#this has been in my drafts for ages. stupid but it has some lines in it i still think are pretty funny

[frickatives]

[a/n]:: I've had this steddie one-shot fic in my drafts for ages. wasn't sure if I'd ever get around to posting it. but it's 2025 now, and the world is feeling like an especially difficult place, so let's all post our self-indulgent angsty fanfics pls. the steddie is pretty low-key in this one, tbh, it's more pre-steddie angst than anything, but we all deserve to engage in a little wish fulfillment re: eddie at the end of s4, no? I have some ideas for maybe continuing this fic, sooooo we'll see if I can defeat my Serial Fic Abandoner demons~

[warnings/tags]:: steddie, angst, perhaps too much angst, canon-typical gore and violence, bisexual king steve harrington pov, everyone's having a bad time, gratuitous italics, playing fast and loose with a vague understanding of life-saving resuscitation procedures, s4 ending fix-it fic vibes

[wc]:: 3.3k

[ao3]

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Standing on the front porch of a rotting house in a rotting world, staring at the charred patch of not-quite-grass where there should have been a body, Steve Harrington's stomach lurches up into his throat. He struggles to swallow around it.

He saw the bastard fall. Pumped full of buckshot, molotov-fried extra crispy over rice, falling ass-first out of a window to what was supposed to be his death, so goddammit, where is he?

Nancy's staring at the grass, too, heaving terrified breaths with the rest of them, which can't be good. Steve and Robin both glance at her, their leader, their ferocious, fearless, capable, whip-smart Nancy, and the fear plain on her face grabs Steve by the spine and shakes. 

Maybe Vecna evaporated, he tells himself. Maybe it's normal that there isn't a body. It isn't like any of them would know; none of them have ever killed an evil wizard, before. Maybe Vecna hit the ground and turned into a million of these little flakes of gross that are always hanging in the air, here. Maybe they kicked Vecna's ass so hard that he's dust, now. A hysterical part of his brain bubbles with the words maybe his ass is grass. 

He opens his mouth to say so, even though it's dumb and probably wrong – Steve is usually wrong – and the clock behind them starts chiming.

His stomach does new, awful acrobatics. 

They run back into the house, stopping short an arm's length from the grandfather clock, as if it might lash out at them. Four chimes, each one pumping his own chest full of buckshot, because whatever this means, it's probably bad. Robin's hand finds his arm and he clings to her as hard as she clings to him. 

The name is out of Nancy's mouth before Steve's brain can put together what's happening: "Max."

She's right. Of course she's right. She's Nancy Wheeler, and she's always beautiful and always right, even when she's breaking Steve's heart.

There's no time for the pain to take root. (They lost Max, they lost Max, they weren't fast enough and Vecna got her and now that sweet-and-sour kid will never terrify him with her temper or her underage driving again–) 

The fourth and final chime has hardly stopped echoing in his ears when the house cleaves in two. 

The ceiling above them groans and splinters and red-orange hellfire (red-orange like Max, his stupid, useless brain supplies) carves a line down the hallway, moving towards them fast. 

"Woah, woah, woah, shit– shit!" he yelps, dragging Robin back towards the door. 

Nancy doesn't need dragging; she's jogging backwards with him, sawed-off tucked against her shoulder, eyes not leaving the tearing, ripping, growing split in the world above them, like she expects Vecna himself to reach through it. 

God, Steve hopes he doesn't. He hopes Vecna really is dead and that his disgusting, decaying world is falling apart without him. 

He hopes that Nancy was wrong (for once) about the clock chiming, and that they did save Max. 

Bits of plaster rain down around them. Vines – those slimy, sentient veins of the Upside Down – pry the fissure wider, shredding everything in its path. 

They make it out onto the not-lawn and leap out of the way of the destruction as it darts forward and swallows ground where Vecna should have been, and they keep running with everything they have.

It's so loud. The entire world groans and shakes like some great, wounded beast – and, shit, for all Steve knows, the Upside Down is some giant creature that's dying with them inside it. Every monster and vine-vein writhes and screams, like they can feel their world dying, too. 

They need to get back to the trailer. They need to climb out of this crumbling hell. Steve clamps his hand around Robin's as they run. Nancy sprints ahead of them, the sawed-off shotgun bouncing against her back.

He will get them out of here.

They run and run and run – Robin runs so weird, why are her feet doing that – and Steve can't feel the burn in his legs that he knows is there. He's still a little oxygen-deprived after being throttled by Vecna's vine-veins, and he has too much panic thumping through his own vine-veins. They don't stop until they're bursting out of the woods and into the trailer park.

Steve's heart stutters. There's another hell-fissure, and it's swallowed half of the Munsons' trailer and cut a jagged path toward the center of town. Nancy looks over her shoulder at him, as if to brace him for the worst. 

What if the gate is gone? What if they're trapped here? 

Robin almost eats shit when her sneaker slips against something on the ground – the wriggling body of one of those fucking bats Steve can still taste in the back of his throat. He grabs her elbow and heaves her upright, pushing her forward, towards where the trailer used to be. Maybe the gate is still there, in the not-eaten half of the trailer. They have to try.

All around them, the rips in the world continue their rampage. Metal screeches and avalanches of rubble rumble in the distance. The not-grass and slabs of cracked concrete beneath their feet buck hard enough that Steve can hardly keep himself upright.

Robin half-gasps-half-shrieks in his ear and he and Nancy freeze.

"What– What is it? Are you okay?" Steve yells at her over the cacophony, gripping her shoulders, eyes wide, heart pounding, looking down at her weird-running feet for any sign of injury.

She raises a trembling arm and points at something: a lump on the ground a few dozen yards from the trailer, not very large, wearing a ghillie suit. 

Steve's heart stops.

His knees threaten to buckle. 

"HENDERSON!" 

He's off like a sawed-off shot. 

He was so stupid, to let the kids out of his sight. He wants to reach through time and slug himself in the mouth for ever complaining about babysitting because this is so much worse. First Max (please, please let her be alive), now this? It would kill him to see any of them here, now, with the underworld falling apart around them, but Dustin? 

As he closes the distance, the ground is littered with more and more bats – either dead or dying – and he can hear Dustin crying, which is both a knife through the heart and the biggest goddamn relief Steve has ever felt. At least the kid is alive. A sob lurches up Steve's own throat and he falls to knees beside Henderson and–

That's when he sees Eddie cradled in Dustin's arms. 

Bloodied, battered, and motionless. 

"Dustin, hey," he says as gently as he can, though he actually wants to start screaming and never stop. "Look at me." 

"He– He didn't come back through with me," Dustin chokes out, still staring down at the boy in his lap. The kid's voice wavers with a tearful vibrato that obliterates his usual precociousness and makes him sound exactly as young as he is.

Anger flares somewhere in Steve's gut, beneath the all-consuming fear. He'd told Eddie, hadn't he? He'd given him one simple job– explicitly told him not to be a goddamn hero. They were supposed to be the diversion. They were supposed to be safe.

Steve grabs Dustin's face, probably too roughly, and forces him to look up, away from Eddie. 

"We gotta go," he tells him, his voice shaking badly, too. 

Nancy and Robin are somewhere behind him now. He hears their footsteps skid to a halt, and another ragged gasp out of Robin, followed by a muffled cry. Nancy murmurs, "Oh, no."

"We can't leave him," Dustin says. His face is streaked with tears and his voice cracks under the combined crushing weights of puberty and desperation. 

"We won't." He reaches over and tries to lift Eddie away from the kid, but Dustin pulls him back. Small hands grab ahold of Eddie's collar, refusing to let go. Another knife through Steve's heart. 

"I think this is the gate!" Nancy calls from far away. "I think we can make it through." When Steve looks up, she's on the edge of the glowing crevasse, prodding at it with the shotgun. Robin is standing a few yards away, still, her hands buried in her hair and her eyes glued to Dustin. And Eddie. 

"Dustin," Steve says, forcing more calm into his voice, "you gotta go with Nancy."

Dustin shakes his head emphatically. "No. No, no, I can't leave him–"

"Robin? Robin!" Steve shouts over his shoulder, and Robin startles out of her horror-borne trance. "Take Henderson and get somewhere safe. I'll be right behind you." 

She rushes over and hooks her hands under the kid's arms and hoists him upright, even though Henderson can't seem to put much weight on one of his legs, and even though Robin's arms are about as strong as wet spaghetti on a good day. 

"I've got Eddie, alright?" Steve says firmly, looking Dustin in the eye and pushing him away with Robin. "Go."

 A stream of soothing sounds is falling out of Robin's mouth rapid-fire, and she's dragging Dustin over towards Nancy, who's got one leg fully inside the fracture in the world, and, hell, the world is probably ending any second now, but all of that falls away when Steve looks back down at Eddie's face.

Big, hickory-brown eyes stare skyward, unfocused. Blood is smeared across the pale skin of his cheek and collected in the corners of his mouth. His chest isn't moving.

Steve's never seen a dead person, before. 

He'd been there when Billy died, yes, but he hadn't seen it. Hell, he'd flat-out refused to look inside the open coffin at his grandmother's funeral when he was a kid. But here was Eddie– or, the absence of Eddie, where Eddie should have been. A terrible, wretched vacancy. 

It doesn't feel real. Eddie is right here. Steve can reach out and touch him– he does reach out and touch him, laying an uncertain hand on his shoulder. Eddie doesn't swat his hand away. Eddie's dimples don't appear on either side of his bloody mouth and he doesn't say something snarky and flirtatious that makes Steve feel simultaneously annoyed, flustered, and confused. Eddie doesn't so much as blink.

He's so… still. 

Steve's heard people in the past describe death as something peaceful, but the look on Eddie's face–

He looks scared. 

Steve thinks he might throw up.

He presses his fingers against Eddie's throat, searching for a pulse that he knows isn't there. Eddie's still warm. Blood dribbles out of his mouth and oozes out of a gnarled lash across his neck (it matches the one that crisscrosses Steve's neck, those fucking bats). His stupid leather jacket is shredded. His stupid Hellfire Club shirt is similarly tattered and soaked through with red. 

Steve wonders how long he's been– if he– had he gone in front of Dustin? A fresh wave of anger licks at his throat. Son of a bitch, can't even listen to simple goddamn instructions–

He remembers the last thing Eddie said to him with a sharp pang: "Hey, Steve? Make him pay."

Steve had nodded. Eddie had nodded, too. It was a promise.

And Steve Harrington, King Steve, captain of the basketball team, and captain of the swim team, and ice cream slinger, and video rental wrangler, and monster fighter, and lifeguard for a few summers, and secret Russian base infiltrator some other summers, and lapsed babysitter– he's failed to keep it. 

He's failed so many people, tonight. He couldn't stop Vecna, didn't make him pay. He couldn't help Max, or undo whatever Dustin saw. Everything he was wasn't enough.

Nancy was right (she always was); he was bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

The world around them growls again, and Steve looks down at another person he's failed to protect, and he thinks, Fuck this. 

He has to try. 

Moving quickly, he laces his fingers, locks his elbows, places his stacked palms in the center of Eddie's still-warm chest, and presses down hard. He sings Dancing Queen under his breath, out of tune, timing his compressions to the beat (something he learned in lifeguard training). He dares Eddie to wake up and tell him how much he hates the song. 

Blood spurts out of a wound in Eddie's side and soaks the knee of Steve's jeans with coppery warmth.

 "Shit, shit, fuck," Steve hisses into a few more compressions, before he stops and gently tilts Eddie's head to open his airway, one hand against his still-warm forehead, one hand gripping his chin. He leans over and checks for breath sounds. Nothing. 

He pinches Eddie's nose shut and presses his mouth over Eddie's, trying not to think about how much blood floods his own mouth. He breathes once, twice. Eddie's chest rises weakly each time. That's good, that's– It's good.

He starts the cycle again. 

"You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life…"

Red lightning streaks across the sky and Steve flinches. The ground shakes more violently, like the whole place is threatening to give up the ghost and fall away beneath them. Part of him wishes it would, to save him the embarrassment of failing again.

"Come on, Munson."

Open airway, check for breath, pinch nose, breathe, breathe. 

"Friday night and the lights are low…"

He does it again, and again. Still nothing. 

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve begs. "Please." 

The quakes crescendo more and more, until Steve is practically shouting lyrics over them–

It sounds like a bomb goes off miles away, and a shockwave slams him in the chest. Steve throws his arms over his head and his body over Eddie's, shuddering with fresh adrenaline. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

Everything around them falls silent. The ground under his knees settles. His ears ring with the absence of it all.

He must have waited too long to leave. He can't make himself look. Surely the gates are gone. Surely that explosion was his way home being blown to smithereens. Part of him is glad Eddie didn't come back to this– trapped in the underworld with someone he despises? He'd probably ask Steve to re-kill him, and Steve would probably fuck that up, too. 

He's so screwed. Everything is so completely screwed and he screwed up so much of it himself, and it's probably good that he's probably trapped here, now. He probably deserves it.

Something jolts beneath him and then–

Eddie Munson coughs a mouthful of blood directly into Steve's face.

"What– Oh! Oh, shit!" Steve scrambles to shift his weight off of Eddie's chest as the other boy draws a clotted, strangled breath and chokes on it. Steve grabs him by the less-bat-bitten shoulder and hauls him onto his side. The other boy's ring-bedecked fingers brush against his arm, making weak attempts at grabbing him back. 

Eddie whimpers and groans, spitting and drooling more blood out of his mouth and nose. He coughs again, and it's the most gorgeous sound Steve's ever heard.

Steve grins, even with a face and mouth full of Eddie Munson's stupid blood. 

Eddie looks up at him, panting, and his eyes go wide when they finally focus on Steve's face. "H– Harrington?" He's almost voiceless. Not just hoarse, but struggling to make any sound at all.

"Yeah," Steve says, still smiling like a fool. He feels drunk. Eddie's breaths are all distinctly shallow, fast, and wet, but they're there, and they keep coming, which hadn't felt possible a moment before. The overwhelming, sudden joy is a massive head rush.

Eddie looks confused, and wracked with pain, and he squints at Steve and asks, "Did you die, too?" His tongue seems to tangle with each syllable.  

That trips Steve out of his daze. His smile falters. Trapped in the Upside Down, his brain reminds him. "You're not dead, Munson," he says. 

Steve looks up, then, and scans their surroundings. The red-orange ravine still yawns open not too far away, which slaps him across the face with relief and chases it quickly with dread. 

They can get home, thank fuck, but what had all of this done to their Hawkins? Had it been similarly torn open by nightmare super-gates? Is there this much destruction on their side? Steve's stomach clenches. 

The hellfire-filled crack that begins in the middle of Eddie's trailer stretches off into the distance, as far as Steve can see. If these fissures were like the gates– if they'd appeared in Hawkins, too– they're twenty or thirty feet wide, in some places. Big enough to swallow cars, houses. People. 

Something like this… It would kill a lot of people. 

"Hurts," Eddie gasps. 

Steve's attention snaps back to him. "What hurts?" he asks.

Eddie manages an especially-wet, "Everything. F-feels like a– fucking– elephant– sat on my– chest." He fights for air between every couple of words, but never draws in very much. 

"Yeah, well," Steve says, easing Eddie up to sitting and sliding an arm under his knees, "you had to go and stop breathing, like an asshole." He hefts the taller, ganglier boy up into his arms and staggers up to his feet. Eddie ought to feel heavier, he thinks. Maybe this is one of those moms-lifting-cars-off-kids things.

"Seemed like– the thing– to do," Eddie pants. His eyes flutter closed and his head lolls backwards, curly hair brushing against Steve's arm. 

"Hey," Steve snaps. "Eddie."

Eddie groans. Still alive. Steve releases his captive breath.

Steve walks them over to the tear in the not-earth, where Nancy had been. He expects it to be warm – it glows like lava – but the air around them is freezing. It reeks of ammonia and decay. He tucks Eddie a little closer to his chest.

And then Steve hesitates, staring down at the maw in the ground. 

He should just go through. Quickly. Eddie needs medical attention way beyond the skill of a sometimes-summer-lifeguard. Shit, Steve probably does, too. 

But… 

What about Max? What about Dustin, and Robin, and Nance? What about everyone else? What about his parents? What if this didn't just happen in Hawkins, but happened everywhere? What if the whole apocalypse happened without him? 

As long as he stays in this universe, he doesn't have to know how badly he hurt his own. He can pretend the damage is limited to this shithole, and that everyone on the other side is blissfully unaware. It's like that thing Henderson tried explaining that one time– Schlongdinger's Box, or whatever. If he stays here, there's nobody around to disappoint besides Eddie, whose opinion of him is already so low that it would be impossible to drag it lower. 

"Steve?" Eddie wheezes, oblivious to the turmoil happening inches away from his face. 

"Yeah?"

Munson hesitates, too. "Were you– singing– ABBA?"

That startles a huffed almost-laugh out of Steve's tight chest. He rolls his eyes. "I don't wanna hear it, man. ABBA saved your goddamn life."

Eddie squints up at him and starts telling Steve (slowly and quietly, as he grapples with his halting lungs) that he'd never besmirch (besmirch? what a dork) the good name of ABBA, he's not a monster, he was just curious why Steve's rendition had been in so many different keys is all (unbelievably rude), and even though Steve can hear the fear in Eddie's voice, and he knows Eddie's only talking about ABBA because the alternative is to freak out, something clicks into place in Steve's head:

He wants to have a million more inconsequential conversations, like this one, with the people he cares about. 

Even the ones who might despise him a little.

Even if the apocalypse happened on the other side, and even if people he loves are hurt, and even if Steve Harrington is bullshit, he has to try to do what he can to help. 

He holds Eddie a little tighter. He informs him that he actually sang it totally normal, thanks, and gingerly, he maneuvers them both down through the gate and back into Hawkins.

[ieidolon]

now that i'm playing dragon age: veilguard i understand hbomberguy so much better. think i could probably do a 3.5 hours long video called "dragon age: the veilguard is FINE and here's why"

[deltaruminations]

caring for your horrible bird-thing gaster

we all know how it goes: you’re hunting out deeplore for your favorite story-driven indie RPG, maybe digging a little too deep in the data mines, when you realize you’ve caught the attention of a fourth-dimensional daimon with the personality of a perpetually hungover post-doc researcher, and now he’s scuttling around your walls and asking you for your favorite flavor of blood.

wuh-oh!!!

you cannot fix him, nor can you get rid of him, but with a little know-how, you can learn to coexist peacefully with him until he loses interest on his own or finally achieves whatever inscrutable peace his restless, tortured mind is seeking. whichever comes first!

and who knows — maybe you’ll find this curse is really a blessing in disguise! for the right person, the bird-thing can make a very good friend. he already chose you, didn’t he? :)

SO, here are my Top Tips for living with your personal instance of the horrible bird-thing!!!!

