#there's just a certain. energy about them.

[helen-with-an-a]

Healing

Hi, so this is Part 2 of You Hate Me. There will definitely be a part 3 and probably a Part 4. But I hope you enjoy it <3<3<3<3

Shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out and giving me encouragement ahahaha - forehead smooches for uuuu 💕

Part 1 : Part 2

Lucy Bronze x sister!Reader

Description: R finally starts to move on and heal

Word Count: 3.4k

It was silent. The kind of silence that stretched across the room like a suffocating blanket, pressing against the walls until they seemed to shrink inward. You could have heard a mouse sneeze or the faintest creak of the old floorboards beneath the weight of a ghost. Lucy sat motionless on the bed, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the phone that lay discarded on the floor like a venomous thing. The glow of its screen had dimmed, but its presence radiated with an almost malevolent energy. Behind her, Ona knelt, her hand half-raised as if reaching for an answer suspended in the thick, unmoving air.

“That’s not true … is it?” Ona’s voice was a whisper, more a breath than a question, barely cutting through the silence. But Lucy heard it; she had to. The only response was the tightening of her jaw, the muscle tensing so sharply it seemed to carve shadows across her cheek.

“Lucia?” Ona ventured again, her voice fragile, cracking like thin ice. This time, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of Lucy’s shirt. The moment shattered like glass as Lucy shot up, the bed creaking beneath her sudden movement. She snatched up her phone and began to pace, the rhythmic thud of her footsteps filling the silence with tension.

“Lucia.” Ona’s voice turned firmer, cutting through the charged space like a blade.

“What, Ona?” Lucy snapped, spinning on her heel. Her eyes, usually so warm, were storm-dark, and for a moment Ona flinched under the glare.

“What she just said … that’s not true, is it? It can’t be true.” The question hung in the air between them, an accusation and a plea tangled into one.

“Well, it is,” Lucy said, each word dropping like a stone into the pit between them. The room seemed to shudder with the weight of her admission. Her hand gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to the flush of anger spreading across her skin.

The room shifted, the energy twisting and sharp. Ona’s eyes widened; disbelief painted across her features as she searched for anything in Lucy’s expression that would contradict what she had just heard. But there was only raw, unyielding truth.

“You can’t mean that,” Ona said, her voice thickening as emotion clawed at her throat. “Familia … familia is everything.”

“She is not my family,” Lucy spat, the venom in her voice startling in its ferocity. Each syllable dripped with resentment that had festered for years, an old wound torn open and bleeding anew.

“She’s your hermana,” Ona said, her tone wavering between a declaration and a plea. It was as though stating it aloud would shift the reality, would force Lucy to reconsider.

“And I hate her for it,” Lucy replied, her voice breaking at the end, betraying the deep chasm of hurt that lay beneath her anger. She turned away again, shoulders trembling with a mix of fury and something that looked achingly like grief.

It had been three long months since Lucy promised she’d fix things between you. She had looked straight into Ona's eyes, swearing that she would try, that she would reach out, and that she would sit down to talk with you. The weight of that promise hung heavy in the air, a lingering tension that neither of you could shake.

Lucy despised lying to Ona, but the truth was too complicated to share. She couldn’t just send you a random text out of the blue, asking to meet up after everything that had happened. It felt wrong, and even more so, she didn’t even have your number saved in her phone anymore. She thought about it often, how you might react if she did reach out. Deep down, she was fairly certain that, even if she had begged you for a chance to explain herself, you would have turned her away. So, instead, she chose silence.

She took the summer to relax, to move to London, the distance between your flats less than a twenty-minute drive. She started at her new club, immersing herself in work and the hustle of a new city, trying to find a rhythm in her life without you. To Ona, she created a narrative, a facade of resolution. Yes, you had met; yes, you had talked and cried, and yes, you had both agreed to be civil. In her mind, you both started moving on, creating lives that didn’t intersect, both pretending to let go. She didn’t tell Ona that she couldn’t reach out to you. That she didn’t really want too either. She was perfectly happy with the way things were. She had her life, and you had yours. You wouldn’t have wanted her to reach out.

Except you would have. You would have done whatever Lucy wanted, without hesitation. If she had reached out, you would have replied immediately, agreeing to meet with no hesitation, even if self-loathing washed over you in waves. No matter how much you hated yourself for it, the thought of ignoring her would have been unbearable.

You would have walked to that little coffee shop in the heart of London, the very place where countless memories lingered. You would have felt a knot of resentment twist in your stomach with every step. You would have watched the door intently, every minute stretching painfully, your mind racing with what-ifs and should-haves. Each time the bell above the door tinkled, you would have hated the way your heart leapt in response, a foolish flutter of hope that perhaps this time, it would be her. You would have cursed your own vulnerability, the way your body betrayed your resolve to move on.

Yet, despite all the anger and sadness, you would have done it anyway. You would have waited for her, yearning to hear her voice, needing to see her face again, even if it meant grappling with the truth of your tangled emotions. Each moment spent there would be a testament to your feelings, a silent acknowledgment that, despite everything, you were still drawn to her in a way you couldn’t fully understand.

You weren't going to deceive yourself – not anymore. That resolve had taken root in you on that brutal morning when you woke up, head pounding, heart shattered. You had vowed to allow yourself the time to grieve, to feel the sharp ache of loss without rushing the healing process. However long it took, you would give yourself that space. And, day by day, the wounds dulled. Watching Lucy's life unfold from a distance stopped stinging quite so much, and with each sunrise, another small piece of you wove itself back together.

For a week, you allowed yourself to fall apart. You mourned, sobbed, let every pang of sorrow run its course for the sister you had loved like family but had never truly had. Then, you chose to begin again. You left the cramped room in Alnwick, packing your life into boxes and setting your sights on London. There, you poured yourself into work, each task a stitch in the tapestry of a new life. You pushed yourself to meet new people, to explore parts of the city that felt unfamiliar and exciting. Gradually, your time outside the house expanded, and so did your world.

You even made it to an Arsenal-Bayern match – an opportunity to see both Leah and Georgia on the pitch together. Watching them, seeing the warmth in their smiles, and the comfort in their hugs, stirred something inside you. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Lucy’s arms around you, grounding you, holding you close.

"Hello, gorgeous girl," Leah greeted, laughing as she playfully ruffled your hair.

"Hi, Leah," you replied, a soft smile breaking through as you leaned in for a hug.

This wasn’t your first meet-up with Leah. Your mum had reached out to her, asking her to look out for her "littlest baby" as you adjusted to life in London. And just like that, you’d become a sort of unofficial addition to the Arsenal family. Most of the England girls were aware of the strained history with Lucy, how you’d barely registered in her life. Yet, little by little, they’d pulled you into their circle, coaxing you out of your shell and into a place where you finally felt seen.

"Y'know, that offer’s still open," Leah murmured softly, her hands moving in a comforting rhythm along your back.

"I know," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. "I got another email about it the other day."

Before you could say more, Georgia joined the hug, pulling you both in tight. "What offer?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

You took a breath, letting the excitement bubble up as you spoke. "I got an email … from the FA. They’ve seen my photos – they liked them, actually. They’re offering me a chance to work with them as a photographer. Not the action shots, but the behind-the-scenes stuff. Capturing the players just… living, being themselves, showing the everyday moments."

Georgia’s eyes sparkled as she looked between you and Leah, clearly impressed. "That’s huge!"

"It’s big," you admitted, the reality of it still sinking in. "They want a team of four photographers. To help show the players as normal people. And they’re holding a spot for me if I want it."

Leah grinned, squeezing your shoulder. "You’d be amazing at that. They’d be lucky to have you."

You felt warmth spread through you as their support wrapped around you, grounding you and lifting you at the same time. This opportunity wasn’t just a job – it was a chance to carve out something meaningful, something of your own.

"I want to take it," you murmured softly, the weight of the decision hanging in your voice. "I just…" Your voice trailed off, hesitation tangling with hope.

Leah squeezed you tighter, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll talk to Sarina. Make it clear you’ll be separate. No interactions necessary."

You didn't need to elaborate – Leah and Georgia understood enough. They might not have known every painful detail of your history with Lucy, but they’d seen the shadows that used to linger in your eyes slowly fade. They’d watched as your smiles, once fragile and forced, gradually softened and grew genuine. This job offer was a step forward, but the thought of Lucy potentially being around stirred a familiar unease.

Before the silence could settle too heavily, Georgia nudged Leah with a grin. "Not sure why they think people would want to see Leah more. Everyone knows she's anything but normal." She stuck her tongue out, her playful tone slicing through the tension.

"Says you, cheeky fucker," Leah shot back, rolling her eyes with a grin as she pulled Georgia in for a side hug.

That night, you took a deep breath and sent off the confirmation email. As soon as you hit "send," a mix of excitement and anxiety surged through you, bubbling beneath the surface. It was a huge opportunity, one you’d dreamed of, but the what-ifs nagged at you. What if you ran into Lucy?

You knew she was in London, her presence like a shadow at the back of your mind. Chelsea had welcomed her with open arms, and by all accounts, she was thriving back in the WSL. Her life seemed bright and full – photos of her smiling with her new teammates, celebrating goals, her happiness almost palpable even from afar. She looked like she was where she was meant to be, in a space that had no room for you.

The thought unsettled you. It wasn't the same hurt as before, but an echo of it – a reminder of the distance that had always stretched between you. This new role would bring you closer to the world she lived in, closer than you had been in a long time.

But you reminded yourself of Leah and Georgia’s words, their support grounding you. They would be there, making sure you had the space to grow and heal without the interference of old wounds. You could do this. You wanted this, a chance to finally create something of your own, to build a life where you weren’t haunted by past disappointments.

And so, with a mix of nerves and hope, you closed your laptop, letting the enormity of this new chapter settle over you. Whatever happened, you were moving forward.

