his life and I believe him. I don't think he should've gone to prison in a just system, what he was convicted on was absurd and not reasonable evidence, and it was a non-violent drug crime, which pretty much everyone in the reform to abolition spectrum agree is bad.

At the same time, my grandfather is likely an undiagnosed autistic man, who struggled intensely with adulthood and prison gave him a structured space to learn how to manage himself.

He was lucky enough to be imprisoned in a place where he was given access to education and life skills, similar to what my dad got when his parents paid for a private rehab facility, which was also a form of involuntary confinement. Both of these men in my life returned from these experiences far better able to handle themselves in the world, they both learned important life skills for caring for themselves, and improved their ability to function in employment.

I don't think prisons currently look like this, I know they don't, and I'm pro-reform because of this. I also think that if a fair system were in place it's likely my grandfather should not have been involuntarily commited. (My father had proved a danger to me so he would be comitted in systems advocated by people more on the reform end of the spectrum.) However, it's hard for me to reconcile the idea that all involuntary confinement is inherently bad and that it's only going to make the individuals life worse no matter what. Because the two people in my life who were involuntarily commited (though both very lucky in what services were offered to them in these institutions) both improved their lives significantly because of it.

[mephisto-reporting]

You Don't Have to... For Me

About: You step out of your comfort zone to share special moments with him. He sees right through your act. How will he respond? Pairing: Female Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship but there is implied mutual interest. Trigger warnings: Fears, insecurities, mild panic, mild food aversion, sensory discomfort

Author’s Note: Hey! Some of the discomforts and fears in these stories might not apply to you personally — I chose them based on what each LI seems to enjoy and what the reader might quietly endure just to spend time with them. This concept was inspired by a conversation with my dear friend and chaos enabler, Ivy ( @xaviersknight )

If you enjoy my writing and want to support me, you can buy me a Ko-fi! ☕

SYLUS

There’s a boxing ring in his penthouse.

Of course, there is.

It shouldn’t surprise you—nothing about Sylus ever plays by anyone else’s rules. He doesn’t live, he orchestrates. Even the things that should feel raw and violent, like boxing, feel too elegant when he’s involved.  Of course, he had a private ring, glinting under moody downlights like something out of a crime drama. Polished floors. Blood-red ropes. A small stack of gloves in varying sizes, already laid out for you. The floors smell faintly of clean sweat and expensive disinfectant.

You're underdressed for this, somehow. Even though he told you to wear something comfortable, even though you showed up in sleek workout leggings and a cropped tee, even though you tied your hair back the way you always do when you mean business—none of it feels right under his gaze.

“Welcome to my little playground…” Sylus speaks from across the ring.

He’s already inside it, lounging lazily against the ropes like a king waiting to be amused. Black tank top, gloves hanging loose from his fingertips, a thin sheen of sweat already glinting across his collarbone. He looks carved from obsidian and marble, every inch of him dangerous and divine.

You swallow. Smile.

“It’s not so little,” you reply.

“Oh? Planning to flatter me into going easy on you, kitten?”

There it is—kitten. The word slides off his tongue. You offer a half-laugh, stepping forward like it’s all a game. But inside, your stomach twists. Tight. Unrelenting.

You don’t like boxing.

It’s too much. Too close. Too exposed. Every movement is a risk. Every breath, a beat away from being cornered. It’s not just the physicality of it—it’s what it forces out of you. Anger. Instinct. Too close. Too loud. Too... visceral. You liked knowing where your limbs were. You liked boundaries and clear lines and space to breathe.

But Sylus was unpredictable. Impossible to read. A storm of velvet and barbed wire. And once, just once, you’d heard him say: “Boring things don’t interest me.”

He hadn’t said it to you. But it stuck. And it doesn’t take much for the mind to twist things.

Boring people don’t interest him, either.

And the thought had stuck in your ribs ever since — echoing in your bones every time he teased you, called you “kitten” or “sweetie” like it was second nature. You didn’t want to be boring to him. You didn’t want him to lose interest. So you said yes.

Of course you said yes.

He tossed a pair of gloves toward you — you caught them, barely.

“You’ll need help with the wraps,” he said, walking over before you could protest.

He took your hands gently, like you were a glass weapon. Thumb brushing your palm. The silk of his touch was deceptive — soft, delicate — but you could feel the power beneath it. Coiled control. Calculated intimacy. Like he knew exactly what strings he was tugging.

“You nervous?” he murmured without looking up.

“No,” you lied. “Why would I be? This is just practice... right?”

You step into the ring.

He doesn’t rush you. Just watches.

You’ve seen him like this before—when he’s stalking someone through a deal, or when he’s circling the truth in a conversation. It’s not hunger. It’s focus. He’s studying you, already inside your head.

“I thought we’d start with light sparring,” he says. “No pressure. Just a dance.”

You force your lips into a smile, ignoring the cold sweat trickling down your spine. “Just don’t break my nose.”

“I’d never mar you, sweetie...” His eyes crinkle, playful. “Unless you ask me nicely.” He was joking, of course. Sylus never hurt you despite his reputation.

He moves first. Not striking. Just circling.

Testing.

You follow. Clumsy. Too stiff.

“Relax,” he says, not unkindly. “This isn’t a war. Not yet.”

You take a breath.

Try again.

The first time he taps your shoulder with a jab, you flinch. He sees it. Of course he does. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching your reactions more than your form.

“Something wrong, sweetie?”

“No.” You lie so fast it burns your throat.

He jabs again—light, teasing. You respond with a wild swing. Miss entirely. He tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Getting bold, aren’t we?”

Your chest tightens. You can’t read him. You don’t know if he’s impressed or amused or—

Disappointed.

That’s the word that hurts most.

You move too hard next time. Overcorrect. You nearly trip over your own foot as your glove grazes his chest and he catches you—arms snapping around your waist, steadying you like it’s nothing.

Your face is close to his. Too close. His breath is warm against your cheek. He smells like clean sweat and spiced cologne. He doesn’t let go right away.

You look up, startled.

He’s staring at you again. But something’s different.

Less amusement. More... calculation.

And then, softness.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asks. Quiet. Not a whisper, but close.

You blink. “I’m not.”

His brow arches.

You try again. “I just... I’m not good at this.”

“I noticed.”

You flinch.

But his voice is gentle now. Not mocking. Not amused. Just... honest.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t explain the heat rising in your chest. The way your gloves suddenly felt too heavy. The sweat gathering at your lower back. The eyes on you — his eyes — making it impossible to breathe.

It wasn’t the fight. It was the nearness. The intimacy of it. The way his presence filled the ring like smoke, clinging to your skin and thoughts alike.

You stepped back, then again. The ropes pressed against your spine.

His gaze followed you — not taunting. Not cruel. Just watchful.

“You don’t like this....” he said quietly.

You stiffened. “It’s fine.”

“No, sweetie.” He took a step forward. “You’re not fine.”

You looked down, fingers curling into the gloves. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Silence stretched.

“I heard you say once,” you added, voice quieter now, “that boring things don’t interest you. I just… I didn’t want to be that.”

There’s a pause. A shift.

Then, a laugh.

“Is that what this is about?”

You don’t answer.

His hand rises, gloved, brushing lightly beneath your chin until you meet his gaze.

“Oh, sweetie...” he sighs, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever heard from him. “You think I invited you here to impress me?”

You nod. Barely.

He exhales, the sound tinged with remorse.

“I invited you here because I like watching you try,” he says, lips curving into a gentle smile. “You could throw cotton balls at me, and I’d still find it riveting.”

You blink fast.

He leans in, voice barely audible. “If I wanted perfect form, I’d spar with one of my... business associates. If I wanted dull, I’d drink alone. But you... you make things interesting just by showing up.”

You feel the tears prick your lashes before you can stop them.

His hand—still gloved—cups your cheek gently. The rough texture of the leather is at odds with the tenderness in his touch.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, sweetie,” he murmurs. “Just be here. That’s enough.”

You nod. It’s all you can manage.

“Besides,” he adds, voice lighter now, “your form is atrocious. But your pout is lethal.”

You laugh—shaky, but real. He grins, triumphant.

“There she is..." he whispers.

You don’t spar again that night. Instead, you both sit in the ring, backs against the ropes, gloves off, drinks in hand brought up by someone who clearly knows better than to ask questions. Sylus lounges beside you, knee brushing yours, casual in a way that still buzzes under your skin.

He talks, and he listens, and he teases, and he lets you unravel yourself in pieces—not all at once, but enough to make you feel seen. Safe.

And when you leave, hours later, he walks you to the door and leans against the frame, arms crossed, lips curved.

“Next time,” he says, “we’ll do something that scares me.”

You raise a brow. “Does anything scare you?”

“Just one thing,” he replies, eyes holding yours.

You want to ask what.

“But that’s a discussion for another time.” He taps your forehead, leading you to his car. his hand, extended, waited for yours without force, without pressure.

Just... waiting.

And when you placed yours in his, he didn’t let go.

CALEB

You could hear his grin through the message.

Got us two VIP passes to the Amusement Park’s Firelight Festival tonight. :p Rides, food, fireworks… and a parade with glowing dragons, just like the old stories you love. ;)

And then, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it wasn’t making your stomach twist in a dozen knots .

 Come ready to fly,.

You smiled when you read it.

You really did. He remembered that you liked parades and fireworks. You’d told him when you hung out with him once.

And then immediately set your phone down and groaned into your pillow.

Rides. He said rides.

He didn’t know. You never told him. It was embarrassing. Heights just... did something to you. The tilt of the world. The way it all dropped away beneath you like gravity forgot how to love you. That sick feeling in your stomach, the one that clung like static even hours after you were back on solid ground.

You liked fireworks. Parades. Candy stalls and fuzzy prizes you’d never win.

But coasters? Loops? Platforms you could see through?

Nope.

And yet, here you were — standing at the entrance of the park’s glowing gates. breath caught somewhere between your throat and your heart, watching him wave at you from across the crowd.

Caleb was all light. All warmth. That stupidly charming smile that could’ve powered the whole island. He was in his casual clothes – Sleeveless white shirt, baggy jeans and shades and his dark hair was a little tousled like he’d run here.

“Hey!” he beamed, trotting toward you. “Look at you. You showed up. Thought I’d have to fly over and drag you in myself.”

You laughed — or tried to. “Would’ve been easier if you had.”

“Oh? You saying you wanted me to sweep you off your feet?” He winked, already walking backward toward the gates, tugging you by the wrist. “Next time just say the word and I will come pick you up from your doorstep.”

He had the same boyish grin as always. Same lopsided energy. But beneath the laughter, there was something tight about him. Focused. Like he was trying to be carefree — like he was carrying something heavier than he let on.

You squeezed his hand. He looked at you, surprised. Then softened.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you lied. “You?”

“Always,” he said, but didn’t let go. “And even more so now that you are here.”

The park was a living constellation. Lights danced in every direction — strung along towers, wrapped around trees, woven into the very air like stardust. People bustled by with caramel popcorn and glowing necklaces. Children squealed. Music floated from every corner.

And high above it all, looming like metal beasts with neon eyes, were the rides.

You avoided looking at them.

Caleb was thrilled. He practically vibrated next to you, pointing out different ones, telling stories, dropping trivia. “That one,” he said, eyes sparkling as he pointed at a monstrous looped coaster. “It was inspired by the early zero-G training modules for astronauts. Goes up to 3Gs on the final drop. Wanna try it?”

You smiled too fast. Too wide. “Sure.”

With VIP passes, the wait time was almost non-existent.

You stared up at the metal track. It twisted into the clouds, lights flashing like a heartbeat. Every scream that echoed down from the peak made your stomach twist tighter. You tried to breathe.

Caleb was rambling about pilot protocols and how G-force affected vision, and you were nodding, smiling, trying to look normal.

But the closer you got, the worse it felt.

Your hands shook when you buckled in.

Caleb noticed. “You cold?”

You shook your head too fast. “I’m fine.”

The harness clicked into place. The floor dropped out from beneath your feet.

And then — the ascent.

The world shrank beneath you. Each click of the coaster’s gears echoed like a countdown.

You felt him look at you.

“…Hey?”

You didn’t respond.

You couldn’t.

Your hands were white-knuckled fists. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Breathing shallow. Chest tight.

“…Hey.”

His voice was gentler now.

“Hey. Look at me.”

You did.

He was watching you. Really watching you — not with teasing, not with that easy charm. With concern. With care.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked softly, the lightest tremble in his voice.

“I didn’t want to ruin this evening…” you whispered, ashamed.

The ride lurched — nearly at the peak now. A second more and it would drop.

The wind screamed as the peak crested.

He reached over — twisted in his seat, even with the restraints — and grabbed your hand with his left. “Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”

It was warm. Heavy.

But steady.

“Hold on to me,” he said, voice low. “Don’t look down. Don’t think about anything else. Just me.”

And then — the fall.

You screamed.

Not just out of fear but because it was everything all at once. The terror. The relief. The way Caleb held your hand the entire time, grounding you when the sky fell away.

When the ride slowed, your breathing did too.

You didn’t let go.

He didn’t ask you to.

Later, you sat on the grass, away from the lights, a bag of half-eaten cotton candy between you. The fireworks were a long way from happening and there was time to kill.

Caleb leaned back on one hand, the other tucked around your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“For what?”

“We’ve been here for a while now because I did something stupid. I ruined the evening for you... You were so excited.”

“I didn’t bring you up here to make you uncomfortable.” he said finally. Soft. Almost guilty.

You winced. “You didn’t. I just…”

“You hate heights.”

He gave a sheepish little smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You think I dragged you out here for the rollercoasters?”

You glanced at him.

“I did it for the fireworks. For the stupid nebula cotton candy. For the look on your face when the parade started. For you. Not the rides.”

You looked down. “I just didn’t want to seem—”

“I don’t need you to be fearless,” he said. “I just need you to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You swallowed hard.

He tugged you in closer. “I’m serious. If you’re scared, if you’re upset, if you hate rollercoasters — I want to know. I want to know you. Not some version of you that’s trying to be what you think I want.”

You looked up at him, eyes stinging a little.

“I do like the parade though,” you whispered.

He smiled , soft and golden, all heart. “Good. Because I booked the best spot for it.”

You tilted your head. “How?”

“I’m a Colonel in the Farspace Fleet,” he said with a wink. “Perks of the uniform.”

You laughed. The sound felt free now.

He watched you with a look you couldn’t name. Something warm. Something more.

Then he said, softly, “Thanks for trusting me.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for holding my hand.”

He skipped the thrill rides without hesitation, instead loading your arms with candy and glowsticks and ridiculous souvenirs. You sat together on a private bench as the parade passed by, a blur of shimmering lights and music. When the fireworks finally exploded overhead in bursts of gold and violet, he leaned just a bit closer.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent beneath the sky’s celebration. “Even if the rides were a bust.”

“I’d go anywhere with you, Caleb,” you said.

And this time, it wasn’t a lie.

ZAYNE

You stand in front of the mirror, tilting your head as you assess your outfit for the third time. Casual. Put-together—but not trying too hard. The denim jacket is a little snug across your shoulders, the black tee just low-cut enough to count as flirty if Zayne noticed such things. He always seems so calm, so unfazed. And yet, every time he looks at you, your stomach flips like a coin midair.

You check your phone. Zayne.

I’ll pick you up in ten. Wear something comfortable.