🕊️ bird-thing 101!!

be not afraid!!! while he may be a towering Luciferan abomination of shattered bone and twisted wings, the bird-thing means you no harm. he is simply curious about his new friend! remember: underneath his hollow, mask-like visage and nest of tangled limbs, the bird-thing is a deeply self-conscious, lonely nerd with the social skills of moldy drywall. he’s more afraid of you than you are of him!

despite having what look and feel much like bones, feathers, hooves, and fur, keep in mind that your bird-thing is really just the distilled consciousness of the world’s most pathetic lich, which exists separately from any physical form. the vessel he presents to you is a non-biological construct formed out of the concept of vacuum and forced by the quantum-field perturbations rippling from his past actions into the shape of his sin. he’s not like a dog or a cat or your gay aunt’s cockatoo — his needs are as special and unique as he is!

because your bird-thing is a cruel, mocking shell of his former self and literally made of Nothing, he has no need for food, water, or medicine. talk about easy!

your bird-thing may display strong signs of autism. that is because he is autistic

if your bird-thing’s wings seem to be perpetually broken, backward in their sockets, constantly shedding feathers, or otherwise looking malformed or diseased, DO NOT PANIC! this is normal and natural for him! it is a punishment from God

likewise, it is perfectly normal for your bird-thing to have several cracks in (and possibly large chunks missing from) his skull, to smell lightly of ozone and scorched bone, to resemble an emaciated raven trapped against the windshield of a rapidly-moving truck, and to occasionally drip a thick, tarry substance from his feathers and/or the cracks in his head. don’t worry! there is no need to bring him to a doctor or vet. he can’t get any sicker than he already is!

your bird-thing should have six wings and seven voices. if he is missing any of those, just lock him in a lightless space (basement, closet, large safe, etc.) for a while and he will knit the missing pieces back together from the quantum strings binding him from across space-time to his countless regrets. if you hear any wailing, weeping, pounding against the door, and/or desperate pleas to be let out, IGNORE THEM! they are a normal part of the process and a sign that it is working :)

the holes in your bird-thing’s hands should appear to you as pitch-black, bottomless voids, regardless of what’s on the other side of his hand. whatever you do, DO NOT look directly into the holes with intent to see through them. in the event that any image(s) start to manifest within their inky depths, avert or close your eyes IMMEDIATELY, no matter how fascinating or beautiful the image(s) may be, or you may find your perception of reality irrevocably altered by the Thrall of Hole.

the one exception to this is Egg produced from the Hole. it is safe to look upon Egg, for Egg is a Gift. the offering of Egg appears to be a bonding ritual of great importance to the bird-thing, and it is advisable to accept it. Egg will typically resemble that of a chicken — normally white, occasionally brown, and sometimes dyed and painted, often around holidays. the purpose of Egg is unknown, only that it is of middling importance and should be saved. Egg will not go bad, but may become more Egg over time. if you decide you have no use for Egg, then there will be no Egg. Egg is wonderful to share with family and friends!

if you are very concerned about the Thrall of Hole, consider covering the holes with gloves or mittens — safe, practical, AND fashionable! because your bird-thing has terrible, uncanny skeletal human-hands, the options are endless — anything in a men’s size extra-large should work! if you have trouble with him immediately taking them off, consider investing in a quality pair of handsome, smart-casual gloves. his vanity is easily appeased by fine leather.

if your bird-thing gaster has pink and yellow eyes and a wide, toothy smile, that is NOT your bird-thing gaster! that is your FRIEND puppeting his shape. if you find yourself in the company of your FRIEND, keep calm! all you have to do is get as far away as you can as quickly as you can and then stay there, never again letting your gaze linger over shadows, never again trusting a grin, and never ever ever answering the goddamned phone, no matter how incessantly it rings, no matter if you’ve destroyed every phone you own and your skull still rattles with the endless ringing ringing ringing. see? easy peasy!

and finally, if you’re ever unsure what to do, just take a deep breath and remember: your bird-thing gaster cannot die, no matter how much he wants to!

[karinasbaby]

ENHA HYUNG LINE — YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S DADDY ! (they all have daddy kinks. sorry.) part 1 !!

P. enha hyung line + jungwon x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, infidelity (but it’s valid), mentions of cheating, lots of pet names, cervix & womb fucking, enha r jealous & feral, breeding kink, biting & marking, other members from diff kpop groups being assholes & getting fucked over (this is just fiction don’t come at me), lots of other filthy shit i forgot | WC. 12k (idek how that happened) | A,N. this one has been in the drafts since july. and i just finished it up while waiting for my doctor’s appointment, enjoy!

IN WHICH the hyung line (+ jungwon) get addicted to a pussy that doesn’t belong to them in the first place ?!

♡ PS this part contains heeseung, jake & jungwon !! <3

✷ LEE HEESEUNG ⋆ 이희승

the one thing that always stood out about heeseung, a striking trait that he carried was his exceptional ability to hide his emotions.

though this odd trait of his did have its own pros and cons that appeared and made themselves pretty evident throughout his life, heeseung still thought this was a good characteristic about himself.

it helped a lot to hide his emotions when he lied, when he tried to make an excuse as to why he forgot to do his homework. when asked from his friends if he was feeling down and the list went on. to put things short, he was the exact opposite of an open book that was easily read.

but heeseung started to slowly doubt this speciality of his, especially when it came to his bestfriend. and his little sister, you.

jeno has always been a great friend of heeseung, their small age gap making the two feel comfortable with one another immediately after meeting. the friendship had a click of some sort, almost making them feel like they’ve known each other for decades when they’ve only been friends for a handful amount of months.

and heeseung wasn’t stopping his grateful and happy emotions to spill out whenever he was with jeno, the kind hearted guy that he always saw as a solid, constant figure in his life and future.

the issue came for heeseung when you, jeno’s cute little sister that he always seemed to eye for a bit too long, got into a relationship.

your first relationship at that.

jeno, as your older brother was rightfully protective, giving you advice every chance he could after checking up on you and your boyfriend, soobin. whom always rubbed jeno the wrong way. but he didn’t have the courage to point it out to you and potentially break your heart, it was a risk he could never take.

but if there was someone that was even more concerned and even more protective— overly protective even, than jeno. it was heeseung.

there was something about soobin that always seemed to just not settle with heeseung. he couldn’t tell if it was his weirdly ‘forgetful memory’ as you liked to call it, or the way his eyes were constantly glued to his phone whenever you four decided to hang out. not giving you a singular ounce of the attention you deserved.

his behaviour towards you, his own girlfriend, was dry. cold. dismissive. and he couldn’t tell if jeno was purposefully turning a blind eye into this, but it was so clearly hurting you.

especially with the way your shoulders would visibly slump whenever you would excitedly tell soobin about an a new event that happened during your lecture, an interest that had your eyes sparkling while he would just nod mindlessly along to your words. vision obstructed and glued onto his stupid phone screen that irritated heeseung to no end. he could see the disappointment rising in you when soobin would pay you no attention. so passive in his responses, so visible that he did not care.

and it was angering heeseung so tremendously. setting him off like a ticking bomb that would explode at the guy any second but he kept holding himself back.

for the sake of jeno. for the sake of you. after all, he was just a friend.

and he couldn’t tell if soobin’s attitude towards you angered him more, or the fact that he was always going to be stuck under the ‘friend’ title in your life.

heeseung had developed feelings for you way before you got into a relationship with soobin, might even be a mere month after jeno introduced you to him. he had always had his eyes lingering on you. a soft, gentle glint in them whenever your presence was surrounding him in any way.

he believed that it was just him forming a soft spot for you in his heart in the beginning, but as time passed by, especially after soobin ruined everything in heeseung’s opinion, his feelings grew. becoming a solidified fact for heeseung instead of a mere reverie that he cooed about in his head.

yet for the longest time, he knew he had to keep his emotions hidden again. falling back into his old routine of covering, blanketing his feelings. hiding and cowering away in fear of your brother finding out and the dear connection that heeseung held so close to his heart ending.

so he bit his tongue. holding back any words, any opinions, any thoughts and of course any emotions that were related to you and soobin. swallowing back his anger that swirled sombrely in the pit of his stomach. though no one was taking notice of his hatred towards soobin, it was only growing more and more day by day.

like a foul stench that would blind your senses, an evil beast that festered malignantly. his distaste towards soobin became a hardened feeling. a prominent one that settled in the front of his chest. growing and branching between his ribs to only pulse in hatred whenever he saw the guy.

he wasn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hide these feelings though.

because not only was he now dealing with the fact that he had to fight himself back from punching soobin everytime he saw him, he also had his own completely opposite emotions that bloomed like the breathtaking petals of a flower when graced by spring sunlight, his undying and thriving pure love for you.

it made his heart ache in dull pain when he saw the damage soobin was causing to you. his own insides ripping apart whenever you would come crying onto jeno’s shoulder because of another argument with your jerk of a boyfriend, he was growing tired. almost as tired as you were becoming from holding his shaking fists back from marking soobin’s god forsaken face. tired from actually capturing his tongue between his teeth before vile words spilled past his lips towards him.

he was so tired with this routine. so sickened of the way you were struggling and struggling. stuck in a bubble of anguish and pain formed by soobin that no one was able to pop.

but heeseung always carried a needle around, for safe measures.

the rainy day you decided to frantically knock on his door, your sobs echoing in his house when you buried your face into his chest because you actually found another girl’s number in the same phone that soobin had his eyes stuck on. was the day that heeseung finally snapped.

fuck all of this.

fuck soobin. fuck jeno. fuck both of their feelings. he had you, who so clearly needed a massive amount of attention, of care and love to pour all over your fresh wound that ached in heeseung’s embrace. he felt his heart shattering into the tiniest pieces when you sobbed in his hold. the desperate grip your fingers had on his arms pulling at his insides as he felt his own tears aligning his waterline.

he hated to see you like this. so heartbroken and devastated over a guy that didn’t even deserve you one bit. he would’ve never treated you like soobin. not even for a single second. heeseung would’ve treated you so much better if only you had looked at him the way he’s always been looking at you for the past months.

if only you took notice of the longing in his eyes. the yearn that clawed at his heartstrings whenever he saw you in front of him. right within arm’s reach but so so far away.

but that didn’t matter anymore. you were finally away from soobin, that fucker was out of your life and you were in heeseung’s arms. heeseung’s embrace that felt so warm, so welcoming as you fit perfectly in his hold. so right.

so you stayed, feeling the safety and comfort that seeped through your body in heeseung’s presence. a peace of mind that you’ve never felt with anyone, not even with your own brother. that lulled you into calmness, heeseung’s gentle touch that brushed against the skin of your face and neck when he would tenderly caress you as he whispered sweet, calming words to your ear that made the raging storm inside of you sizzle down.

the hurt, the pain and all the agony was pushed aside. stuffed inside of a box discarded into the back of your brain. your head throbbed in pain at the excessive amount of crying you did in heeseung’s arms. a pulsing ache that travelled from the back of your skull to the end of your spine as you sniffled quietly in his arms.

“feeling better, precious?” he whispered quietly, voice barely audible. so soft and delicate as if he was scared that any unexpected move or sound will scare you. make you cower away in fear. he knew how to speak to you. how to touch you and handle you just the right way.

so affectionate, calm and delicate when handling you. touch as soft as a baby bird’s feather as if you were made of glass, the most precious material that could break and crumble with the slightest incorrect move.

he made you feel so seen, so understood and cared for. you weren’t too much for him as soobin claimed you to be. not attention seeking or annoying at all.

“not really..” you closed your eyes, wet lashes heavy with tear droplets that didn’t have the chance to roll down your face, he looked at you. in his eyes an unfamiliar glow. unable to pinpoint or understand exactly what he was feeling, all he knew was that he wanted you close to him.

“what can i do to make you feel better, pearl?” the new petname that rolled off his tongue so easily had your heart leaping in your chest, you opened your eyes. glossy vision landing on his own expectant one, he was implying something with his words. both of you aware of the sharp edge in his tone, an invitation that he had slipped towards you. waiting for you to pick it up and accept.

“make me forget about him..” your warm breath fanned over his face, the feeling of finally having you so close made his head spin. a carnal, hidden urge in him awakening after being discarded and thrown away for so long. stuffed deep inside of him for months, a crippling desire. a wicked desire to have you, has surged forward again.

his emotions, feelings, thoughts everything about you that were invalidated by his rational side. concealed in the name of his morals and beliefs that he’s wrong. he shouldn’t desire a taken woman, shouldn’t look at his own best friend’s little sister wrongly, were all springing back to life. enlivened at your mere presence. your mere existence and attendance in his hold. and heeseung was no longer holding himself back.

he didn’t care if what he was going to be doing aligned with his stupid morals and beliefs anymore. didn’t care if you were to wake up tomorrow regretting everything. didn’t care if he wasn’t going to be able to look at jeno in the eye again. he was finally given a taste of you.

not a whisper of you, not a piece of you, you were entirely served on a silver platter for him only to devour. to ravish. to feast on with ardour. to finally satisfy and satiate the hunger that always ached in his stomach for you.

you were finally here. between his fingertips. within arm’s reach, looking at him. staring into his eyes and not only looking at the devoted shine in them directed towards you, you were reciprocating it.

“yeah? that’s what you want, pretty?” he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. you closed your eyes at the intimacy. a warmth spreading inside of you before settling into your core. dripping. that’s what you were. absolutely soaked.

“i want you.” you spoke, hit with an unknown urge to only speak the truth. removing each and every filter from your mind and mouth as you let your tongue speak whatever your brain formed at that current moment. and you wanted heeseung.

and who was he to deny you of that?

your sultry eyes that looked at him in pure lust asking him that? he was gone. your vixen like manners wrapping him in a chokehold. he was such a weak man for you. determined on pleasing you to the best of his ability, make you lose count on the amounts of times he’ll push you towards your high just so you can think about him and how good your pretty little cunt feels.

and so heeseung started, laying you on your stomach atop his satin sheets with your hands behind you, restrained by his fastened belt around your wrists while you squirmed on his bed. long, thick fingers that worked past your sopping entrance. leaking mushy walls tightened around his digits as if welcoming them for being inside of your needy pussy. fuck you were drenched.

“what a greedy cunt.. sucking my fingers in like this, wonder how long you’ve been waiting for this, pearl.” he laughed behind you, busy taking in the way your slick was drizzling down his palm, the way your puffy swollen folds swallowed in his long fingers entirely. the wet sounds from his abuse against your sweet spot was the cherry on top for him.

he was so fucking hard in his pants. his briefs feeling unbearably tight. heeseung breathed out short huffs of breaths, working his way to stretch your tight pussy open before fucking you on his length that he was sure you couldn’t take.

especially not with the way you were moaning and thrashing in his bed just from his fingers.

but who could blame you? he felt so good. his elongated fingers brushing against all of your sweet spots so deliciously. you could only imagine how mouth watering his cock would feel when he finally decides to fuck you like you’ve always dreamed of.

you couldn’t deny the attraction you’ve held for heeseung. the twinge at your heart that hoped to tug you towards him, an unknown pull that always made you stay up late at night thinking about heeseung. wondering about heeseung. dreaming about heeseung.

and for the longest time, it made you feel so guilty. so ashamed of the fact that you were thinking of your friend more than your own boyfriend. yet at the same time you heard a tiny voice in your head justifying your actions, a small part of you knew that your boyfriend was really anything but a boyfriend.

you did notice his passive behaviour. his curt responses and cold attitude towards you. but did you actually have the courage to confront soobin about it? to bring it up as an actual issue that was clearly building a separating wall between you two in your relationship? of course no. you decided to turn into a blind eye and hold faith in false beliefs that maybe, just maybe soobin will change one day.

except that day never came. it was never going to.

and the rational, logical part of you knew this. knew this so so well that it decided to give up on soobin long before your heart realised the change in your desire. the change in your mind, the way your thoughts quickly turned from being clouded with soobin, to being thundered with your beloved friend heeseung.

you didn’t even realise you had such a drastic change of heart. only coming to the chilling notion of how when you were with soobin, heeseung roamed your mind. when you were talking to jeno. heeseung was filling the back of your head. when soobin was trying to make dry love that lacked any sense of passion with you, you were left to fend for yourself with your fingers, and heeseung in your brain. heeseung on your thoughts, the whisper of ‘heeseung’ on your tongue when you finally reached the climax soobin couldn’t bring you to.

and in the beginning you were scared, terrified even of the thumping in your chest that you were sure anyone could hear if they stepped close enough to you when you were around heeseung. scared of the way your eyes would stray too far away from soobin and remain stuck on heeseung for too long. scared of the way you were only staying in your current relationship not out of love, but out of attachment to soobin when you yearned for heeseung.

hence why the only relief that you found in your love life was in your dreams. your unconscious daydreams that would conjure up a love story, a love vessel that branched between you and heeseung. every night with no fail.

yet you didn’t have to worry about this anymore. no longer tied emotionally to the false, unrealistic images and feelings that only existed in your head about heeseung. not when you had him currently groaning out praises to you, showering you with so much love and attention that you missed out on as he fucked you through your first orgasm on his fingers.

“such a good girl for me.. cumming around my fingers so well. my obedient little girl.” he trailed kisses from the back of your thighs, wet smacks of his lips against your skin till he reached your shoulder, where he traced his long tongue along your neck. “think you’re ready for me, precious?” he whispered lustfully into your ear. and god did he sound so much better. so much hotter than in your dreams.

voice almost gruff, an entire octave lower than his usual tone as he pressed his warm body against yours. brushing the exposed, leaking head of his cock and separating your oozing lower lips after discarding himself from his clothes. he was so menacing. teasing you so much when all your body ached for was to be filled up to the brim with his length.

“so needy for me.. look at your cunt trying to suck me in, pearl.” he hissed, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight of the same hole that he just fucked open with his fingers gaping at him. dribbling more of your syrupy nectar down your inner thighs as if to seduce him. winking at him when you tightened around nothing just to entice him further. making a wave of thrill pass through his body just so he would fill you up.

and well, heeseung was a very weak, weak man when it came to you.

he pushed the head of his cock in. the two of you hissing in sync, your pretty plump lips falling in an ‘o’ shape while he bit on his lower lip, your gushing walls wrapped around him so tightly the first time he sunk his cock in you. as if greeting him, their new owner before moulding into his shape.

if heeseung stared at your form any longer, he would’ve came inside of you already, ruining both of your fun. but goodness was seeing you twitching in his bed, plush thighs pushed to the sides so he can stuff his cock inside of you so fully while your arms shook and jerked around his own belt was a divine sight. one he quickly imprinted onto his brain to always go back to whenever needed.

but something told him that that wasn’t going to happen, he doesn’t need to depend on his memory anymore. he felt like he was going to be able to experience the real deal after this.

he pushed his hips forward, thrusting in and brushing right against your g-spot that had you whining his name almost automatically. “found it..” he smirked in victory, “that’s your weak spot isn’t it, pearl?” leaning down just a bit to inch closer to your ear, “your sweet sweet spot, baby.” you felt tears aligning your eyes. glossing over when he continued to nudge his hips against your spot. the one corner in your walls that had you seeing stars.

legs already shaking under him, you mewled his name so adorably. each huff and puff of air past your glistening lips made his heart skip a beat. he was growing even more obsessed with you than he already was. “y-yes seung.. that’s— oh my god.. that’s it!” you whined and sobbed for him.

heeseung sucked a deep breath in, lips kissing his teeth as his body felt like it was lit ablaze. so many months of daydreaming about this current moment that he was in right now paid off. you felt so hot. so pliant. so malleable under him. body reacting to each touch of his so sweetly, like your body recognised his as its other half before either of you did.