To: y/n.tough@outlook.com From: wilson.kim@englandfootball.com Hi Y/N, Congratulations. Welcome aboard the team. We’re so delighted to have you; your photographs are truly incredible and capture exactly what we are looking for. As you know, we have four photographers on the team, so we have split the England Women’s senior squad into four. Please see the list below for your players. For those who play outside of the WSL, please organise your own flights and accommodation but reimbursement will be made if you send in the receipts. The breakdown of the assignment is in the document attached. Y/N Tough – players: Leah Williamson Lotte Wubben-Moy Georgia Stanway Keira Walsh Alessia Russo Beth Mead Attachment: Y/N Tough – assignment brief Please do not hesitate if you have any questions. I look forward to working with you, Sincerely, Kim Wilson. Managing Social Media and Outreach Director

You couldn’t hold back a laugh when the list of names came through. It was obvious Leah had pulled some serious strings for you, probably calling in every favour she had. But as you read over the names, excitement bubbled up in your chest, mixing with a sense of wonder. For the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely seen. You never imagined you’d reach this point, where your work would be valued by people who actually wanted you around, people who recognised your talent and believed in you.

The realisation hit you hard. For so long, you’d been weighed down by the sting of constant rejection, a silent ache you had buried so deep that you hadn’t even noticed its impact. You’d convinced yourself it was normal, that maybe you simply weren’t meant to fit in or be accepted. But now, sitting here with your laptop open and this email in front of you, that old pain seemed to ease, just a little. It was like a tight knot in your chest had loosened, allowing space for something softer, something brighter.

This new opportunity felt like a fresh start – a chance not only to showcase your work but to belong, to carve out a place for yourself among people who truly valued you. The familiar ache, that constant reminder of past rejections, had softened, replaced by a tentative sense of pride. Maybe… maybe you were healing, after all?

You let yourself linger on the thought, the possibility of healing, of moving on from the scars of the past. It wasn’t the kind of thing that would happen overnight, but in this moment, it felt attainable. You were no longer defined by the shadows of what you lacked or the people who’d overlooked you. Instead, you were finally stepping into your own light.

"Leah," Beth groaned, laughing as she eyed a very stubborn Leah, who was perched childishly on top of the kitchen counter. Leah's face scrunched up in exaggerated distaste as Alessia held out a spoonful of pasta sauce, trying to coax her into tasting it. Smiling to yourself, you brought your camera up, snapping a quick shot before lowering it again.

You always preferred to work that way – keeping your camera tucked away, only bringing it out for a fleeting moment to capture something genuine. Over the years, you'd learned to stay in the background, a wallflower observing life from the sidelines. Being around people who were used to the spotlight, you knew that the moment they noticed a camera, they’d instinctively turn on that public persona. So, you’d made it a habit to hide your camera, only clicking when a moment truly called for it.

"I don’t understand why I have to have the sauce," Leah whined, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because you need actual nutrition," Alessia laughed, shaking her head as she turned back to the stove. "And I’ll be damned if I let you eat plain pasta."

"I get plenty of nutrition, thank you very much," Leah huffed.

"Drinking protein smoothies doesn’t count, Le," Lotte chimed in, grinning as she joined in the teasing. She stuck her tongue out, and you captured another shot of their playful banter, the warmth and laughter filling the kitchen.

Leah slid off the counter, grumbling as she made her way over to you. "Y/NNNNNN," she whined, wrapping her arms around you. "They’re being mean."

"Sorry, Leah," you replied, leaning back into her embrace. A soft sigh escaped you, contentment washing over you as you soaked in the light-hearted moment.

"Can I take a photo?" Lotte asked, nodding towards the camera hanging around your neck.

"Uh…" You hesitated, the thought of being on the other side of the lens making you feel oddly vulnerable.

"It’s okay if you don’t want me to," Lotte quickly reassured, her tone gentle.

"No, no," you managed, giving her a smile. "How about a group one?" You nodded toward Leah and Beth, hoping that sharing the spotlight would take off some of the pressure.

"Lessi? Photo?" Beth called over, waving Alessia to join.

"Nope, the sauce is almost done, and I don’t want it to burn," Alessia replied, waving them off with a grin.

Before you knew it, Beth and Leah were squishing their faces against yours, grinning and laughing as Lotte snapped the photo. The moment was a blur of warmth and closeness, a reminder of how far you'd come. Here, in this kitchen filled with laughter and teasing, you finally felt like part of something real. And for once, being in front of the camera didn’t feel so daunting.

It continued like that – small, intimate moments, snapshots of laughter and friendship, as you found yourself surrounded by people you were slowly coming to think of as friends. Each frame you captured was filled with warmth, with faces you were beginning to trust, and with memories that made you smile. It was a strange, almost surreal feeling to be surrounded by footballers and not feel the familiar ache. In the past, every encounter with this world had been shadowed by Lucy – her dismissive comments, the way she’d turned people away from you without a second thought. Football had once been a painful reminder of rejection, but now, the hurt had started to fade.

"Are you sure you don’t mind?" you asked Leah one afternoon, your voice wavering with lingering hesitation. Her bright blue eyes met yours, steady and gentle.

"Not in the slightest," she replied with a reassuring smile.

It was the London Derby. Over the past few months, you’d become a regular at Arsenal matches, using each game as an opportunity to work on your Lionesses project, but also taking a few personal shots for yourself. You enjoyed these games now, finding inspiration and comfort in the sport, rather than pain.

Still, the idea of seeing Lucy lingered at the edges of your mind, a quiet fear you couldn’t quite shake. Even after nearly six months of silence, you knew you weren’t ready. You’d spent so much time and energy mending yourself, stitching up the wounds that had felt endless and raw. Piece by piece, you were rebuilding, learning to stand on your own without looking back. The thought of seeing her – even just catching a glimpse of her on the field – was too much. You feared it would unravel everything you’d worked so hard to mend, the fragile progress you’d made in healing yourself.

So, you stayed close to Leah and the others, grateful for their understanding, for the way they shielded you without asking too many questions. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe, not just from the world but from the pain of your own past. And as you lifted your camera to capture another candid moment, you realised you were finally starting to find peace – one frame at a time.

[euthymiya]

You believe in soulmates. Alhaitham does not. It’s not as though he loves you any less for his beliefs, but he certainly doesn’t entertain your baseless theories.

You’re determined to change his mind.

“What would you do if we never met?” You ask, staring up at him with your cheek pressed against his chest.

He glances down at you, sighing as he shakes his head. Here we go, he thinks silently. “I probably wouldn’t do anything, considering I wouldn’t know you existed.”

“You wouldn’t be sad?” You frown.

“How can I be sad about something that I don’t know exists?”

“Well, you could know of me,” you insist, “just because you don’t know me doesn’t mean you don’t know I exist.”

“In that case, I probably would not do anything,” he snorts. You don’t like that answer, glaring up at him as he adds, “I wouldn’t know what I’m missing if we never met.”

“You’re a real romantic, has anyone ever told you that?” You grumble. There’s a vibration of his chuckle through his chest, right under your cheek in a soft, rhythmic feeling that you’re so used to, you think it might be familiar from another life.

Over the course of the Akademiya’s years, there have been two prominent theories that have been debunked about soulmates:

1. The law of conservation of mass-energy states that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed—but only transformed. When a person dies, their body decomposes, breaking down into atoms that return to the earth, air, and water. These atoms then get recycled by nature, eventually becoming part of other living organisms, thus reincarnating from their previous life forms. It is possible, then, that two individuals could fundamentally be linked to reincarnate together from the same set of atoms in every lifetime.

It was later debunked by a scholar named Lamiya. Atoms themselves don’t retain information about where they’ve been or what they’ve been part of. They are interchangeable at a fundamental level, which means there is no difference between an atom in a human and a rock.

2. The heart and brain generate electromagnetic fields that extend outward from the body, with the heart’s field reaching several feet. Studies suggest these fields may be sensed by others nearby, subtly shaping feelings of comfort, attraction, and connection. It is possible that certain individuals’ frequencies may naturally align, creating a sense of harmony between electromagnetic fields, thus indicating that two individuals are naturally connected and could be labeled soulmates.

This theory was later disproven by a scholar named Dharmakirti. While human bodies do generate electromagnetic fields, there is no evidence that these fields influence interpersonal attractions or emotional resonance. Fields produced by the heart and brain are exceptionally weak and rapidly diminish with distance, making it unlikely they could be sensed or create harmony between individuals in measurable ways.

They fascinate you enough that Alhaitham pulls strings to allow you access to the archived files, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how he scrunches his nose in distaste as he sifts through them himself.

Soulmates have no plausible evidence of existing, he argues.

Lots of things have no plausible evidence, yet they exist, you always argue back.

You like to think despite all the differences, you and Alhaitham are soulmates—that some form of you, outside of your physical bodies, exists for each other and each other alone.

You think it must be the case when your eyes seem to find his in a crowd without even trying. What are the odds that in a sea of people, they always happen to come across his by chance? And what other explanation would there be for the way he always seems to just know you’re staring at him while he sleeps every morning, waking up not too long after your eyes fall on his face in admiration? And how else would you rationalize the fact that you could tell his presence apart from anyone. You’re certain that if two bodies were standing behind you from a distance, your heart would know which one belonged to him.

Soulmates, you argue. That has to be the answer.

“I think we were always meant to meet,” you murmur quietly, tracing a finger along the pale skin of his chest. “Don’t you?”

“We’ve shared numerous classes together and have offices within within the same hall,” he states blandly, “I think the chances of not meeting would be rather improbable.”

“Or maybe,” you huff, “we were always meant to meet because we’re soulmates.”

“I think that theory has been sufficiently disproven—”

“You never know! We believe in the divine even if we’ve never seen them, haven’t we? Who’s to say Celestia aren’t fake—”

“The Archons have spoken of them multiple times, and The Gods, in fact, do exist for us to see, so I think we can trust—”

“Maybe Celestia decide soulmates,” you reason, raising a pointed brow at him, “how will you disprove that? There’s no evidence that they haven’t, and you can’t collect much evidence about them, so I think it’s safe to say that it’s possible.”

“But then it’s equally as safe to say it’s not possible by that logic, as well,” he says smugly.

“Fine,” you huff, glowering up at him through puffed cheeks, “I guess you’re just too stubborn to convince.”