Comfortable? That’s rich, considering what he’s roped you into.

Pool.

You had smiled like it was nothing when he’d brought it up over coffee earlier this week, his fingers casually tapping the rim of his mug, eyes steady on yours. “There’s this place I used to go to when I first joined Akso. It’s quiet. Good for unwinding. Would you want to join me? I can teach if you’d like.”

And you, ever the glutton for punishment, had said yes.

You’ve never played pool in your life. Something about the geometry, the angles, the calculated strength of the strike… none of it sounded appealing to you. Your hand-eye coordination is barely enough for catching projectiles thrown at you. But it’s Zayne. Calm, composed, frustratingly attractive Zayne. And he invited you. That has to mean something.

The pool hall is tucked between a laundromat and a late-night ramen bar. A few patrons linger at other tables, but Zayne seems to know the owner, and within minutes, he’s leading you to a far table in the corner, away from the noise.

He’s already in his element, chalking his cue. “We’ll start with the basics,” he says, offering you a stick. “Grip. Posture. Precision. Pool’s all about intention.”

You take the cue stick and try to mirror him. You can already feel the weight of the evening pressing at the back of your neck like an invisible hand.

The first round is a disaster.

Your fingers curled around the smooth wood, already clammy. You lined up awkwardly, bent forward, and—

Crack.

The cue ball wobbled. It barely tapped the triangle of colored balls, scattering them half-heartedly.

"Solid attempt," Zayne said, not unkindly, but with a teasing tilt to his voice. “You aimed with your heart, not your eyes.”

You told yourself to relax. He didn’t expect you to be great. He wasn’t like that.

Was he?

Zayne moved with confidence, sinking two shots in a row. His posture was perfect, movements fluid. When he lined up his next shot, he looked back at you briefly, one brow raised as if to say, You watching? You nodded, smiled. Pretended to be fascinated by the game instead of calculating how many more turns you’d have to humiliate yourself.

Your second shot went worse than the first. Your hand slipped on the bridge, the ball skidded, and you felt your cheeks heat. Zayne came up behind you then, gently placing his hand on your arm to guide your posture.

“Here,” he murmured, breath warm near your ear. “Relax your grip.”

Your fingers froze.

He was so close. His hand so steady. Yours... not.

You nodded. Said nothing. Tried again. Failed again.

The next few rounds were even worse. You miss the cue ball entirely once. Twice. Then you scratch it. You try to laugh, but it comes out thin. Zayne doesn’t scold you, he’s not cruel, but he’s precise, his words clipped with surgical clarity.

You nod. Try again. Fail. Again.

“Your wrist’s too loose.”

“You’re leaning too far. Keep your core stable.”

“Don’t look at the cue, look through the shot.”

With each miss, your shoulders tighten. Your knuckles go white around the stick. You feel the blood drain from your face as a couple nearby chuckles softly. You know it’s not about you, but your skin crawls with embarrassment anyway. You didn’t like people watching you mess up.

Zayne watches, silent for a few beats. Then he speaks, voice lower this time. “You’re holding your breath.”

You hadn’t realized you were.

He places his cue stick down gently and walks toward you, his steps soundless on the hardwood floor. He stops just within reach, but doesn’t touch you.

“You’re not enjoying this.” he says softly.

You froze mid-bend.

“I—” you began, but he raised a hand.

“Don’t lie.”

You straightened slowly, cue stick still in hand. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you admitted, voice barely above the background hum of the jukebox. “You’re so good at this. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

The silence between you was soft, not sharp.

“I invited you here because I like spending time with you,” he said. “Not because I needed a pool partner.”

You blinked at him, uncertain.

He continued, voice lower now. “I can be... singularly focused. Too much, sometimes. But I don’t want you pretending to be okay with something just because I picked it.”

Your grip on the cue loosened. “I didn’t want to ruin the evening.”

He tilted his head. “It would ruin it more if you spent it uncomfortable.”

You want to deny it. Laugh it off. But your throat is tight, and your heart feels like it’s pressed against a wall.

“I just—” You force a shrug. “I wanted to spend time with you. That’s all.”

Zayne studies your face. “So you dragged yourself into something you hate just to do that?”

“I don’t hate it,” you mutter. “I just... don’t belong here. Pool isn’t exactly my thing.”

His expression shifts, not amusement, not disappointment. Just something softer. Quieter. The kind of look someone gives when they see through you instead of at you.

“I noticed,” he murmurs. “Your shoulders were locked. You didn’t blink once in thirty seconds.”

You try to smile. “So much for subtlety.”

Zayne chuckles. It’s a quiet sound, rare, but warm. “I’m a doctor,” he says. “Reading body language is half the job.”

There’s a pause. Then he leans forward—not close enough to touch, but close enough that you can smell the faint trace of cologne on his shirt. He lowers his voice. “Next time you want to spend time with me... just say it. You don’t have to contort yourself into something you're not. It wouldn’t feel right if you were uncomfortable the whole time.”

You blink, stunned into silence.

“I don’t want your time if it costs you your ease,” he adds. “That’s not the kind of presence I want to be in your life.”

Your chest aches, not with shame, but something closer to relief. The kind that comes when someone lifts the weight off your shoulders before you even realize how heavy it’s been.

He straightens up and gently takes the cue stick from your hands.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s ditch this and go to that ramen place next door. You can make fun of my spice tolerance there. Does that sound good to you?”

You grin, heart hammering, the tension finally cracking like ice. “Only if you let me steal your gyoza.”

“Negotiable,” he says, brushing past you with the ghost of a smile. “Come. The night is far from over. You don’t have to change who you are around me,” he said, tone calm but sincere. “I’d rather have the truth.”

Your heart thudded, unsteady but warm.

You nodded. “Next time... you’ll be the one out of your element.”

He smirked. “I look forward to it.”

And he meant it.

XAVIER

The elevator hums quietly as you check your reflection for the fifth time.

Comfortable. Cute. Relaxed. That was the goal.

You’d chosen your favorite knit sweater — the one just baggy enough to hang off one shoulder — and paired it with soft leggings, fuzzy socks, and a warm-toned scrunchie pulling your hair back in a loose twist. A look that said, “I didn’t try that hard,” while clearly being planned down to the scent of the vanilla lip balm on your mouth.

Because this wasn’t just dinner.

It was dinner at Xavier’s apartment.

You cradle the two grocery bags in your arms a little tighter, filled with neatly packed slices of marbled beef, a few delicate cuts of lamb, some fresh shitake, enoki, and bok choy, plus the greens. There’s also a small six-pack of fruit-flavored soda you thought he might like — and two mochi ice cream desserts in your bag's chill pouch.

You’d been excited all day.

Xavier’s apartment was what you expected: neat, quiet, lightly decorated in soft colors and odd trinkets he didn’t think twice about but made your eyes linger.

In the center of the living space, a low table had been arranged with two cushions on either side and a full hot pot setup. The induction stove was small but new, clean and white, already buzzing  gently beneath a divided metal pot. Steam curled lazily into the air.

He padded barefoot across the room, sleeves rolled, hair loose and a little ruffled from sleep, and took the bags from your arms wordlessly. When you tried to insist you could help, he simply said, “Sit. You’re the guest.”

And so you sat.

And then he poured the broth packets in. The setup was clean and minimalist, just like him — a pale wood table, small ceramic sauce dishes, dipping bowl sets, and a yin-yang shaped hot pot cooker with two separate sides of broth.

Except this time… both sides were red.

Not a gentle tomato-based red.

Not one side miso, not mushroom.

The liquid turned dark crimson almost instantly.

You blinked.

“Hot Mala. It’s… strong,” he said. He stirred with a lazy rhythm, the aroma already clawing at the back of your throat.

You swallowed hard. Bright crimson oil glistened on the surface, flecked with floating peppercorns and crushed chili. You felt your soul begin to sweat.

“...Both sides?” you asked, feigning a casual glance.

“Spicy’s better,” Xavier said, crouching at the table. “I only bought the twin-pot style because the seller said it was popular.”

Your tongue already tingled at the idea of the red broth. You weren’t just bad with spice — you were barely functioning around a mildly spicy samosa. Anything more, and your eyes would water and your face would burn like a reactor core meltdown.

But you looked at him — quiet, warm, fond in that unreadable way of his as he placed dipping bowls beside the stove.

And you smiled.  You did what you always did with people who mattered more to you than your own comfort.

Because the thought that you might ruin this calm, carefully arranged evening over something like spice tolerance made your chest tighten.

“It looks perfect,” you said.

He sat across from you, cross-legged and relaxed in dark joggers and a white hoodie, a bold choice for hot pot, especially with the red broth.

He leaned over the table with all the grace of a sleepy cat, selecting slices of meat and guiding them into the red broth with long chopsticks.

“You brought good cuts,” he noted, nodding. “I trust your judgment.”

And then, a pause — his eyes narrowed a little at the pile of greens beside him.

“Except… this.”

You laughed softly. “It’s not that bad.”

He gave the vegetables a look that could only be described as betrayal. “It smells like sadness.”

You tried not to laugh. But your heart twisted. Not because of his words.

Because while he bantered the smell of chili oil and peppercorn was already beginning to sting your throat. You reached for your dipping bowl, adding soy sauce, onions, minced garling, lime and sesame paste with trembling fingers, trying to busy yourself.

And when he dropped your favorite mushroom into the red broth, you didn’t protest.

You only smiled.

The first bite singed.

You chewed slowly, nodding like it was fine, like your tongue wasn’t slowly blistering from the inside out. You chased it with soda. Swallowed a second piece — lamb this time — and made a soft sound that you hoped passed for enjoyment but probably sounded more like someone dying of quiet regret.

You blinked the tears back.

He watched you.

You looked down at your bowl.

“Too spicy,” he said, softly.

Your fingers tightened on the chopsticks. “No. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

You flinched, barely. He was still neutral in tone — not accusatory. Just… certain. Like a man who already knew the sky was blue and didn’t need convincing.

“I didn’t want to ruin it,” you said quietly. “You were excited.”

“I’m always excited to see you,” he said, without a hint of irony. “But I’m not excited to watch you suffer.”

That stilled you.

“I thought you didn’t notice.”

“I notice everything about you.” His chopsticks stilled above the pot. “I just don’t always know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

You laughed despite yourself, hand gripping your drink as you coughed lightly. “Okay. I admit it. I’m bad with spice. But I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Why?”

You hesitated. “Because I… uh… You invited me. I didn’t want to be difficult.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You’d rather be in pain than tell me the truth?”

You winced. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It is,” he said gently. Then added, “But I’ve done worse.”

Then he shifted.

With a flick of his wrist, he transferred the vegetables — yes, even the sad greens — and a generous portion of meat into a plate. He grabbed the serving ladle and began to scoop the broth from one section of the pot into a bowls.

“I have a mild instant soup base in the kitchen, it's delicious too.” he said, standing up. “Give me five minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You blinked again, but this time not from spice.

“Why?”

“Because you’re here,” he said simply, walking to the kitchen. “And I like that you’re here.”

Your throat tightened.

The new broth was clear, soft, comforting. The moment he brought it out, you wanted to cry.

Not just from the relief of no longer melting from the inside out.

But because someone had noticed.

Listened.

And changed something just for you.

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly as you ate. “Really.”

“I know.”

And then, as if to demonstrate further solidarity, he reached into the spicy broth, pulled out a bok choy… and stared at it like it was his mortal enemy. Then, with slow determination, he bit into it.

His whole face remained unchanged.

But you saw the twitch.

“…Was it worth it?” you asked.

“No,” he said, deadpan. “But now we’re even.”

Later, when you left, he walked you to the door barefoot, holding the empty mochi container like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Next time,” he said, after a pause, “you pick the broth.”

“Next time?”

He blinked. “If you want.”

You looked up at him.

He stood in the doorway — hoodie sleeves half-pushed, hair still tousled, the faint scent of chili oil clinging to him like a memory. His expression was unreadable again. But the warmth behind it? That wasn’t hard to see at all.

“I’d like that,” you said.

And you were already planning it.

RAFAYEL

You shouldn’t have said yes.

That thought rings in your head as the last rays of evening sunlight melt into amber, stretching across the mirror-glass surface of the lake. Everything is quiet — too quiet — save for the light chirp of insects and the steady ripple of water as Rafayel swims deeper, his silhouette cutting sleek lines through the reflection of the sky.

He’s graceful.

Unfairly so.

Water clings to his skin like it belongs there, catching on his lashes, beading along his shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle down his back and arms as he moves. And you, standing at the shallow edge in your swimsuit, arms folded like a makeshift barrier, feel like a tangled bundle of nerves held together by one wrong decision.

Not the lack of footing. Not the invisible things beneath the surface. Not the way your limbs felt disconnected and sluggish, or how you could never quite get the rhythm of your strokes right without swallowing water or tipping awkwardly sideways like an overfilled tote bag.

You could swim. Technically.

You just… didn’t like it.

It was clumsy. You were clumsy. You’d passed the mandatory swimming exam at school, survived a few hotel pools on holidays ut lakes? Open water? With things brushing against your legs, invisible weeds tangling near your feet, the ground disappearing beneath you with nothing to hold?

It made your skin crawl.

But the way Rafayel’s eyes lit up when he talked about it… You didn’t want to ruin that.

So you came.

You still remember yesterday evening when Rafayel had flashed that impish grin and tossed you with “Wear something cute. I’m kidnapping you for a swimming adventure. No complaints,” — you’d said yes.

Because he was Raf.

And part of you always said yes to him. Hoping, stupidly, that it  might be something worth remembering.

Maybe he’d laugh. Maybe he’d tease. Maybe he’d say something flippant and walk away…

Or maybe — just maybe — he’d notice you like you notice him.

“You’re not gonna melt, cutie,” he calls from a few meters out, resting easily on the surface of the water. He floats with infuriating elegance, his arms outstretched and his purple hair haloed around his head. “Or are you actually made of sugar?”

You snort softly, hugging yourself tighter. “I just… don’t want to ruin the peace. It’s nice just watching.”

“You mean it’s nice watching me.” He grins. “Go ahead. Get your fill. I don’t blame you…”

Your lips twitch despite yourself.

And that was Rafayel in a sentence — smug, sharp-tongued, beautiful enough to get away with it. But underneath the teasing, you knew his invitation wasn’t just about swimming.

He wanted to share something.

And you wanted to be part of that world , his world , even if it made your stomach twist.

So you step in.

Slowly. The water’s cool against your skin, not cold, but shocking in contrast to the warm evening air. You move step by careful step, feeling the soft sand shift beneath your toes, the occasional ripple brushing your calf like phantom fingers.

It’s fine.

You can do this.

You make it chest-deep before you hear his voice again.

“Come closer.”

He’s farther now, maybe eight or nine meters out, treading water with that casual, effortless grace.

You hesitate.

He notices.

There’s a pause — one of those strange suspended silences that exist only between people who know each other too well and not well enough at the same time.

Then you smile. Not because you feel okay, but because you want him to feel okay.

And you swim.

Clumsily. Arms too wide, breath too shallow. You keep your chin above water, trying not to panic, trying not to think about the darkness beneath your feet or the silt that clouds around your knees when you kick.

But then — something brushes you.

A slip of lake weed? A fish? A strand of hair?

It doesn’t matter.

Terror shoots up your spine like ice.