“such a good- haah shit.. such a good pussy.. sucking me in so well. you feel fuckin’ divine, pretty.” his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your cunt just kept gushing and sputtering out wetness before wrapping around his cock and sucking him back in deep. so so deep he was bruising your insides.

“j-just for you daddy..” a broken, quiet sentence that was almost unheard. almost went unnoticed. but heeseung was so glad he caught it. as the second that endearing name fell past your parted lips, he felt an entire electric shock shoot through his spine.

his mind was reeling, breaths growing uneven as your voice played like a broken record in his head, so pretty. so small. so frail and so delicate. as sensitive and precious as an actual pearl you were. heeseung was sinking in so much deeper in love than he already was with you.

“yeah, little girl? daddy’s making you feel good, isn’t he?” he was so careful. each move of his made solely for the purpose of pleasing you. of pushing you closer and closer to your peak of pleasure. and before you realised it, your climax broke down upon you like a dam. tears rolling down your cheeks and onto heeseung’s pillowcases as he fucked you through your high.

god did it feel so relieving. so alleviating to have someone put your pleasure first, to push you to your pleasure first. to care for you, think about you and make love to you for you. it was so different. so delicious you couldn’t help but ravish in the ecstasy of it all. your first ever experience of pure, arrant love.

it wasn’t only heeseung that was getting high off of the pleasure of experiencing you for the first time, your mind was also reeling from experiencing such pleasure for the first time. “s’good daddy.. too good! you feel so warm.” hicupping and babbling on as heeseung only continued to thrust in more harshly.

he felt so feverish, the temperature of his body rising while his room turned steamier. it was almost as if he could no longer breathe. not that his mind registered that feeling in the first place, the only thing he could process was the way your pussy was trying to suck him back in more and more and more.

he leaned forward, allowing his hot exhales of breath to fan against your ear. hand sneaking between your shaking thighs and circling around your clit. “you can give daddy another one, can’t you pearl?” he whimpered next to your ear. his eyelids droopy as he held back on his own climax.

he rolled his hips in circular motion against yours, no longer thrusting his leaking cock in and out and only pressing his mushroom shaped tip onto your cervix, the sensation of him so close, so deep and so hot on top and inside of you made your eyes roll to the back of your head, his movements incessant as he worked and guided your body towards another release.

“f-fuck..” sobbing under heeseung as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, he cooed besides your ear as his hands quickly unclasped his belt from around your wrists, making your hands grip desperately onto the sheets while his laced around your shaking legs, tongue peeking out to lick against your tears as he felt relief in his chest at the sight of you crying from pure pleasure and not over your ex.

the feeling of being so intimately connected to you, having you entrust him with your body and pleasure made his head reel. you being so close to him was a dream come true for heeseung. and now that he had you in tears underneath him, he was never going to be able to let go of this moment.

every second of this night has already been engraved in his head. every emotion and every fast thump of his heart tattooed itself on his memory, and it made him feel so good. so accomplished, he felt complete.

he buried his face in your neck, relishing in the way your body was shivering because of him, the goosebumps that aligned your skin because of his touch, relishing in the feeling of having you around him in every way. “you feel so good, princess..” he drunkenly spoke, his orgasm creeping up on him as he continued to grind against you.

“wrapped around daddy so well, pearl.” he groaned, every sniffle and whimper that left your mouth due to his lewd words went straight to his throbbing cock, he felt like he was seconds away from releasing and filling you up entirely. the thought alone making his jaw clench in delirium.

“want daddy to fill you up, baby?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his whisper. luring you slowly into his trap that seemed so effective with the way you whimpered for him and tightened around him more. so pleased, ecstatic and needy of the mere idea.

“p-please, daddy! please fill me up.. give me your babies..” you begged, weaker hands wrapped around his forearms to keep him in place while your cunt squeezed around him, gushing around his cock just to urge him to not pull out and fill you up instead.

and fuck heeseung was losing it.

your words almost awakening something animalistic in him, a noxious urge to truly fill you up, give you his babies and keep you just for himself only. in that exact moment, all the worries from heeseung’s shoulders evaporated.

your brother no longer mattered, soobin no longer mattered, he himself didn’t matter anymore. he only needed to have you stuck with him for eternity. by his side forever, and you were asking him to do exactly that. asking him so desperately. how could he refuse?

after all, heeseung was a very weak man when it came to you.

“gonna take all of daddy’s babies, pearl?” he chuckled, sweat rolling off of his temples as the coil in his stomach tightened further, the feeling making his voice crack at the end. you nodded frantically under him, nails digging into his skin yet the pain made him hiss in pleasure.

“please give it to me..” you moaned as you felt another release wash over you, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks while heeseung bit your skin at the overwhelming waves of ecstaty that crashed on him. “i’m your good girl, daddy aren’t i? i deserve it.. please.” fuck you sounded so starved. the mere longing in your voice, you calling yourself his good girl made him lose his mind.

and before heeseung could even realise it, he was pumping you full with his warm ropes of cum, both of you groaning in vehement, blinding euphoria while he peppered kisses around your neck and jaw. “of course you’re my good girl, baby fuuuck— you’re my prettiest girl.” his own legs started to shake in pleasure as he rode out his high.

keeping himself so deep inside of you, pushing his load deeper with each slight thrust while he stayed above you. whispering praise after praise for you just to show you how much he truly loves you. heeseung was ready to die for you.

and once his high subsided, he carefully laid next to you, moving you gently to your side and staying rooted deep inside of you before covering both of your bodies with his blanket.

he placed a loving kiss to your temple, arms wrapped protectively around your weak and spent body. “sleep well, pearl.” he spoke, “don’t think about anything, daddy’s here.” you felt the way his hold tightened around you.

you felt too fatigued to reply, instead tilting your head just enough to kiss his hand that was close to your neck, the small gesture carrying your love for the man behind you, making his heart thunder in his chest as you fell asleep, feeling so protected and loved for the first time in so long.

★ SIM JAEYUN ⋆⋆⋆ 심재윤

sim jaeyun was great at many things. acing his physics exams, being the best captain for his university’s football team and being an absolute sweetheart to his teachers and friends.

the only thing that sim jaeyun sometimes lacked in was his ability to give a fuck. especially when it came to his childhood friend, his one sided enemy and shameless copycat.

lee anton, who’s also a close family friend of jake. has been living in his shadow ever since the two could even walk. countless comparisons between the two young boys drew a very fat, drastic line that only distanced them from one another without their parents’ realisation.

sure, anton and jake might’ve sat next to each other at family dinners, passed each other tissues or salt, but the second they were outside of the dining room or the house that pushed them to be in the same vicinity? it was over.

their so called ‘friendship’ was only a show the two of them had unspokenly agreed on in order to not have their families pry into their lives. and for the longest time, it worked.

jake didn’t care. jake couldn’t even bring himself to care about anything anton related while that clearly wasn’t the case for anton.

call it his insecurities or doubts towards everything, he always watched jaeyun from the sidelines with a glint in his eyes that not even he could decipher, whether it was admiration or envy. the only thing anton was sure he felt towards jake, was resentment.

years and years of all of his actions getting nitpicked and compared to jake’s made him only strive to be more. to be better than jake. to reach heights and places the older one could only dream of. but at the same time his dreams only stayed as that, dreams.

because jake— he was untouchable. a dude that had everything and anything really. he was perfect in every aspect. excellent grades, respected by all the sport coaches, admired by every teacher and fawned over by every girl.

and it sickened anton.

because he had multiple things that now he had to improve on, he couldn’t find the one singular thing that jake didn’t have that he could snatch. the one thing he could reach and claim before his enemy could even think about it. he had to figure out a way to make jake jealous, to pay for all of these years of one sided rivalry that only made anton almost lose his sanity.

and so he did.

he found exactly what would set jake off. the only way to turn the tables around and have jake eyeing him from the sidelines.

his crush. anton managed to date you, jake’s obsession and love that no one except his close circle of friends knew about. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you see now as mentioned before, jake didn’t care. he didn’t care what other opinions people had on him, who were getting compared to him or who he was getting compared to himself. he was content and happy in being present in his own bubble, surrounded by his own people he knew he could trust. and well just lived his life.

except he couldn’t do that anymore. not when anton, who was determined to climb up towards jake’s level by also becoming the co-captain of the university’s football team— walked around the halls with his arm wrapped around your waist and lips close to your ear as he whispered a stupid joke that made you laugh. right. in front. of jake.

jake was livid.

for the longest time in his life, he never felt the need to reach his hands out towards something that didn’t come for him first. his eyes never strayed too far away from things that were already meant for him. as difficult as this was to hear for others, jake was simply gifted in many factors in life.

he didn’t try too hard to study and ace all his tests. he was just very intelligent and paid a great amount of attention in his lectures, it wasn’t his fault that he was ridiculously handsome that (as cliche as this sounds) girls fangirled over him when he would pass by the halls. and it really didn’t cost a lot to not be an asshole to others.

so for jake to feel the need to have. the crave to own. the urge to desire something that he wasn’t already divinely gifted? was making him pissed.

he wasn’t even sure himself when his crush on you started, or how it developed to be something that gnawed at his heartstrings everyday. when the smart student of his physics class turned from someone that he only used to admire during his lectures into someone he thought about before falling asleep everynight. what he did know though was the fact that he wanted you.

and was jake someone that didn’t get what he wanted? pfft of course no.

that’s why he had you— anton’s beloved girlfriend who he seemed to forget multiple dates with because he spent too much time ogling jake— clenching down on his leaking length that thrusted past your sopping hole.

“f-fuck! jake— shit! he’s going to hear us!” you mewled his name, body feeling excessively warm, heart thundering against your chest in both anxiety and excitement at the thought of being caught with jake, sweat rolled down both of your bodies while you desperately clawed at jake’s open locker.

jake was currently balls deep inside of you in the football team’s locker room.

where anton was just a hallway away, calling out your name since he had to apologise for missing your fourth date this week.

“scared of letting that asshole hear us? haah— i have no idea why you’re still- fuck.. with him when you have me, angel girl.” he breathed out heavily next to your ear, eyes closing in pleasure as he thrusted into your walls that only seemed to suck him in further and further. he was feeling so ecstatic. so high on your touch and presence that he was holding himself back from filling you up entirely.

you pushed your hips back, actions completely contradicting your own words as you kept tightening around jake with each whiny moan that fell past his bitten lips, “you know i can’t leave him..” you whined, head pressing against the lockers while jake leaned down, hovering his chest above your back.

“why is that, baby? is he remembering all your dates? shit- is he buying you all the jewellery you deserve, angel? i-is he fucking you as good as i am right now?” he bit against the shell of your ear, voice growing desperate, needy, ravenous just to hear you say the words he wants to hear. his satisfaction bubbling in his stomach when you shook your head to everything he groaned to you, denying each and every action that jake would’ve done for you in a heartbeat.

“no! no no he doesn’t— hmm he d-doesn’t- fuck! only you do!” you thrashed under his hold, hips jerking forward from his grip as your abdomen only tightened and tightened further. you felt so good. the stretch of his thick cock splitting you open burned so well. you loved having him so deep inside of you, leaking tip of his dick pressing and kissing all over your sweet spots that had stars spinning around your head.

he laughed breathlessly behind you, reveling in your praises and the way each word was only a further push into his inflated ego, he already knew all of this. he knew how shitty anton was treating you as he was too busy trying to make him jealous. he knew every and each move anton was trying to pull but none of it was going to work.

as he was too busy to study jake’s reactions to even realise that he had his own girlfriend cumming around his enemy’s cock so prettily. falling apart in jake’s embrace as jake only cooed and encouraged you even more. to cum more. to make a mess over his cock. to claim him as yours just as badly as he wanted to claim you as his.

and that’s exactly what you did, with the way his cock kept bullying its way back inside of your walls that continued to milk him for all he’s worth. relishing in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up with warm and thick ropes of his load, you continued to do what he wanted. forming a sheen ring of your combined juices around the base of his cock.

jake kept fucking into you, whispering words after words of praise hotly into your ear while your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. his hand let go of your hip to push in between your sticky inner thighs, fingers working deftly in rubbing circular motions onto your throbbing clit that only pulsed in need under his touch. “telling me to stop.. when she’s sucking me in this well.” he groaned, breaths getting caught in his throat as he felt hot white pleasure spreading all over his body.

“asking me to not fuck you… only thinking about your stupid boyfriend what about her then?” he slapped against your cunt, the wet sounds of his fingers landing on your wet, glistening skin had your mind reeling. “always so selfish not thinking about her.. oh but i always do. i can’t get this pretty cunt out of my head baby.” he shivered behind you, getting lost in the way you kept sucking him in due to his words.

the two of your bodies were moulding into one at this point, your flimsy panties that were pushed to the side with your skirt pushed upwards and jake’s shorts that were pooling by his ankles were the last of your concerns, him fucking you this good and this deep in the public space of your locker’s room was also discarded into the back of your head that was getting gradually fucked into subspace.

your senses heightened, only processing the feeling of jake’s swollen, pulsing tip kissing and pushing against your throbbing cervix that begged to be filled up with his cum over and over again, filled up to the brim as many times as jake could give to you till the two of your bodies gave out.

“you don’t actually want me to s-stop do you, baby?” his voice became shaky, matching your own shaky breathes as he bit against the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. his hips began to grind against yours, thick swollen balls pressed against the curve of your ass as he barely pulled out an inch or two before stuffing you full of his cock. “t-think about her, princess.” he starts to slap against your pussy again, gentle wet slaps that echo embarrassingly loud in the empty locker’s room.

“telling me to pull out when she’s so greedy f’me?” he moans, chest heaving in deep gulps of breath as he kept holding his orgasm back, reminding himself to not cum before you again. “tell me baby, will he ever breed this pretty little cunt like i’m about to right now?” his hand that was gripping your hip dug his fingers into your plush skin further, leaving indents of his sharp nails behind while you mewled in pained pleasure at the sensation.

you loved it when he marked you, admiring all his marks whenever anton wasn’t home and hiding them away from his eyes, it made you feel excited. a rush of joy sparking in your stomach at the thought of these marks being a secret only you and jake knew about.

“n-no no.. he won’t, jakey he c-can’t!” you hiccuped, his favourite pet name spilling out while you felt your used, swollen pussy aching in pain and need. you felt so wasted, so febrile as your cunt only spasmed around him needily no matter how sore you already were feeling. and jake loved it so much when your body began to respond to him, reacting to every touch and contact made by him and he knew each response like the back of his hand.

he doubted if anton knew how to get your body like this too. flushed and burning in his hold, saturated pussy walls milking and squeezing him, salty droplets of sweat that dribbled down the back of your neck that he had no problem licking up. there was no way anton knew your body like he did.

he knew exactly which buttons to push and which parts to pull, just like how he knew that thrusting his hips so deep to the point where your cervix felt bruised while sneaking one of his hands under your shirt to tug at your hardened nipple and slither his other hand to wrap around your neck, pressing lightly just to make your head spin will have you unraveling again on his throbbing cock.

“there you go princess..” he breathed out, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls calmped down on him. cunt wrapping around his thick cock like a vice as you creamed and made a mess over his dick just how he liked it. “feels good, angel?” he spoke against the skin of your neck, hands now moving to grip onto his own locker door to stabilise himself. you nodded dumbly to his words. eyes closed as electrifying waves of euphoria twitched along your body.

“good baby.. so so good t’me.. you can take more can’t you now? my pretty girl?” he spoke over the approaching yells of anton, your name spilling past his lips as his eyes darted everywhere in the halls to find your figure. though he didn’t know why his feet led him into the hallway of the football team’s locker room, he just decided to not wonder about it too much.

and you might’ve not been able to hear him over the incessant ringing in your ears as you came down from your high that jake fucked you dumb towards but oh he heard it so clearly. the tone of desperation in his voice was like music to jake’s ears. this right here, was his chance. and he was going to take it no matter what happens.

“think you can take a bit more, princess?” he began to move his hips again, nasty, loud and squelching wet noises echoing in the locker’s room as he pulled in and out allowing a glistening, clear mixed with white mixture of both of your arousals to dribble past your inner thighs, he looked down at the sight of his veiny cock glistening in your syrupy juices. the locker room’s lights reflecting off your pretty stuffed cunt and his thick cock that disappeared between your dripping folds. god he could cum right now if he wanted to. but he still held back.

his hand moved onto your lower back, pressing slightly to bend you down more. deepening the arch of your back to make his cock slip past your drizzling folds, each thrust of his against your hips almost splattering your filthy wetness over your ass cheeks and his pelvis. he pulled his hips slightly back before ramming them forward again. the ridiculously wet noise in combination with your sinful moan made his muscles tighten.

his abs flexing as he lifted his shirt, tugging the hem of it between his teeth to allow the gushing combination of your juices to climb up his stomach, revelling in the way your pussy spurted out more cum, more squirt and more of your sweet syrupy nectar combined with his own on his skin. in a way he felt like you were marking him, rightfully staining your own territory and it made him feral.

“baby?” the distant yells of anton became closer and closer. the stupid pet name that he dared to call you made jake scoff. his jealousy, envy and all nastily negative emotions that swirlied within him made him fuck you harder. harsher. his length pulling at your walls, tugging against your sweet spots making you sob and wail his name, jake’s name in the locker’s room.

“who’s fucking you this good, princess?” he growled, drool dribbling past the corner of his lips as sweat rolled down his temples, the salty droplets finding purchase on his glowing skin before falling atop your shining one. “y-you! jakey.. fuck! oh my god- you you you!” you babbled on, if jake’s mouth was covered in drool yours was a mess. you salivated more and more as he bullied his cock inside of you, marking and moulding your insides to only fit his length. only recognise his dick and veins that decorated his cock.