“I’m not stubborn,” he argues (which he does quite stubbornly, you want to say), “I apply logic and reasoning to my theories. Which is why they are hardly disproven.”

“Do you at least think we’d be soulmates in another world if they did exist?” You ask hopefully.

He looks like he wants to argue about the likelihood of another world existing altogether—it irritates you enough that it pulls a frown on your face before you grumble a quiet forget it, shuffling out of his arms and turning away to face your back at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head. Something fond blooms in his chest, like a fresh padisarah in May.

“If,” he emphasizes as his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest once more, “if in another world we existed where soulmates were real, then yes. I do think it would be you and I.”

“Really?” You ask quietly.

“Yes,” he whispers. Suddenly, he sounds rather sure about a theory he never even believed in the first place.

“I wonder what we’re doing in that other world,” you hum thoughtfully.

He sighs, bringing the blanket back up to cover both of your bodies and mumbles, “I would hope we’d be sleeping at a reasonable hour before a work day.”

—————

Stay tuned for them being soulmates after all in another world *wink wink* ;)

[itsrlymine]

Manifesting and Why Feelings Don’t Matter. They Never Did.

Some of you care way too much about your feelings for me and honestly…. It’s annoying. Feelings got y’all in a chokehold yet they have nothing to do with you getting your desires. Your feelings didn’t stop your sp from coming back and treating how you wanted them to. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you got the house/apartment you have always wanted. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you still reconciled with an old friend from years ago who barely even remembers the disagreement. Whether positive or not, it’s all about the meaning you give them. 

“I want to manifest sp back but I don’t feel like—.“

“I want to make money without working but I feel guilty and—.“

“I know I can manifest whatever I want but what if I feel uncomfort—.“

SHUT UP AND JUST KNOW YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT. KNOW IT NOW

No matter how you "feel", you are still the creator of your experience. 

If you are feeling nervous about getting a certain desire, who cares? It’s yours anyways.

If you are feeling scared about something not happening, who cares? You got it and it happened anyways.

If you are feeling like you don’t know how to manifest and create your reality, who cares? You are still creating even if it’s something you don’t want. Just change your perspective. 

Your feelings aren’t your enemies but they are also not your God. At all. You are and you can dictate whether or not the “feelings” you have matter. They don’t but you can also use them to your advantage. I’ve been angry about tons of things before and instead of focusing that anger on the situation at hand, I focused it towards what I wanted to happen instead. 

“F*ck this! I’m literally getting what I want. I have that sh*it right now what am I even talking about “getting” for???? That sh*t is in my freakin face!!” 

If you want to feel anything, feel peace. When I say feel, I don’t mean create or conjure up an emotion within yourself. By feeling, just still your thoughts and mind. There you will find peace— your true essence. Be comfortable there whether it’s for two seconds or two hours. From that peace is where all creation springs. Remind yourself of who you are and know it will never change. You are still in control. 

What you say goes, not what you feel. You can experience all the human emotions —energies in motion— you want or don’t want but at the end of the day none of that matters. Why? Because you create. You choose. Not your feelings. Not your emotions. Even physical sensations don’t hold any power until you give them power. I’ve healed myself a number of times from different pains whether it was cramps, headaches, stomachaches or toothaches and even healing my second ACL faster than the first by thinking as the person who doesn’t feel pain anymore/is healed. It is truly easier said than done because it’s done and easy asf to say. Be so serious. Divorce your feelings, take your ring back and decide who you are in spite of them! 

And don’t let me get started on y’all that let the 3d make you feel a certain way. You are allowing that the 3d to dictate how you feel and keeping yourself in a perpetual cycle you don’t want to be in. Stop it. Get help. Help yourself. 

[eternalender]

"We consume water to hydrate, and salt has a dehydrating effect, therefore it cancels out. We Technically can, just in small amounts because too much will make our bodies too confused to function and try to make us fucking die."

"Then what about capsaicin, or Caffeine, or even Menthol?!"

"Some people enjoy the burn Capsaicin gives, it's more of a joy thing, unlike Salt water which is just considered gross... Caffeine, only one of the things you mentioned I occasionally indulge in, actually gives us boosts of energy to do tasks, even if we do crash after, there's still energy going into what we were trying to.... Most of the time... Menthol I can't exactly tell you, I don't really participate in it... Ever... But from what I know it might seem nice at first, then people just can't stop... Some people are able to quit with help, but not often... Again more of a joy related thing."

"Why don't you participate in Menthol or Capsaicin, then, Medic Milo..?"

"Menthol might get me sick, and my lungs are already shitty, and Capsaicin just isn't my thing... Simple."

"If your certain... Could I possibly partake in any of them..?"

"No. Capsaicin would burn your receptors, Caffeine would send your brain into overdrive due to your species not being used to the weakest shit we currently have, never less the stronger kinds. And Menthol is considered a bad habit even if you are human and use it. Plus you are considered a small minor in your species so even if you could, it'd be recommended against due to certain laws even humans have."

"Aw... Have a good day Medic Milo!!"

“Let me get this straight about you Earthlings. You cannot drink water from the most abundant source on your planet because it is 3% salt, yet you can easily process various poisons like capsaicin, caffeine, and menthol, with no harm and even some benefits?” “The human body is weird, man.”

[stilljuststardust]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Sections to add to your script

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Things people say about you

If you want people to talk about you in a certain way create a section of quotes that people have said about you when you're not around. If you want to give off a highly specific aura you can literally just script that people tell each other how much you give off that kind of energy.

"They are so beautiful literally like an angel on earth"

Third locations

A section entirely for custom third locations. Hang out spots you wish existed, stores that match your highly specific vibe, secret hideouts just for you, cafes and restaurants that exclusively sell food you like. Theme parks you wish existed. Summer camps that take place in a legitimate castle.

Custom media

Shows movies and games you wish existed. Like multiplayer Skyrim or rewriting a bad ending to a show you like. Apps you wish existed.

Shouldn't be real but is

Could range from the legends of Zelda fairies to Santa or could be used to make up wild conspiracy theories and turn them into fact. Just make up random fun facts.

[its-your-mind]

the m9 are so FUCKING good at being irreverent and threatening and disrespectful and rude and insolent WHILE SOMEHOW ALSO maintaining a certain degree of plausible deniability?? and most of the time they’re not even necessarily trying to be like. manipulative??? that’s just how they are???? most of them hold things close to the chest as a default position, they obfuscate, they’re all hesitant to commit the group to a course of action, they keep their options open and their paths for retreat clear At All Times, and they give NO SHITS about how they’re perceived beyond wanting to give the impression to possible threats that they are Not To Be Fucked With.

which leads to cool shit like the fact that they made essek feel safe and not-lonely because he saw them as kindred spirits and knew their affection was genuine, or when all of them kept sitting in eadwulf’s chair before he could, or when they all grouped tight around Caleb and projected Pure Concentrated Righteous Anger when Trent saw him again for the first time, or when they got banned from Pirate Island by the Pirate King within 24 hours of landing there NOT because they DIDN’T fuck up and blow up a bunch of shit but because someone ELSE fucked up WORSE and so they got to live and leave while Avantika got her head smooshed.

and it is so *chef’s kiss* when they’re with people like trent or obann or whatever noble they’ve pissed off this week, but it’s WAY FUNNIER when they’re with Lucien who is in fact trying to be demeaning and manipulative to them on purpose and they’re just… not acknowledging it. and they’re meeting him volley for volley. but he’s being very intentional in trying to dance the right steps, finding the right buttons to push, and the Nein one time stole a whole-ass pirate ship and sailed into the ocean by… accident. they wouldn’t know intentionality if it bumped into them in the sewers and dropped an ancient religious relic into their bag of holding.

so lucien is trying to unnerve him by being there when cad wakes up, and cad responds by being 100% genuine when he asks Lucien to watch the sunrise and tells him that he needs perspective. jester really does probably want to domesticate unicorns? Caleb did let them sleep in his warm cat tower in exchange for seeing the fucked up book. Veth tried to kill Otis and they’re just. Not talking about it. Either of them. Lucien is scrying on them all the time. They know it. He knows they know. The scrying continues. the Nein throw up middle fingers until the scry orb vanishes so they can have like. ten minutes to plot before another pops up. Lucien knows they’re probably plotting. They know he knows. The plotting continues. Jester turns herself and Lucien into cats so they can slide through the cat tunnels. She reads his Tarot. He pulls Death. She tells him it’s an omen of Rebirth. Caleb surrounds him with the trappings and memories of Mollymauk. Lucien continues to act as though Molly was some meaningless scrap of floating consciousness. The Nein don’t believe that. He knows. He’s not interested in re-examining his opinions on the matter. The Nein keep pushing the Molly buttons. They keep going north together. Beau tells him about the cults they’ve destroyed. Lucien dispels their Polymorphs to force them to face the fire elementals down on the lava beside him. Caleb and Cad can emergency-teleport them out. Eiselcross doesn’t like teleportation energy. They’re the only ones who can stop the Somnovum. Lucien proves his mortality by getting them lost two days in a row. An old enemy finds them. They reach out to Essek. He’s waiting. Aeor. North. Caleb and Beau dream. They could be compromised. They can’t tell if Lucien knows. He’s always acting like he knows everything, and of course none of them would risk asking and giving him more information.

So they dance. But Lucien learned this dance by choice. His movements are quick and smooth, but they don’t flow naturally, not like the Nein’s. They first learned this dance out of necessity, and perfected it under threat of punishment, pain, and death. They’ve spent the last year learning how each other move, learning how to adjust and make room. It’s easy to let Fjord take the lead in negotiation, and to back off when he steps in to mediate. Beau and Caleb don’t have to talk to know each others’ priorities, and when Caleb marches over with clear intent, Beau follows quickly behind to provide silent support, and to step in to take some of the heat in case Caleb needs it. Cad and Jester are so effortlessly effective, offen without even realizing it, but it’s second-nature now to jump ship to whatever new tone or topic one of the clerics brings to the conversation. Veth is similar, though her skill lies more in her ability to aggressively redirect. She can cannonball into any smoothly flowing river of conversation, disrupting things significantly enough that whatever conversation had been happening, it’s at least going to be a very different one than what’s happening now. Yasha is the opposite - she always steps lightly, gently making comments or asking quiet questions, and if Veth is good at making waves, Yasha has a gift for settling things back down, bringing everyone’s energy levels down closer to her own.

and so Lucien is left on the outskirts of an intricate social dance that he can't hope to penetrate, because he refuses to allow himself to know the Nein. He refuses to accept that the part of him that is Molly used to flit and spin and flourish amongst them as though he belonged. Because he did. He does.

and so they keep walking north, with full knowledge that none of them trust each other even a little bit, and that both groups are waiting for one moment of weakness, one stumble, one missed step in the dance to give them a moment to strike. but the tentative peace is dependent on none of them acknowledging that the "peace" is simply the silence of a forest when an apex predator is stalking its prey. at this point, they're all just waiting to see who'll be the hunter, and who will be the hunted.