You gasp sharply, flail, and instinct kicks in — wild, desperate kicks, arms slapping water, trying to go anywhere but where you are. You can’t feel the bottom anymore. You can’t find a rhythm. Panic closes your throat like a fist—

And then he’s there.

Strong hands caught you.

You didn’t even realize he’d come until his arms wrapped around your waist, one hand steady at your back, the other curling under your thigh to anchor you as you trembled.

“Hey. Hey,” Rafayel’s voice was lower now. All the teasing had dropped out. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

You tried to speak, but your throat burned. Your hands clutched at his shoulders instead, nails digging in. He didn’t flinch.

His face is close. Closer than it’s ever been. Water drips from his lashes, and for once, there’s no smirk, no teasing spark. Just something… protective. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Breathe. You’re fine.”

And somehow, you do.

He holds you for a moment longer. You feel the strength in him, the calm. The quiet assurance that, at least in this moment, nothing would dare happen to you.

And then you’re moving.

Back toward the shore.

He doesn’t drag. He glides, guiding you like something precious — like you’re worth holding onto.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, “You should’ve told me you didn’t want to swim.”

“I didn’t… I thought I could handle it,” you croaked out, cheeks burning with shame. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Idiot, guppy” he muttered, but there was no venom in it. “You think I brought you here to watch you suffer?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The humiliation was sharp and bitter in your chest, mixing with the leftover panic.

He walked the last few steps, carrying you until the water kissed only your calves. When he set you down, your legs wobbled.

“You could’ve drowned,” he said quietly. “And then what would I do? Swim around this stupid lake yelling at your ghost?” He knew he wouldn’t have let that happen. So did you. But he was making a fair point.

That startled a laugh out of you, hoarse and awkward, but it made him smile.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to say no to you.”

He looked at you, for a long moment. Eyes clearer than usual. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he said. “If you want to spend time with me, just say so. You don’t have to drown for it, cutie.”

You blinked. Then frowned. “So what, you’re not gonna make fun of me?”

“Oh no,” he smirked, the old glint back in his eye. “I am absolutely making fun of you. But—” He reached for your towel, flicking it playfully over your head, “…only after I make sure you're not cold, scared, or crying.”

He plopped down beside you on the ground, towel around his shoulders, hair dripping. The lake shimmered behind him, but he didn’t spare it another glance.

He looked only at you. “You’re an idiot,” he says, voice bright with performative scorn. “A pretty, sweet, stubborn idiot.”

You blink.

He reaches out and dries your wet hair with surprisingly gentle fingers using the towel.  Then, with a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, he says, “Next time, you sit on the shore, look pretty, and cheer for me. Deal?”

You open your mouth to protest.

“And,” he adds, lifting a finger, “You’ll bring snacks. Preferably something cold. I’ll get out, pretend to suffer from exertion, and you’ll feed me with loving devotion while telling me how brave I am.”

You laugh. This time, genuinely.

“…Deal.”

He bumped your shoulder with his, light and easy. “That’s my good little guppy.”

And somehow, as the light faded and the stars blinked into view above the treetops — you didn’t feel so out of your depth anymore.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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[dcxdpdabbles]

Ok, I need you to elaborate more about The Menace! Danny's Hero Persona cause I can understand if he's too nice (almost like Nightwing but more doting than funny) or if he's the "normal" one (he comes, beats you but hey! He isn't as violent like the rest so he's the best option)

I'm picturing him in his hero persona petting strays and openly talking about mental health

He's the kind of hero who stays behind after the fights, passing around assistance forms for insurance claims. He makes sure to get the information on the damaged properties so that he can later reimburse or fix them himself.

People took notice, and wherever there is a big fight, it's relatively common to see online postings of "Hey anyone that can help, Phantom is at Adress XXX trying to put in a roof! Gardeners too, for the lawns damage by car. I'll bring my grill and some stakes!" and people just....show up to help??? Turn it into a blog party???

Help each other??? Remember the good times.

Phantom always beams at them, which is just as rewarding. He also helps with several fundraisers. Like he'll stop his patrol to buy Girl Scout cookies, go to school bake sales, get involved in cleaning up parks, visit people in hospitals, and find warm shelter for anyone he comes across.

Phantom also never posts things himself. It's always one of his fans because he thinks that good things should be done without aiming for fame.

No one really knows when or where Phantom will pop up. After being Batman's star, since he glows and is a ray of hope, Phantom slowly developed his own time and rhythm, appeasing both Day and Night crimes.

He still beats the criminals up and cracks jokes as he does it. It's not like Flash, who can de-escalate situations, but more of mutual respect. He also teaches free self-defense classes and walks anyone who's scared at night home (Sometimes people try to trap him for this, but most of the time he has escorted young women and men home).

Phantom has also placed emergency buttons around the city, after clearing it with the mayor. People push them to let each other know that something is wrong, and to send an SOS to Phantom. He will pop in to check on you, even if it's just a street kid asking for homework help.

He's literally an angel without wings......and then there's Danny Fenton-Wayne, who's setting shit on fire while throwing in home-made dolls of his classmates and pointing at people to growl "The spirits want you".

[a-very-tired-jew]

Something that has been rattling around in my brain since Oct 7th and the responses afterwards (and, let's be honest, I've been mulling over cause of work foe years due to true crime girlies) is that I don't think the majority of the public understands how criminal and terrorist outfits actually function.

It comes across as if the majority of people just imagine some hypothetical caricature of a person sitting in their lair doing "evil villain" fingers and going "Oh, I'm going to be so naughty today and do so much terror and crime" when that's not the case.

These are sophisticated organizations that have existed for decades with their own infrastructures and support staff. These outfits have personnel that run the gambit from IT to soldiers to doctors to management to press and so on. Every single one of them can, at one point or another, become a soldier and fight, but none of them are one trick ponies.

No organization survives and thrives being made up of one type of thing. It takes a complex supportive infrastructure made of multiple roles to keep anything going. We see this with everything from businesses to charity orgs to militaries.

It just so happens that organized crime and terrorist groups work in the same manner, they just also happen to do, you know, violent criminal/terrorist activities.

Myself and my colleagues all have stories about cases involving criminal outfits where the defense was something along the lines of "I was just an IT guy!" or other "benign" sounding position. But the reality is that the IT guy is still part of the outfit, knows what is going on, has a specific role to benefit it, and can and will pick up a weapon and commit a violent act just like any other member if instructed to or in the opportune moment.

The inability of the anti-Israel activists to engage in this thought and rely upon the "but they were a doctor!" or "but they were press!" as if it's some sort of holy symbol that defends against the reality that the individual in question was part of or associated with the outfit either tells us they don't understand this concept or refuse to because it would undermine their position.

[self-shipping-doll13]

💜 Dark/Villain/Criminal Self-Ship Asks

For those with evil, morally questionable f/o’s anyone with darker self-ships. Warning for suggestion of occasionally toxic dynamics.

🖤 - What is a twisted, secret act of love you and your F/O share that only the two of you would understand?

🩸 - Has your F/O ever marked you in a way that felt like a bond, even if others might see it as dangerous or unhinged?

🔪 - Has your F/O ever protected you in a way that was violent or ruthless, but it made you feel deeply cherished? Do they kill or intimidate others for you?

🕷️ - Does your F/O bug your clothing, house or vehicle? Would they ensure you’re well monitored? Do they do it out of protection or obsession?

🕸️ - Does your F/O trap you in their world, or do you willingly crawl into their web?

🥀 - Has your F/O ever “tested” your loyalty in a way that felt dangerous or thrilling? How did you prove yourself to them?

🎭 - Does your F/O hide their true self from others? How does it feel knowing the side of them no one else does?

🌙 - What’s the darkest secret you and your F/O share that bonds you, even if it would horrify anyone else? How did they confess this secret?

👻 - Does your F/O enjoy toying with your fear, knowing it brings you closer to them?

🪓 - Does your F/O ever fear losing control around you? How do you reassure them? Or do you like the chaos?

🦂 - Has your F/O ever lied to you for your own safety or to manipulate your feelings, and how did it change your relationship?

⛓️ - If your F/O could keep you by their side forever through unconventional means, (being immortal via soul pact, vampirism, science) would you let them?

💣 - Would your F/O ever involve you in their criminal or villainous schemes, willingly or not? How would it bond you? Would it be fun or sickening? Other?

🗡️ - Is there a dark or forbidden fantasy your F/O has indulged for you? How did they react to you telling them about it?

🧲 - Has your F/O ever manipulated a situation to keep you close? How do you feel knowing they did it?

🔗 - Does your F/O see you as their weakness, their strength, or both? How does that shape your connection?

🎁 - Has your F/O ever gifted you something darkly romantic, like a token from their crimes or a memento from a fallen enemy?

🕯️- Has your F/O ever orchestrated a chillingly intimate moment, a declaration of love in a tense setting, like an illicit deal or crime scene?

🔥 - Does your F/O have any dangerous habits they’ve pulled you into, and how does it make you feel?

📜 - Does your F/O have a code or rule they live by? How does it affect the way they treat you? Do they have any rules for you in particular?

⛏️ - Has your F/O ever trusted you with their signature weapon, or even asked you to use it?

⚰️ - If your F/O had to fake your death, kidnap you or move you to another country to keep you safe, how do you think they’d go about it?

🪦 - Would you help your F/O cover up a crime, no questions asked? How far would you go to protect them?

💀 - What’s the most cryptic or ominous thing your F/O has ever said to you that you still can’t forget?

💍 - Does your F/O treat you like a partner, a prize, or something else entirely? How do you feel about it?

💋 - Does your F/O enjoy teasing you about their darker side, as if daring you to love them despite it? How do you respond?

💎 - Does your F/O ever use their charm to manipulate you, even in harmless ways? How do you feel about their slyness?

🔮 - Does your F/O believe you’re destined to be together? What lengths would they go to if fate didn’t agree?

👑 - How does your F/O treat you differently from everyone else, even when they’re at their cruelest?

🫀 - If your F/O could claim ownership of a part of you, physically or emotionally, what would they choose?

🌌 - If your F/O could rewrite the world, what would it look like, and where would you stand in it?

🕳️ - If your F/O lost their current life or position (taken in by authorities, empire crumbled, demoted by higher ups) how would your dynamic change?

🪢 - What’s a moral line you’ve crossed because of your F/O’s influence? Would you do it again?

🌪️ - How is your romance inherently destructive in nature? What kind of people do you end up hurting? Do you hurt yourselves in the process?

😈 - Does your F/O take pleasure in seeing others afraid of you, knowing you're tied to their darkness?

☠️ - If you were forced to kill for your F/O, would you do it willingly, or would they push you to the edge?

🎻 - What is a villainous song for your F/O?

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[greenglowinspooks]

Alright, since it’s no longer 2 in the morning and my head’s a bit clearer, I present to you:

Liminal Riddler

So, not everyone in the DC fandom knows about this, and I’d bet that even less people in the Phandom do, but at one point, the Riddler had cancer. Had, past-tense, because he cured it. With the Lazarus pits.

And yeah, not everyone who gets dipped in the pits has to be liminal, but one would assume that the sudden replacement of a large number of malignant cells throughout the body is gonna do something.

The Riddler already acts quite a lot like a DP ghost in some interpretations anyways. He’s got a strict gimmick that he genuinely can’t part ways with, he’s campy and fun, he’s incredibly violent, etc.

Also, the way that he would react to this whole thing would be funny as hell.

Do I think the Riddler would really care if the GiW was after him? No. This is Gotham, the government is constantly going after him anyways.

Do I think he would care if Danny was being hunted down by the same people, and his parents were involved? Somewhat. He probably wouldn’t care about Danny specifically, at least not right away, but a young boy running terrified from his own parents would definitely bring back some bad memories, and he would probably give him a hand (if for no other reason than to get back to plotting crimes instead of dealing with childhood trauma).

Do I think the Riddler, whose entire thing is being smarter than everyone else, would care if the GiW somehow let slip that they thought he didn’t have human intelligence? That they believed him to be nothing but an echo of human life?

It’s not even a question. He would be the most insufferable person in Gotham within the hour. Genuinely nothing could stop him, especially not if Danny was helping jailbreak him from Arkham every time he got caught.

Almost every major road is closed. Every warehouse on the Docks is on fire. Somehow, they managed to color the clouds and smog a bright green.

The natives of Gotham would probably get those anti-ghost laws and acts overturned faster than the Justice League, if only to make the Riddler stop. His traps and games aren’t even lethal at this point (due to Danny’s insistence), but they’re so genuinely annoying that the general population is about to beat the GiW agents to death themselves just to get the Riddler to quit it already.

Also, I think that during this whirl of chaos, the Riddler would become quite fond of Danny.

He’s a bright young boy who’s very fond of wordplay, and inventive enough to keep up with him. Aside from the inevitable crisis of “oh god I’m becoming the bat,” he’d probably be happy to take on Danny as his protégé. Even if the boy won’t let him kill anyone (rude), he’s a terrifying getaway driver and can turn the both of them invisible and intangible, making Arkham escapes a breeze.

Hell, the Riddler would probably be willing to make a false identity for the two of them, just so he could get the boy proper schooling.

(Yes, he thinks that the entire education system is a sham and that he could do much better, but Danny wants to go into aerospace engineering, and the Riddler isn’t one to squander someone’s interest in learning.)

(Also, Echo and Query would find the whole thing hilarious)

[chikenbrain]

Alright, so Batman’s rule is ‘no killing’ but let’s say that after Jason’s death, he takes that rule to an extreme, and the breaking point is the Joker.

He probably said something like, ‘there are things worse than death,’ right before leaving him in a vegetative state with phantom pain for the rest of his life. Technically, he didn’t cross the line, and while he doesn’t feel good about what he did… he doesn’t feel bad either.

Neither Alfred nor Dick judge him. They don’t even bring it up, probably hoping he’ll pull himself back from the edge or something. But Bruce promises himself it won’t happen again. This was a one-time thing. Just for his son. And it’ll be the last time revenge blinds him.

Even so, he’s way more violent during arrests than usual. Tim Drake steps in, trying to talk Dick into helping him stop Bruce, but Dick… well, he agrees with Bruce, even if he won’t admit it out loud. He’s hurt too.

Tim does everything he can to pull Bruce back from this path, and eventually, he puts on the Robin suit himself. Bruce is not happy. His first instinct when he saw Tim was anger—yelling about ‘everything he doesn’t understand and shouldn’t get involved in’ but the rage didn’t last long. It melted away when he really looked at him—standing there, worried and small, like a little wounded bird.

He was smaller than Dick had been when Bruce took him in, but bigger than Jason. Still, Tim was definitely small… and brave.

‘Robin gives people hope. That’s his role in Gotham’s war on crime.’

Robin brings hope to those who need it, even when the situation is so dark it feels like the light has been swallowed whole. Even when there are people who don’t deserve it. Even when that person is him.

Bruce couldn’t help himself. He hugged Tim, wrapping him in his cape like he’d done with his other Robins. Tim froze—physical contact wasn’t something he was used to. It felt out of place.

The best way to describe it was: uncomfortable. But that feeling didn’t last long. Soon, the warmth started seeping in, and it felt more like being a little kid wrapped in a bear hug.

Neither of them remembers how long Bruce stayed there, hugging the kid, murmuring over and over that it was going to be okay, while attempting to rub his back.