“what’s my name baby? say it. yell it. scream it, princess. let them all hear who you belong to.” his shaking hand turned to land a harsh slap against your right ass cheek, palm burning at the aggressive contact of your soft skin with his making you cry even more under him. face almost pressed against the cool metal of the locker, pearly tears falling freely onto the wet puddle that the two of you had formed on the floor right between your legs.

“jakey!” you gasped loudly, vision blurry with both overstimulated pleasure and your own tears. a hot pounding forming in the back of your head as jake continued to fuck you stupid on his thick inches that dragged along your creaming walls, clenching and clamping down on him in cadence to his thrusts.

“that’s not my name, princess.” he frustratedly groaned, he was almost able to hear anton’s foot steps as they approached the locker’s room where he had you bent over and sucking in his cock like the perfect slut for him that you were. the slut that anton didn’t even know existed but jake had memorised like the back of his hand.

“d-daddy!” you choked out, swallowing back sobs as another orgasm washed over you, cumming so hard around jake’s cock while he continued to fuck into you, each squirt of your sopping pussy only encouraged him to push back into your cunt. “pushing me out now, is she?” he moaned, head thrown back in pleasure at the added pressure of your cunt both pushing him out and sucking him back in. making his head reel in ecstasy.

“say my name, baby. say it. who owns this fucking pussy?” he thrusted back, attempting to piston his mushroom tip against your sweet spots to make you see stars. “you do, daddy! you do!” mewling under him as your own nails began to dig into your skin. jake felt so much euphoria rushing deep in his veins at your words. the sound of your whiny voice mewling and moaning so sweetly for him while your body squirmed under his hold made him so happy. he had you exactly where he wanted.

at the best position for anton to see right when he walks past the door of the locker’s room.

“am i fucking this pretty cunt good, princess? want me to fill your cheating pussy up? knock you up so you have no choice but to stay with me and not your asshole of a boyfriend, hm?” he egged you on, knowing so so well that anton heard everything. the loud screech of his sneakers against floor of the hallway telling him everything he needed to know and god jake was on cloud fucking nine right now.

“gonna let me breed you? make you pregnant with my baby. have you all round and pretty carrying my baby so you’re mine forever.” he leaned down to kiss against your neck, his balls squeezing more tightly as he finally let go. allowing all the cum stored in them to push against your pretty cervix and womb. filling you up with his hot ropes of cum, knocking you up just how he wanted.

jake didn’t even mind the shocked gasp the fell past anton’s lips at the sight, too high. too drunk and wasted on the feeling of the way your pussy was sucking him in as he triggered another orgasm from you because of his own, he hummed at the feeling, soft whimpers falling past his lips while he held you close to him. god he was cumming so so much. filling you up to the brim so well you could feel his cum flooding your insides, filling up your swollen pussy and uterus so well. there was no way it didn’t take.

your drool was dribbling past your chin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jake grinding up against your ass to ride both of your highs out, his hand pressed against the bloated bulge in your lower stomach while broken sobs and whispers of his name made it to his ears. your body was so weak. so used and so utterly exhausted from the continuous fucking and breeding. “feeling tired, mama?” he whispered lustfully against your ear, peeking one eye towards the locker room’s door just in time to catch the faint sight of anton’s sneakers quickly disappearing behind the walls.

he smiled, satisfaction and happiness bubbling in his insides at the thought of finally having you. with no worries or concerns of anton. he felt so joyous. so relieved that you no longer had to deal with that asshole. he finally had you all to himself.

he kept his softening cock buried inside of you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you felt so soft, so nice and warm in his hands when you moved your hand back to tug at his neck, you turned your head back and connected your lips to his.

and just that action alone had jake’s heart bursting with love, he finally had you wrapped around his finger just how you had him for the longest time.

☆ YANG JUNGWON ⟡ 양정원

for yang jungwon, life had always been on easy mode. as if playing an easier, more smoother game of life with less bumps and obstacles in his path. everything almost moulded to his liking and every unfavourable decision changed for the sweethearted guy.

his life was nothing short than average— he was a remarkably good student, great president of his class. trusted tremendously by the teachers, very dearly loved by all animals— well okay maybe his life wasn’t that average.

but he just liked to believe that it was fate, or luck, one of those two didn’t matter which one but he did know that there was some other higher power that played an important role in all of his life events. as surely there was a reasoning behind every single thing that happens in his world.. or maybe not somethings are just meant to be the way the are.

much like his confusing rivalry with his number one public enemy, the guy that he would actually have no problem with killing if he could, haruto.

the hatred, dislike and absolute loath the two shared against each other was a mystery to not only the people surrounding them, but to their own selves as well. jungwon couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his relationship with haruto had began to bend incorrectly but as far as he remembers— it’s always been like that.

the two couldn’t stand each other to stay in the same room. throwing nasty glares at one another before turning their heads to spew hateful words. “this fucking asshole” “this stupid bastard” and their friends were used to it. no matter how many times they attempted to understand, to really know the reason as to just why there was so much ill dislike between them— they just couldn’t reach anything.

“because he’s a cocky son of a bi—“ “yeah okay i think that’s enough.” jungwon got cut off by his younger friend ni-ki when asked about his unexpected distaste towards haruto, no one bothered to figure out the weird and unexplained hostility between the two boys after that.

and for the longest time, with no interaction points between the two. everything seemed to be fine. both of their hearts calming down from beating so much hatred, mouths empty from nasty words and a calm and collected peace of mind for all parties.

but that didn’t last that long.

you see, jungwon wasn’t the best when it came to maintaining relationships— not in a cheating or unloyal kind of way. he just didn’t feel like he was reciprocating the same amount of effort and dedication he was receiving in a relationship, hence most of the ones he’s went through had reached their demise before they were able to fully bloom.

blame it on his busy schedule and duty filled routines, he just sometimes couldn’t push an entire romantic relationship to handle and be apart of into his life at certain periods.

something that haruto was clearly able to do. and god he did not let anyone hear the end of it, especially jungwon.

the problem wasn’t the fact that jungwon couldn’t keep a relationship anymore. jungwon had always wanted to be in one, to be loved and appreciated and doted on by someone he wholeheartedly trusted and saw a future with. he wasn’t afraid to love either. it was just the time factor that he wasn’t sure about giving. not the satisfactory amount for a lover atleast.

but for haruto to rub all of this into his face when he sat at a lunch table with his arm slinged around your hips as you gazed at him with hearts in your eyes? was a bit too much.

“that’s why you can’t keep a fucking relationship!” this sentence coming from haruto during another argument a mere two days later after seeing you two in the cafeteria? oh jungwon was fuming.

this was it. if haruto was so concerned about jungwon being unable to keep a relationship, why not just snatch away his?

which explains how you currently landed in this situation, laying sideways on his bed. one of his hands gently held your leg, keeping an open entrance for him to plunge his cock back inside of your wetness. he felt so ecstatic. so deep as he shoved his thick inches inside of your gummy walls. length exploring and massaging your insides so wonderfully you couldn’t help but moan so prettily for him, small praises tumbling past your lips. you were so dizzy in pleasure.

“feels good, precious?” he would mumble behind you, his own eyelids shut tightly at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in greedily. a ravenous grip around the base of his cock that had him seeing stars. “s’good won.. f-fuck.. t’ feels amazing..” you huffed, pearly droplets of sweat shimmering prettily over your body as he rolled his hips up against your ass.

his thrusts were short, not too much power behind him as he was so drunk off of your pussy already. they were just right. pushing and kneading against your sweet spots so deliciously and making you bite you lower lip harsh enough to draw a metallic taste into your mouth. he was stuffing you so well. fucking you so good you couldn’t even think about anything else.

especially not the date with haruto you were supposed to be on like right now.

and jungwon knew about it. he knew so well exactly what haruto was planning to do on this date, which flowers he was buying and to which restaurant he wanted to take you to make up for the fact that he was an actual asshole just like jungwon had always known.

because what sane man would be mean to you? no matter how many times you tried to hide it from everyone’s eyes, jungwon knows that you’re not happy in your relationship with haruto. hell— he even got into a relationship to make him jealous in the first place. it wasn’t out of love or whatever lie he was feeding you.

no one except jungwon knew about the disgusting and degrading comments and names haruto would make about you. about his horrible manners and actions that would only make you question the whole purpose of this relationship, because love— what was known as the basis for every relationship, was clearly missing in this one.

but you were too attached to realise that, too used to being around haruto to consider anyone else. so what if he was rude to you? atleast he was your boyfriend. or well.. that was until jungwon walked into the picture, more like waltzed into your life.

“you feel so good around me, doll. milking my cock with this pretty cunt— fuuuck you’re so good to me.” he praised you on and on. mouth and tongue never getting tired from showering you with compliments, something drastically different from you were used to and it felt so nice. different, but a welcomed different.

you shyed away adorably from him, whimpering in his hold as tears sprung into your eyes from both the sensitivity of your cunt and your heart, he felt the way your walls tightened around him at his words. the feeling paired with your body turning warmer and your cute mewls made him coo in your ear. how cute can someone be?

he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that haruto had actually managed to score you. to date you out of all people. such a sweet souled woman that only deserved praise, love and affection. all things that jungwon couldn’t help but shower you with as you laid under him, taking his cock so well like a good girl. seriously how could haruto not treat you right?

though questioning haruto did become something jungwon gave up on ages ago. the only point he took away from that was if haruto is wrong about something, then there’s a very high chance that jungwon’s right.

and haruto was so so wrong about degrading you. treating you so poorly when all you needed were a few soft whispers of how well you were doing, what a pretty girl you were as you took his big cock in so sweetly to get you to glow more. to flourish right before his eyes when you bucked your hips back against his. eyes shutting in ecstasy while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. feeling so loved and appreciated in the arms of a man you knew would never hurt you.

jungwon was enamoured by you. drowning completely in adoration and love for you. you were so warm in his embrace, body so pliant and responsive to his every move. almost like you were made for his touch. made to allow his fingertips to burn along your skin as they trailed from your waist down to your leg.

so needy, so so desperate to feel him all over you. and he felt the same way. the urge to press his skin against yours, cover your body with his and mould both of them into one you couldn’t tell apart where he was ending and where you were starting, everything felt so hot. so warm so electrictifying as he fucked you open on his cock in a way you’ve never felt before.

“p-please.. leave him for me bunny..” he stuttered out, throat closing up when your walls clamped down on him at the sound of his voice so distant, an entire pitch higher and so debauched in you. you shook your head mindlessly at his words, unable to agree to them, haruto still held a small precious spot in your heart. you were still attached.

“you know he doesn’t deserve you, precious..” his chest heaved in heavy gulps of air, his own waterline aligning with tears as he desperately clawed at your body as if he was almost panicked at the thought of you not leaving. begging you to leave his own enemy and become his. he wanted you so bad. to call you his so bad. to claim you, to please you and to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

and he could tell you wanted him just as badly. if your body language was anything to go by, he would think you were in love with him already. you were so good to him. felt so incredible around him he couldn’t help but feel his body floating in utter euphoria, pure ecstasy with you.

“i c-can’t.. i can’t do that won.. s’too mean..” you hiccuped, tears rushing down your pretty face making him coo, he slithered his other hand down your waist, middle and ring finger teasing your throbbing clit that pulsed with need. you were so close to the edge of your climax your eyes rolled back when he began to rub slow circles on your aching bud. almost matching them along with the rolls of his hips against yours.

he was fucking you so well. so good. teetering on the edge of complete pleasure as his heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your ass with every motion. the sound so lewd and sinful it made your head spin with each smack! smack! everything felt too good. too much.

“don’t you think him not fucking this pretty cunt good is too mean, bun?” he laughed breathlessly, eyelids fluttering shut when his raging hot tip that leaked tremendous amounts of pre nudged against your cervix, you sobbed out incoherent words. mind turning into a puddle of mush in your skull as you were unable to process or think about anything other than jungwon’s dick fucking you open like this.

he nudged his nose against your ear, hand and hips picking up in speed to ram inside of your snug cunt that only seemed to suck him in further. sticky, glistening ropes of arousal connected his hips and pelvis to your ass cheeks that were covered in a white mess. you had lost count about the amount of times you’ve creamed on him now, and jungwon didn’t mind at all.

with your hot breaths fanning against one another, warm, sweaty bodies moving in cadence and your insides feeling so sensitive and sore, neither of you were able to pick up the echoing sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table. the call coming from none other than haruto.

“come to me pretty bunny.. leave him and- haah— shit.. come to me.” he moaned by your ear, finger incessant in rubbing against your clit and to coax out another orgasm out of you and another and another.

you were feeling so delirious at this point. having jungwon— a guy that your heart soared for fucking you and dragging out so many highs out of you while begging you to leave your asshole of a boyfriend was so.. intense. it was so much. way too much for your brain to comprehend.

“you know i-i can treat you better right?… so much better than him..” he whined, so lost on you, so gone and drunk on the flavour of you atop his senses. overtaking his every thought, his every idea, his entire brain and whole heart completely. and he loved it. as if hexed by a spell you casted upon him, he relished in it.

and you revelled in his attention, his love that he continued to rain on you, possessed by his presence and enchanted entirely. as if stuck under his hypnosis, the movements of his body against yours, his whispers of sweet words, sweet promises and dirty nasty things he would do to you if you were his had you hexed so so deep into his own spell. tangled in a passion dedicated to him and formed by him only.

you nodded in a lucid manner to his words, eyes droopy as they opened and closed with your vision blurry. you could barely pick up the way you were unraveling around his length again. gummy walls clamping down around the base of his cock for the nth time in the past few hours as you came so hard.

“just like that bun… cumming around my cock so good doll.. needy cunt sucking me in so so well.” he spoke deliriously, his own consciousness slipping away before he finally heard your ringtone. the thought of it being haruto made his inside twinge in excitement. his hand moved imperceptibly, wrapping his fingers around the device while you were still lost in your stupor of pleasure.

he glanced at the small screen and couldn’t help the wide cheshire grin that spread across his features at the sight of ‘haruto ♡’ this was it.

he quickly answered the call, lowering the volume to not have you hear his worries and apologies that instantly began to spill out the speaker. you were so caught up in your own high, eyes closed as jungwon kept rocking his hips against yours making you get stuck on subspace as he remained restless. not taking a second to stop and trapping you in a constant state of ecstasy. and you were loving every second of it.

“feeling good, baby bunny?” he asked loudly, unnoticeably switching the phone to his other hand that kept holding your leg up and lowering the speaker right against your cunt. making the wet smacking sounds, the slaps of his heavy balls against your ass echo in haruto’s ears as he felt his heart drop.

that voice. was too familiar for his liking.

“s’good won.. shit— feels s’good..” you babbled on, soft hands gripping roughly at his ruined bedsheets as there was almost a puddle forming between the two of your bodies, more cum more wetness more arousal seeping out of your fucked hole when jungwon would pull slightly out. a mere inch that will make his cum leak outside of your gummy walls before squeezing himself back in and god the sound was so filthy. so nasty as it echoed for all three of you.

“who’s making you feel this good, hm? tell me who’s filling up this pretty little greedy cunt, bun?” he bit against your ear, licking the shell of it sensually as the need and urge to devour you was just worsening with every second. he needed to feel you everywhere, taste you everywhere and touch you everywhere.

“you are— fuck! you’re making me feel so good.” you mewled under his hold. writhing in complete pleasure and ecstasy as he kept pushing his cock between your puffy and glistening folds. “what’s my name, my pretty bunny?” he whispered lewdly into your ear, his mere voice almost acting like an aphrodisiac for you. making you more needier and wetter for him.

“daddy! ngh daddy you feel s’good!” gasping his favourite name for him so loudly, unaware of the fact that haruto choked on his own spit at how slutty you sounded. voice almost an entire pitch higher and voracious. he felt his own pants tightening at the filthy sounds filling his ears. you never sounded like this with him hell— your room never sounded like this when you were with him.

“good girl.. such a good obedient little bunny for me, screaming her daddy’s name like the good bunny she is..” he kissed along your skin lovingly, dropping the phone onto the bed without a care if haruto had hung up or not, you were right in front of him and he wasn’t able to not give you his full attention. not when you sounded so slutty and needy for him.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, relishing in the way your cunt tightened and tightened around his cock as another orgasm washed over you, you sobbed his name, pretty little tears falling along his stained bedsheets as he switched the position.

he gently laid down your aching leg, the soreness of your body making you wince with the combined pleasure before he situated himself onto his knees. holding your thighs open just enough to see your ruined gaping hole leaking in front of him. the sight making his pulsating cock twitch before he pushed it back inside of you.

the two of you groaned in pleasure, both of you way past being gone. you were completely cock drunk while he was entirely pussy drunk. his mind spun with the way you still tried to suck him deeper, tight mushy walls milking his length and greedily clamping down on him. “f-fuck i’m s’close bun.. gonna let me cum inside of your slutty pussy, hm?” he breathed out. sweat rolling from his temples down his chest and even reaching his glistening, muscular thighs.

you buried your head against the pillow, mind completely high and lost on the way jungwon kept fucking you into subspace. nodding against the wet pillowcases as jungwon was almost about to push past your cervix. “that’s my girl.. my pretty little bunny letting me breed her pussy like this.” he groaned, his abdomen tightening further before he finally released the cum stored in his heavy balls that slapped noisily onto your inner thighs.

hot, long spurts of his cum webbed along your insides, filling you up to the brim and pressing right against your cervix. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your lower stomach almost bloating with his cum. he was releasing so so much. warm cum making your insides turn hotter as he kept fucking it back inside of you.

his groans and moans, whispers of your name and how good you felt barely reached your ringing ears, hell he couldn’t even hear his own words himself. his ears popping as he finally released the final spurts of his unusually prolonged and intense release before he dropped on top of you. caging your body beneath his.

he cracked one eye open, moving to look at the phone screen that just now closed as haruto finally hung up from the call. he noticed the way you were trying to catch your breath, slipping in and out of consciousness and took this as an opportunity to open your phone.

memorising your password as haruto’s stupid birthday, he quickly went through your home screen to find your messages. where he could already spot multiple notifications from his enemy.

haruto ♡: you fucking bitch

haruto ♡: how dare you fuck my own enemy out of everyone else

haruto ♡: i should’ve never trusted a whore like you

jungwon felt his eye twitching at the way he was texting you. anger rising up like along with the fatigue in his body before he tapped onto your keyboard

my love ♥︎: never text this number again you stupid asshole.

read

haruto ♡ is typing…

and before he could text another nasty message, he blocked his number for good.

now discarding your phone back onto the bedside table, he turned towards you littering your shoulders and exposed skin with affectionate kisses before whispering how much he loved you into your ears.

and at the end of the day, jungwon still took the one thing haruto kept teasing him for and shoving in his face. his beloved girlfriend.

a,note. yay :D ! quick karinasbaby comeback while i’m busy w uni, hopefully ill be able to post more soon if not pls know that im trying my hardest 😞 hope u enjoyed !!! ♡

[peri-helia]

Ichor

A ficlet that's been in my drafts for...anyway a fic about love, immortality and soup.