[rizsu]

the "losing all my innocence in the backseat" lyric is so geto waitttttt 😩

sneaky link geto who's like that guy who haunts the narrative of your love life

⢷ pepsi will never thrive without coca cola. (he ain't shit) geto suguru ꘟ fem-reader.

+ love, ‘su: PAUSE THE CHAT 🗣! geto would def stalk ur very much directed tiktok reposts and reply to them with “u miss me huh” (no beta #writtenassoonasigotthisask)

s-link!suguru who just wanted some quick comfort. he didn't need a nagging girlfriend who'd bother him about his whereabouts, certain messages, or even the not-so-hidden circular bruise at the side of his neck, a little under his ear.

in his eyes, you were — no, you are the perfect match for him. you're everything he's ever needed. you used him the way he used you; one and done. no more, no less. both equally needing the sense of relief and relaxation without pushing for deeper meaning.

s-link!suguru who obeyed the “no kissing” rule. to him, kissing is intimate — it's pure. the intentions of a kiss (in his view) are always romantic and genuine, two things that he's long been stripped of. he also avoided eye contact during the moment. it made him feel vulnerable, like he was ready to give up the persona and bask in your love.

again, you never opposed. if that's what he wants then sure. it's not like you were hoping for anything deeper. ignoring the sting in your chest, you often buried your head in the junction of his neck to shoulder — sometimes biting on his skin to deter yourself away from tears. you don't love him; it's just in the moment. that's all.

unlike what s-link!suguru believes, his friends collectively agreed that he's slowly falling in love. why else would he be aggressively tapping through your instagram stories? why would he swipe to reply with “who the fuck is that” if he isn't your boyfriend?

a monkey who doesn't see his own tail won't recognize his own mistakes, a saying his friends often preach — much to suguru's dismay. he doesn't know where it came from nor why they use it, but he's heard it from time to time.

the men can be heartless, but they have no tolerance for suguru intentionally hurting someone as sweet as you. you've met them, they met you, and s-link!suguru's hand never stopped lingering on your body. “not her boyfriend,” he said.

s-link!suguru eventually acknowledges that he's falling — head first, too. this is against every rule he laid out at the beginning of... whatever you two had going on. so, he didn't hesitate to slowly go no-contact with you.

it was easy to say the least. muting your chat, silencing your calls, skipping your posts — too easy. almost as easy as the first time you let him through your barriers. but he hadn't anticipate your immediate move on. when you finally confirmed that he's beginning to ghost you, you moved on.

did you jump relationships? no, but you did post more revealing outfits and “clubbing” stories.

his bottom lip suffered tremendous damage once he saw what you've been doing. is he angry? upset? jealous that you're in a dress he specifically pointed out that it'd “look hot on you” during a walk together?

it didn't take long before nailsbytrish457 kept viewing your profile. they were within the first few viewers. at first you were weirded out by it — a random account keeping daily tabs on you? time to private your profile.

for some reason, you didn't bother to private. instead, you were set on blocking the account and the other accounts it's attached to. your following count went down by 2. odd, right? why would su_geto be blocked as well if you only blocked nailsbytrish457?

s-link!suguru who gave up the non-existent fight and called you. he didn't care — you were going to deal with him whether you had the energy to or not. minutes into the call, arguing about the fact that he shouldn't be bothered until you hear a car pull up in your driveway.

baffled, you'd say “you're not fucking serious.”

he'd only reply with “open the door.”

in between the cursing, yelling, middle fingers being thrown up every now and then, you found yourself straddling his lap, digging your nails into his neck. you want to injure him — badly — but your mind can't seem to stop replaying the flashbacks you desperately tried to turn into lost footage.

s-link!suguru who cracks a cocky smile knowing he got his way, per usual. it's always like that. you know it too, but you can't seem to do anything about it. at least, he's a call (and an argument) away if you need him.

you're familiar with the warning that your love life will crumble if you don't get him out of the picture permanently, but how can you if he's so consistent yet irregular in your life? he's there, he's not. he's with you for a week, he's ghosting you the next.

a push and pull game you're too tired to care for.

andddd thats it bc im out of ideas 🧍🏽‍♀️ idk how situationships go i've yet to experience real romance in my life BYE. i literally stole my friends' experiences n stories for this #inspo #shoutouttotheirls

[solselah]

Off rip I see you carry the energy of duality super heavy , You could be Bi sexual specifically or in general apart of The LGBTQIA+ community! people are shocked about what you’re attracted to if you choose to express that , it’s always a shock factor towards it.

(which you never understand) I can see people are generally shocked when they come across your energy being that you truly just give

“you were made for me” vibes

&

“Match made in heaven energy”

it's shocking to come across an energy like yours! (Mini 18+ warning ) For my Ladies, people love love your boobs its something about your chest area!! There can also be a tattoo that you have in the middle of your chest that's a staple and ultimately shocking once revealed. you can be real freaky pile 1 & those you were intimate with are still shocked to this day about how freaky you are. You just don’t give that energy from the outside looking in. For a handful of you your ex is super shocked that you literally fell of the face of the planet , it’s like they had so much access when you were together but currently they are incredibly “shocked” that you are a bit difficult to contact , They definitely feel surprised / confused that you aren’t friends anymore. They at least thought you both would be cordial! You chose to fully separate which on your part was best & healthy for YOU.

You either seen them recently or will & they are/ Were SHOCKED to see you ! Like you look GOOOOD pile 1 you really ARE that BITCH , THAT GIRL , THAT MAN !!!

I purely channeled for this pile so you definitely have an

“Off the record”

vibe to you that shocks people.

Channeled song :

PERFECT - Dave East ft Chris Brown

444

You are so loyal and it can kind of be in insult if someone ever said to you in your face that they thought you wouldn’t value loyalty in life. you are the ride or die friend & in retrospect your so protected in friendships definitely more than you think. For this pile you could truly be a “loner” , people are pretty shocked that you don’t have a whole legion of friends!

People are also shocked to know you have the ability to not freak out if that makes sense , you can stay calm in the most intense situations and circumstances! You can literally just vibe out & that alone was birthed from all the hurdles and lessons you endured. You learned & mastered the art of not giving af and people find this not only shocking but attractive it’s like a gift you don’t usually see in everyone. People are pretty shocked to find out that you have hella skeletons in your closet but you hide it so well & with you it doesn’t present in a toxic manner.. you know your dark side . You don’t just scream all your fuck ups out loud. If asked , potentially but on a General level yea its a NO!

I feel heavy Scorpio energy as well for this pile 🦂

I see a visual of a Strip club and a pole and I loveeee it ! So you may be heavily into the night life in your city , or you entertain professionally in your city but people are shocked to see you outside of certain environments! Unfortunately in this world people judge strictly off looks and it seems you’ve been a victim of that at some point pretty heavily & your 360 is SHOCKING to people who knew & resonated with the “old you”. People are shocked that you really put your mind to this and started to hustle for your own ! You got some individuals who are shocked that you are humble with your money , it’s like you could be shitting on bitches but you’re super humble about it. Thats shocking to those who felt like the old you would be “obnoxious” about your success! This pile gets MONEY And idk why people are in YALLs pockets, but that’s so shocking to people It’s scary. People want the formula babes … it’s shocking but it’s the pure interest for me.

You could really pop your shit if you wanted to , And you’re super independent!! definitely keep beating the odds that arise against you while effortlesly shocking these h*** ;)

Random Side bar : The way you ride , you always shock whoever has the pleasure 🍆😗

Y’all are such lovers im talking hopeless romantic and that’s shocking to the outside world like you don’t come off as that “type” whatever that means ! Maybe you just aren’t as mushy with those around you but when it comes to that one person or the person (s) you choose to trust your… a dream! It’s Mesmerizing and shocking to those involved . This pile could be undeniably intuitive and that’s a shock value to pretty much everyone you meet , you may not sense when your intuitive nature kicks in but it’s like watching something unfold exactly how you want , it’s so satisfying.

People are shocked that you turn hate or challenges into powerful trophy’s ! You are a true Transmutator you can pretty much bend a lot of things to your will , lol this can truly go a lot of ways but I can see you TRY to keep this asset as positive as possible

I can see people are usually shocked when you tell them the hobbies you're into , I can clearly hear "streaming "or "gaming" !

I also pick up on loving cosplay and it’s shocking when you like magically transform ! It’s pretty cool :) 🧚

Hope you enjoyed ;) 💗

[evermoresversion]

If you could do one where reader and JJ used to be together secretly but they broke up and stayed friends and like months later when JJ is with Kiara all the pogues find out about their relationship it would be awesome <33

The crickets were chirping in the background while you leaned your hip against the wall in the backyard of your house and JJ was in front of you, playing with his hat. Your gaze was on the floor as you both stood in a tense silence.

“So that's it?” He broke the silence with a trembling voice and you sighed, looking up into his eyes, seeing the pain in them.

“You know this is the best decision.”

He nodded slowly and turned around, walking towards his motorcycle.

“We'll be fine, right?” You raised your voice and JJ just nodded again.

“Yeah, I just need time.”

He started the engine of the motorcycle and took off from there, leaving a feeling of emptiness in you but you knew everything would be fine.