[theoreticallybread]

i genuinely believe that if not for bruce, dick and steph are the ONLY batkids that would have taken up crimefighting.

dick’s entire origin story is filled with rage and despair, he watched his parents fall to their deaths and learned that they had been brutally murdered because of something that wasn’t even their fault! his pure rage fueled his creation of robin. even if bruce hadn’t taken him in, i can tell you that he would have gone after his parents’ killer himself, and probably wouldn’t have stopped trying to rid gotham of crime even as he matured and grew a sense of empathy towards all victims. dick was already the angry robin, it only makes sense that he would have done something even without the cape.

no matter what anyone else says, jason was NOT violent. he loved being robin with all his heart because it gave him magic. it is clear to me that he hated the thought of harming innocent people especially through his time at ma gunn’s place because of his resistance to the thought of being turned into a hurting machine like the other boys. and yet as soon as bruce takes him in, he becomes just that: a child soldier. if bruce had not taken jason in, i think he would have been much happier. he knows that the deaths of his mother and father, while tragic, are not something he needs to avenge, and all he looks for afterwards is food and a roof over his head. he is not a character built on revenge, he is introduced to the concept by bruce when he is trained to defeat evil with his fist rather than his words. jason would have been an amazing teacher if he wasn’t red hood, and he would be able to help people in crime alley just the same, by providing support and a good foundation for them to accomplish things.

tim drake did not want to be robin. the only reason he ever became robin was because he needed to protect everyone who faced the wrath of an angry bruce. he is an observant person and he noticed how much harder bruce was hitting after jason’s death. he knew that bruce needed someone else out there with him to stabilize him and prevent him from doing something he’d regret. tim tried to get dick to fill that role, but when he refused tim took it upon himself instead. he’s responsible like that. tim drake most likely would’ve been a successful businessman if he wasn’t a cape because of his smarts and ability to read people.

steph is the only other robin i believe would have still worn a cape if not for bruce. she found out about her father’s wrongdoings and immediately her sense of justice told her that she needed to stop this from happening. she would be unable to stop herself from trying to protect innocent people with or without bruce, just because of her absolute need to do the right thing.

cassandra and damian are similar in the fact that they were raised as human weapons and weren’t allowed to be their own individual people. i firmly believe that they would have managed to break free of their oppressors even without bruce’s existence for talia to rely on in regards to damian. after so much time spent fighting and being used, i think they would have tried to find an identity outside of this. they probably would’ve have ended up as similar people to the ones they are with bruce in the picture, but i doubt that they would have continued to fight as much outside of absolute necessity because of the bad memories surrounding it. if they did fight, it would be in self defense and for themselves, not in accordance with what someone else wanted them to do.

duke is complicated, because while he does have a great sense of justice and is also a meta, i don’t think he would have continued to pursue the path of a vigilante for very long. i haven’t read a ton of stuff with duke, but i think i can safely say that he would have taken a step back from everything to support himself and take care of his parents after what the joker did to them. he probably would have taken up a career that involved aiding people in a more peaceful way, similar to jason.

anywho thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

[sufrimientilia]

whumpy jail thoughts…

obvious cw

Whumpee in jail for a long stint and playing it cool, everything breezy. like this is exactly where they belong

Whumpee framed for a crime or unjustly imprisoned. Caretaker fighting relentlessly to get them out

Forced confessions that are obviously forced. bruises and hollow features, glazed eyes and mechanical words

Whumpee and Caretaker sitting together in a cubicle, separated by glass, voices cracked and hollow between old hand phones

Whumpee fiddling with the metal cord, nervous or embarrassed or traumatized, so shell-shocked by their situation

Whumpee taken off protective custody when they should definitely be on it

“Are you sure everything is okay?” everything is very obviously not okay

new bruises or injuries every time Caretaker visits

After legal efforts Caretaker finally gets visitation. Whumpee getting wheeled in, so beaten by guards and inmates alike they can’t even stand

Whumpee so mercilessly fucked up they can’t even track the conversation, and the guards hold Whumpee’s head up and act like everything is normal as Caretaker cries and pleads behind the glass

Caretaker advocating in vain to do something about Whumpee’s condition. the guards never care

“Prisoner is in infirmary. No visitation.”

“Prisoner denies visitation.” Caretaker never knows if it’s what Whumpee wants or just what the guards say

Caretaker increasingly desperate to see Whumpee. Coming to visit day after day or yelling at the visitation clerk and finally getting kicked out

Whumpee looking so small and frail, hunched over and handcuffed to a silver metal table

Whumpee nothing like their former self, washed out in bright orange or dull beige colors

Whumpee still so intimidating and dangerous shacked from wrists to ankles. Always flanked by guards with rifles, tension so heavy with the very real paranoia he’ll just snap

bruises and abrasions and flakes of red caked around wrists, purple and jagged and ugly

Whumpee in solitude. Alone day after day, stuck with their own thoughts and forced to sit in silence, talk to the walls, stare at nothing but grey and grey and grey. Hearing voices and arguing with themself and spiraling with every thought they didn’t want to confront

Whumpee pacing back and forth until every inch of the cell is memorized and written into their core

Whumpee stuck with a cellmate so vicious, so abrasive, so overwhelming. Not a single moment to himself without violence or discomfort

Guards who are dirty, crooked, corrupt. turning the cameras every time batons are raised or ignoring the violent rackets in the yard and the screams between prison bars late at night

Inmates who run the place, beating Whumpee to make a point, establishing their place as top dog through force and blood and fear

Prison fights, so dirty and rabid. rusty shivs, getting outnumbered, guards who either take too long or tase and beat everyone into submission

Whumpees who can barely eat, barely sleep. Never given the option or just so damn wired up and on edge all the time with damn good reason

Whumpee is always looking forwards to visitation day. anything is a threat to take it away

Forced to be a snitch. threatened by fellow inmates, threatened by the guards, absolutely no one Whumpee can trust

Conversations with Caretaker are heavily monitored. words always loaded and coded, unable to touch and barely able to talk

Visiting Whumpee in the infirmary. Wrists cuffed to the bed, not enough pain relief, obviously neglected

Whumpee shackled to the bed and no one bothering to feed them, food sitting just out of reach

Caretaker promising to get them out of here. Whumpee knows they can't do anything

Whumpee is forced to adapt, be a part of the system. prison only makes them worse and they become even more violent than before

prison riots that put the place on lockdown. Caretaker denied visitation, not being told if Whumpee was involved or is okay

Whumpee getting addicted to whatever drugs get smuggled in. getting forced into doing them or just desperate for an escape or actual pain relief

Caretaker only being able to witness Whumpee's decline in brief increments days or weeks apart. like snapshot after snapshot of worsening abuse they can do nothing about

Whumpees finally getting out and given the same folded clothes they wore when they first got to this place. none of it fits right anymore

[gatitties]

Hello there! This is simply a brainrot, and I'd like your opinion/thoughts on it if you don't mind! Sort of inspired by the platonic yandere Bonten writing!

Imagine being platonic yandere Sanzu's darling aka best friend, and surprisingly you ended up in Bonten with him as a fellow executive. Sanzu values loyalty, and the fact that you remained good friends with him for THAT long showed that you passed his loyalty test. How can he not adore you? In his eyes you're perfect.

How would you think the dynamic would be like considering that darling is also an executive of Bonten? I honestly can see things going from something simple like you missing your office supplies/ weapon the second you look away to more extreme things like Sanzu abusing those who he sees as getting too close to you behind your back if they're not a Bonten executive.

I can also see the other Bonten members, especially Akashi helping you hide from Sanzu if he's being too overbearing.

Have a nice day/night!

─Platonic!Yandere!BFF Sanzu x reader

─Summary: The paranoia that you will disappear out of nowhere or someone will hurt you eats away at Sanzu's troubled mind.

─Warnings: obsession, toxic behaviors, mention of drugs

I couldn't just give an opinion, I needed to write about this!! So here's some content for you <3

─ Sanzu appreciates few things in life, he has always followed Mikey like a faithful dog, even if that means getting his hands dirty doing the hard work, but besides his boss, you were always there despite everything.

─ You got involved for him more than you originally thought, starting in the teenage stage with the gangs, committing some small crimes almost in adulthood, until becoming one of the executives of Bonten, all because of caring about your best friend.

─ You also appreciate his loyalty to you, he has been one of the only friends who has not abandoned you or put you aside, although you knew that he was not the best company sometimes due to his violent tendencies, you decided to deliberately avoid that subject, you never had an excessive amount of friends, and you gave yourself the whim of, despite being a little scary, keeping Sanzu's long-lasting friendship.

─ Unknown to you, he was much worse than a plain violent person, at least regarding you, he hid his most twisted thoughts so as not to scare you, he didn't need to take drastic measures at the last minute if he revealed to you all the atrocities he had committed for you.

─ Extortion, breaking and entering, kidnapping, murder… he could list them all, none justified for work but for your safety, even though you were an executive of Bonten, in Sanzu's eyes you were still that adorable friend who worries when sees him hurt.

─ He would like you to think of him as you always have, that your treatment of him does not change, therefore, it is better that you do not know what he does behind your back, that you think that he is still the same fool who came to your house crying at night because he had been hit too hard in a gang fight.

─ He knows you well enough to know that you will not like what he does.

─ He'll totally steal you random stuff, like if he has a mission away from you, he'll take that pen you've been using lately so he has something to "connect" you two when you're not around, and who knows, maybe he can use it as a weapon.

─ Even though he tends to steal your clothes because he can't get enough of your scent, he likes to smell like you, it makes him feel at home, of course, he also insists that you wear some of his clothes so that others can relate the smells and not poke their noses into something that's his.

─ He's a cry baby when you're not paired up on some errands, maybe he'll complain to Mikey, but if the boss doesn't want to, he'll let it go on the condition that the next day you have a day just the two of you doing some hobby.

─ The relationship with the other executives is quite neutral in your view, a little closer to Akashi or Kakucho because they are a little friendlier once you take your time to get to know them, you don't see Kokonoi and Mochizuki much, but you maintain a cordial relationship with them, as well as with Mikey, you don't see him much either.

─ On the other hand, the Haitani brothers are another story, Sanzu doesn't seem to like them very much when they are around you, they tend to be too flirtatious, although your best friend doesn't care if you have a romantic relationship, it has to be him and only him who approves whether that person is suitable or not to receive so much affection from you.

─ The Haitani are not on his good list, they are delinquents (a bit hypocritical bro), they run brothels, you deserve better.

─ Sanzu is very open to touch, in fact, whenever he can he is stuck to you like a sticker, like your shadow, he needs to have your body against his to know that you are still there with him and that you will not disappear like smoke.

─ You turn to his brother a lot when Sanzu is going overboard with all that stuff about keeping you in his sight so that nothing bad happens to you, in addition to when he is drugged, you prefer not to see that state of his and you have had many arguments with him because of that, even though he always says that he will get better, Akashi will be your shoulder of comfort in those moments.

─ Everyone knows how obsessed your best friend is with you, but they won't say anything unless you discover something and you are extremely anxious, as long as his obsession doesn't interfere with their work, Sanzu will be able to keep his best friend until death do them part.

[leahkentwriter]

Backstories for girls and women in stories that *don't* involve sexual assault.

I beta read a lot, and am involved in writing communities of various kinds, and I briefly taught English way back in the day, and I consume storytelling media in general - and one of my biggest pet peeves is sexual assault backstories. While I think this is improving, it's still annoying to me that a lot of writers (of all genders, but particularly men) fall back on a sexual assault backstory whenever they need to make a girl or woman in a story complicated or haunted or fucked up in some way.

Unless your story is dealing with the topic of sexual assault in some way, please don't use it as a way to give a character depth or angst.

Here are some prompts, just to get you started with some ideas.

Why would a woman be trying to escape her past? Why would she be seeking a fresh start?

She hated her small town; the people there didn't understand her and she never felt like she fit in - she's queer, she has a weird birthmark, she's got unique interests, she has magical powers, etc.

She's a criminal - she robbed banks or stole cars and she wanted a fresh start

She was an addict and hurt people, and she wants a fresh start now that she's sober

Her parent is a criminal or an addict and she's trying to outrun the stigma of being related to them

She didn't get along with a stepparent and skipped town as soon as she turned 18

She had big dreams of being something else, and left to pursue them

Her childhood home was haunted, but no one believed her

She got married young then divorced, and wants to start over somewhere that no one knows her

Heartbreak of any variety - she's leaving a place that reminds her too much of someone she lost or couldn't have

She wants better; maybe more money, or a career, or simply a higher quality of life

Some other violent tragedy occurred - a school shooting, an explosion at the plant, police brutality, her best friend was killed, etc.

Her hometown no longer exists (climate change, the main factory shut down, it was overrun by rabid squirrels, etc.)

What would make a woman distrustful of others?

Heartbreak; being lied to, cheated on, left for her best friend, etc.

A big betrayal - her former best friend told everyone a secret about her, someone weaponized her trauma or her past or a major flaw she's sensitive about, etc.

She witnessed a traumatizing event as a child

Her mother was a grifter and used her as part of her scams

One parent cheated on the other and broke up the family

Her older brother isn't dead after all, he was disowned for being gay and now she's questioning everything her parents ever told her

She has problems with her memory, and is never quite sure what the truth is

She's bad at reading people and has been taken advantage of

She finds out a dark secret about someone she loves and is having trouble processing it

She gradually comes to see that someone she idealized as a child is not at all what they seem

Someone she thought was a good, kind, and genuine person is arrested for a terrible crime

Spiritual abuse - the worldview she was taught was right turns out to be exploitative, represses women, etc., so she leaves

What would cause a woman to have mental health issues?

Any form of abuse - doesn't have to be sexual

Her parents had really high expectations that she couldn't live up to

It simply runs in the family

Survivor's guilt - she survived something that someone else did not

She was bullied and no one protected her

Her parents were very controlling and destroyed her confidence

Her sibling was the golden child and she was the scapegoat

She's had issues since childhood but her parents refused to admit there was anything wrong with her, so she didn't get help

Being a part of any oppressed group of people who experience discrimination - she's a person of color, she's an immigrant, she's got a disability, she's queer, etc.

Any major trauma, either witnessed or being a part of - weather events and natural disasters, infrastructure collapse, crashes and accidents, fires, a shooting or a murder, etc.

You're a writer - get creative. There are lots of ways to traumatize and haunt a girl/woman character without having to resort to a sexual assault backstory. You can even make her the problem! Maybe she's the one who did something bad and is trying to outrun the guilt.

Let's also let go of the idea that it's meeting and falling in love with a man that saves her from her trauma. Let her have a healing arc that doesn't involve a man - a love story can still be there, but it can't be the magic healing balm that fixes her. Make her have to save herself. Give her autonomy to both make her own mistakes, and improve her own situation. Don't let your man go into savior mode - let him get frustrated with her. Let her push him away without him clinging to her in a desperate bid to show her what unconditional love is. Don't let him be a martyr to her trauma.

Women are complicated for many reasons. We have trauma for many reasons. We have mental health issues for many reasons. We may want to escape our past for many reasons. We're angsty and weird for many reasons.

Please pick literally anything other than sexual assault.

[sgiandubh]

Life and death of Anon

It's literally only hours after I stopped Anons from being pesky and nasty, that the number of sock accounts who suddenly wish to follow this page is over the roof.