Nile shatters when the bowl does.

She’s clearing the plates from lunch, some gorgeous paella Nicky had whipped up to capture the sun drenched streets of Madrid, when it falls off the countertop and shatters on the tiles. It’s her own stupid fault, she’d been trying to get lost in her headphones, imagining she was at the heart of the crowd and feeling like she was a part of something again, instead of standing fifteen feet away from every other person in existence.

She’s seen the cavalier way the others handle historical artefacts for the simple fact that they’re not artefacts or priceless antiquities when they’re something you’ve used and bought for years, no matter how long ago that was.

Andy kept a Rodin in a cave for Christ’s sake.

And Nile’s spilling hot tears over a fucking bowl that is clearly 21st century.

It’s probably from IKEA for fucks sake. God, now she’s having visions of Andy, Joe and Nicky strolling round IKEA picking dishes and sitting on the floor trying to work out if they’ve got all the screws to build a dresser, which is just fucking surreal.

Christ.

It makes her snort laughing, which only makes her cry harder because there’s no one to tell. There’s no-one she can side-eye as if to say ‘do you see this?’ Like Jay. Or Dizzy. Or her brother. There’s no-one her age around or with her life experience or –or – no-one she’ll ever really –

The world shrinks to the desolate breadth of Nile’s ribs as she tries to catch her breath, as she tries to settle, one of her earbuds still blaring music, the blue bowl in jigsaw pieces around her. God it’s scattered so far, she can see pieces across the floor by the doorway to the tiny bathroom that never heats up and under the fridge, shards still rocking gently with the force of the fall.

“Nile?”

“Nile!”

Joe and Nicky call down the corridor, casual and then cautious. Because all they’d heard was a bowl drop and then gasping. It could be anything, given the way they live. It could be Goussainville.

Oh God, right.  The world rushes in, judgemental and disrupted and Nile slips to her knees, starts gingerly trying to pick the pieces. She keeps her face to the floor when she hears Joe and Nicky stop, hears the guns go away.

“I’m sorry – I dropped a bowl, it was stupid”

A teardrop falls traitorously onto the tile, as if Nile’s voice, thick and stilting wasn’t enough of a giveaway.

“Nile?” Joe asks, stepping closer. Out of the corner of her eye, Nile sees his boot nudge a piece of ceramic.

“It’s fine” she waves a frantic hand at them, “I can do this”

They all know she’s not talking about the goddamned bowl.

“Nile” Nicky’s gentle lilt steps in, his hand sliding into her vision, palm up. There’s the odd scar there, knicks and scrapes from a thousand years ago. The lines of his palm heavy. She’d done some palm reading one night, with a girlfriend years ago. Heart line. Line of life. Nicky’s curves from his thumb to the beginning of his wrist, starting off almost delicate and spidery and then thickening. She can’t see the end. Her ex hadn’t been able to find the end of hers either.  

Another tear falls. Nicky catches it in his palm.

“Ah, cara,” And Nile jumps. Her Italian is still rudimentary but when you have two people talking to you in it all day you start to get it and she knows what that means. She can feel the warmth of him, Nicky’s always so warm, they both are. “You do not have to do this alone”

Nile takes his hands, fingers grasping his wrists, letting him take the weight as they stand up, “Careful, here” Nicky gently directs her steps, until he’s led her back to the doorway. Joe’s hands replace his husband’s, reaching out for her.

Nile clings to him blindly, the need to not feel alone burning through the distant haze of shame that she has shattered so easily. Joe says something to Nicky, but Nile doesn’t catch it, too exhausted and burnt through to care.

There’s the couch, and then the hot sweet tea Joe buys for Nicky being pressed into her hands. She tries to quiet her sobs but that just makes them more obvious, ripping through the room loud and shuddering. Maybe it’s the shock, at long last. Nicky is the one who sits beside her in the end. He doesn’t say anything, mercifully, just sits beside her. Joe gently squeezes her shoulder and retreats to somewhere unknown.

“Fuck – sorry” she coughs, sipping at the tea and resolutely trying to stop thinking about it, about this pain that’s suddenly clawing at her chest, at her heart, that her knowledge of what she’d thought the world was had shattered as readily as that bowl, that this can’t be fixed, that it’ll never be the same again, never, never.

The tears flow faster. Nile cries. She cries for her family, for her friends, for Joe and Nicky who as far as she can see love life and people still after a thousand years, who still go out into the darkness even though it might cost them the one thing they cannot live without. For Booker and all that he’s lost, for Andy whose had the one thing that’s stayed constant finally ripped away from her and then had Booker be the one to put them all in their worst nightmare, and Quynh, God, poor fucking Quynh…and she cries for herself. 

She’s kind of forgotten Nicky’s there, in all honesty. Like there’s the weight of him next to her on the sofa, but that’s about as much as she registers. She lifts the cup to her lips and then realises there’s nothing left in it to drink.

“Oh”

“Finished?” and Nicky, God bless him, his voice is as it was in Goussainville when he’d shown here where to sleep, and given her a toothbrush and a towel of all things. Quiet, that lilt that’s light but not bright, just conversational. As if her heart breaking all over the sofa is normal. He takes the cup away, just stretches to deposit it on the carpet and Nile reaches out a hand to steady him, even though the worst thing would be he might accidentally overbalance and slip onto the floor.

His smile widens and when he shuffles back onto the sofa proper, he gently covers her hand with his on his bicep, squeezing gently once. “Thank you, Nile.”

Nile kind of blinks, because all she’d done was – not that much at all, really, but she smiles back and then wipes at her eyes, the tears lingering there. Nicky squeezes her hand again.

“Ya amar? Nile, habibti? Will you come here, please?”

They turn together at Joe’s voice and drift outside to the weed-filled yard, with its brass water tap and assortment of several lifetimes junk. There’s a little potting shed of sorts filled with firewood and Booker’s inks and plastic explosive. Leaning against the old sandstone wall is a worn table, where Nile can see Joe’s laid the shattered pieces of her bowl.

There’s tubes and brushes laid out, with a battered dining chair and a low stool.

Nile’s just forming the words to ask, when Joe smiles, and says “Kintsugi”

It’s so not what she was expecting that Nile laughs aloud, “Really?” she brushes a hand over the shattered ceramic.

“Really, really” he grins back, pleased to have made her laugh.

Over the next hour, they walk her through how to repair through kintsugi; gently applying the urushi lacquer, dusting the gold powder over it and she watches raptly as the bowl comes back to life, threaded through with veins of gold.

We may not have all the answers, but we do have purpose.

Joe slides the bowl, reformed back over the smooth, worn wood of the tabletop towards her. Nicky comes striding out with dinner and doesn’t even hesitate, pouring minestrone soup straight into it in one smooth motion.

It holds. The dishes are scraped clean. The soup is perfect – hot and tomatoey, with crunchy celery and just a bit too much pepper, exactly as she likes.

Thank you,” she breathes out, the tension having seeped from her shoulders long since, her face tight with dried tears. She’s not talking about the bowl.

And Joe and Nicky just smile, warm and golden.

“It’s what we’re here for”

Yeah. Yeah it is.

[spaceumbredoggos]

However fucked up Alex reveals Bill and Ford’s relationship is revealed to be in The Book Of Bill, Kenz and Bill’s is a hundred times worse.

Disclaimer: I am not glorifying abuse in any way shape or form. I myself have had nightmares similar to this despite never being sexually abused, both Bill related and otherwise. Some of these are based on personal experience (such as the nightmares), whilst others are a device used to show how fucked up shipping Bill with pretty much anyone is. Not even the Axolotl is safe in my opinion. If Bill was real, I’d guarantee he’d probably be a massive creep and with how thirsty his fankids are (and I’m calling myself out here) he’d probably use his magic to g*oom those kids like a church pastor. The thing that scares me the most about Bill being canonically real is not that he could catastrophically end the world, it’s his oversexualization in the fandom that got so bad, Alex himself had to make him unattractive. This will be along the lines of a Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader headcanons. With that being said, here’s a few content warnings:

G*ooming, Pedoph*lia, s*xual abuse and assault, physical and psychological abuse, mind control, cult-like things, psychosis, and general paranoia. I’m not saying these things actually happened, but knowing Bill’s character and his powers and history, if he was real, I’d generally be afraid for anyone in the Gravity Falls fandom. Especially minors.

This could be my most controversial post yet, and it could jeopardize any potential of getting into some colleges. This may sound like paranoid rambling, but I know that Bill is just a cartoon character. That being said, Alex like the blur the line between our world and the world of gravity falls with Bill’s character, dicing around the fact that he’s influenced history and wrote all religion on the basis of a lie. I’m not scapegoating him as “controlling global politics on a massive scale” because that would be stupid and I’ll sound like those tin foil hat rednecks that snort moonshine and burn pride flags. My heart goes out to all those who have been impacted by all forms of abuse as an abuse survivor myself. Alex, if you see this post (or any other of my posts/ read my fanfics), just know that it’s a critique on the fandom and the canon lore, and a cautionary warning to avoid lawsuits in case The Book of Bill Cipher causes mass psychosis.

As a kid (ages 7-9) I would watch Gravity Falls casually. At that age, the only thing I consumed online content wise was Skylanders and Minecraft content (Skylanders until age nine, then it was pretty much a lot of Team Crafted, Popularmmos, DanTDM, and other Minecraft YouTubers.) I didn’t invest in the Gravity Falls fandom until I was eleven (that’s when I first started writing my fanfics. The drafts are long gone because they were on school computers that were crammed with viruses due to kids installing Minecraft mods (this was just before chromebooks became mainstream. I went to a special ed middle school specifically for autistic individuals (it was pretty ableist, gonna make a post on that.) so the rules on what was allowed in school were pretty loose content wise. It didn’t have to be educational, as long as it didn’t have blood or guns. There were no safe search filters or Go Guardian (I remember one of my friends accidentally finding Iris from Pokemon black and white vore. I also found Pacifica vore.)) Before that, the February before my tenth birthday, my dad took my TV out of my room due to behavioral issues (undiagnosed autism go brrr). Around that time, there was talk in my town that the Disney channel was “rotting kids minds” with bad attitudes and crude humor (this could be said about any child’s television network (I mean, look at Nickelodeon.) but I lived in a pretty conservative area of Southern California and had a pretty conservative dad. So naturally, Disney was the scapegoat (this was way before the “woke” era of Disney.)) All of this talk of Brainrot made me stop watching the Disney channel during the peak era of gravity falls (2015 as a whole) and I didn’t watch gravity falls again until summer of 2016 when my tv was put back in my room (with intense parental controls so that I couldn’t watch my vet shows.) That’s when I had my first gravity falls dream about Bill cipher. It had to do with getting unicorn hair to protect my house from Bill Cipher. I had an interest in dreams previously due to warrior cats. It was at that moment when Gravity Falls was added to the obsession list.

As a neurodivergent eleven year old surrounded by other neurodivergent preteens and teens, we found common ground talking about Gravity Falls at school. I also would, whenever I didn’t feel the prying eyes of the grown ups or my peers would go off outside and act out my gravity falls x pokemon x warrior cats fanfiction (I’m not sure if those are signs of maladaptive daydreaming disorder or I simply had an intense imagination that would consume my body and make me want to just act out my fanfictions outside. I don’t do this anymore, mostly because of my own embarrassment and I can just write it out.) Yes, there were times where the discussion or action played out Bill Cipher being real. A lot of my “play” as I called it back then was me being kidnapped or possessed by Bill. I even wrote some really cringey fanfics involving my friends and Bill Cipher. To this day, I still involve my family in my fanfiction, but more final drafts will have their names changed. Weirdmaggeddon was a common topic, as well as Bill Cipher possession.

As time went on, I had more dreams about Bill Cipher, fueling the obsession and the fact that Bill could be real. During my middle school years, I never had a crush on Bill Cipher, despite what my friends seem to think. My parents just took it as whatever and as long as I was happy and just working towards going to a neurotypical non-sped school. My crush on Bill Cipher didn’t start until I was in high school. I remember it specifically being Valentine’s Day 2020 when I learned that I have a crush on the triangle. My dreams of Bill would only get more frequent and worse from here (involving the typical horny teenage dream that I don’t want to elaborate because I feel weird doing so (you’ll see why later on.))

Now there’s typically nothing wrong with having a cartoon crush. Given any other cartoon character that doesn’t have a canon history of influencing this world (Bill’s history of influence is vague but it still counts) I would excuse this as another silly cartoon crush like PurpleCliffe simping for Cynthia and the like. However, given that it’s in the show’s canon that Bill could be real and he crossed over to our world, do you understand what implications this could have? Bill is trillions of years old, he’s likely seen every timeline to ever exist. Meanwhile, there are whole armies of fankids who are down bad for him (including me.)

Notice how when I first started getting into Gravity Falls that I didn’t have a crush on him. How many other fankids felt the same way? It wasn’t until years of obsessing over Gravity Falls did I develop feelings for him. And of Alex says in the Book of Bill Cipher what I think he’s going to say (that Bill probably ab*sed Ford sexually with possible g*ooming involved), notice the pattern that is being presented here? Alex, if you blur the lines between fiction and reality with a villain who may or may not have canonically g*oomed and abused someone, possibly using mind control given his powers and his role as a dream demon, could it really be so far fetched that… (I’m not going to say it because it’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, but use your imagination.)

If we take Alex’s word that Bill has crossed over to our world, then we can only assume that there are vulnerable kids and adults being… You get the picture. I’m not explicitly saying that it is happening right now, but this is problematic because revealing that Bill ab*sed Ford in that way means that Alex would probably imply that Bill is doing the same to MINORS. I may sound paranoid and this may just be a ramble, but considering the show’s canon and how mythology is filled with cases of degenerative acts from deities, this is a really fucked up situation.

It may be funny to say “haha, evil triangle man is sexy” but at the end of the day, Alex stated that Bill has crossed over into our world. For all we know, he could be taking advantage of the fact that people thirst for him, probably not in pleasant ways.

[noirvette]

poly tweek and craig! + reader who gets panic attacks regularly headcanons!!

YESSS A TWEEK AND CRAIG REQUEST, I was so excited to see this one in my inbox. again for all requests i'd like to apologize for it taking so long to release these. they've been in my drafts but i got excited about the smau.

i did do poly!! however it's stylized to show them both individually

cws: none! Aged up characters!

♡ TWEEK TWEAK

He gets it and he's learned some tricks from Craig to help himself calm down so he applies what he's learned to you.

He's always willing to help you too, a fun lil tidbit is by helping you calm down, he helps himself calm down as well

Does a lot of soothing back rubs/rubbing circles into your back.

Is an advocate for the 3-3-3 method, where you list 3 things you see, hear, and can move.

He holds onto your hand so you can squeeze his hands. He's gotten use to tight grips so don't worry if you think you've squeezed too hard, he's fine.

Contact with another person helps ground him a lot so he does it for you on instinct, however if that makes you more stressed or does the opposite effect, he'll back off a bit and stay more so on the side lines unless Craig specifies on what he can do.

He might not be able to help you bring back your focus in on something too much, so he's kind of more like moral support and is very good at letting you know he's just there and how he isn't going anywhere.

Craig once read that the smell of lavender can help with panic attacks and so now Tweek carries those small scent jar necklaces and it smells like lavender and he puts it on you to help you. (Craig will get you your own tbh)

Will also rub circles into the palms of your hands. Does a lot of hand touching, like connecting his fingertips to yours and sounds. I feel like Tweek would make quiet soothing sounds that you can sort've try focusing on instead of the loud busy background noises.

When you have a panic attack in public he gets a bit nervous on dealing with it but that's solely because of his own anxiety making him nervous about people staring.

So Craig helps you more when it comes to public panic attacks (more about this coming right up)

♡ CRAIG TUCKER

Craig is used to seeing Tweek's panic attacks occur in public, so he's great at deescalating and helping you through public panic attacks.

He counts out loud or has you focus in on breathing (Tweek will sometimes join in to help coax you into repeating things)

"Okay hun, breathe in.." "..1 ...2 ...3..." "Good..now breathe out"

If your panic attacks spike in public spaces because of people's stares, Craig and Tweek both shield you from view using their bodies.

Craig also straight up glares at them and flips them off. He'll watch them as they walk away too, hates that people will just stare at those having panic attacks and not help.

Because of Tweek and you, Craig tends to carry a backpack with him full of stress reliever toys that he'll give you if you start showing signs of a panic attack starting. He'll give you a stress ball or other stress relievers to help with calming you out of a panic attack

For some reason I feel as though Craig is on his phone a lot, especially if he's in a class without you or Tweek. In his mind, it's not worth paying attention without either of you two there with him (bro manages to get solid B through A-'s so he's doing fine tbh)

I'm mentioning this because if you believe you're about to have a panic attack, texting Craig about it will result in him at your side within seconds.

He doesn't even care if he's getting detention again, helping you out is worth more than some stupid class.

Willing to do whatever it is once you're feeling better. Wanna ditch class and the rest of school? He's with you and you guys are grabbing Tweek. Want to head to the nurses office and fake some sickness so you don't have to return to class right away? Works with him. If you even want to head back to class he'll walk you, kiss you on your forehead and make sure you make it to your seat.

All in all both of them are absolute sweethearts and will help you and support you whenever you have a panic attack.

They love you so much

[lizardperson]

lizardwriting wrapped 2024

because this whole thing deserves a little yearly review too...

after not writing anything for the public in sooo many years, i actually wrote quite a lot this year. only had to overcome the initial feeling of "cringe omg i can't post that 😬", and now have lost all shame and am enjoying myself immensely, subjecting the world to my bullshit. i think i actually improved quite a bit over the whole year.

AO3 STATS [link]

28 works 48,102 words total 18x ocworld: 17 short bits + 5 chapters Dark Lights, Shine Loud 7x fallout: 6 of those Courier Mika including 20 oneshot chapters Come All Sufferers (#fnv au) 2x star trek disco

---

SPOTLIGHT some points stolen from this list

.characters i thought most about: mika - light of my life, bane of my existence. the ultimate blorbo from my brain, bouncing around in there 24/7. she's terrible and i love her so much. (#mika tag) gabriel - grew SO MUCH this year, mostly thanks to the silly little fallout au. i have a lot of thoughts but not enough words. i love him so much. (#gabriel tag) special mention: fiona - what started out as daria's nameless dead backstorywife somehow turned into an actual character that has been living in my brain now extensively. little miss tortured poet. i love her. (#fiona tag)

.favorite title And there are days like this, too because it's the perfect throwback to the kinda-first part 4261 days. and i wasn't even the one who came up with it, that was @voidthing special mention: The Hills Have Eyebots. because it's just funny.