It had been at least three months since the two of you had broken up and everything was going smoothly between you and JJ. All except that you started to notice Kiara very close to him until the two of them finally started dating.

You didn't feel jealous or anything like that since you always noticed a certain energy between them, but it was definitely strange seeing your ex with someone else.

One day when the Pogues were relaxing at the Chateau, you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a PB&J sandwich. You couldn't reach the peanut butter until an arm reached out and grabbed it easily for you. You turned around and it was the blonde you had been so in love with.

“Are you going to make yourself a sandwich?” You nodded with a knowing smile. You had always had a tradition that he would prepare your sandwiches and you would pay him with a make out session. “Let me do it for you.” He took the jam from your hand and began his work. “When we were dating you liked these.”

“I…”

“Were you two dating!?” A voice filled the kitchen, interrupting your words and you both stopped what you were doing to look at the person. It was Sarah.

“Y-yeah, I mean…” JJ scratched the back of his neck and looked at you for support.

“A long time ago.”

“Oh god.” She muttered and left the kitchen towards the porch where the others were.

You and JJ followed hot on her heels and Sarah was already telling what she had just found out.

“The two of them were dating, did you know that?!” Everyone looked at you both in surprise except for Kiara who was looking at JJ with a frown.

You both tried to think of what to say until finally you were the one who spoke.

"It was a while ago, we both got over it."

You looked at Kiara and she gave you a sympathetic smile. The others started asking questions about your former relationship until they finally stopped the topic because they were hungry.

While they went to buy something to eat, you, JJ and Pope stayed at the Chateau. You and the blonde went back to the kitchen to finish preparing your sandwich and that's when you realized that you could become good friends after all.

Until he touched your hand and all the memories came back to your mind.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.

[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗙𝗜𝗧𝗦 ˚. ᵎᵎ

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ It's the first oneshot I've written here and in English, enjoy and let me know your opinion ;)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Ekko’s workshop was always buzzing with a quiet, electric energy, a space where ideas sparked as easily as bolts from his tools. Today, though, the hum of his work seemed charged with something more, something new.

You were perched comfortably on his worktable, your gaze fixed on him as he knelt beside his half-dismantled hoverboard, hands busy replacing a cracked circuit. You’d shown up in a new outfit, something more “work-appropriate,” as Zeri had put it. She’d insisted on it, practically yanking you to her favorite underground tailor that morning, saying you needed “a proper look if you’re gonna hang around the Firelights.”

The end result, strangely enough, looked like it could’ve been handpicked from Ekko’s own wardrobe—a mix of utility and edge, sturdy but stylish enough to blend in with Zaun’s streets. Though it was obvious that Zeri had chosen the style, the whole look had an uncanny resemblance to Ekko’s own favorite fit, down to the last detail. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d done it on purpose.

Maybe he wasn’t as subtle about his hints as he thought he’d been.

You noticed him watching you, his brown eyes lingering a moment longer than he probably meant them to. You fought back a small smile and threw a comment his way, something light and sarcastic about the “coincidental” matching outfits, pretending not to see the faint flush that rose to his cheeks in response.

“Zeri did say it was supposed to be work-appropriate,” you said, crossing your arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “But I didn’t think she meant this close to the Firelights’ dress code. You got a hand in that, Ekko?”

He looked up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, though he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he returned to his work, tugging at a stubborn bolt and muttering something unintelligible about “stupid circuitry.” But you noticed the twitch in his lips, the way he was holding back. As he worked, you found your gaze drifting over his features. The concentrated furrow of his brow, the way his hands moved with practiced ease, the quiet intensity that settled over him whenever he was focused on a task—it was captivating in a way you hadn’t quite expected.

Ekko could feel your eyes on him, too, and the idea that you were watching him—really watching him—sent an electric thrill down his spine. He didn’t want to say anything and risk breaking the moment, but it made his hands feel almost clumsy as he tried to focus on the hoverboard.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, raising an eyebrow without looking up. His voice was casual, but he was anything but.

Caught off guard, you huffed and rolled your eyes, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

“Not really. I was just wondering how long it would take you to fix a single circuit board.”

Ekko laughed under his breath, stealing a quick glance up at you.

“Good one,” he said, tightening the last bolt with a playful shake of his head. “You might look the part, but I think you still got a ways to go before you understand how delicate this stuff actually is.”

“Oh, I understand delicate,” you replied, leaning forward with a slight smirk. “I just thought you were faster than this, Little Man.”

At that, he finally set down his tools, crossing his arms as he straightened up and fixed you with a challenging gaze. “Careful with that nickname,” he warned, though his tone was light. “Only certain people get away with that.”

You raised an eyebrow, shrugging as if it were no big deal, but you couldn’t hide the amusement in your eyes.

“Good thing I’m not just ‘certain people,’ huh?”

A brief silence settled over the room, and the air thick.. Ekko glanced down at your matching outfits, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t resist saying it now.

“Guess we look pretty good together, don’t we?” he mused, looking back at you with a glint in his eye. He tilted his head, inspecting the outfit with mock seriousness. “I mean, not that I had anything to do with it or anything…”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Uh-huh. Right. Because I just happened to show up looking like your twin by pure chance.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault if you’ve got good taste,” he shot back, raising his hands in defense. But there was a glimmer in his eyes that gave him away, the faintest hint of guilt wrapped in a smile. He shifted under your gaze, hands back at the hoverboard, suddenly finding the bolts extremely interesting.

“Ekko,” you said, leaning forward with a grin. “Just admit it—you told Zeri, didn’t you?”

He bit his lip, trying to hide the grin that threatened to break free.

“What? No. Me? Tell her to match you with me? Why would I… I mean, I don’t need to do that, obviously. I just… maybe gave her a few hints, that’s all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

You tilted your head, your expression amused but curious.

“A few hints?”

“Alright, maybe more than a few,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I may have… strongly suggested that she’d do me a solid. Told her you needed something sturdy, something that says ‘ready for action.’”

“And something that conveniently matches your look?”

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin, “it’s all part of team spirit, right?”

You laughed, and the sound filled the small workshop, bringing a warmth that had little to do with the stuffy, cramped room. Ekko looked at you, his face softening as he watched the way the corners of your mouth lifted, the easy way you teased him. In that moment, he felt a surge of pride mixed with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

The tension between you shifted, settling into something quieter, more comfortable. He hesitated, caught between the impulse to say more and the safety of holding back. But he found himself taking a small step closer, his eyes serious now as they met yours.

“You know,” he said softly, the bravado slipping from his voice, “I just… thought you’d look cool. Like you belonged here. Not that you need clothes for that or anything,” he added quickly, fumbling over his words, “but… it helps.”

For a brief moment, you forgot how to speak, his words catching you off guard in a way that left you momentarily stunned. When you finally found your voice, it was softer, more genuine.

“Well, I guess I should thank you, then,” you said, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “I could get used to this look. Guess I owe Zeri, too.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but the laughter quickly faded into a thoughtful silence. He looked down, suddenly unsure of himself, as if he hadn’t just been wearing a confident smile a moment before.

“You know, I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “I don’t say it much, but… it’s cool having someone like you around.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest, laced with all the things he hadn’t yet dared to put into words. You felt your heart skip a beat, your usual sarcasm and wit replaced by something softer, something fragile.

Before you could respond, he tapped the board, testing its balance with a nudge.

“Alright, give me a hand with this?” he asked, a little too quickly, holding it out towards you. “The stabilizer’s acting up again.”

Grateful for the distraction, you hopped down from the table, moving to stand beside him. You watched as he leaned over the board, pointing out the issue, but you could hardly focus on the gadget. Instead, your gaze wandered, noticing the fine details in his hands, the deftness of his movements, the way his focus was so intense.

Together, you both adjusted the stabilizer, a comfortable silence settling over the workshop, punctuated only by the occasional click and buzz of Ekko’s tools. When he was satisfied, he gave the board a final spin, and it hummed to life, hovering slightly above the ground with a soft glow. He grinned, proud of your combined handiwork.

“Not bad,” he said, his voice warm with pride. He turned to you, his eyes bright. “Almost feels like I’ve got a new partner-in-crime. Think you could handle it?”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk.

“You think I can’t handle a little trouble?”

“Fair point,” he replied, a laugh bubbling out as he nudged your shoulder. He stepped back, reaching out his hand toward you with a grin. “Hop on. You can test it out, see if my handiwork holds up.”

You took his hand and he put his arm around you, playfully saying that you would fall or something, whatever, you didn't really pay attention to him but instead all your concentration was on his hand holding your waist, and with a push you both left the workshop, the tree outside was as beautiful as ever, the cool breeze hitting your face and you could swear there was a strange feeling in your stomach thanks to the height.

Yeah, it was probably the height…

After a few loops, he brought the board to a slow stop, both of you leaning on each other for balance. He stepped off first, offering his hand to help you down.

“Guess it works pretty well,” he said, giving you a satisfied nod. “Must be the matching outfits. Makes everything run smoother.”

“Must be,” you replied, smiling as you gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing.”