It's literally only seconds after I wrote I will not allow any coward bullying in here anymore, that Anons started to pick on friendly shipper pages. Surely in the hope they will be given the oxygen they so sorely crave to reward a petty ego. Anons don't even make any cloak & dagger effort, anymore. Some righteous petticoats are showing aplenty: mannerisms, schmannerisms, heh. I could name names, even go ahead and prove that they almost copy and paste their own comments written elsewhere, but I won't. That would make them look important and possibly even brave, whereas I would look like the Bad Cop, something that never really interested me.

Come to think of it, there are roughly three main types of Anons who feel the urge to troll our pages:

The Simpleton: that particular Anon is almost always 'new in here' and seems to ask nonsensical questions, just for the sake of annoying the shite out of their hosts. They never see anything, never understand anything, but somehow their comments are always oriented towards a certain agenda. Makes you wonder, really.

The Weeping Statue: she has been a shipper since forever. She has patiently endured rough waters without capsizing and bravely weathered any storm. But right now, you see, ever since Orange Xena/Tennis Babe/German Athlete/Czech Young Woman came along, she just doesn't know anymore. She doesn't know what to think, she doesn't know what to say and she definitely has not the courage to post her rants on her own page. However, she still wants everyone to know she is petrified with grief and discombobulated. For one thing, she probably ceased to be a shipper (if ever) a very long time ago and this is just her indulging in her favorite pastime: being that fly in your ointment. I suggest you ignore: you are nobody's shrink, nor anyone's fool.

The Pennywise Clown: probably the worst type you could ever come across while in here and the unhinged variant of The Simpleton. But perfectly able and willing to send you violent bullshit like this one, with a noted propensity for long, verbose comments:

Received by me in December 2024, never answered. Would make a nice subpoena argument, anytime, anywhere. My crime? Refusing to bitch about the main cast and also being consistent and persistent about what are not just 'beliefs', but what I do consider as facts.

Mrs. It Pennywise went on and on and on with it for months, with very little variation in her nastiness and always at the ready to slap-a-shipper. I don't have the slightest wish to deal with Mrs. It Pennywise in court, because it would probably involve the Interpol, an international rogatory commission and lots of money I could use in more pleasantly creative ways. Only to probably uncover a provincial freak, with no sizable property to seize.

These idiots will always try too hard. Not only to make you seriously second guess your own deductive and even cognitive abilities, but even more so to curb your enthusiasm and anything positive about you being a shipper. For there are, overall, many positives in here, mark me: nice people, intelligent conversations, real empathy and kindness. If you feel you can take it, even when the heat hits too close to home, then you are certainly stronger and wiser than me. If not, my unsolicited advice is to make a very liberal use of the Block Anon button and ultimately get rid of this Tumblr setting altogether. Life will be calmer, for they are just a bunch of cowards hiding under a blade of grass. You don't have to answer every single idiocy that drops in your inbox. Also, you are the only one who has got the power to stop such in(s)anity. Tips and useful deductions almost never come that way, not anymore.

Let this be a cautionary tale. It's not because OL is slowly fading off, that the trolls suddenly deactivated. Far from it.

[xhmeusworld]

go in blind | lee seokmin

genre: college! seokmin, friends to lovers, matchmaking

seventeen’s majors and minors here

pairings: lee seokmin x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

word count: 8.3k

note: this is not proofread and i’m not exactly proud of the ending, but i love seokmin so hopefully that makes up for it lmao

when you and your best friend, hayoung, entered college the most exciting part of seemed to be the rooming situation. you were both excited about getting away from your families and living your own lives, but you each had a rule that the other one should respect.

your rule was very simple.

hayoung was to have absolutely no sex in the dorm, especially not in your bed. honestly, that wasn’t hard for her to follow because she hadn’t even had a true relationship. you were sure something had happened between her and her friend jooheon, but he never admitted anything to you and you never asked.

the rule hayoung had set for you seemed very easy for you to follow.

don’t push me out of my comfort zone.

that’s it. that was her only rule.

yet, here you were breaking it.

“i’m telling you that they like each other. anyone who has eyes can see it!”

you were currently in the theater helping plan out everything for the newest student production, which happened to be by jeon wonwoo who was majoring in directing and telecommunications. that’s how he knew hayoung and which also explained why your best friend was glued to his side helping him figure out all the controls for the lightening and sound.

“seriously, just look at them!”

you turned your head at lee seokmin’s words, your eyes traveling to take in wonwoo and hayoung’s figures. their heads were pressed closely together as they discussed what a certain control did. you had to admit that they would be cute together.

“but isn’t hayoung with that jooheon guy that’s friends with jihoon?” jun asked. “i’ve seen them hang out a lot.”

“they’re just really good friends. they haven’t ever been together as a couple.”

seokmin and jun’s heads turned toward you, surprise in their features as a result of you contributing to the conversation. normally, when it came to theater productions you often kept to yourself, choosing to do your job as stage manager and leave.

however, this was your roommate being discussed. she was your platonic soulmate. there was no way you were just going to stand by while two actors talked about a relationship involving hayoung; something that she had no experience with whatsoever.

“see? y/n’s her roommate, which helps further prove my point that wonwoo and hayoung would make amazing babies.”

his words caused you to chuckle. “that’s where you are wrong, seokmin. hayoung has a very strict bubble that she lives in. she will not strive out of her comfort zone on her own, so there’s no way in the world those two will ever get together.”

seokmin seemed to ponder something before choosing his words to respond back. “well, you know her better than anyone and i’m good friends with wonwoo. we can help them get together. we can give them that push.”

jun scoffed. “this is definitely not going to end well.”

“just because minghao doesn’t love you doesn’t mean you get to kill the power of love!”

at the beginning of freshman year, you swore hayoung that you wouldn’t push him out of his comfort zone. however, if you didn’t help seokmin, she could very well possibly be missing out on being with the love of her life.

you sighed. “fine, I’ll help you.”

the grin on seokmin’s face grew as he threw his arm around you, excited that he finally had a partner in crime when it came to matchmaking. “we need a name for our plan.” jun rolled his eyes, but the brown-haired boy continued. “operation love scenario?”

“absolutely not.”

“operation love bomb?”

“sounds too violent.”

“operation love shot it is.”

•••

“seokmin, your dumb matchmaking plans always end up failing? you know this.”

the dark-haired boy looked at lee jihoon in disbelief. “what do you mean they always fail?”

“remember when you tried to set bang chan up with felix and they literally did not like each other, you just thought they did?”

“that was one time!”

joshua cleared his throat, glancing up from the medical textbook he had positioned on his lap. “love is an emotion that occurs naturally. no one is able to force two people to be in love, so in a way, you playing cupid is pointless.”

“you aren’t a doctor yet, so your opinion is also pointless.” seokmin threw an arm over your shoulder, which you have discovered was a gesture that he did with everyone. “however, this time is different. this time i have a partner in crime.”

a week had passed since you agreed to help lee seokmin set your best friend and jeon wonwoo up and you honestly wondering why you agreed in the first place. but there was no turning back now.

seokmin had already exchanged numbers with you and introduced you to his friends, joshua, jihoon, jun, and seungkwan. they were very easy to be around, but you did share the same fears as they did about operation love shot.

what if wonwoo and hayoung didn’t like each other? what if you and seokmin were just misinterpreting everything? what would happen then?

“and since i am your partner in crime, do you care to tell me why you insisted that i came to the quad area with you and your friends when i could very well be in my dorm watching youtube?”

a grin made its way onto seokmin’s face and the arm around your shoulder tightened. “well, the first stage of operation love shot is happening tonight and your assistance is required.”

“what’s the first stage?”

seokmin shook his head. “that’s for me to know and you to find out. i just need you and hayoung to meet me at this address tonight at eight.”

jihoon whistled as seokmin slipped a piece of paper into your hand. “this definitely isn’t going to end well if he won’t tell you what he’s planning.”

the gigantic grin never left seokmin’s face. “well, it’s too late for y/n to back out now!”

•••

it took a lot to convince hayoung to actually get dressed and accompany you to the address seokmin gave you, especially since she desperately wanted to know where you were taking her.

at the time, you didn’t have an answer for her, but how bad could it be? it was seokmin after all.

however, it was worse than you could have ever imagined.

seokmin directed you to the university’s most popular frat house.

and a party was in full swing.

you honestly didn’t know what to do as you grabbed a hold of hayoung’s hand and pulling her toward the kitchen where there seemed to be less people. it was easy to tell that she didn’t want to be here. she hated loud noises, crowds, and alcohol and this party had all three.

truthfully, you were going to deck seokmin the moment you found him for not making you aware of his plan. if you knew, you could have avoided the panic attack that your best friend was bound to have eventually.

the sound of loud laughter greeted your ears from the living room and you immediately recognized it as lee seokmin’s.

you quickly grabbed a red solo cup from the table, filling it with water and giving it to hayoung. you tried to ignore how bad her hands were shaking. “okay, i promise we can leave soon, alright? i just need to talk to somebody real quick. just stay here and do not, by any means, sit your drink down.”

“o-okay,” hayoung choked out.

you gave her a small smile before diving back into the crowd and heading toward the living room. seokmin wasn’t hard to find at all. he was the only one who was currently laughing his head off, but he stopped the moment he saw you.

“y/n, i knew you would come!” he cleared his throat, his eyes subtly darting to the boy next to him who looked severely uncomfortable. “where’s hayoung?”

wonwoo glanced up slightly from his feet at the mention of your best friend’s name, but quickly looked down once he realized that you were looking at him.

“she’s in the kitchen.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “i think we need to talk about something.”

seokmin’s grin faltered at your tone. he turned to wonwoo. “hey, you wanna go get us something to drink in the kitchen?”

the boy with glasses nodded, moving past you, leaving you and seokmin alone. well, as alone as you could get at a party. you immediately hurt him up side the head.

“ow, what was that for?”

“do you realize that you brought hayoung and i to a party? if i knew this was your first stage, i would have never brought her.”

seokmin looked at you in puzzlement. “it’s just a party, y/n.”

“no, it’s not, seokmin! hayoung gets panic attacks easily, especially around crowds, loud noises, and alcohol!”

the huge grin always on seokmin’s face reappeared. “see, that’s exactly the point, my dear y/n! him and wonwoo hate parties for the same reason and they share a similar major, which means the moment wonwoo finds hayoung in the kitchen, they are going to bond. and boom stage one of love shot is complete!”

your eyes widened in disbelief. “you are insane!”

“no, i’m a genius.” seokmin grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen. “i’ll show you.”

once you both reached the doorway, seokmin released your hand. what you saw in the kitchen surprised you.

seokmin chuckled. “see? what did i tell you?”

wonwoo and hayoung were sitting in the corner of the room, their heads bent low as they talked. you could see hayoung’s hands shaking and it was clear that wonwoo was trying to calm her down.

“wait until i tell jihoon and joshua that stage one was a success!”

that earned him another slap to the head.

“ow, why are you such a violent person?”

“because you’re an idiot.”

•••

even though you didn’t agree with the way seokmin planned stage one, you had to admit that it worked better than you had hoped.

wonwoo offered to drive your roommate back the dorms not even fifteen minutes after you had arrived at the party. you quickly reassured him that you would be seokmin’s ride home while the happy virus beside you tried not to explode from happiness at the thought of his plan actually working.

it was clear a few days after the party that wonwoo and hayoung had bonded. instead of just discussing the lightening and the sound during the theater meetings, you often turned to see hayoung laughing at something the boy with glasses had said. you also learned that they had exchanged phone numbers after the party, but hayoung still insisted that they were barely friends.

which meant it was time for stage two.

“okay, so if we are going to get them together, we are going to have to actually get them together,” you told seokmin as you were positioned next to him on his bed. he was currently playing an intense game of fortnite, his eyes staying glued to his tv.

“how are we supposed to do that?” seokmin asked as he violently punched the controls, trying to stay inside the safety circle where the toxic fog wouldn’t reach him. “the only reason my first idea was to get them together at a party was because i knew that both of shared a mutual hatred for crowds. like they literally share the same major. they have classes together, yet they aren’t ever around one another unless absolutely necessary.”

you hit your pen against your notebook paper, lost in thought. you wanted to think of a way that you could get hayoung and wonwoo together without making either one uncomfortable.

“maybe we can invite hayoung and wonwoo hang out with us, jihoon, joshua, vernon, and seungkwan?”

seokmin’s eyes got wide and he immediately started shaking his head. “no, no, absolutely not. soonyoung has been hanging out with us recently and that boy cannot keep his mouth shut. the moment he saw wonwoo he would make a comment the sexual tension between him and hayoung and then we will all be in trouble.”

“you do have a point.”

“do they even have similar interests?” seokmin asked, his attention focused back on the game.

you sat your notebook down in front of you and sighed. “aren’t you supposed to have all the answers? you’re the one that insists that you are close to wonwoo. aren’t you supposed to know his hobbies?”

seokmin let out a yell as he got attacked, resulting in his death. “you know what, i hate this game.” he threw the controller onto the floor before turning to face you. “literally wonwoo is so absorbed in his studies that i don’t even think he has hobbies.”

that set a lightblurb off into your head. “that’s it! that can be stage two!”

seokmin gave a look of puzzlement. “studying? you want studying to be a part of operation love shot? are you joking? i’m trying to do our friends a favor and get them laid, not get them smarter.”

that earned the dark-haired boy a smack on the back of his head. “will you stop doing that?”

“i will when you quit being an idiot. however,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you began to explain your plan. “you said that wonwoo is always extremely focused on his studies. well, so is hayoung, which means that’s how we get them together. hayoung and i will plan a study date in the library and you and wonwoo can as well, but somehow something is magically going to come up for us two where we don’t show up.”

seokmin’s eyes lit up as he began to understand. “which means hayoung and wonwoo are going to be there studying alone and possibly for the same classes.”

you smiled. “bingo.”

the grin on seokmin’s face widened. “you know what? i am glad you agreed to do this with me. not just because you are awesome at planning, but because you are really easy to hang out with. i really enjoy being around you.”

his words caused your heart to miss a beat, but you truthfully didn’t understand why. your cheeks were slightly red as you spoke. “i like being around you too.”

seokmin chuckled. “even when i play fortnite?”

“yes, even when you play fortnite.”

•••

“we did exactly what you suggested. tell me why it’s not working.”

seokmin’s tone of voice made you want to hit him on the side of the head for the thousandth time, but you resisted the urge. you and the dark-haired boy had been positioned behind a bookcase for about twenty minutes just observing the subjects of operation love shot.

saying hayoung was pissed when you bailed on your planned study date was understatement. you were honestly surprised that she hadn’t decided to lock herself in jooheon’s dorm to avoid you. she hated when somebody bailed on her, especially if that someone was you. however, you obviously couldn’t tell her that you were trying to get her together with wonwoo and that’s the reason why you cancelled.

at first, you didn’t feel bad about hurting her feelings because you knew she wouldn’t be lonely for long, but your plan was one hundred percent failing. wonwoo was seated all the way across the library from your best friend and you and seokmin honestly weren’t even sure if they knew each other were both in the library.

hayoung had her headphones in while glancing through her science textbook while wonwoo just kept his head down as he worked on his calculus homework.

“we need to do something,” you whispered, turning toward seokmin. “nothing’s happening. we have to make them interact somehow.”

seokmin seemed lost in thought for a second before a light blurb went off in his head. “i got idea, but you are going to have to help me.”

you raised your eyebrows. “what do you want me to do?”