.favorite opening line

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mika cursed when her can of energy drink let out the familiar hiss of danger. Despite her best efforts and a few quick sips, she still managed to spill some of it on herself and the couch. Great, another point for Nic's long list of things to be pissed about. As if the general mood in this apartment hadn't been shitty enough those last few weeks. Oh well, let her bitch then. [Dark Lights, Shine Loud]

is it my best line? nah, far from it. is it the perfect introduction to Mika? hell yea - cursing, consuming caffeine, and making a mess. what more do you need to know lmao. i just really like that one, still. the whole first chapter, actually.

.favorite piece of dialogue

"You didn't answer my question - you think we're doing the right thing here?" "Yes." There was not a bit of doubt in his voice. "You believe in our stupid plan?" "I believe in you." [Doing The Right Thing]

just sums up the whole fallout au and their dynamic so well, and also *clutches chest*

special shoutout to the close second, the "I'm not a lesbian" bit in In Whiskey Veritas

and another special shoutout to the last bit of Left My Heart In The Sierra Madre because. T_T

.favorite ending line

Falling in love with her best friend was such a bad idea, July thought, and yet she didn't know how not to. [Viola sororia]

it's so sappy. but 🥺🥺🥺

close second for a completely different vibe:

Freud would probably have something to say about distracting yourself from your shitty mother by sleeping with a woman roughly that same age. Good thing Freud was dead. [Mommy issues]

.favorite text overall 4261 days i still think this is the best thing i've written. for someone who does not have particularly much experience with grief in general, i really really like writing a lot about it somehow...

---

OUTLOOK 2025

the big multi chapter thingies are very far up my to do list, but yknow how it is with adhd brains - ohhh lets do that quick short text first, and that one, and that one *procrastinates the big ones*

BUT that is the plan:

. finally getting some more chapters into Dark Lights, Shine Loud. there are a bunch lying around as first drafts, but they still need some work. soonTM

. continuing the way-too-ambition plotheavy heistthing What Happens In Reno, Stays In Reno after those first few intro chapters. this requires an extensive brainstorming session to get the actual plot hammered together.

. the shiny new wip that i am itching for (because shiny and new), because it's gonna be a bit different in various ways so that makes it excitingTM

....and of course just continuing to write, overall. gonna keep my #fff streak up.

---

SPECIAL THANKS

@voidthing for basically being my secret co-author. always improves the quality by SO MUCH and is the bestest anyway 💕💕💕

the whole @flashfictionfridayofficial community - turns out a regular thing is really good to get a habit going, and also y'all are so nice and cool and just 💕💕💕

everybody who reads my stuff of course :D yes, i mostly write for myself, but of course it's always awesome if someone else likes my bullshit 🙏

[twiggyofthesprawl]

I finished Veilguard last night (SPOILERS ABOUND)

Buffer rook to prevent accidental thumbnail spoils

I had a lot of thoughts, so I decided to sleep on it and write a post when I had had time to solidify them. Having done so, I think the most telling critique I have of the game, is how much of it evacuated my brain the minute I wasn't actively playing.

I wanted to like this game. DA:Origins still remains one of my all time favourite RPGs. And for all its flaws, I genuinely love Inquisition

But Veilguard just left me disappointed. At almost every turn, my takeaway from the big setpieces was "if this had one more draft, it could have been great-".

At the end of it all, I find myself picking holes in the plot, the new lore, the characters. And it's not just me being cynical. Because there are aspects I love. It just lacked the consistency to ever truly win me over.

(mostly) PROS: Despite all the noise about how the game shoves progressive messaging down your throat, and how much the internet wanted me to hate Taash... they were fine? A bit grating at times but that's because I don't care for the kind of personality they have. The dialogue for their gender stuff came off a little stilted and corporate, but the actual arc is kinda cute. And their big moment in the finale whips. If I ever replay the game, I need to actually play their quest. But I got kinda burnt out after doing 4 questlines. Also their relationship with Harding? Precious

Emmrich feels like he's from an entirely different, much better game, outside of a few small moments. his dialogue is much less anachronistic than other characters and feels way more true to the older games. His storyline is campy but takes itself seriously enough that you can take it seriously. His struggle of being a necromancer who's scared of death is fantastic. It also has the single hardest line in the game

And yes, he is my husband and we love our son, but that doesn't mean I'm biased! Speaking of my son, Manfred is a perfect angel and I have no notes.

While it feels kinda out of place in Dragon Age, the combat was really fun and vibrant. And the fun I had outweighed the oddity. The artstyle grew on me and the visuals in some of the setpieces kick so much ass that I can almost forgive them making the Qunari so weirdly smooth

Blighted Bellara is the coolest motherfucker I have ever met, both aesthetically and when she's dunking on a god. And if I replay the game, I'm romancing her. AuDHD queen, she deserves the world

Getting to clock the egg right in his dumb backstabbing hypocritical face. I was so pumped in the moment I almost entirely missed it screenshot-wise

CONS:

The game in general just didn't grab me. I found myself pushing through more because I don't like leaving things unfinished, than because I was genuinely invested in seeing where it went.

The Evanuris in general just don't really work for me. The level of power they have requires them to be complete morons for the plot to play out the way it does. They could have destroyed us basically up until the 3rd act.

The Davrin-Harding choice is stupid. I don't think a guaranteed party member loss is inherently bad, but making it specifically 2, and both AFTER you lock into a romance but BEFORE you get any real payoff for doing so, is insane to me. Also, Davrin is the clear correct choice? Because it makes the scene a callback to him and Lucanis failing the first time, vs Harding just kinda. failing to contribute in the finale. Though speaking of failing to contribute.... What the hell was his death??

He waves his sword uselessly a couple times, gets impaled, then falls in a hole and his dog suicide dives after him? It's like they didn't think anyone would care about the indigenous-coded black guy so they gave him a baby griffon for people to go "but the puppy ;-;" about.

And speaking of romances... the flirting is not only the most rizzless thing I have ever seen in my life (seriously, my Rook comes off like a frat fuccboi in almost every flirt option she got), the timing of the options really draws attention to how weird it is you can only talk to companions when its furthering the plot or their personal quest. It leads to you flirting at the most inappropriate times.

But its not just the flirting. As an ace person, it bugs me that games like this always seem to have "bone down" as the end goal for romancing someone. I romanced Emmerich because my MW Rook found a kindred spirit (heh) in him, and I wanted to play things out because he deserves love, and my Rook needed a more thoughtful, restrained perspective to rein in her "punch first, plan later" attitude to problems. So we get through the big 2nd act low point. And I go talk to Emmrich, and he says he wants to go to the Necropolis. And we do. Without me getting a say. Okay... oh! He's making sure im fully free of whatever Solas did to me, and now we're talking about how we love each other and don't want to lose each other? That's really sweet

Wait... why is he making me lay down in a coffin. We're not about to fuck right after one of our friends died, another may be dead, and I just learned a third has been dead for weeks? IN A COFFIN?! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NECROPOLIS??

People also just don't react to anything properly. Bellara, an ELF and VEIL JUMPER, was with me when I recruited Lucanis. And she comments on the demon possessing him, but is then TOTALLY CHILL WITH IT?! Everyone jumps straight to "damn that sucks" and not "are you going to snap and kill us all in our sleep?" People have talked to death about how Rook can't be a jerk, but i think i could count on one hand the amount of times characters got genuinely angry, outside of little arguments about banal things like how many books to bring camping.

Taash and Emmrich's argument. Taash is NB, and should understand the concept of being respectful of people's identity. Yet its established they repeatedly call Emmrich nicknames making fun of him for being a necromancer, even going so far as to almost call him a SKULL FUCKER?! It's so disrespectful to his culture, his beliefs, and his identity. And it makes Taash seem really unpleasant and hypocritical in that moment. Its a black mark against a character I otherwise came to like.

The whole Varric reveal just did not land for me at all. I figured he was dead really early on because people never responded to him except me, and his contributions were always so nothing that Rook moving onto her reply unprompted wasn't weird. But I figured it was a guilt thing, not Solas fucking with us.

Also the whole guilt/regret prison failed to land because my Rook WASN'T guilty about anything. Yes, Davrin dying was sad, but he was a soldier. He knew the risks. As a Warden, he had one purpose, to fight the Blight. Hell, after Weisshaupt, him going down in order to ensure the kill on Ghillie felt like an honorable end. In his own words, "whatever it takes". Bellara, while sad, wasn't remotely my fault. I didn't "choose" for her to get got my Elgar'nan, somehow none of us noticed the conveniently placed Eluvian. She offered to deal with the wards, and argued her case when Neve also offered. The only one that's a maybe is Varric, except i told him not to try and negotiate with Solus, so him getting killed doing so... isnt on her? IDK, I could see it working, but not for my Rook.

---

There's a bunch of other things like how the 3-member party cap limits team variety and locks you into fixed banter chains, the sameyness of some questlines, etc. But I've been negative enough. Games are about having fun, and I try to focus on the fun I had.

All in, sure, it's not a perfect game. And its rough edges really show. I'm in no hurry to replay it... but I don't regret the run I did do. The high points in DATV are on par with the high points of the series as a whole, and I'm glad I experienced them.

I think this is gonna be the last DA release I play, unless a miracle happens and the inevitable next entry is a GOTY contender. Until then, if I find myself longing for the series, I'll do what I always do. Get my dog, my platonic malewife, and a cool priest, and go kick the blight's ass across Ferelden. In the meantime, however...

[lemonisntreal]

Do you have a Tone Deaf version of Clay Calloway?

(Perfectly fine if you don't. I was just curious, plus I love all your redesigns) 🦁🎸

SORRY THIS TOOK FUCKING FOREVER LMAO [been sitting in my inbox since FEBRUARY THIRTEENTH, HOLY SHIT :D]. YEAH, here he is :pppp a solid draft for you

Lowkey [highkey] gave up on the clothing wrinkles on the arms, but I still like how it turned out I think. I don't have much on him in terms of rewrite, but I do have some, so I'll dump it all here under the cut.

I swear I love asks, please feel free to say/ask whatever, I'm just horrible at answering in a reasonable time-frame because I always want to make it this beautiful masterpiece and end up turning all of them into full-on posts- or, at least I want to ~_~

Headcanonssss-

Ash gave him that button off her jacket [probably needs to be resized I'm realizing lol] [also I totally adopted this headcanon from someone elses post- might've been yours. Whoever came up with it I love it <3]

Born during the reformation that happened after the war- basically, nobody was really fighting anymore during this time, but some big people in power were still being stupid [aka: not letting their prisoners go]

So that would be somewhere around 1947? Which would put his age at 61 in my universe [which is in 2008- the times are pretty much random, nothing really lines up irl. Ignore how they use tech and other things that shouldn't have been invented yet lol]

He grew up when the Skunk Dolls were new and popular and stuff. And he loved them- so much that the band actually kinda inspired his music career

[Skunk Dolls also made loads of protest songs btw. War stuff]

Takes a ridiculous amount of care with his mane, and if he lets you touch it, that's a true sign of trust

So the Piglets always like to play with it, and Ash has given him braids a few times

He's had that scruffy red jacket since his early days

I should draw patches on it-

Ash probably'll give him a quill or two to put in it too with all the patches and repair stitches

He wears a lot of plaid, I just didn't wanna draw it <3

Rough and torn up clothes too

Everything he owns has some sort of smudge or tear in it from motorbiking and/or just being himself <3

His ears are pierced in almost every way imaginable, and when Ash found out, she went CRAZY

Cue her getting him to try on a bunch of stuff

He likes wrought iron jewelry and has never been a fan of anything with gemstones in it

Buster is terrified of him, but Clay is just kinda a blunt person and it doesn't mix well with Buster sometimes. They get along eventually tho. There was also some really bad timing with the circumstances of how they even met in the first place too lol-

Johnny is also. Super terrified.

Buster and him are like "Ahhh.... that guy scares the living daylights out of me." "Ohh, thank god it's not just me-"

He has a strange out-of-pocket interest in astrology.

And in herbology and plants in general, but he picked that up from Ruby. Astrology was all his, and it is the one thing he will "nerd out" over

Also the kind of guy to make fun of you for nerding out too

Making fun of people is his love language

So is giving people food

He's not great with his words and can find it hard to express love by just telling someone. Back to the bluntness thing, you can often find him accidentally offending someone and he doesn't even realize it

The troupe very quickly learned this and it's more of an endearing trait of his to them [and to most people who know him]

REALLY good cook. Fantastic, in fact. Probably one of the best chefs out of any of the characters.

Learned the hard way that enlisting Buster's help in the kitchen is a bad idea. Also Ash isn't great either, but he actually tries to teach her some of his recipes. And she's quickly improving

Buster was just being an idiot and forgot you shouldn't microwave tinfoil

Clay travels a lot, but spends most of his time in Calatonia [he technically still lives at his and Ruby's house, but he's super scared of accidentally closing himself off again, so he only visits to check up on the flowers and maintain the property pretty much]

He's like Ash's second [and very cool] dad. Which- also intimidates Buster quite a bit :D

I feel like their dynamic could be a sitcom. Clay is Ash's awesome dad and Buster is Ash's lame [endearing] and oddly unhinged and anxious dad who feels like he has to be as cool as Clay [and always fails heehee]

Clay is more entertained by Buster's ridiculous criminal record than horrified and I don't know if that's worrying or just a classic Calloway W

He's a very nonchalant person

Ruby's death is the only time I can really think he had a legitimate emotional break that wasn't just him being snappy [which is also pretty rare]

Clay's also like an uncle to the Piglets

He's kinda just taken up the role of "super awesome miscellaneous family member" for everyone at this point

He's back performing again after Sing 2- just not frequently or putting out any new songs [on his own at least- he might do a collaboration or two with Ash]

[charlesjosephwrites]

Dead Darlings Tag

Thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea! This one seems like a lot of fun.

🌑 Rules: Share a part of your writing you love that got cut for the greater good. It doesn't matter if it's a line or a paragraph. It doesn't matter if you might work it back in. If it's not currently in a WIP and you want to share, please do.

I'm gonna pass the tag along up front because this got a bit long. Softly tagging @ahordeofwasps, @wordwizards, @enchanted-lightning-aes, @dontjudgemeimawriter, and anyone else who sees this and has some cut content from their wips they want to share.

Now, without further ado, here's a character I absolutely love who I had to cut from the current draft of The Magician and Ms. Psychic that I've been looking for an excuse to talk about. I do have plans for bringing him into book two, but he unfortunately Does Not Fit into book one.

I put the scene under the cut because it's a bit long. (Also, please excuse the First Draft Rambling™)

There were at least a hundred rats all crammed into the old broom closet. Worn out pillows and blankets were spread out all across the floor, most of which were coated in rat droppings and teeny tiny teeth marks. Sitting cross legged on a thick cushion in the middle of the floor was a middle aged dude with a scraggly beard who didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that there were at least a dozen rats climbing all over him.

"Are you the Rat Man?” I realized how stupid the question must have sounded the moment it let my mouth, but I couldn’t help it.

See, the Rat Man was something of a legend out on the streets. I’d heard countless stories about the man with the army of rats patrolling the city and reporting back to him with whatever juicy gossip they were able to scrounge up. If you needed an inside scoop on what was going on in the streets of Metrovale, your best bet might just be the Rat Man. He’d tell you what you needed to know, alright, but if he got a bad vibe from you, he might tell his rats to eat you.

“That’s me alright.” He chuckled, a soft little noise that may have put some of my anxieties at ease if it wasn’t for the fact that I currently had several hundred rat eyes all staring directly at me. “Please. Take a seat.” The Rat Man gestured towards the cushion on the floor across from him.

As far as I could tell, that cushion was the only thing in the room not completely covered in rat shit. That didn’t exactly inspire me with confidence, but I managed to swallow my pride enough to sit across from him.

“So…” The Rat Man rested his hands on his knees as he leaned towards me. A rat poked its head from somewhere in the mess of curly hair on his head to stare at me with its bright red eyes. “What can I do you for?”

“Well, um…” I tried not to stare, but that was much easier said than done. By some miracle, I managed to shift my gaze down towards my bag. “I brought…” My voice caught in my throat, and I drew in a shaky breath. “I brought lunch.”

I’ve never seen someone so happy to see one of those cheap ass gas station sandwiches in my life. I’d barely gotten it out of my bag before he lunged forwards to take it from me.

“Oh wow. You’re a real peach, you know that?” The Rat Man ripped the plastic wrapper off the sandwich and tossed it aside. A couple of rats grabbed the wrapped and dragged it out of the room.

He’d barely freed that thing from it’s plastic prison before he went at it, chowing down until he was left with just the sandwich crusts. He stared down at the crusts in his hands for a moment, then tore it up into little pieces to toss to all his little rat buddies.

I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until he turned back towards me. I tried to play it cool, but judging from the embarrassed smile that tugged on the corners of his lips, he had definitely noticed.

“So uh…” He accepted the water bottle from me with a gracious nod, but he wasn’t nearly as eager to get at it as he was the sandwich. A little sigh fell from his lips as he cracked open his water bottle. “What did you want from me?”

“Well…” I cast my gaze down towards my lap. I couldn’t quite figure out what I was supposed to do with my hands, so I just sort of held them out in front of me awkwardly and hoped that I didn’t look too weird. “I was hoping someone could tell me where I might find that Shapeshifter Guy.”

“Shapeshifter Guy…” The Rat Man echoed thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one long, bony finger. “Let me see…”

The rats all fell silent as he turned towards them. He started making some weird chirps and coos like he was giving a rat speech to all his rat friends. He looked so ridiculous I may have laughed if he weren’t taking it so seriously.

As the Rat Man finished his weird rat-speech, all of the noise in the room quieted down. The rats stared up at him for a few moments before slowly parting to form an aisle in the middle of their group. For a moment, they all stood still, staring up at the Rat Man expectantly. Then, one rat slipped out from somewhere near the back of the crowd, and it ran right up into the Rat Man’s outstretched hands.

“Anton!” The Rat Man chuckled happily. He carefully cradled the rat in his hands as he sat up straighter. “I knew you’d come through for me!”

“Um… it has a name?”

He didn’t even justify my question with a passing glance. He just lifted the rat up to his ear to listen to it squeak away, presumably letting him in on all of its juicy rat-secrets. The Rat Man listened intently, nodding along for several moments before he finally turned towards me.

“I have an address,” he said. “Do you have something to write it down with?”

I couldn’t help the little frown that tugged down the corners of my lips as I patted around in my pockets for my phone. “Do rats even understand street addresses?”

The Rat Man’s mouth gaped open slightly, like he couldn’t believe I would even ask that kind of question. “They understand a lot more than you think they do.” He looked me up and down, nose wrinkling up in thought. “Magician.”