His eyes held yours for a moment longer, his expression softening as he considered your words. “Yeah, maybe we should,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you climbed the stairs in the tree to re-enter the workshop, you two began to chat calmly again, pretending that everything was exactly the same as before. But now you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of happiness. Ekko’s touch, his words, and the way he’d gone out of his way to match outfits with you—it all felt like a secret shared only between the two of you.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[torahtot]

you can always tell when someone doesn't have maga men in their life and god it makes me angry.. "if you're nice and compassionate you can be the one woman that makes them realize women aren't mean!" my mom bent over backwards for my dad for 25 fucking years he has plenty of other women kissing his ass and it never changed anything. do you really think that before being radicalized they never knew a single kind woman? they were never friends with a nice girl? alt-right men's problem with women isn't just that they've experienced too many mean women and they need to be shown that women can be nice, it's that they think women are inferior and don't deserve rights and don't understand anything so you can do what you want with them. and it takes a lot more than being nice to show someone that you aren't inferior. this isn't a case of being nice even when it's hard for the sake of deradicalization, it's about spending every fucking interaction with someone trying to get them to see you as a human being with value and a functioning intellect while they just laugh and show you that's never going to happen.

i cannot stress this enough: random women are not just going out and Being Mean to men. ur average guy interacts with plenty of women throughout his life- close women amongst their friends and family, casual interactions etc. most people don't start out being shunned by women, they start out being treated as NORMAL. & when they show their disrespect in normal society, it isn't tolerated, but when they go to alt-right spaces (which they're pushed towards online) they're told they're allowed to be as horrible as they want with no consequences because they're entitled to everything. it isn't "women aren't welcoming and the alt-right is so friendly so i'll become alt-right," it's "women don't let me disrespect them and the alt-right tells me fuck them, do whatever you want, you're entitled to it all" and why would you choose the group where you have to be a normal accountable person when there's a group that will reward you for being a shithead who gives no fucks?

the alt-right can afford to be more friendly and welcoming because they can allow bigotry. this can't work the same way for progressive spaces because we can be as kind & welcoming as possible but at the end of the day we have lines where we have to say "this behavior/speech isn't allowed in this space," and for certain people, that just can't win against a space where you can be as nasty as you want. these posts always end with a disclaimer saying "of course being kind doesnt mean you need to tolerate their bigotries" but what they don't realize and what drives me crazy is that women not tolerating bigotry IS the "women are mean" that radicalized them in the first place. they perceive you pushing back on any bigotry or bullshit as you being a meanie and treating them like they're ontologically evil. the 'kindness' they need to be deradicalized is you letting them walk all over you.

idk what the answer is to deradicalizing them and im sure relationships are part of it but you can be as kind as you want and all it will do is destroy you ime. i cant stand to see people (who have never even successfully deradicalized any man by being nice btw they always speak in hypotheticals and not from experience) double down on telling women to do things that will see no results and only hurt them, especially when any woman who has tried can tell you exactly how it went

[gem-de-lune]

Daily Vibe Check 11/14

Seunghan

Strength + The Star

This is a lot of courage and faith. Particularly, it is not necessarily peoactive action based but internal. I have said before that he seems to be preparing himself for something, and it seems to be it. He has a lot of hope today. Today is a good day for him.

What is he doing today?

The Wheel of Fortune + Knight of Cups + The Emperor

This is a lot of internal and personal work. He is still very much in the energy of acceptance. A lot of people have seemed to get the wrong idea from this. So, while I was reading this today, I felt called to a specific phrase in pulling the Wheel card. "What comes up must come down." Understand that this is true vise versa as well. Seunghan's acceptance stems from the fact that he feels he cannot possibly reach a point lower than what had happened now. Whatever happens will be just as impactful and in a positive way in his mind. Today, he is handling his affairs and future plans. For once, he is alone, but he is not depressed today. He has a lot of willpower, a lot of heart, and determination to make the best out of his day. He may interact with a pet or other animals today. I also see him practicing maybe singing? Something creative and vocal.

Finances (someone asked abt this so adding it to check-in)

3 of Coins + 3 of Wands + 8 of Swords

The spread suggests the current situation is one where if he works hard with others, there is a definite opportunity to reap very good rewards and new opportunities to come. However, with the 8 of Swords, there seems to be a tension in that these rewards and opportunities cannot be reached until he has broken free of certain constraints and setbacks. I think the current situation. But He seems to have a good support system- at least financially to be healthy and okay for the time being. The situation could change soon though if nothing is done about the 8 of Swords energy.

Bottom of the Deck:

The Lovers

In this context, we are talking about the harmonious decision made between multiple entities. I think this card seeks to represent Seunghan's intentions. He wants things to end harmoniously with no ill feelings or contempt. He is going to choose peace every time. That's just how and who he is. (Libras amirite lmfao)

Final Notes:

Tbh guys I am getting the feeling that good things will happen but not when we want them to. Everything i have been reading daily has been screaming PATIENCE. I am not that patient tbh. But i think I could wait a bit longer as long as the ending is satisfactory.

However, i am being told it is seriously important that we make whatever time we have left count here....things have been shifting, and SM is sly no matter what. They believe this could still possibly fade into the dark. Things need to be more visible, and garner more attention. POSITIVE attention TOWARDS Seunghan and attention to SM to DO SOMETHING not just insult them- but a literal call to action in a way we have not done before. I keep saying this, but tbh it's super super important right now as I speak. I'm getting literal goosebumps about it, so I pulled some cards asking abt Seunghan's return to Riize to checkup:

7 of Wands + 5 of Wands

This is a fight. We MUST stand our ground. We MUST not forget what we are doing. And We CANNOT afford to lose the war. It is clear there are still details and stipulations causing a lot of hesitance and inner fighting on SMs side. We absolutely need to remind them again why they listened to the wrong side. If we don't manage to have at least one more final hurrah here- it's not looking AS good as before.

Please please please do not give up.

[girl-next-door-writes]

And Everything Changed

Characters: Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: Eddie Munson’s D&D game takes a surprising turn when a new player arrives, leading to unexpected romance and vulnerability.

Word Count: 1527 words

Prompt: ‘Now Kiss her.’

A/N: This is for @caplanbuckybarnes Disney Celebration

Eddie Munson sat in the dimly lit room, drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for the Hellfire Club members to arrive. This was their big campaign night, the night when their characters would either emerge victorious or face unspeakable doom. But there was a problem—Gareth had dropped out last minute, flu. A replacement was required, and fast.

When Dustin suggested the idea earlier in the caffeteria, Eddie had balked.

"Are you sure about this?" Eddie asked, his fingers still tapping a restless rhythm. "She's never played DnD before."

"Trust me, Eddie. She’s cool. Plus, she's into fantasy stuff," Dustin replied, already confident that this would work out.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his untamable hair. It wasn’t that he doubted your ability to grasp the game—it was something else. You’d been hanging out with them more lately, joining their lunch tables and occasional after-school hangouts. And as much as Eddie tried to play it cool, there was something about you that made his pulse race and his thoughts jumble. You were... different. And maybe that’s what scared him.

"Alright, fine. Bring her in. But if she can't handle the pressure, it's on you," Eddie said, pretending to be casual, even though a small part of him was excited at the thought of spending the evening with you.

When you walked into the session that evening, Eddie’s breath hitched. You looked a little out of place, unsure of what you were stepping into, but still radiating confidence. Dustin had given you a brief rundown of what you were getting yourself into, but nothing could have prepared you for the theatrical spectacle that was Eddie Munson running a Dungeons & Dragons campaign.

"Welcome to the Hellfire Club," Eddie said, his voice deep and theatrical as he gestured to the table. "I hope you're ready for the most intense adventure of your life."

You smiled, a little shy but intrigued. "Thanks. I hope I don’t mess up too much."

"Nah, you'll be fine," Dustin chimed in. "Eddie's a good teacher."

Eddie shot Dustin a glare, as if to say 'don't oversell me,' but then he turned back to you and gave you one of his trademark devilish grins. "Alright, sit down, newbie. Let’s get started."

As the game kicked off, Eddie watched you carefully. You were picking things up quickly, asking questions when needed but mostly diving into the story with surprising enthusiasm. The room was buzzing with energy as everyone got lost in the game, but Eddie couldn’t help but be distracted by you.

It wasn’t just your character’s quick thinking or the way you seemed to take to the fantasy world so easily—it was you. The way your eyes lit up when something exciting happened in the game. The way you leaned forward when your character was in danger. And how, when you laughed at one of his ridiculous voices, it felt like a little victory.

As the campaign progressed, something shifted. The game wasn’t just a game anymore—it became a stage for something bigger. Every glance between your character and Eddie’s NPCs seemed to carry more weight. Every time your characters interacted, it felt like the two of you were playing out something just beneath the surface, something neither of you had the courage to confront directly.

And then it happened.

The group had just survived a major battle. Your character, an inexperienced mage, had managed to cast a spell that turned the tide in their favor, saving everyone from certain doom. Eddie, as the dungeon master, described the aftermath in vivid detail.

"The smoke clears, and all that’s left are the charred remains of your enemies. But as the dust settles, you realize something—your companion, Sir Andor," he said, referring to the noble knight NPC he’d been playing, "is badly wounded. He falls to the ground, bleeding."

You looked at Eddie, your brow furrowing. "I rush over to him. Can I do anything?"

Eddie leaned forward, the intensity of the moment pulling everyone in. "Sir Andor looks up at you, his breaths shallow. 'I fear... this is the end...,'" he said, dropping his voice low to play the character.

"No," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine emotion. "It can’t be the end."

The rest of the group was watching in silence, completely wrapped up in the drama unfolding between your character and Eddie’s. Even Dustin, who usually cracked jokes during the game, was unusually quiet.

"I want to... try to heal him," you said, almost hesitant.

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure if it was the game or if it was you, sitting right there, your eyes locked with his. For a moment, it felt like everything else fell away.

"Roll for it," Eddie said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The dice clattered across the table. It was a high roll—just enough to succeed.

Eddie cleared his throat, slipping back into character. "Sir Andor looks at you, his eyes softening. 'You... you saved me,' he says, his voice filled with gratitude. He reaches out and touches your hand."

The room was thick with tension, everyone waiting for what would happen next. Your character had saved him, but the moment felt bigger than the game.

Dustin, sensing something in the air, leaned forward with a mischievous grin and whispered, "Now kiss her."

The table erupted in laughter, breaking the tension. But Eddie, instead of laughing it off, looked at you. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. His heart was racing, and the playful comment had hit a little too close to home.

You looked back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, Sir Andor?" you teased, breaking the silence.

Eddie chuckled, but there was something different in his laugh now—something real. "I think Sir Andor... owes you more than just a kiss."

The rest of the game played out smoothly, but the dynamic between you and Eddie had changed. What had started as a game had turned into something far more personal. By the end of the night, as the other players packed up their things and said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, waiting for Eddie.

"I had fun tonight," you said softly, your voice carrying more meaning than just the game.

"Yeah? Even though you got thrown into the deep end?" Eddie asked, trying to sound casual, but his nerves were betraying him.

You shrugged. "I think I did alright. Plus, I had a good teacher."