“okay, so I’ll distract wonwoo and while i do that, you come up behind him and take his pen. if he doesn’t have a pen that means he can’t do his homework. he’ll have to get up and ask hayoung for one.”

although seokmin often had no braincells, he did manage to come up with good plans.

before you could even agree to participate, the dark-haired boy was already making his way toward jeon wonwoo’s table.

“hey, wonwoo, i have a question.” there was no surprise that seokmin’s major was acting. “when is our next theater practice? I forgot to write it down, but i know the day involves around you and hayoung’s schedules. oh, by the way, speaking of hayoung, did you notice that she is sitting right over there?”

seokmin’s eyes darted toward you and you took that as your cue to start moving. you were holding your breath as you delicately picked up wonwoo’s pen, hoping to everything out there that he didn’t hear you do so. luckily, he didn’t and you hurried back to your place behind the bookcase.

“okay, thank you so much!” seokmin remarked once he noticed that you had succeeded with your part of the plan. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” the smiling boy started walking back toward you, leaving a bewildered wonwoo in his wake.

“now, we wait for him to realize that we just double crossed him,” the boy remarked as he crouched back down next to you.

luckily, that didn’t take long and you couldn’t help but laugh as wonwoo glanced around his workspace, searching for the pen that was currently in your hand. after a few moments, the boy with glasses released a sigh before pushing back his chair and slowly making his way toward hayoung.

the younger girl instantly looked up from her book, a big smile appearing on her face as she saw who was approaching her.

you and seokmin watched as wonwoo explained to the girl that he needed a pen. both of you were definitely surprised when wonwoo bent down and started helping hayoung with a question she had about her homework.

next thing you knew, wonwoo moved back over to his table to gather all of his things before returning to hayoung, sitting down next to her.

“i think our job here is done,” seokmin whispered to you. “time to leave quickly as possible before we get caught.”

both of you quietly snuck out of the library, relieved sighs leaving your lungs as hayoung and wonwoo didn’t notice your departure.

“i feel like we are finally getting somewhere,” seokmin told you as you walked side by side toward his dorm. “they discovered that they struggle with the same class, so they could have study dates. you and i can drop hints about them working together.”

the thought of hayoung having a study buddy that wasn’t you sent a pang through your heart. you wanted her to be happy if she did decide to get with wonwoo, but at the same time, you knew that in a way you would lose your best friend.

you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

•••

ever since the stage of operation love shot that occurred in the library, you and seokmin had barely had time to see each other because of gigantic tests and projects for both of you. of course, you saw him during theater practice, but you were just the stage manager. he was one of the main actors, which gave him limited time to actually speak to you.

both of you were missing one another although the thought was often just pushed in the back of your minds as a result of your busy schedules. however, today was different. you both had a free day and you were surprised when seokmin said that he wanted to spend it with you, but the world seemed to be against him.

he was forced to cover a co-worker’s shift last minute at the university daycare, but he wasn’t willing to break the promise he made to you, so he got it cleared with his manager for you to come in and help out with the children.

honestly, you were a bit nervous. this was technically the first time you and seokmin were going to hang out and not discuss the topic of getting your two best friends laid. what if seokmin found you boring as a person? what were you supposed to do then?

the fact that you cared so much scared you as well. seokmin was just your friend; a friend that was created from a plan to get hayoung and wonwoo together, not out of interest in each other. why were you so concerned about losing the relationship you had with him?

you quickly shook your head, clearing the anxious thoughts from your head as you entered the daycare. the first thing that greeted you was the smiling face of a blonde boy. you recognized him from somewhere, but you didn’t know where exactly.

“hi! i’m guessing you are here for seokmin,” he said, coming out from behind the reception desk. “he told us that he was having someone help him for the day.”

you nodded, your palms starting to sweat. “yeah, i’m y/n.”

the boy smiled. “I’m boo seungkwan. i’ve heard a lot about you from seokmin. he and i have known each other for awhile.”

the fact that seokmin actually talked about you to his friends made your heart warm and you were sure you were blushing.

“originally, seokmin was planning on showing you around, but he’s currently dealing with an especially fussy child right now. he wants me to show you around and he’ll join us soon.”

seungkwan gestured for you to follow him down a hallway. he turned to look over his shoulder at you. “what’s your major?”

“i double major in music education and stage management.”

“oh, so that’s how you know seokmin. you’re helping with wonwoo’s theater production.”

you both fell into silence as the blonde boy showed you all the rooms, explaining that there’s a daycare kitchen along with certain rooms given to each age group.

once you reached the final door to the left, seungkwan entered. “this is the playroom for all the toddlers, so basically kids from ages two to four. this is where you and seokmin are pretty much going to be today.”

a smile made its way onto your face as you observed all the little kids. some were running around while others were just quietly playing with their own toys.

seungkwan’s smile seemed to get even wider as he studied the children along with you. you turned toward him, a curious expression on your face.

“what’s your major?”

“child development,” he responded. “i love working with children of all ages, which is thankful because if i didn’t, i would have to change my major and that’s such a hard thing to do. i changed my minor and i never want to go through that again.”

you tilted your head to the side as you studied his facial features. “what’s your minor?”

it was as if on cue, seungkwan’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered it. “my minor is human sexuality studies. let’s just say it’s a quite an interesting topic for me.”

before you could respond, a door on the opposite side of the room opened, revealing a small child and seokmin. the child rushed out to join the others and the dark-haired boy made his way toward you.

“hey, y/n, you made it!” he grinned, pulling you against his body in a hug. “i’m so happy you did!”

as you tried to slow the rapid heartbeat in your chest, you also tried to ignore the knowing look seungkwan happened to have on his face.

as if he knew something you didn’t.

•••

“so do you just watch the kids play until you get off of work?” you asked seokmin as you both were positioned at a small table in the corner of the room. various kids were running around while others were playing games amongst each other.

“not usually,” seokmin replied. “each worker gets assigned to a certain room each shift and i’m normally in the baby room.” he chuckled. “which means i change diapers and get puked on more often than not unless i have to calm him down from one of his fits.”

your eyes followed seokmin’s to the little boy who he had to take care of earlier. he appeared to be in a better mood based on the fact that he was sharing his blocks with another child.

“why does he always ask for you? can’t someone else calm him down, like seungkwan? he seems good with kids.”

seokmin grinned, a chuckle leaving his mouth. “daehyun is my one of my best friend’s sons. i’ve known seungcheol for a long time and i was there for him when daehyun was first born. because cheol is a single dad, although he’s trying his best, i think it’s caused daehyun to have temper issues. and don’t me wrong, he loves seungkwan a lot, but it’s more in a teasing way. he likes making fun of him, so he isn’t a good choice to calm him down when he’s having one of his fits. i am because he’s used to me.” he shrugged. “i guess i just know how to handle him.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted as one of the toddlers let out a scream before bursting into tears as she fell down. seokmin was up in a flash, pulling the young girl into arms and swaying back and forth.

“hush, it’s okay,” he whispered. “you’re not hurt. falling down just scared you, didn’t it? well, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at his actions.

and that’s when you truly realized that you were developing feelings for lee seokmin.

the feelings you experienced when he was around: the warm feeling in your chest, the happiness, the laughter. it wasn’t just because you enjoyed his company. it was because you liked more than a friend.

that thought was terrifying to you.

•••

“again, i would like to apologize for the fact that i had to work today. we could have went out and done something fun, but you had to watch me take care of screaming kids instead.”

you and seokmin were currently in the elevator, heading up to your dorm floor.

“i honestly didn’t mind. some of those kids were really cute.”

seokmin smiled. “yeah, i love working with kids. so does seungkwan, but i honestly think he wishes that his minor could be his major.”

you raised your eyebrows. “how come?”

“seungkwan picked human sexuality studies as his minor because he’s crushing hard on this psychology student. he picked the minor to help him figure himself out and it turned into something he really enjoyed.”

“so is he with this psychology student now?”

seokmin shook his head. “he’s never even talked to him. seungkwan just admires him from afar. it’s kinda creepy.”

the elevator beeped, signaling you were on your floor before the doors opened.

“maybe seungkwan can be the subject of our next matchmaking plan,” the boy suggested.

you opened your mouth to respond, but seokmin grabbed a hold of your arm, making you stop in your tracks.

“quick! over there!”

you and seokmin rounded the corner at the end of your dorm hallway before timidly peeking around the corner. relief spread throughout your body when it became clear that wonwoo and hayoung hadn’t noticed you two stepping off the elevator.

“what do you think they’re doing?” seokmin whispered, his voice extremely close to your ear. it sent chills down your spine.

“it looks like they’re just talking,” you replied.

“well, how long do you think they’re just going to take in the dorm hallway? it’s literally like nine at night.”

you scoffed at seokmin’s words. he was the one that desperately wanted wonwoo and hayoung together, yet he was complaining about how late they were together. “let them talk. it’s not like you have anywhere else to be.”

“i don’t know if that was meant to be offensive or not.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your eyes widened as a soft “oh my god it’s happening” escaped seokmin’s lips at the scene in front of both of your eyes.

hayoung didn’t even see it coming when wonwoo leaned forward to attach his lips to hers. you could tell from here that the kiss was gentle and sweet; almost timid even. however, your best friend didn’t seem to know what to do.

her back stayed completely straight and it was apparent that she had no idea what to do with her hands. they were clutching the jean material at her sides.

wonwoo pulled away after a few seconds. he muttered something to hayoung with a small smile before hurrying down the hall and toward the stairs.

you and seokmin only moved when hayoung entered your dorm room.

seokmin had a gigantic grin on his face when you turned to face him. “i told you operation love shot would be a success.”

you rolled your eyes. “i never doubted your plan. jihoon did.”

seokmin’s eyes lit up. “oh my god, i have to call jihoon and rub it in his face that he was wrong.”

that earned a laugh from your lungs.

“i’m serious, y/n. if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, ask jihoon what he did with his paintball gun.”

•••

after witnessing the kiss between wonwoo and hayoung, you expected to enter your dorm room to find your best friend in a state happiness. instead, she was in a state of anger and anxiety.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

the girl flipped around to face you, tears streaming down her cheeks. “what was the one rule that i told you to never cross when i agreed to room with you?”

“don’t push you out of your comfort zone,” you replied instantly. “but i still don’t understand why you’re upset.”

hayoung wiped angrily at her cheeks. “I know. I know what you and seokmin have been doing. you’ve been trying to get wonwoo and i together.” her words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. “i saw you guys in the hallway when your first stepped out of the elevator and suddenly all made complete sense. the reason why you dragged me to that stupid party, the reason why wonwoo moved over to my table in the library. it was all because of you guys.” she let out a scoff. “and to think, i actually thought wonwoo liked me.”

you attempted to step toward your best friend, but she quickly stepped back. “of course, wonwoo likes you, hayoung. why wouldn’t he?”

the blonde girl took a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing. “why wouldn’t he? you’re really asking me that? think about it, y/n. i have been in classes with wonwoo since we started college and he hasn’t paid me any mind at all until you and seokmin started planning things. whatever wonwoo and i’s relationship is, it’s not happening naturally. it’s happening because you guys keep making it happen. and what if i’m not ready for relationship? i guess that doesn’t matter, does it? because i didn’t get a choice. you and seokmin took away that choice.”

you were surprised to find yourself holding back tears as well. “hayoung, i didn’t-”

your roommate shook her head, cutting you off. “i’m going to go stay with jooheon for a few days.”

a few days turned into a week and a half and hayoung still hadn’t returned back to your dorm. she was ignoring your calls and texts and theater practice had been cancelled as well because wonwoo couldn’t even get ahold of her.

you couldn’t take it anymore and that’s why you were currently standing in front of jooheon’s dorm room.

“hey, y/n, what are you doing here?”

you weren’t surprised when jooheon’s roommate, wonho, answered the door. ever since freshman year, you always had a crush on shin hoseok and it normally made it extremely hard to be around him. you would always turn into a blushing mess whenever he even looked remotely in your direction: however, when you looked at him now, you felt nothing.

and it was probably all because of lee seokmin.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “can i talk to hayoung, please?”

wonho looked behind him, his eyes connecting with something before he turned back around. “she’s actually sleeping right now, but i can take a message?”

hayoung had been your best friend for years and you knew that she wouldn’t talk to you willingly. she was too stubborn for her own good and honestly, in this situation, she had every right to be. however, you couldn’t stand the thought of you guys not talking for any longer.

“i’d rather talk to jooheon then,” you replied.

wonho opened his mouth to obviously deny your request, but you cut him off. “don’t you dare say that he isn’t home because i know very well that he’s listening to our entire conversation right now. besides, i know his next class isn’t until tomorrow.”

your words caused the orange-haired boy to appear beside his roommate with a sigh. “fine, we’ll talk, but hayoung actually is asleep, so we’re talking in the hallway.”

wonho gave you a small smile before jooheon stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

a few seconds of silence passed before you decided to speak. “look, i can tell that you aren’t very happy with me right now and i don’t blame you, but at least hear me out, okay?”

jooheon gave a slight nod and you took a deep breath. “i understand that what i did was wrong. trying to set her up with wonwoo was pushing her out of her comfort zone and i should have never agreed to help seokmin. but you know that i didn’t have any bad intentions. i care about her just as much as you do.”

“do you realize how scared she is?” the orange-haired boy asked quietly. “she hasn’t gone to any of his classes that have wonwoo in it for the last few days. she’s terrified to face him because she thinks wonwoo is going to want to talk about what has been going on. hayoung has never had a true relationship. she doesn’t know to let herself be that vulnerable to someone, yet you and seokmin thought it would be a good idea to push her into one when she clearly wasn’t ready. you, of all people, should understand why she’s upset.”

“i do understand why she’s upset and i am sorry. i am truly sorry, but you know that she won’t talk to me on her own accord. that’s why i’m talking to you. she listens to you. all i’m asking for you to explain to her that i meant no harm and that i’m done with helping seokmin, alright?” you sighed. “you you please do that for me?”

jooheon seemed to mull over the idea in his head before responding. “hayoung deserves to feel happy and safe and for the last few days, she has felt neither, and i believe a part of that has to do with the fact that she hasn’t been talking to you. I know you guys haven’t gone without talking every day since sophomore year and it’s taking a toll on her, so yeah, i’ll talk to him.”

you released a sigh of relief. “thank you, jooheon.”

“you can thank me by leaving wonwoo and her relationship alone.”

•••

“what if she doesn’t want to talk to me again? just because jooheon said he would talk to her doesn’t mean she’s going to forgive me. what if she decides to switch roommates? what if i ruined our friendship for good?”

seokmin sighed over the phone. “y/n, calm down, okay? hayoung just got his feelings hurt. she’ll come around eventually. wonwoo made me explain everything once he couldn’t get a hold of hayoung and he was upset too, but after a couple of days, he got over it.”

“but hayoung isn’t wonwoo, seokmin. you don’t know her like i do.” your voice cracked as you held back a sob. “i can’t lose my best friend.”

rustling was heard from the other end and eventually seokmin’s voice spoke. “i’ll be at your dorm in ten minutes, okay? everything will be alright.”