[selarina]

Silence in Glamour's Wake

→ Osamu Miya x Fem ! Actress Reader

Summary: Miya Osamu finds himself a reluctant guest at an award function, accompanying his brother, Atsumu. Lost in a sea of opulence, Osamu's disengaged gaze lands on an actress whose name eludes his memory.

Content Warnings: after party, fluff, swearing, underlying angst on osamu’s part, osamu miya needs some sleep, atsumu is shirtless at one point because yes

Word Count: 1.5k words

Author's Notes: This is painstakingly a first draft but I'll edit it soon, I promise. Enjoy!

Also, this is how I imagine Osamu in this story. Hugh Grant, my beloved <3

Read on AO3

His eyes take in the imagery of the entrance to the avenue. He takes in the scene –  the event is one of ostentatious glamour and blinding jewels; with actors and actresses scattered across much like priced antiques at a flea market. They stand in their spots for the onlookers to gawk at, to be interviewed, and to eternalise. They will remain ageless and timeless in the photographs taken today. Their photographs will make it all the way to eternity. His will age and weather to dust in the confines of his shop, and perhaps, with luck by his side, his photograph may even make it into a small crevice within his grandchild's house.

His gaze shifts to the flurry of activity where the photographers are crowding at. He moves his head to see past the heads blocking his eye-line and he sees more people racing around her, people assisting her with her dress by straightening out the creases at the edge of her seams and another rushing to touch up her makeup. He realises he’s seen a movie or two with her in it, but he can’t really recall her name. People scramble to make her look picture-perfect. But she isn't, he decides.

He notices a soft smudge in her makeup, the trembling in her hands, and a look of wrapped-up confusion on her face. It fades — very quickly — into a big smile, he almost thinks he must've imagined all the imperfections. He doesn't think anyone else noticed, aside from the ones who tried hard to fix them, but he does because he supposes that is what disengaged onlookers would do. 

If he’s being honest, he’s been flitting rather mindlessly from one overstimulating scene to another, staggering behind his brother and his brother’s co-star. That is if he could even call Atsumu a star at all, at least in the realm of acting. 

Atsumu recently cameoed for a brief few seconds, seconds so short you could almost miss it unless you truly cared about him, or about the film. The film later went on to gain one too many acclamations, and in turn, the organizers of the event decided to extend an invitation to Atsumu, and one lucky guest. The guest was hand-picked almost instantly, explaining Osamu’s current predicament. 

Osamu tried to turn it down really, he had firmly decided and he walked up to Atsumu with an apology ready and everything but once he looked at the stupid ugly grin adorning his face, he soberly agreed to join him. He found that he could rarely ever say no to Atsumu when it came to certain things.

His eyes flit up to the actress, and he notices that her smile is still present but not as big. He also notices a soft slump in her back when the cameras move to the next star — an actor this time. He doesn’t turn to look back at you, now enamoured by the actor, noticing his tastefully coordinated outfit embellished with a sweet leather jacket. He’s always wanted one, but could never truly bring himself to buy one.

—

The award function went by in a swift few hours, what with Osamu being asleep for most of it. He really should have taken the day off work yesterday, he thinks as he dawdles at the bar of the afterparty. He felt bad, but he has an inkling that Atsumu barely cared about his presence after a bit, what with him cozying up with a certain actress he seemed to recognise from a few movie posters that have been on the billboards of late. But he did learn the actress’ name, the one from the red carpet, when she cascaded up the stairs to pick up her award — her first SAG award, she exclaimed and went on to speak an eloquent few words, thanking so and so. He doesn’t remember the rest, but it seemed to be something akin to the dozen other speeches he heard today. 

He dawdles across, not really knowing how to interact with the people, they’re all so — trained? He’s not one for networking, he’s good at socialising, but not networking. He moves from room to room, trying to find one that’s empty, or at least almost empty. 

He’s tired and he wants to sleep but he also doesn’t want to half-ass this. And frankly, he thinks if he falls asleep before 1 am today, he will have to consider it a personal failure. So, he walks out of the room and moves on to another. He can’t tell if he’s already been here since they all look a bit alike — white walls, fancy couches, dim yellow light, sometimes a dim blue light. He walks in, and his fingers may as well be crossed, and… it’s empty. 

He hears a clang, just then. Well, almost empty, he thinks.

He looks up, and it’s you — the SAG award winner, the eloquent speaker, and the red-carpet actress. You’re wearing a different outfit now, a lot less glamorous but still something an actress would wear to an event.

“Shit!” You exclaim, but before you could bend down to pick up whatever has fallen, he picks it up instead. It looks like an earring, an intricate one at that.

“Here,” he gives it to you, and he almost drops it again, it’s surprisingly slippery against his fingers.

“Fuck,” you half-laugh in relief. “Wouldn’t want to drop that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you say as you delicately place the earrings in an embezzled case of silver. “I’d have to buy it then.”

“It’s not yours?” He asks, rather confused.

“Nope, just on loan for now.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t really like it,” you say. 

“Okay,” he responds. 

A few beats later, he asks, out of sheer curiosity, “But you could buy it, right?”

You look up, a bit surprised, but you reply, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Wouldn’t want to though,” you add.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs.

He isn’t really sure if he should leave the room, or if he should introduce himself, so he just stands there with the drink in his hand. He becomes all too aware of the precipitating water leaking around the rim of the cup and his fingers. He feels like he should place the drink down at before the cup slips past his fingers, so he does, and that somehow prompts you to sit. 

He promptly takes a seat on the sofa adjacent to yours. You and he sit in silence, you nursing your drink just as he nurses his.

“I’m Miya, by the way.” He says after sitting silently for a bit. He finds that it’s nice — the silence, you look like you wanted it — but something prompts him to talk so he did. “Miya Osamu,” he clarifies. He always does.

“I know,” you say.

“You… do?” He asks, letting the confusion sit on his face, with a tilted head, and squinting eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, and he waits. A beat later, he realises that you are probably not going to elaborate. 

“How come?” He asks, feeling a bit too curious for his liking.

“Hmm,” you say inquisitively. “So… you’re telling me you’re not the blonde guy dancing shirtless on top of a kitchen table,” you ask. 

He looks confused but he peeks out the window, which displays another room in sight, one that has his brother, joyously, and drunkenly dancing atop a cluttered table to a crowd of people. The amusement in your tone is not very evidently present, but he supposes that makes it all the more amusing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not me.”

“Right,” you smile. “Good to know.”

The two of you sit again in the gregarious silence as you take a sip of your drink and slump further into your chair, twisting a bit till you found a comfortable position.

“I could tell though,” you say after a few moments of silence, and he looks up at you again. “When you walked in,” you continue. “I could tell you weren’t Atsumu.”

“Could you?” He asks, interested again in this conversation, and in you.

“Yeah, I have had the pleasure of meeting Atsumu Miya, and you, well, you aren’t him.” He isn’t sure how to take it, he never is sure about that, but he decides to take it with grace per usual, as he prepares his words.

“You have a calmer quality to you,” you say before he could say anything. 

He doesn’t say anything. He takes a sip of his drink, “You could tell that with… what? All of the 5 seconds I took to walk into the room?” He asks, earnestly. 

“Yeah,” you respond almost instantaneously. He looks up at you now, and he finds that you’re staring at him. 

“Okay,” he says.

You smile and go back to nursing your drink again. He continues to stare at you, and he sees a tinge of smudged makeup around your upper lip, but your hands are firm now as you take a sip of your drink. And he smiles, he thinks you look properly beautiful. 

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

Talk too much: Leon fic Part 5

DUDE I FINALLY NAMED THIS STUPID THING YIPPEE :D

Masterlist

Previous chapter ..................................................................................................................... Synopsis: Leon's backk :DD also r is the worst cook in the history of ever, maybe even bordering on the red bull eggs. Leon doesn't care because it's the first meal he's had in a week. He's so nice, we don't deserve him. How did this synopsis dissolve so much :/

Tags: kinda angst, leon/female reader, female reader, reader is a mess, she's just like me fr, kinda hurt if you squint, mostly comfort, leon is compared to a marshmallow, warm fuzzies, everything hurts, :)

I probably looked like a fish with how my mouth was gaped open. I jumped up off of the couch, making a beeline to the bathroom so I would at least look presentable when he arrived.

“408.” I absolutely slammed my toe into some wall somewhere. “SH- ow, ow, I- um, take your time, I’m not quite ready for guests yet.” I started trying to wash my face right before he hung up. My clothes were fine, acceptable in the context of his visit at least. Instead I worked on my hair. It was an absolute bird’s nest, so I did my best to detangle and smooth it out before I heard knocking on my door. I scampered across the floor to the foyer. It’s him. It has to be. I open the door, and am met face-to-face with-

“Hello, I’m with spectrum mobile and we-” I looked at the college age boy standing at my door, somewhat disoriented and probably with a stupid expression on my face. The whiplash from who I expected to be at the door and who actually was almost hurt physically. Poor sod looked like he had been cussed up, down, and sideways by the other houses he’d been through. I tuned out the fine print of his chatter by wondering where Leon is. Maybe he wasn’t in the apartment building yet. It sounded like he was inside a building though. It could’ve been his own home. He only just got back after all. Whatever this is in front of me needs to wash his hair when he gets off shift, it’s terribly oily. That was unwarranted, I’m sorry. It was about the time of his spiel where he asks if I’m interested, and right before I could answer I hear a familiar voice from just out of my vision.

“Oh.” There he is. Leon stood a little behind and to the side of the salesperson (the little lad looked very confused and a little embarrassed), one hand on his hip, the other one hanging loose and wrapped in medical gauze. It probably hurts. He looks exhausted, skin pale and clammy like a dead lizard. Even so, he (apparently) still had plenty of jokes up his sleeves.

“You should’ve told me if you already had plans.” Very funny. I chuckled despite myself, too enamored in the thought of him being back. I’m clumsily handed a brochure before our little friend scurries away, probably drafting his mental two weeks notice. I stepped out of the doorway to let this exhausted drowned corpse of a man inside. After I close the door, we both just kinda stand in the foyer, looking at one another. He’s got a couple light bruises on his face (two maybe), a gnarly purple one on his neck that peeked out from behind his jacket’s collar, and something along the lines of a paper cut on his jaw. I think about the bruises I can’t see for a second, but not before Leon laughs, a stupid little scoff like he knows everything. I return it along with a cocked eyebrow. I don’t know how he seems both completely unaffected and absolutely enervated at the same time. Truly a man of mystery.

“What’s so funny?” I show him where to put his shoes and start to follow-lead him into the living room.

“You actually listen to those stupid sales pitches?” I didn’t even register how I helped him onto the couch, carefully holding the back of his shoulder as he sat.

“I felt bad for him, he’s probably been getting yelled at all day by his boss and his clients. Least I could do was listen.” I stand and watch him get comfortable. He tries to pout at me, but he’s terribly bad at it.

“Look at me, I’m all covered in bruises, don’t you feel bad for me?” It makes me laugh, just a little. I fold my arms and lean down so we’re a little closer. 

“Should I?” Even if I shouldn't, I do, just a little bit. Well, I’m not sure if I do or not; all I know is that droopy and bitter feeling that makes me want to curl him into a ball, wrap him up in a blanket, and hold him close to my heart. My heart. My heart is curling itself into a ball, twisting to match the shape of whatever wound I notice next. His expression relaxed into a small and relieved smile that made my stomach feel like a dissipating cloud.

“No. I won, after all.” That’s a nice way to put it. I gently rub his cheek with my right thumb. It disorients him, makes him look at me like a starving puppy would at the person who saved it from the streets, or more like a Victorian orphan child being given a loaf of bread. I want a loaf of bread.

“Then I won’t.” I do. “You look terrible. Have you had any sleep?” He laughs and rolls his eyes, turning sideways to lay out on the length of the couch.

“I was kinda hoping to do that right here if you don’t mind.” Leon interlocks his fingers behind his head, protecting it from the arm of the couch. 

“I don’t. Snooze all you want, sleeping beauty.” I try to match his way of speaking to make him feel more comfortable while I take some pillows from the other end of the couch and arrange them under his neck and head. He doesn’t put up even half of a fuss when I unfold his hands and place them at his sides, allowing me to hold his arms and lightly pat each one when they're in position. 

“Perfect.” He mumbled, shrugging off his jacket to use as a blanket. His eyes are closed, but I assume he must be a light sleeper, with his job and all, so I suck in my presence as best as I can and tiptoe away. I’m not sure what to do. There’s a mysterious man with a mysterious life and a mysterious job just here, lying on my couch, fast (I think) asleep. I wait until I’m sure he’s asleep before looking through my pantry and fridge for anything I could make easily. In the fridge there was- um a half rotten tomato and… cheese. That’s okay, if I have anything in the pantry that could- nope, not even bread. Should’ve gone to the grocery store. If I didn’t know any better, I would have let out a grievous sigh, but I kept it in. I checked to see if he was still asleep. Could I run to the store real quick before he woke up? I don’t have enough money for take out right now (I should’ve cut back on those stupid cafe visits). I didn’t really have any other choice, so I quickly wrote up a sticky note and placed it very carefully on the coffee table, ensuring it was in a spot where he sees it once he wakes up. I put on some sneakers and snuck out to the best of my ability. Either Leon is dead tired, or he’s just pretending not to notice me, because there’s no way he didn’t hear that. Whichever it may be, I hurry to the closest grocery-ish store to grab something that I could cook with what’s in the fridge. Pasta was on sale, so I grabbed a box of that (rigatoni, apparently) and some half and half. Speaking of half, half of that tomato is still ripe, right? I decided to get some new grape ones for this dish I’m making. I’d feel bad feeding him a half rotten tomato, even if half of it isn’t. We’ve seasonings at home, so I didn’t need to buy any, but I did get some cookies for dessert (I just couldn’t help myself). I rocked on my feet as the lethargic cashier scanned my items and handed me my receipt and thanked me for shopping and watched me practically bolt out of that store.  I made it back home and quietly opened the door, closing it silently behind me. I look over to the couch. Thank God, he’s still-

“And just where have you been, young lady?” I almost jump out of my skin when he says it, still laying in that same position on the couch where I left him. I come into his eye view and lift up my bag. 

“Groceries. Thought you’d be hungry, and my fridge is pretty barren.” I hope he is. Well, even if he isn’t, I would be at some point. 

“Wow, I get home cooked food on the second date? You’re too kind.” Does this count as a date? He just kind of showed up. When Leon sits up on the sofa, he sets his jacket to the side and I actually see his arms for the first time today. Yikes. He’s got several bruises of varying degree, coupled by cuts from what I could reasonably guess were branches and patched up lacerations from what I knew were not. I notice some purpling peeking out from under his sleeve. I assume it connects to the bruise on his neck. Did he get slammed into a wall of bricks or something? The council decided to ignore it for now, and I make my way to the kitchen to throw what I have into the oven. 

“It’s not really cooking, I’m just grabbing stuff and throwing it in the oven.” I do just that, dumping some cheese (both cream and regular), water, tomatoes, milk I think, and whatever else that stupid recipe said. Where did I even find that thing? It tastes good, so it doesn’t really matter, but still. I ponder that while I mindlessly throw it in the oven and remember that I bought cookies. 

“Are you sure you can just put raw pasta into the oven like that?” I almost jumped out of my skin (again), what the hell. Leon is loitering in my kitchen now, standing beside me and looking into the oven like he’s been here his whole life. It kind of makes me shift, not because of anything bad, he’s just really close. I don’t think he notices. I don’t know why I notice. I look at his glossy pearl eyes and I don’t think he knows anything. I don’t know anything either. He’s so pretty, but I don’t think I can tell him. Would he get mad at me if I did?

“Yea, I’ve done it before. It’s less steps, and I’m all for efficiency.” After closing up the oven and putting away the extras, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to have a cookie or two before dinner is served. Leon also decided that it’s his legal right to rest his head on my shoulder. He hovered for a second as if to make sure it was okay. I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.  

“Maybe I should try it sometime.” The murmuring of his vocal chords tickled me. Cute. I think I think he’s cute. He is so I feed him a cookie, carefully pushing it behind his teeth in case he bit his tongue or something while doing- whatever he was up to. He had no qualms and ate it. The crunching was very loud right next to my ear, but that’s okay. We both sit on the couch, side by side in a sort of pleasant silence (well, pleasant for me. I don’t know if he thinks it’s awkward or uncomfortable, so I shouldn’t take the liberty of declaring it comfortable for the both of us). I turn and look at him, at how he tenses his jaw and pretends not to notice, at that big purple bruise which I am now absolutely certain covers the whole of his left shoulder, at that leg that he’s been favoring ever since he came here. I wonder if he got hurt there too. My eyes wander back up to his face, his eyes, which are now tentatively looking at me. He has such long eyelashes.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” I say. He lets out this shaky sigh in response, closing his eyes for a moment before pulling me into a warm embrace. I smile and pat his back as gently as I can.

“Me too. I’m glad I got to see you again.” His voice is a low rumble in his chest. It feels so gentle and comforting (which distracted me from the fact that I could barely make out what he was saying). I hope that I could make him feel the same way I do right now, warm, comfortable, safe, and a little sleepy. I close my eyes, not wanting to leave his arms. The warmth of his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the soft rise and fall from his breathing all make me feel like I’m sinking into the center of a toasted marshmallow. I could feel my consciousness starting to drift away, but then he pulled back, or more pushed me back. Some mix of the two happens and he’s holding me by my shoulders, staring straight into my eyes. Everything about him feels so warm and soft that I just kind of melt in his hands, an unconscious smile on my face. Speaking of faces, his is quite close right now. I try not to think about it. 

“How have you been?” I thought he’d never ask.

I could swear that time slowed while we talked (yapped, really) to each other sitting on the couch. I told him about my painting. It’s going well.  He tells me about the government operated hospital, since he can’t speak much on anything else. It sucked, apparently. I ask him if he had enough sleep; he avoids the question. I don’t think about how he covers up his chapped lips by discreetly licking them right before he speaks. I also don’t think about his loopy smile he gives me sometimes. I do think about how he’s a dog person and how he compliments my couch. Says it ‘sleeps like a dream’. I agree, that’s why I bought it after all. He laughs (there it is again, and just like the smell of the earth after rain I drink it up like a fool). We only took a break when the smell of food forced me out of my spot to set the table. I didn’t help him up this time. I forgot and was swiftly fed a healthy dose of nibbling guilt as I saw him pull himself up at less than half my speed. I kind of clenched the plate I was holding until he finished standing. Standing. Standing next to me while I stir up the pasta. Standing near the table while I place the plates (with food on them this time) down. Sitting and watching me sit on the other side of the table. 

“ So, do you cook often?” Leon picks up some pasta and a bit of a tomato chunk to eat. I watch his face for his thoughts. He raised his eyebrows slightly, so I took the liberty of taking that as good news. 