Eddie smiled, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes now. He wasn’t sure if it was the game, the way you’d thrown yourself into the character, or the fact that you’d stayed after everyone else had left—but something had shifted. He wasn’t just crushing on you from a distance anymore. There was a real connection here, something deeper.

"I, uh..." Eddie started, his voice faltering. He wasn’t sure how to say what was on his mind, so he just blurted it out. "I’ve kinda liked you for a while, you know."

Your eyes widened slightly, but instead of pulling away, you stepped closer to him. "I know," you said quietly.

Eddie blinked, surprised. "You do?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’ve noticed. And... I kinda like you too."

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, the world around him fading into the background. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this exposed. But at the same time, it felt right.

"I, uh... I don’t know how to do this," Eddie admitted, his voice softer now. "I’m not exactly the guy who gets the girl, you know?"

You reached out and took his hand, your touch grounding him. "You don’t have to be perfect, Eddie. I don’t want perfect. I just want someone who sees me, who’s willing to stick around even when things get messy."

Eddie looked at you, his heart swelling with something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, stepping even closer. "I want someone who can love the parts of me that aren’t always easy."

Eddie swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was like you were speaking the words he’d always longed to hear but had never dared to hope for.

For a moment, there was nothing but the two of you, standing there in the dimly lit room, the echoes of your words hanging in the air. And then, without thinking, Eddie leaned in and kissed you—not in the way Sir Andor would have kissed your character in the game, but in a way that was real and raw, like it was the first time he’d ever truly let himself feel this way.

When he pulled back, his heart was pounding, and he could barely catch his breath. "So... does this mean you’re coming back to Hellfire next week?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You laughed softly, still holding his hand. "Yeah. I think I’ll stick around."

And just like that, everything changed for Eddie Munson.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Final Respects

Smokescreen was set to aid Optimus Prime in reviewing an abandoned Decepticon mine. He imagined it was largely going to be guard duty. Instead, he found his views of the dead challenged by his idol.

Previous Smokey related thing can be found here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Optimus, what are we doing here?" Smokescreen walked a few feet behind his Prime, observing the abandoned battlefield quietly. The Decepticons had fled long ago, leaving behind only their useless mining excess and the bodies of the Vehicons who were killed in the fight for the mine less than an hour prior.

"We are here to offer the dead their final respects." The Prime answered quietly, almost solemnly. He didn't pause in his steps, instead marching through the rubble and into the mine to assess the damage. Smokescreen followed without question, his gaze falling upon the abandoned furnaces and strip mining tunnels just inside. The Decepticons weren't trying very hard to hide this particular operation.

"Why? They are Decepticons-" Smokescreen attempted to voice his concerns, but Optimus silenced him with a weary sigh and by halting his steps.

"Smokescreen, I lived before factions were even a murmur on the wind. Many of these soldiers were born into this role. They had no choice in the matter." The Prime gestured to the devestation, the bodies strewn in and out of the mine. Smokescreen followed his gaze, but he didn't find his spark swelling with any kind of pity. He saw the badges and the masks. They were Vehicons. Not Autobots or civilians.

"Still doesn't change the fact that they are enemies." He tried to state his objection to this whole mess, but Smokescreen found his voice came out weak and uncertain. Under Optimus's gaze, he felt like a sparkling being schooled after having stolen from a store.

"Neither does it disregard the fact that each and every one of these Vehicons were forged Cybertronian." There was a certain undertone of sterility to Optimus's glyphs that made Smokescreen want to vanish into the ground. But he managed to reset his vocalizer as he looked at all the bodies again. What was the point of it all? Why give funeral rites to enemy soldiers when energon was already scarce and they were so overworked?

"I don't get it. Why waste energy on Vehicons? I mean, I'd get it if they were alive, but they are obviously offline." Again, Optimus sighed. Smokescreen felt like even more of a discrace to his non-existent bloodline as he watched the Prime rub his face and then gesture between them both.

"If your comrade fell in battle, would you honor him?" The question hung in the air mockingly for a moment. Smokescreen took the chance to contemplate whether or not it was meant to be a trick question as he nodded.

"Of course. Autobots stick together, especially a soldier who goes down for the cause." Touching his badge, Smokescreen showed it off with an expression of uncertainty. Optimus remained as composed as ever as he fired back with another inquiry.

"What about a civilian? A neutral caught in the crossfire." Smokescreen hesitated a bit longer with his response. He was not liking where this line of questioning was going.

"Sure, I mean they didn't do anything wrong." He almost grumbled but fought back the response as Optimus's optics cycled, as if preparing to land the killing blow. In their verbal spar, he might as well have been as he again gestured to the dead around them.

"Then what sets a Decepticon apart from an Autobot or a neutral? Why are they unworthy of a funeral?" There it was. Smokescreen actively winced as he found his worldview attacked. His drill sargent always said to see the enemy before the mech. It would make shooting them down easier.

It wasn't exactly fun to have to consider things from a moral perspective.

"They are the enemy. It's not a good use of resources to give them funeral rites." Not really wanting to deal with the emotions involved in dealing with the dead, Smokescreen opted for logic. Optimus, however, didn't seem very inclined toward it as he knelt beside the nearest Vehicon, removing the mech's mask to show a face frozen in terror.

Smokescreen was unable to stop himself from grimacing.

"I understand that being raised in a time of war has made seeing our people as one unit effectively impossible. But I would implore you to look beyond the badges of your fellows." Optimus reached out, tenderly closing the optics of the dead mech before carrying it over to the nearest furnace and laying the Vehicon's body inside.

"They have faces." He picked up more bodies, always taking care to remove the mask in order to assess each and every face. Some were relatively peaceful, as if they'd expected their end. Others were forever stuck in a state of horror or pain. A few select ones even seemed sad, with dried tearstains on their faces. Optimus wiped the marks away from those fallen bots, his expression solemn but not unkind.

Smokescreen felt sick to his tanks.

"They have names." As if to rub rust in the wound, Optimus held up a Vehicon's arm before he gathered up the body. Smokescreen was met with the sight of numbers burned into the mech's very plating, a designation in a sense. He couldn't help how his spark clenched in its chamber at the sight. They weren't proper names, but these mechs still had something.

"They have sparks." Optimus gathered up more of the bodies, showing the ones with torn chassis plating so reveal their cold and lightless spark chambers. It really shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. But seeing the dead be so empty… it made something instinctual in Smokescreen recoil.

"Look at them and tell me once more that they do not deserve to be given their final rites." Optimus's voice rang out as he continued to move bodies into the furnace, his tone neither harsh nor particularly soothing. He was teaching Smokescreen a lesson, one which he was not enjoying all that much.

"They carry scars just like we do." Optimus held a body in his arms, one mutilated from battle and the explosion that killed them. Smokescreen's devotion to his viewpoint faded futher and further with every motion the Prime made.

"They had wants and wishes just like every other living being." As the last body was loaded into the furnace, Optimus came up and clasped Smokescreen's shoulder, breaking him from his reverie. He should have been helping… and yet here he was. Rethinking life or something like that.

"No matter which side they stand on, they deserve to be laid to rest. If only to honor the lives they could have lived if they were not cut short." With that, Optimus moved away to start a fire. Smokescreen wasn't paying much attention to the whole affair. His focus was on Optimus and the machinery he was forcing back into functionality to get the fires burning.

"Why'd you pick me to help with this?" He found himself murmuring as the flames began to rise up, covering the bodies in the furnace. He wasn't doing much on the helping front, but he couldn't help but wonder why he was shown this at all. Logically, he assumed it was for the sake of learning a lesson. But why bother? He was just a rookie.

"Because you are the only one who has not yet seen the horrors of war as we have. I wanted to teach you to honor your enemy before you grew too bitter to see them as kin." Optimus moved away from the furnace to stand by Smokescreen's side. They both watched the bodies start to melt under the intense heat, metal and internal components turning into liquid that would soon be mostly useless to any organic who came across it. Without protomatter or energon, cybertronian steel was only somewhat stronger than human metals.

The dead would not be able to be used as a weapon.

"Records from the archive said that traditional rites would have the dead be turned back into parts for the living, or used as sentio metallico for a newbuild." Smokescreen spoke up softly, voicing the old information that came to the front of his memory banks. Optimus hummed beside him, his optics trained on the flames.

"Normally, that would be the case." Looking up at him, the Prime seemed so very tired. His optics held depth that was impossible to fully comprehend, but within the haze of age old knowledge, there was what Smokescreen could only assume was grief. How Optimus managed to care for so many mecha after so long being embroiled in war was behind him.

"But on this foreign world, in a place so far from our home… it is safer to destroy that which we cannot salvage. That way, no others may use the bodies of our dead to create more devestation." Optimus's response was not heavy, although there was a not of regret in his tone. Somehow, it made Smokescreen's spark pang in sorrow. He couldn't imagine being left as a pile of slag on a foriegn world, forgotten to everyone.

"That's… really sad. It almost feels wrong to just have them all burned up like this." Every part of his training screamed at him, demanding Smokescreen return to the mind of a soldier and witness his foes for what they were. But seeing the bodies burn? He just… couldn't do it. It was not an honorable end. Burned up into liquid metal and left to clump and become soiled on a world that was not their own.

It wasn't right.

"And now you see the worth of a life, Smokescreen." Optimus's voice was little more than a murmur, but Smokescreen caught it anyway. He said nothing else as they watched the flames, waiting until everything was fully melted before dousing the flames. Once they were done, they exited the mine, at which point Optimus shot at the entrance until it collapsed.

Smokescreen winced as dust and rubble rushed past him, but again, he said nothing. What a sad way to die. A mere number, then abandoned in a slagging mine of all places. As much as it bothered him to admit it… not even Decepticon deserved to be forgotten.

"We honor our dead as best as we can, but in the end, we are still at war." Optimus's servo fell upon his shoulder, heavy and comforting all at once. Smokescreen could faintly hear the ground bridge opening behind them, but he couldn't help but stare at the collapsed mine for a little while longer. Part of him wondered, distantly, what the world would have looked like if there hadn't been a war. Would he have known any of those Vehicons?

Slag, Optimus had a way of making him rethink his entire life's purpose.