•••

you could barely get yourself to focus on whatever drama seokmin currently had displayed on the television. you were too transfixed by how close your bodies were.

he had his body turned toward you, his head propped up on his elbow. his fingers were playing with your hair and although you hated having your hair touched, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

you were extremely grateful to lee seokmin. he knew what you were going through with hayoung because he felt the same thing with wonwoo, but the issue was that hayoung was more stubborn than the black-haired boy. so the only way he knew how to help was to be by your side whenever you needed support.

and that was the exact reason why he was with you now.

he knew that there was nothing he could say to make things better, but as long as you weren’t alone, he felt like he was helping even if it was just a little bit.

relying on seokmin so much scared you. you knew how deep your feelings for the happy virus went, but you weren’t sure what you supposed to do. should you just confess? bury your feelings and never let them come to the surface? if hayoung was here, you would ask for her advice, but this time, you were on your own.

“are you about to fall asleep?” seokmin asked, a chuckle leaving his lungs as his eyes trailed over your facial features.

“no,” you replied, quietly. “i’m awake.”

“still thinking about hayoung?”

“kinda.”

seokmin gave you a small smile. “don’t stress over it, y/n. jooheon will talk to her and everything will go back to normal, okay? you just have to give it time.”

“I have been giving it time,” you protested. “It’s been a week and a half, seokmin! how long am i supposed to give her time before i completely lose hope?”

the boy next to you sighed. “have faith in her, y/n. she’ll come around no matter how long it takes, i promise.”

the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the noise from the television. you wanted to confess your feelings to lee seokmin more than anything, but you couldn’t seem to find the courage. however, he seemed to beat you to it.

before you realized what was happening, seokmin cupped your face, pressing his lips yours.

the kiss was gentle and slow, almost like he was scared to make any sudden movements. your brain was screaming at you to kiss him back, but your body couldn’t help but react exactly like hayoung’s had when wonwoo kissed her. now you understood the emotions your best friend had felt.

the uncertainty. the fear. the anxiety.

your back stayed completely straight and your hands stayed glued to the blanket underneath you. panic began to blossom seokmin’s chest as a result of your reaction. he couldn’t help but think he had made a massive mistake.

he broke away from you, eyes wide. “i didn’t mean to overstep your boundaries,” seokmin said quickly. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done anything. i should have asked you if it was okay.”

you wanted to tell seokmin that it was okay. you wanted to tell him that you liked him. you wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to apologize for anything. but you did the exact opposite as you climbed off of your bed, running your fingers through your hair. your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke. “can you please leave?”

“y/n, i didn’t-”

you flipped around to face the dark-haired boy, tears now falling down your cheeks. those tears sent a pang of misery through seokmin’s heart. all he wanted to do was hold you and wipe your tears away. it was clear that you didn’t want him to do that. “just go away, seokmin! please!”

seokmin’s face instantly fell at your words, but he obeyed, standing up from your bed and stepping toward the door. once his feet made contact with the carpet that was in the hallway, he glanced over his shoulder for a brief second. his words made you want to cry even harder. “If you need anything, just text me, okay? i’ll come right back over. it wouldn’t be an issue.”

he hadn’t even been gone for half an hour before you had already exhausted yourself from crying.

you were glad that your roommate didn’t ask questions when she returned back to your dorm, plopping down on her bed, her back facing you.

at least you had your best friend back, but in the process, you may have lost one of the people you cared about the most.

•••

to say that you were angry with yourself was a severe understatement. why did you react like that? it was seokmin for crying out loud.

but maybe that was the problem.

through this mess of a matchmaking plan, seokmin had become an important person to you. someone that you could rely on. someone who you felt safe with. he made you laugh with his dumb antics, he cheered you up with coffee on a hard day, he was your video game partner-in-crime. what if committing to a relationship ruined that?

what if you guys tried to pursue something, but it just crashed and burned and everything never went back to normal? what if seokmin never talked to you again? you weren’t sure that you could handle it.

hell, it had only been a few days since the kiss in your dorm and you were about to go mad as result of not being around the dark-haired boy, which was clearly your own fault.

you were the one avoiding him like the plague. well, to the best of your ability at least.

you weren’t one to ignore all of your obligations, so you still forced yourself to attend show rehearsals since you were the stage manager. luckily, the performance was to the part where most of the actors were busy the entire time, which kept you and seokmin separated.

it was hard to ignore the looks he kept throwing your way. it was especially hard to ignore the looks everyone else was throwing your way.

it came as no surprise that seokmin seemed to have updated all of your friends about the recent developments. you wouldn’t have expected anything different, but you felt like a gigantic spotlight was targeted just on you, and you weren’t made for that. there was a reason why you worked behind the scenes instead of on the stage itself.

the only people who seemed to not be phased by the distance between you and seokmin were hayoung and wonwoo. granted, they obviously had better things to deal with than to focus on a relationship - friendship - that wasn’t theirs.

hayoung had been back in your dorm since the night everything changed with seokmin. everything was back to normal. she was acting completely like herself, she was interacting with you like normal. you just kept waiting for her to crack.

to scream at you for the part you played in operation love shot.

to scream at you for breaking the only rule she set for you when you guys agreed to become roommates.

but that never came.

hayoung and wonwoo appeared to be closer during stage rehearsals. smiling, laughing, but your best friend confirmed that they didn’t see each other outside of theater and agreed to remain friends, which meant seokmin’s planned failed.

and it took you down with it.

in attempt to try and clear your head of the situation with seokmin as well as theater obligations, you found yourself taking a walk through campus, hoping that the nature surrounding you would help.

spotting a cardinal, which had just taken off in front of you, you were lost in thought when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“hey, y/n?” surprised, you turned to see boo seungkwan jogging slightly to catch up to you. “can we talk for a second?”

you nodded. “of course. what do you need?”

you thought that the topic of conversation would involve theater, rehearsals, or something to do with the stage production, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when seungkwan started speaking.

“i know it’s none of my business, and i normally don’t insert myself into other people’s issues unless absolutely necessary, but i just feel like i should say something here.”

he’s going to talk about seokmin.

“i get that admitting feelings is hard and the unknown is terrifying, but i’ve known seokmin for a long time and it’s a clear that he really really likes you. and if you don’t return his feelings, that’s fine, but at least tell him.”

tightening your hand around your backpack strip as you and seungkwan walked, you choose to focus on your feet, attempting to keep yourself grounded as the blonde boy’s words sunk in.

“i don’t have the option to tell the person that i like that I like him and-“

your head snapped up at his words, your mind going back to the time you had gone to the daycare with seokmin. how seungkwan’s face changed when you asked him what his minor was and how he answered human sexuality studies. seokmin’s mention of a certain psychology student that he liked.

that’s when it clicked. you had only seen seungkwan with one psychology student.

“you’re talking about vernon.” you didn’t say it like a question. you didn’t have to.

seungkwan rubbed the back of his head, eyes darting to the ground before moving back to you. he smiled softly. “seokmin always says you’re really bright.” his words set your cheeks ablaze. seokmin actually talked about you when you weren’t present. “but not being able to be true to myself and talk to vernon - it kills me inside. don’t do that to you or him. be honest with whatever you’re feeling. if it doesn’t work out, fine, but you have to try.”

deep down, you knew the boy in front of you was right.

•••

the sun was starting to set when you made up your mind. you were going to take seungkwan’s advice.

before you lost your nerve, your phone was in your hand and you were clicking on seokmin’s name, watching the phone ring. he answered almost immediately and he agreed to meet you next to the university’s fountain without any hesitation.

you arrived first, but it was a only few minutes later when seokmin arrived. your stomach started to do flips as your eyes met his. they were the same eyes you were used to although this definitely wasn’t the situation either one of you were used to. his dark eyes still held kindness; one of the many things that drew you to him in the first place.

you both opened your mouths at the same time.

“look-“

“i’m-“

seokmin chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “okay, you go first.”


god, you were hoping he wouldn’t say that.

“seokmin, i don’t even know where to begin. i didn’t agree to this dumb matchmaking plan with any idea that i would fall for you, but it just happened. and i don’t know why i freaked out.”

when you were upset, you rambled. you knew this, but for once, in this situation, it was easier to do that than try to deal with any awkward silence.

“i don’t know why i pulled away because you obviously felt the same way because like if you didn’t - why would you even kiss me in the first place. maybe i was just scared? what if this ruined our friendship? what if this ruined the entire friend group? what if this ended badly and we can never recover?”

you took in a deep breath as you finished speaking, exhaling as you studied seokmin’s face. he observed you quietly, a small smile on his lips, but he didn’t say anything.

why wasn’t he saying anything?

the silence felt suffocating and you needed to break it. opening your lips, you quietly said, “i’ve been oblivious to you because i’m afraid of losing someone i truly care about on this earth. if we were to ever date and break up, i really don’t think i could handle it.”

“you’re not gonna lose me,” seokmin’s voice spoke, “even if you didn’t feel the same, i’m content with loving you without it being returned. at least this way i can still have you in my life.”

without any hesitation, you closed the distance between the two of you and pressed your lips against his own, taking the taller boy by surprise before he finally melted into you, his hands cupping your face gently. you pulled away, looking into his eyes before saying, “i knew so early on that i was going to fall for you.”

seokmin only kissed you again, this time with the reassurance that you would never lose him. the kiss was soft, but conveyed everything you needed it to. seokmin was returning your feelings. he was forgiving you for putting both of you through hell the last week.

almost too soon, seokmin pulled away, a gigantic grin on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.

“so would you say that operation love shot was a success after all?”

[emeraldstorms]

Born Again Trailer and Foggy

Under the cut, I will be addressing rumors, leaks and (potential) spoilers for Daredevil: Born Again.

I have been doom-posting about Foggy’s fate in DDBA as much as the next person. If he dies, I will curse everyone involved. delete my NMCU based fics and art and demand nobody talk to me about the MCU ever again.

But for now? The trailer actually gave me hope. And I wonder why so few fans seem to see this? I wasn’t the only one to notice, of course, but the pessimistic posts didn’t cease and I see few who talk about the scene in question.

So, I will talk about why I think Foggy lives/has a fake death after all. Bear with me.

Let’s start with the scene itself. (The screen in the trailer captures more, but everything relevant is visible in my gif)

First: the stretcher. I think the person on it, that’s Foggy. 

Yes, it’s far away and zooming in you can’t make out a face. But hair and clothes match, in my opinion. I know an Elden Henson superfan and she is also convinced it’s Elden as Foggy. Looking closely, I think you can see the pattern of his scarf.

The head piece of the stretcher is lifted. For a dead body it would be flat and he most likely would be covered with a sheet. Or they would have put him in a body bag.

But I admit, it’s hard to see and the stretcher argument may not appeal to everyone. lol

So moving on to “Foggy’s Bloody Spot”. From the leaks we know roundabout where Foggy lies after getting shot

In the helmet fall scene, that should be here. 

For one, Foggy isn’t here. I don’t think ambulance crews would move dead bodies on a crime scene. They’d leave them in place for the police investigation. But since the ambulance isn’t done yet, the police haven’t even started investigating. Some say, the falling helmet hides Foggy’s body, but… why? Why would he be there?

For two, the stuff left behind. Yes, that is a lot of blood. But also what looks like wound dressing, bandages etc. Someone tried to stop the bleeding and it wasn’t a passerby with makeshift tools. This looks like medical supplies. So at least one paramedic thought Foggy was worth spending time and resources on. Which probably means he was alive when they arrived on scene and someone tended to him. At the site of a mass-shooting that has to mean something. You know, triage- wise. Paramedics have no time for dead people when many others are injured.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he survives. But I think it debunks the rumor that he died on scene while Matt was fighting Bullseye. Because then he would still be lying there. 

And if he makes into the ambulance or even the hospital, a fake out is possible. If he is close by, Matt couldn’t be fooled, but out of Matt’s hearing range, they can in theory do a switch.

But then what line was crossed??? 😱

Oh, of course, the “line”. Before the scene with the falling helmet is shown, Fisk asks Matt why he stopped being a vigilante and Matt answers “A line was crossed”. Many, many people interpreted this line crossing as Foggy being killed.

But to me that makes no sense at all. Criminals like Bullseye always cross lines. That’s Matt’s problem with them and the reason he does fight them, not a reason to stop fighting them. 

However, of himself Matt expects to stay on the right side of the line. So I think he isn’t a vigilante anymore because he did something that crossed a line. Especially since Fisk answers “It’s hard to come to terms with our violent nature. Hating the power it has over us.” That only makes sense when Matt’s “violent nature” is responsible for whatever he is referring to.

Which is why I don’t believe the line that was crossed is what Bullseye did to Foggy but what Matt did to Bullseye.

So yeah, new hope for Foggy.

If you read this far, thanks for indulging me in my rambling.

[tac-the-unseen]

What the Lost boys think about vampire related media

Fluff, x reader but just barely

•While making conversation with your four Vampire lovers you were suddenly plagued with a question.

“How do you guys feel about vampire related media?”

-That question was an immediate head turner. The cave goes dead quite before Dwayne speaks up, “Well…vampires are in hiding so…”

-This sparks a conversation about how media representation of vampires may not be accurate, but that's a good thing. “If a book or movie comes out and it is shockingly accurate to what being a vampire is really like, the creator isn't going to last long.” David explained

-That's because there's a set of rules vampires have to follow and one of those rules is to never publicly reveal your double life identity

-”If something like that comes out, that means a vampire has broken that rule OR somebody knows vampires very closely and is creating media they know shouldn't exist.”

-Turns out if a vampire breaks that rule it's basically open season to kill and destroy their creations.

•You turn the conversation and begin to ask how they, specifically, feel about certain vampire representation

•Bram Stoker's Dracula

-Dwayne is the first to buy in his opinion.

-Dwayne feels that while it is a cult classic and well written, The characters are exceedingly dumb.

-”Johnathan spends a ridiculous amount of time talking about other characters ‘Breasts’ and trying to figure out why his host climbs walls ‘like a lizard's.”

-David is the next one to speak up

-David thinks it's not really worth the read

-”Unless you're trying to brag to people there's no point in reading it.”

-”Also why was Mina talking to that old sailor so much?”

-Paul laughs as he remembers “how fucking crazy he wrote Dracula to be”

-”I'm pretty sure the real Dracula thinks it's a heinous crime against him”

-Paul hasn't read it but have heard enough about it to know even the more obscure references

-Marko comments on the graceful writing style and the beautiful descriptions

-”I've only read it because Dwayne thought I would like it"

-Marko also loves how oblivious Jonathan and most of the other characters are

-All of them think the movie adaptation is hilarious and love the shitty special effects

•Interview with a vampire

-Paul chimes in immediately

-”God it's so homo erotic it hurts…in a good way.”

-Paul thinks its a nice horror novel mixed with a weird cozy atmosphere

-Dwayne thinks it's another well written classic and He actually begins to rave about all the themes involved within Anne Rice’s work

-”It's a beautiful Gothic thriller with a deep, sadly comedic energy.”

-He even offers to read it too you sometime

-Marko chimes in quickly about “Claudia’s rebellious behavior and persona”

-”imagine watching your family choose somebody else over you. It's so deeply upsetting but to an understandable level.”

-”I would have hated to turn so young. I look like a teenager and other people can respect that to a certain point. But being five years old with the mind of an adult, No one would respect you.”

-Marko relates to Claudia on an internal level and loves unraveling her character. When you ask why he quickly responds "Some people call me a cherub... You think I enjoy that?"