“I could hardly call this cooking, but yeah I guess I do.” I take my own bite, pleasantly surprised by the fruits of my (not) labor. Quickly, I take a second.

“Wow, this is actually decent.”

 Leon chuckles (or chortles, what do you call that weird throat laugh thing) a little and points his fork at me.

“Why are  you surprised? Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the first bite, what if it turned out inedible?” I’d cry that’s what. 

“Pish posh.” I pick at my food a little, trying not to eat too fast and seem like I’m starving (I am). He’s just kind of looking at me from the other side of the table. Kinda really looking at me. His glossy blue eyes are a little too shiny. I hope he’s okay.

“How long do you plan on staying?” It’s not as though I want him to leave soon, but the thought crossed my mind and slipped out my mouth. He makes this bitter expression as though I’ve reminded him of something unpleasant. 

“I don’t know. I can’t choose how long it is until I’m sent out again, but I think they’ll give me at least two days.” Huh? I stared at his face. I think there’s some sort of dissonance here. 

“I meant at the house. I mean, are you staying o- Like, how long before you go home?” We both blinked at each other for a moment, two moments, before allowing ourselves a light chuckle. He’s always laughing, I feel. I want to do that too; always find something to laugh about. He slides his hand through his hair and its luster imparts upon me a conundrum no mathematician could ever solve. Seriously, how is it so healthy?

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me.” 

“So, forever?” I didn’t mean to say that. I did mean to think it, but it wasn’t supposed to escape my mind. I’m very loose lipped today, and I hope that doesn’t cause any fatal accidents. I blame his hair for being too shiny. Leon looks surprised and intrigued and amused and everything all at once. I’m not sure, he’s making a weird face at me and I can’t figure out what it means, but it’s causing me to feel warm little puffing tingles on my neck. 

“Really? Well, thanks for having me.” I hate how smooth every word he says is; everything he says is sweet like agave. It’s not fair that he gets to be funny, and cute, and cool, and suave, and pretty, and strong all at the same time. He makes me feel like I just got hit in the face with a pillow, yet there he is, acting as though nothing happened. It makes my cheeks burn, so I bury the fire in my hands.

[mulling-over-milgram]

My current Hotaru theories and thoughts

ahh- this has been sitting in my drafts so long sorry…I just really could not make sense of the recordings and was really struggling with them (sorry I’m stupid ^^;) but now some people have done theories on the recordings I feel like I can post this with out needing to go into the recordings.

if I am wrong @74n5n I apologise eternally!

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First I’d like to attempt to establish a timeline. Using two pieces of evidence. “It's cold, and snow has barely touched the ground.” This implies that the murder took place in winter so since I think sumi-gram takes place in japan? That would place the murder somewhere between December and February. Then the second piece of evidence.

The blurry text “I’ve lost the desire to try any more during the last year of school” now according to google school in japan starts around April ends around of the next year March. Hotaru's profile puts them at age 20-25 and since university in japan starts at 18 and goes through 22 we can probably assume they are 22 since they mention it being their last year of school. We see what I believe are cherry blossoms? Which bloom around late March early April again according to google which means this could either be from the start if the school year April or the end of the school year.

murder = dec - feb

memory = april - march (very start or very end of the school year)

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Now this might sound a little weird but I strongly believe that Hotaru killed themself after their murder. Migram is referred to as another life for hotaru. “Another life that you'll give me.”

Then theres a couple other lines that could suggest it as a possibility:

-Ahh, that's not fair. Isn't it? But, I've grown pretty tired already. Going to rest. (If this line follows the conventions of milgram then it should be directly after the murder)

-“This year. No more years.”

-“They touch the empty air with their hand. It's impossible to reach you.”

moving on too what actually inspired this theory , the fact that Hotaru is pretty consistently associated with death. There is the fact they changed their name “I changed my name in papers, but everyone keeps on calling me by the old one.” Which could be considered a death of identity. They reference hell “Well, maybe you'll go to Hell and pay for it.” (Personally I believe this to be hotaru speaking but I could very well be wrong) and the names remi suggests are heavily tied to death. For rei she points it out herself

“I know a perfect one! Rei! As in, "rei" that means "ghost",

Rei is also a murder victim in milgram which could further hint at them being dead.

(she also mentions rei meaning zero which idk if this is a common thing but I’ve heard negative numbers be called dead numbers?. Zero in this context a number between the living and dead?)

The second name she suggests tama. In Japanese tama is a suffix that can also be used to refer to souls or spirits. She also mentions the name sounds like a cats name and cats have heavy associations with evading death or having multiple lives.

“Like... Tama... No, that sounds like I'm giving you a cat name.”

then their current name means firefly. Fireflies are symbolic of departed souls and there is a superstition that fireflies coming into the house means someone will die soon. Then there’s

“It's enough of a crime that I'm here , Right into Hell, I'll take you with me.” Here possible referring to the murder location but also seems to possibly reference milgram? So it’s enough of a crime they are there at the murder location? To go to hell (milgram?) either way they intend to go to hell with this other person hell is ofc where you go after death. After the crime they will go to hell > after the crime they will die?

suicide and suicidal thoughts is in the trigger warnings which doesn’t mean it applies to hotaru but it does mean it is possible.

their murder location dose seem to be a tall building so them dying or killing themself directly after the murder is logically possible.

so when hotaru comes to the prison they are named and are suggested names that mean souls of the dead hence I believe they are dead and were revived by milgram.

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Moving on to more name stuff. There were to common threads in the name meanings I’m not sure what to do with gems and storms.

Fireflies are also called lightning bugs and one of the other means of tama is thunder. According to google storms are symbolic of change but then again most things are symbolic of change if you look hard enough…

Another meaning is tama is jewel and the name rei has connections with jade.

Then rei and hotaru are both unisex name but tama has strong associations with the male gender (fun fact tama is literally the word for boy in my countries native language) maybe I’m reading to much into this but since hotaru’s story seems like it might have some themes about gender identity I thought I should mention it.

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hotaru could also have symbolism as the beginning of the end? Their birthday is the beginning of the last month of the year , they are the first prisoner and as such will be the first to receive judgment in the final trial. The start of a new life coming from the end old one? Or like if this follows novel-gram rules hotaru could die if they are voted guilty at the end so its the start of a new life that will end? They are in their last year of university so they are at the end of schooling but at the start of working life? Idk I kinda just had this thought while looking at the character profiles its not a super serious theory.

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we’ll we are on the topic of thoughts I had while writing this “Another presence is to your side. Not in the form of a real human, nor a foggy silhouette. What does it feel like? Want them to go? Want them to stay?” Now this is most likely a person but “not in the form of a real human” got me thinking what if its hotaru’s identity? Or past identity? I don’t fully believe this myself but I thought I’d chuck out the possibility of this not being a person but more of a concept…if that makes sense?

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their seems to be alot of duality with hotaru’s character theirs ofc the hair but also to of the symbols that they have been associated with cherry blossom and fireflies also have duel and opposite meanings in Javanese culture. Fireflies are love and war and cherry blossoms are life and death / beauty and violence. (Which yay more death symbolism to add to the pile :D)

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finally I’d like to talk about what I think the murder was “It's cold, and snow has barely touched the ground. Are you afraid of heights? Is your head spinning? When you glance down, there is an unmoving body; although you can't even see it.” Okay so we know from hotaru’s prisoner card their murder location was a tall building or bridge.

so they won’t be able to see it very well because water in the case if the bridge or the height if the building. Them knowing the body is there without seeing it implies they were the one for lack of better of better phasing put it there. (Tho I wouldn’t throw out the possibility of their murder being induced suicide…? I didn’t mention it earlier because I don’t have any hard evidence ‘its enough of a crime I’m here” / “you say not everyone here is a murder is a murder i’m pretty sure I must be” as counterintuitive as that sounds makes me feel like its somewhat possible that it wasn’t direct murder but again possible I don’t currently believe that to be what actually happened)

“Another presence is to your side. Not in the form of a real human, nor a foggy silhouette. What does it feel like? Want them to go? Want them to stay?” Now I’m not fully sure on who this is.. ^^; I think the other person from the recording is either the victim or the person here.

They touch the empty air with their hand. It's impossible to reach you. If my suicide directly after the murder theory is true then this would be when it happens.

so in conclusion who ever they mention in the “In fact, I’ll kill you with my bare hands next time.“ is probably who they killed and I believe they most likely pushed them off the roof of the building and then someone else came up onto the roof but hotaru died before that person could stop them. After they died they were taken to milgram. I think that the person they killed is either one of those girls mentioned in the recordings or the person they were talking to in said recordings.

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My voting thoughts

I’m going to vote victim as it dose seem they were possibly the victim of mis-gendering/neglect and definitely deadnaming/bullying or harassment it doesn’t seem so far like they saved anyone so far and I don’t think I understand enough to firmly vote Perpetrator from what I understand currently it doesn’t feel right to vote them that.

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

OC in Fifteen

Tagged by @pertinax--loculos thank you! I wanted to do there for other characters after doing Terran

(Edit: This has been sitting in my drafts fully done for ages. Whoopsies.)

Raymond's up next!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

"But if I hadn’t convinced Jesse that you were capable of being a decent person, you would’ve— [killed him], and you know what? That doesn’t make any sense.”

2.

“You’re trying to control everything and I don’t like that stupid spell, I can’t talk to you. You think it makes you so good at things but it just makes you a controlling jerk,” Raymond yelled back. “This is why I don’t trust you! Why I didn’t tell you!”

3.

“I want everyone alive. You just want me alive.”

4.

[Raymond] smiled slightly. “When you cast that spell you heighten the level of resources your brain has dedicated to a specific task. It’s heightening of a psychological phenomena. All I had to do was split up the resources.”

I thought that over. “I didn't know Nyps could do that,” I said, and somehow when he explained it it made so much sense. Like it was simple.

“I didn't know I could either. It was a theory. Until just now. But I shouldn’t’ve tried it. I wanted you to unfocus but I shouldn’t’ve forced it.”

5.

“I want the person who let me go. You weren’t focused then. Look. I know that spell is useful. I know we might not’ve pulled this off without it. That’s kind of the point of this, though. I want to get to know you. And if even you don’t know who that is… maybe you should.” 

6.

(Context: Raymond shared that he makes and sells Nyp whispers, which is like selling a mental health spell)

“It’s like going in blind. And because it’s freaking illegal we can’t do it right, y’know? Even if it’d be fine to tell people, no one wants a Nyp going into their mind, they’d much rather take a whisper because it doesn’t give access. But everyone’s different, everyone’s brain is different. I’ve seen these not work on some people, or even make things worse, and I hate it. If I could go in, if we could do research on these spells, I could find a way to actually help instead of giving this thing that works for some people. And it’s worse because like, sometimes I’m selling it to someone, and like, I don’t need much to get in, y’know? I’m giving them a memory-whisper and I’m like, I can sense how your mind works and I know this won’t work for you, but I can’t say anything, and if people would be okay with it maybe I could actually help them. But maybe I’m not helping, because there’s no research on Nyp magic, and honestly, I have no freaking idea if there's side effects to anything, or if I could do more harm. I hate it.”

7.

“There was just—” he paused.

“There was what?” I urged. Something was there, something he wanted to talk about, I could feel it.

“Some fear?”

“Of?”

He sighed. “You? Like I know you wouldn't hurt me and I trust you. But it—made it a little hard to sleep, I guess.”

8.

“Because you’re always so invested in my existence being secret, right? I’d convinced myself that if you came looking for me it was because you had to control everything again, make sure I was being safe and all.” The corner of his mouth tugged up in a slight smirk. “But you missed me, didn’t you?”

Was that really a reveal? Sure, I hadn’t thought about the implication of calling out his name (and fuck he was right, that had been risky), but… “Of course I missed you.”

“That’s not an ‘of course,’ okay? You’re hiding 90% of the time. I have no idea how you feel. I have no idea if you—no idea why you saved me. I have to trust that you won’t kill other people that matter to me but I don’t even know what guided that decision in the first place.”

9.

“Sorry,” I took a deep breath. 

He nodded. “Thanks.” he didn’t meet my eye for a moment, then asked, “Should I not try to touch you?”

My wincing had been my fault, not his.  “It’s fine.”

“Is it actually?” he asked, concern in his voice.

10.

“I know I was just insisting I go,” Raymond said. “And I’m still going to. But that doesn't mean I’m not scared. And the truth is…you are better at this. Maybe I’ve been stubborn, and maybe you’ve been right this whole time. Maybe if I hadn’t come back to go to Dante, then both you and Jodi would be safe. I don’t have any ideas, any solutions, and I’m terrified, and you’ve gotten me out of this before and I can’t do this myself. I’m not leaving Jodi. And I think you can figure out a solution.”

11.

“Yes, I understand how a hostage negotiation works, Abigail."

12.

“Understand now?” He asked, speaking up after a second, and his voice still had the bite, but I sensed some strain. “You’re going to give me access to a lot of people who have reason not to like you. You’re going to need me in their heads. I do that all for you, but my friends are safe, guaranteed. And I won’t kill for you. That’s the deal. You will not use them to get to me ever again.”

13.

“Not cocoa. Chocolate.” Raymond leaned against the arm of the couch, facing me. He gave me a smile.

“What’s the difference?"

“Cocoa is powder and hot water. This,” he took a sip, closing his eyes as he did, an expression of deep satisfaction coming over him, topped with a whipped-cream mustache. “Is hot chocolate.”

14.

“Did you leave a window open, too?” I remembered, vaguely, him opening it earlier.

“No, I—“ he hesitated as he unwrapped his damp scarf and looked around, just as both of us saw that I’d been right. There was a window open, just a crack, but enough to be contributing. He ran over to it and shut it. “Definitely no windows left open,” he smiled sheepishly.

15.

“That feeling? You know how you said you can’t escape yourself?” I nodded again. “That’s why I went into a burning building. I realized what I was doing faster, sure. But you were there your whole life, and it’s all you were taught. And still, you showed me compassion. You risked yourself so I could live when I didn’t want to and I didn’t even think you liked me. I forgave you then.”

My boy!

Tagging @crushedmodule @rosesonneptune @bookish-karina @thegreatobsesso @wildswrites & @blind-the-winds

[hyperfixation-or-death]

I’m heading to bed now, but please talk about parallels. We’re going to be besties bro

>:) yes, absolutely, thank you-

Here is a list of the most recent parallels thoughts I have had yesterday alone:

I want to put Romane Berthauds in a time loop. That's the entire thought. (I mean, I've drafted a post about this, but it. Does not sound normal. So.)

I could make a fic with four chapters, each of which features the small child version of a main character somehow ending up time traveling to interact with the present versions of the other three. It would not explain how that happened whatsoever, except that each chapter takes place in a different timeline. I almost certainly will not actually write this, but it's a fun idea.

Stupid AU where it’s the parallels characters but the plot and setting are. uh. Vaguely based on Greek mythology. (I have a bad habit of combining my interests into weird ideas, and I've been listening to Epic the musical, so now the parallels kids get swords. And angst, I guess.)

On that note, my Percy Jackson-inspired AU (which is separate from the aforementioned AU and also less nonsensical) has recently been haunting me to the point of me turning in a scene from it for a creative writing assignment a few weeks ago. I ended up writing double the amount I was supposed to, but I also got a hundred on the assignment, so. Who's the real winner here.

The direct contrast between Romane and Victor's first interactions with their respective parents after traveling back. "Mom. It's me. […] Mom, look at me. It's me. I'm your daughter. I can tell you recognize me." Romane being so confident that her mom will recognize her. She knows her mom will see her. She knows her mom will see her and know it's her. Whereas, Victor is fully confident that his dad won't recognize him. He's taking his opportunity to take out his frustrations with his father under the cover of anonymity. And he's halfway right, because Arnaud doesn't recognize him until Victor's up in his face, yelling about how Arnaud has always wanted to hit him. (Not even going to get into that; that's a whole separate post.) But when his dad recognizes him, Victor isn't expecting it. Idk where I was going with this.

Several years post-canon fic idea where the main four move in together after high school. I don't have any reasoning other than I think it would be neat. I have half of one scene and half of another scene written for this. (We could add them and pretend I've written an entire scene, but…there wouldn't be much point to doing that.)

I think the "I remember everything" line in the finale was…not true. I think the kids thought they did, for a few minutes. Then they realized there were some gaps in their memories, and some things were less sharp than others. And Romane, Victor, and Bilal all get flashbacks, but Bilal's are definitely the hardest to deal with, since his memories are the most complex due to the timeline stuff.

I think that, while post-canon Bilal does have a genuine interest in physics, he also knows that a huge reason he went into physics in the other timeline was to try and save Sam and Victor. And now that he doesn't need to do that anymore, he's left unsure of whether he should still go in that direction. It's a different timeline; he's supposed to do things differently, right? But then again, he doesn't want to make decisions based just on that, and he does like the idea of studying physics. But there's also the irrational worry that something like the night in the bunker could happen again, which he knows doesn't make a lot of sense, but the thought is still there. So his thoughts kind of spiral for a little while on the topic of career. He eventually decides to stick with the physics route, though, after giving it a lot of thought.

Something about Victor and Sam being only a year apart, while Romane and Camille are farther apart in age? Yeah, I had no further thoughts on that, I just think about sibling dynamics a lot.

I think Sam has a lot of issues as a result of his parents and their whole family dynamic, they just show up a lot more subtly than Victor's parental issues do.

I wish Sofia and Victor interacted more in the show.

I think Victor Deslandes has ADHD. (I say this as if I haven't said it a thousand times already) also I think he's aromantic. I already made posts about both headcanons but I like talking, so I'm mentioning them again!

and while we're restating headcanons: the same way victor's powers kind of serve as a tangible outlet for his emotions, with anger usually being the catalyst - i think romane's powers do the same thing, but the catalyst with her powers is more of a freeze response to panic. i think i have a post where i word this better, somewhere? idk.

also i think it's interesting how a version of alice and arnaud realized the true extent of the emotional damage they had caused, but it's just before the kids travel back. so sam and victor never get the full resolution there, because their parents will never know what the tension in their family actually led to. and i have specific thoughts on how this lack of satisfying closure is kind of a theme with victor's relationship with his parents, but i unfortunately don't have time to expand on that right now. but. the thoughts are somewhere in my drafts, so maybe i'll expand on that concept later.

And then there's the thoughts that are always in the back of my mind, which are: I would die for the parallels kids. I need to rewatch parallels. hey I think maybe I'll cry over Romane and Victor's friendship in particular today.

anyways, those are just a few of yesterday's thoughts off the top of my head. i'm sure i have better thoughts that i can't remember, but i wrote most of this at like three AM, so my thoughts are. scattered.

thanks for the ask!!! :)