"Guard the living, remember the dead. Honor the fallen, and fight in their names. That is all we can do to ensure we do not lose ourselves in the haze of eternal conflict." The Prime's commentary was grim, but it was not without wisdom. Smokescreen could only sigh in response, his vents fluttering as he watched for a moment, and then turned to follow Optimus back through the ground bridge.

No one deserved to be forgotten.

Not even enemies.

[hydrobunny]

everyone thinks that they know us

tags: confessions, getting together, friends to lovers

a/n: written from the idea made by the amazing @yangx2isawhore :3

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

it's exactly 11:34pm when the ringing of your phone wakes you up.

jolting up from your bed, you blearily glare at your phone screen. the contact name of SHIDOU‼️ burns into your eyes.

you hang up.

a second later, it rings again.

"what."

"y/n!" as always, shidou's voice is just a little too loud for it to be acceptable. "how mad would you be if i killed rin right now?"

you pause. you look at the time. you consider the probability of him telling the truth.

"pretty mad."

"great!" and you can hear the grin in shidou's voice as he recites out an address. "you can come save him then."

although you were the one that had tried so hard to befriend rin itoshi, you were pretty certain that you hadn't signed up for whatever the hell this was.

you pull up at the address at a sharp 12:02 am, annoyance already settling in underneath your eyes.

the address is a mansion (why would you ever expect anything else), and the recognizable bass of party music blasts through the windows. at least a dozen different colored sports cars (you consider how much one would sell for) are parked outside of it.

you debate turning around. unfortunately, you think shidou might actually be serious about killing your best friend.

best friend. how did you get to this point? friend. didn't matter that you might have been in love with him- rin could never see you as anything more.

you knock on the door.

a man you might be able to recognize if you cared enough answers. his dual-colored eyes flit over you with interest.

"hey there, pretty," he says, and his voice is slurring with the unmistakeable touch of alcohol. "don't think you're on the invite list, but i can make an exception."

you scowl. "no thank you. shidou called me to come?"

he cocks his head. "what could someone like you possibly have anything to do with that psycho?"

"he-"

the psycho in question slams into two-eye's side, whooping. "took you long enough!"

you sigh.

shidou ryusei grins at you, positively buzzing with energy. the smell of cheap (why cheap? genuinely, why did he buy cheap alcohol?) beer lingers around his face.

"did you kill rin yet?"

the grin immediately wipes itself from his face. "getting there."

he whirls around, a warm hand latching around your own- and then he's pulling you through the hallways of this too-big house.

the music hasn't stopped for a second since you've got here. in many of the rooms, you can spot groups of vaguely recognizable people, all of them in various states of buzzed-to-plastered.

you wonder how professional athletes weren't any better than the frat boys that threw weekend parties. (well, the age range was pretty much the same)

"where are we?" you manage to shout into shidou's ear, as he pulls you further away from the heart of the party.

"sae's house!" he yells back.

"what?"

the two of you slam into another room- shidou shuts the door with too much force - and the music fades away into background noise.

rin's head snaps up at your entrance.

"rinrin!" shidou crows. "brought you another babysitter!"

rin stares at you with genuine confusion. his eyes are hazed over, his cheeks a light red. "what? y/n?" a red solo cup, ominously empty, sits by his hand.

"yes, yes," shidou replies, pushing you forward. "the only person who can somehow tolerate your presence is here!"

you slip out of shidou's grip. "what the hell is happening?"

he rolls his obnoxiously bright eyes at your question. "little itoshi's weirdly drunk and incoherent. which means big itoshi has to pretend like he cares. which means i can't force big itoshi to drink an enormous amount of alcohol! so now you have to watch this idiot!"

"i am not drunk," rin snarls towards shidou. "and i don't need a babysitter."

he attempts to get up from the counter he's perched on, and immediately wobbles. you debate whether it would be worth laughing.

before you can make a decision, another side door opens.

and sae itoshi meets your gaze with bored indifference.

"what- you!"

he raises an eyebrow. you're not sure how you got into this situation.

you wonder how you're supposed to react to meeting the one and only brother you've heard rin talk so much about.

some inner part of you immediately doesn't like him. the other part immediately notices how similar they look, and curse their sheer attractiveness.

either way, sae loses the little interest he had in you immediately, turning towards shidou. "is this-" he waves a hand towards you. "her?

shidou nods furiously. "junior is perfectly cared for now. now let's get out of here!"

rin glares at all three of you.

sae sighs. for someone who's supposed to be the host, he doesn't look thrilled at the prospect of socializing.

the elder itoshi turns his attention onto the younger. "you're fine with her?"

rin's eyes narrow further. he doesn't respond.

shidou takes that as his cue. his hands place themselves on sae's shoulders. "good talk, everyone!"

and with another slammed door, you are left alone with rin. it's more than a little awkward.

you open your mouth- he shoots you a glare. you can take a hint. (even if it breaks your heart.)

out of a bored curiosity, and maybe a little spite, you start opening cabinets. they're mostly empty (you wonder what kind of life sae lives).

rin's gaze follows you the entire way. it's intense enough to give you goosebumps.

eventually, you come across a pot of gold- a wine bottle, its cork untapped. there's a ribbon attached to its neck; you spy the JFU logo placed on top.

"he won't mind, right?" you ask.

silence follows.

you open the bottle. if you're going to be stuck here anyways, why let it go to waste?

surprisingly, it's rin that talks first. "why'd you come?" he mumbles out, stumbling over a syllable.

you shrug, taking another mouthful of the wine. (it's good. too good. damn rich people.) "shidou said he was gonna kill you."

“shidou has your number? you responded? why'd you care?" he blurts out in a tsunami of words. immediately after, he looks away with reddening ears.

you eye him with slowly growing amusement. there's a buzzing in your stomach that's slowly stripping your self control away. "yes. and yes. and because we're friends."

rin tch's, still refusing to meet your eyes. you think he'll keep talking, but he doesn't.

so you take another swig of the wine bottle. maybe rin can be the one to reach out for once.

but- like always- you're the first to crack. after a possible fifteen minutes of brooding silence, you sigh.

"what's going on with sae?"

rin's gaze snaps to your face. "what about him?"

you raise your brows. (you think you meant to raise only one. you can't really tell.) "i thought he didn't fuck with you."

rin's face scrunches at your words. "what?"

you groan, sliding down from your perch onto the floor. "you know? i thought- well, he looks like he cares."

he stands up. "he doesn't."

"sure."

he stares at you with a complicated expression, and then makes his way over to you. you blink up at him.

"i don't like you talking to him," rin says, seemingly more lucid than before.

"wasn't really my choice." you shoot him a smile, raising a hand. he lifts you up to standing with it.

from how close you now are, the two of you are almost touching. if you weren't as delirious on wine as you are now, this would be much more distressing.

even now, it takes all of your will to maintain eye contact with him.

"you don't like me talking to him?" you mumble out.

rin tilts his head. "no."

"can i ask why you came here then? or why you got plastered off cheap booze?"

he opens his mouth, then stops. and then- "you're not doing much better."

you clear your throat. more than the wine, it's rin who's clouding your thoughts. his faint cologne- so much more evident at this distance- intoxicates you.

"that didn't answer my question."

his eyes narrow. "i felt like it."

you frown. "what situation are you in that made you want to get drunk with shidou?"

and his eyes flicker down. to your lips.

"what do you think?"

you stumble; rin's hand places itself in the small of your back. signature itoshi teal burns.

you're both drunk. you're in his brother's house. and yet-

and yet, you're both here, and rin itoshi is leaning down into you.

his lips meet yours desperately, his breath catching over and over again. your hands tangle into his hair- he groans wordlessly.

you separate with a gasp.

"are you- what?" you manage, face ablaze.

rin looks just as disheveled. "y/n."

"rin."

he steps back, eyes roving from wall to wall. "fuck. fuck, im sorry. i thought-"

that's not the right words you wanted to hear. you step forward, the wine bottle long forgotten behind.

"you thought right," you blurt.

rin stares at you. a flush sits over his face.

"i thought you wanted to just be friends. that- that you didn't want me." you say.

surprise, and horror, flicks in his eyes. "what?"

you cough out a laugh. "not very smart off the field, are you?"

rin's mouth opens and closes, much like a fish. you think he's going to speak-

he closes the gap between you two, and his lips meet yours again.

between gasps, he mumbles a "i could never not want you." into your form.

and you sigh out your own declaration of love

somewhere in the house, a door slams. someone whoops in exhilaration.

but in this room, it's just you and rin. alcohol tinges both of your breaths. you're both drunk on something bigger.

[magicicephoenix]

So... about regeneration, can Moon do that, or does he just change outfits?

SORRY the immediate mental image of Moon dramatically getting injured and keeling over, in pain and seemingly about to die, only to abruptly change his clothes and stand up like nothing happened has me WHEEZING

umm so instead of flashy glowy regeneration i've been thinking that fatal injuries trigger an emergency protocol (called Regeneration, of course) that briefly shuts him down as his lingering energy rushes to do a rough patch job of the wound; enough to get him working again. when he awakens, all of his processing power is put towards getting to a location where he can repair himself, so he's not really mentally present as his body rushes to find materials to fix itself. he will use anything in reach (and i mean anything, he's only focused on preserving himself, not any collateral damage he causes by doing it) to put himself back to a fully working state. when the Regeneration Protocol deems him repaired, he restarts and is back to normal consciousness. running the protocol is extremely taxing on him and can have some side effects (in parallel to how doctor who regeneration changes the personality of a time lord, but not quite as drastic... more like it incidentally flips a handful of switches in his brain and now he hates country music or something. tiny preference changes). it can also cause memory corruption, but that's more rare and it's never too impactful; usually it's on the level of forgetting certain words or names or faces and thus easily fixable.

furthering injuring a Time Lord when they're running the Regeneration Protocol will kill them.

Moon has a room with a stockpile of parts in the TARDIS in case he ever runs the Regeneration Protocol and always tries to rush there when he's close to triggering it. afterwards he will spend some time fiddling with the repair until he's personally satisfied with it. sometimes this means replacing parts entirely.