-David says he doesn't have much to say other than it was a decent read (That's his version of a compliments)

•Twilight

-All of them agree that it's laughably horrendous

-Almost immediately at the same time they say “This is the skin of a killer Bella”

-This leads to banshee like laughter

David speaks up immediately

-”Why do you humans want us to sparkle so bad?”

-”I personally hate the idea of being a walking disco ball, but to each their own.”

-Marko chimes in quickly

-”Would you like it if we sparkled?” He asked while leans on you affectionately

-Marko thinks the only reason to read it is to have a nice laugh

-”Why did Edward have such a violent reaction of Bella standing by a fan? That makes no sense…like I have mates and I enjoy the smell of you guys but…I'm not nearly clawing off my face at your smell”

-”Yeah yeah, I get he's trying not to overreact but running out of class to get away is crazy.”

-Paul even adds that even thought it's very dumb even he can appreciate the message it's trying to said.

-”something something, coming over adversary, something something, love wins, something something..”

-”Also that Jacob imprinting on Bella's infant daughter is super fucking creepy.”

-when you asked Dwayne about his feels he scoffed and said It's insulting at best and borderline sexual harassment at worst.

-He refused to go into depth

•You thank them for humoring you and they tell you that it's no problem

-David kisses the side of your head in an uncharacteristically soft way “We don't ever mind answering your vampire related question.” He tells you

-Marko turns to you “But seriously do you want us to sparkle?”

-”I think I have some roll on body glitter somewhere..” Paul says while getting up to look for it

Thanks for reading <3

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 1

mentions of physical, psychological and sexual abuse towards both Koujaku and his mother

SELF DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR

Let’s go back to the beginning. Or rather, what Koujaku tells us. He also talks about himself, of course, but usually when he talks about his past, most of the time he talks about his mother: because that’s what hurts him the most. He barely mentions the abuse towards him other than the tattoo and that one time his father punched him. But he always talks about all the hardships that his family put his mother through. And I’m sure you’ll agree with me that it is hard to believe that was it.

Koujaku’s father has proven to be an extremely violent piece of shit and a zero-empathetic person. I don’t doubt that Koujaku’s mother, because of her nature, was his favorite toy. What’s more, he did every cruel thing he could think of to her, his wife too, she had fresh wounds every day and she couldn’t even eat, and although it isn’t said nor implied I wouldn’t be surprised if Koujaku was a product of rape. I mean… most likely. We hardly know anything about his mother, not her appearance, not her name, not what she liked, not how the hell she ended up in that place, if there was any love involved in it or if it was something about debt, we only know that she was the perfect victim.

She was always saying sorry to her son, for everything Koujaku’s been witnessing, she feels guilty and responsible because he tries to stand up for her, and because she has brought him to a world where the one that decides for them is a criminal. She keeps a deep pain inside for everything that’s happening and she tries to hide it, especially from Koujaku, and seeing her son suffer doesn’t help. Smiling to him so he doesn’t worry, and saying sorry to try to comfort him. That’s why the last thing she repeats over and over to her son when she’s lethally wounded is “I’m sorry”, feeling sorry that it’s because of her that he has lived like this, because she wasn’t able to protect him, to give him a proper life.

Obviously all his father did was also psychological abuse towards Koujaku, even blackmailing him with hurting his mother. But I sincerely believe that his father would use physical abuse to teach the boy a lesson, nothing could stop him anyway, because Koujaku as a child complained and rebelled, he didn’t care if his father hit him, he would defend his mother regardless. This is why I sometimes give Koujaku more scars to his body, and besides defensive cuts I also give him cigarette burn marks. Lore expansion better known as adding trauma.

I think he just doesn’t talk about it that much because the abuse towards him isn’t what has hurt him the most. We ourselves often don’t give it much importance if someone tries to insult us, but maybe if it’s someone close to us, that does piss us off, some logic like that. Moreover, throughout the game Koujaku’s personality is just like that, always worrying about others and giving little importance to himself, to the point of being tremendously negative for him.

Don’t you think those scars would make him look more masculine, intimidating, as if he’s survived dozens of dangerous, tough fights? It seems the perfect image for an environment like organized crime.

Despite all of Koujaku’s feminine traits, the perception of him both in canon and in fandom (usually) is that of a stereotypically masculine, super straight man who fucks a different woman every night, always joking with “no homo, bro” (which, mind you, I’m not saying I don’t like these jokes, I make them myself too). But in reality that couldn't be further from the truth.

With that image that we have of him, sometimes it would seem that he is someone with prejudices or that he really had a hard time accepting that he’s not straight, specially when in the scene where he confesses to Aoba he says the following:

The reasons he tries to hide his feelings is a mix between the fact that they are friends and he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they already have, that he wants to hide his past and that he doesn’t want to be a burden on Aoba, so he keeps all those things to himself. (And he’s also been educated a certain way and has always seen things one way, never gave it much thought so when it crosses his mind, of course he’s confused)

When he first met Aoba he thought he was a girl because he had really long hair, and after all, when we’re kids we don’t have very developed features anyway, it’s a pretty androgynous state. When Aoba corrects him and tells him he’s a boy his behavior is exactly the same, nothing changes. He corrects himself and never treats him as a girl.

He is someone who has no problem showing his affection for Aoba, neither in private nor in public, he’s very comfortable with his bisexuality, the only one who is reluctant to do so, either out of shame or fear, is Aoba.

What I’m trying to get at with all this is that all that “gentleman” facade and the “always accepting women who want to have something with him” that makes him look so stereotypical in a first impression has a much darker origin, although underneath all that there’s a much more sentimental, vulnerable and open Koujaku about his true feelings, expressing them even if he feels embarrassed, as we see on some occasions (touching his hair nervously when he confesses, of when he explains why Aoba's hair is so important to him).

The relationship he has with his mother is the most direct connection, or course. Being the son of an abused woman has made him hyper-aware of his position as a man (so much that sexism in this game almost goes full circle like the Bourbon family tree, but this is NC’s problem and it happens everywhere, it’s so obvious it’s a writers problem and it’s a shame it affects Koujaku so much because he’s basically the only one who isn’t scared of a bad bitch). We’ll talk about this in particular some more later, but let’s focus on what concerns his father for now.

Being the family of criminals that they are, abusers and… almost slavers, the most logical thing to assume is that they are specially conservative. It could very well be that his father, once he decided to make him his heir, wanted the image of his kid to be as intimidating and masculine as possible. A criminal, a murderer who could run his business in a world like this.

We know that the tattoo is an experiment by Toue, and it wouldn’t be strange if his father knew what was behind it, because after all it would also be beneficial for him to have a way to control him, to mold him to his liking and to make him obedient, unlike he had been behaving, refusing to be his heir and trying to defend his mother. The image of an effeminate, soft, sissy man was not exactly ideal for the future leader. For me, Koujaku’s father either already intended to name him heir before agreeing to the tattoo being an experiment with Toue and Ryuuhou, or he ended up deciding to name him the heir precisely because they had already talked about the tattoo and its possibilities beforehand.

His father would want to break him, drive him to despair so that he would stop resisting, take away his will and, although this is mostly headcanon, “make him a man”. Be a man, be strong, tenacious, learn to fight and find a woman to continue the family with, etc. So it is not surprising that at first he didn’t even reconsider his sexuality and thought that the affection he had for Aoba was just friendship, which over time, with such strong feelings, he realized was not the case. I sincerely love that he is shown to be so nervous and that he confesses to be kinda confused about it and in a state of denial, without having any external reference and too busy hating his father and Ryuuhou to even think about it, it’s normal that it took him so long.

He was trained to be a gangster, while his father insulted him, hit him and threatened him using his mother, on whom he took it out. This training also implies not only fighting but also for doing business, how to talk to be well-received, how to negotiate, how to give the best impression of himself at any given situation. This pack of skills seem to resonate with those that he uses to flirt and run his own business, even if he does it on an unconscious level, he just knows what to say to strike the person he’s talking to in their weak spots. His father’s physical treatment would not only be a punishment, but also to teach him a lesson, to learn to endure the pain, just like he endured the pain of the tattoo. If he cried, it would be shameful, he would be punished. He had to hide his pain, his feelings, his thoughts, for the sake of his mother’s safety and his own. Practically becoming a puppet, thus evolving into the life he carries in Midorijima as an adult.

Him not wanting to open up to Aoba wouldn’t be just an “oh he’s going to hate me”. It’s also what he learned would be the best, having a charismatic appearance that everyone likes. After all wouldn’t it be logical to not want any confrontation with anyone after all that? A tough guy, with people around him who admire him, who never gets tired or cries, because nothing’s wrong. In a way it’s also a shield, a protection, a defense mechanism. To be a man.

Now, the way he behaves that almost everyone without exception associates with his mother. And this, for sure, is the intention, his desire to protect his mother and therefore take care of the women he meets. But it’s also him actively wanting to be the opposite of his father.

What kind of relationship does he have with women? The contact he has with them is mostly through all his female fans, who are crazy to say the least. We’re not going to get much into the subject of sexism but first of all it’s a huge mistake that his fans are only young women or the way they make them all act.

Koujaku spends all his time building a character that he considers perfect, someone gentle, who never says no to a woman and is always available to entertain them, it would never occur to him to deny anything to any of them, as his mother was denied so many things. Unlike that hard and tenacious masculinity that he was taught to have in order to take on his role as the heir or the bestiality of his tattoo, he presents a gentle and chivalrous masculinity on the outside. What he does is pamper them and give them everything they ask for (almost, because has never really had serious relationships. Which makes sense because he would be telling them pretty big lies, right? That wouldn’t fit with his own code). He doesn’t think very highly of himself, he has a low self-esteem as he thinks he is nothing better than a worthless monster that should have probably died a long time ago.

Sometimes people who are abused go through abuse again, in a cycle. I think saying that Koujaku is a playboy is incorrect. (He acts flirty and likes playing around, sure, but there’s something deeper). That perception of him is natural, of course, because the way he behaves and how he is presented to you, is the image they want to give of him after all, in a basic and cliche way, so artificial that it is unsettling. I could believe that it sounds artificial on purpose, referring to that shell of how a confident and strong man should talk, if it weren’t for the fact that they do this kind of cliche and artificial situations quite often with other characters as well, and it makes it kinda hard to remain immersed. I honestly think that the foreshadowing could have been done a little better, but it still serves the narrative. Also this is practically almost all you see of his character the two first interactions he has with Aoba. Considering the structure of the game and how rushed everything is, it’s not very positive, but for the sake of your mental health it's better not to think too much about it.

In short, Koujaku is a very accommodating and attentive person. He listens and encourages others with their problems but doesn’t let anyone worry about him with his own, taking on everything himself. He even ironically tells Aoba that if he’s worried about what happened with Mizuki, he can blame him, and that he can always count on him to tell him anything. It’s a very lonely way to live, even though he has so many people around him.

Knowing this, it’s more than reasonable to think that more than him flirting with women, it’s simply him agreeing to give what those women ask of him. They come looking for something and he gives it to them. He’s a toy. It’s often joked that he’s practically a prostitute, and pretty much that’s what it is. And it’s in the balcony scene where we see a more personal side of him, where we can observe that in reality all this burden tires him, it’s not natural. It’s not like his character isn’t extroverted and charismatic, but that’s not everything, and in public he doesn’t allow himself to be “less”, so in private and in confidence is when he can afford to relax, with Aoba or in his own house.

Somehow, even though he is no longer with his family, the way he interacts with other people, or how he lets himself be used, be it consciously or not, even if there is a different intention behind, is not that different from before, people still use him.

BODY FOR SALE (child sexual abuse)

I’ve sometimes wondered if there was some sort of sexual abuse on Ryuuhou’s part towards Koujaku. Nothing is implied canonically, at least physically, but the erotic connotations of the story of the tattoo artist he’s based on, the sadism, the drugging in order to do something non-consensually, and his constant references to love make me think of it happening on a symbolic level. I think it’s obvious that Ryuuhou loves Koujaku, in his own way, as his creation, and he’s talking about love at first sight and the similarity of love and hate. Besides, the way Koujaku acts can be easily associated with it.

Even though he appears to be charming and flirty, he actually has a very low self-esteem, seeing himself as worthless, dirty, and constantly self-blaming for what happened. His tattoo being his shame and filth, something he doesn’t want to taint Aoba with, works just as an allegory of victims so commonly feeling guilty and dirty (causing them to. He shows unconformity when Aoba wants to touch him in bed (something that with time and the support of a loved one gets a little better), and when he tries to touch and wash away his dirt, his shame, his tattoo, Koujaku jumps at contact, which could also be interpreted as having a flashback or part of his ptsd.

All the anger he feels inside could also be part of the consequences. He mostly shows his hatred towards Ryuuhou, even though his father is supposedly still alive and was the one who did the most damage to them, especially his mother, whom he cared about the most. At the end of the day Ryuuhou “just” did the tattoo and his father has been treating them like that for years. So why does he tunnel all his rage only to him? Budget and time limit reasons? Maybe, but in this essay we’re not taking that. Obviously Ryuuhou was the one that made him lose it, torturing him ever since the beginning only to anger him, ultimately causing the death of his mother. But it can also be read as the response Koujaku had to a possible abuse. Ryuuhou took advantage of his situation, to stop him from resisting he could always use his mother. We’ve already seen Ryuuhou being referenced as male and Koujaku as the female counterpart, being lovers and enemies at the same time, with the female being associated with the powerless, abused victim, submissive, and being controlled by the male, as disgusting as it sounds. Ever since he was tattooed his body did not belong to him anymore, Ryuuhou made sure to mark his body and mind so that he could never forget him. He could have found refuge in his religious practices as well.

There’s always stigma around these cases, and the stigma around male victims makes it especially harder for them to speak about what happened to them. That sense of powerlessness, of losing control, of being less of a man, causing them having trouble with their identity, all of it is wrapped in toxic masculinity. All of this is seen in Koujaku. He keeps all his feelings for himself, feeling distant from other people and engaging in a lonely way of life.

There are people that report having trouble with their relationships with others not only because of the trauma that happened to them, but also out of fear of doing that very same thing to someone else.

This traumatic event usually makes victims apprehensive of any sexual activity, but there’s a considerable large number of victims that, opposite to this, develop hypersexuality. Sexuality is more important to Koujaku than it may seem at first, he sees his body as a tool for the pleasure of others, meanwhile his own pleasure is not important. He developed an unhealthy way of interacting with others, therefore he developed unhealthy sexual practices. This view of him being sort of a prostitute isn’t so far away, Flame Willow, the part of Platinum Jail they end in, pretty much looks like a red light district. It’s introduced as a palace for “passionate folks to get their thrills”, an euphemism.

He also smokes and drinks, which are not talked about a lot as an addiction to cope with his pain. In the Drama CD though they do talk about it as a way to escape the stress he’s facing because of the Tamaokuri, so we can assume that he uses these two and possibly developed an addiction, wanting to drink until blacking out to forget for a moment.

Even if the sexual abuse didn’t happen canonically, the metaphor is as close as it can be, so it’s in your hands how you want to see it. Even if it’s hard to talk about something like this, I really like how this was built, because something that isn’t sexual abuse (at least canonically, and I wonder if the allegory was intentional or not) actually feels like it, something that changed a person’s entire life, his perception of himself and the people he interacts with, an event with an actual weight, something I missed from literally any actual SA scene that we got in the rest of the game.