#this isn’t about anything specific but like

[httpswritings]

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

[pinklotushere]

Gotham’s Most Insane Love Triangle (That’s Not Even a Triangle)

Tim Drake has had enough.

Not of being Red Robin—no, he signed up for that nightmare. But of this absolute clown of a villain who has decided to make his civilian life hell. The dude isn’t even a real villain, just some rich, eccentric, probably-a-little-deranged Gotham socialite with too much free time and very questionable taste in romance.

He has been through a lot in his life.

He’s fought assassins, taken down crime lords, and survived the literal Lazarus Pit. But none of that prepared him for this.

Because, apparently, being a billionaire CEO means attracting a very specific brand of problem—namely, a very rich, very persistent, very theatrical stalker-suitor who has decided that Tim is their one true love.

And the worst part? They have no idea he’s Red Robin. They just think Tim Drake, boring businessman, is the ideal romantic partner.

Tim has tried to get rid of them. He’s shut down their advances, ignored their ridiculous gifts (including a whole building—seriously, what was that?), and even considered faking his own death. (Bruce did it like six times. It’s an option.)

Nothing worked.

the courtship? Is aggressive.

Think:

• Giant, embarrassing billboards with love poems that definitely sound like they were written by someone’s AI assistant.

• Dramatic, unsolicited “gifts” (one time, it was a tiger. A real one. In his office. He had to call Damian to get it out).

• Showing up at his press conferences to declare their love, completely derailing everything ("I AM WOOING YOU, TIMOTHY! SAY YES TO DESTINY!" "Sir, this is an earnings call—")

So, in a moment of desperation (and supreme bad decision-making), Tim panicked and told the press that he was already in a relationship.

With both Superboy and Wraith.

Because Tim Drake does not do things halfway.

(Kon does not hesitate. The second Tim says, “Hey, will you pretend to date me?” Kon’s already slinging an arm around his shoulders, grinning, and saying, “Obviously, babe.”

And, okay, maybe he’s having too much fun with it. Maybe Tim gives one kiss on the cheek in public, and suddenly Kon’s cranking the PDA up to 11.

Tim swears Kon is just doing this to annoy him. (Spoiler: He is. And also because he’s in love. But mostly to annoy him.)

Dani has no idea what’s going on. One day, she’s just vibing, and the next, Tim is begging her to be his fake girlfriend in his civilian life while also fake-dating Superboy in his hero life.

“So you’re publicly dating both of us?” she asks. “Yes,” Tim says, exhausted. “At the same time?” “Yes.” "Love that. Love the drama. I’m in.”)

And that’s how he ended up in a very public, very fake, and very annoying love triangle where he is “dating” two of his best friends.

Which prompted the start of plan : get rid of creepy guy

—

Step One: Make the Villain Regret Their Life Choices

If Tim thought this was going to be a subtle plan, Kon and Dani immediately proved him wrong.

Kon goes full Superboy mode. Dramatic rescues? Check. Carrying Tim around way too much? Check. Way too many kisses on the cheek? Check.

Dani (Wraith) is the wildcard. She literally picks Tim up in public like he’s a prize, occasionally phases through walls to randomly show up at his meetings, and once materialized into existence just to kiss Tim’s forehead in front of the press.

Tim cannot do anything about it. Because if he protests, the villain wins. And also because, unfortunately, he kinda likes it.

The villain loves this. It becomes a challenge. They start sending hate letters to Superboy, promising to “win” Tim’s heart from him.

Kon gets way too competitive about it. (“I dare you to try, buddy.” “KON, STOP ENCOURAGING THEM—”)

The media loses their minds. Suddenly, “Tim Drake’s Shocking Super Love Triangle” is trending.

Bart starts a betting pool on whether Tim actually survives this ordeal. Cassie is taking bets on when the fake relationship stops being fake. ("Wait, you all think this is fake?"—Cass, genuinely confused.)

—

Step Two: Turn the Public Against the Villain

The villain’s new strategies are straight out of a soap opera.

They show up at Tim’s press conferences, interrupting him mid-sentence.

( “Timothy! You don’t have to settle! You deserve true love!”

Tim: "I deserve peace.")

They try to out-romance Kon and Dani by sending ridiculous gifts.

• Kon: "Oh, you sent him roses? That’s cute. I carried him to France for pastries this morning."

• Dani: "I made him a custom necklace out of ectoplasm. It glows when he’s in danger. What did you do?"

Tim is so tired.

So, so tired.

For weeks, he's been playing damage control while Gotham's most deranged suitor escalates his antics. What started as embarrassing billboards and ridiculous gifts has somehow escalated into a full-blown public stunt designed to "prove" their love.

The disaster of the day?

A flash marriage proposal.

Tim barely has time to process what's happening before an entire choir descends on him in the middle of a press conference. They begin singing a dramatic, original ballad about love and destiny while the villain (dressed in a tuxedo and cape, because of course they are) strides forward. With an engagement ring, the size of Tim’s suffering.

"Timothy!" they declare, their voices booming through a hidden microphone, because this is obviously being broadcast. "I've waited long enough! Accept my love! Marry me and together we will dominate Gotham's social scene as the couple of the century!"

Tim's eyes twitch. He's two seconds away from making this a Red Robin problem.

fortunately for everyone involved, Kon and Dani have zero chill.

Kon lands from the sky, draping an arm around Tim with the most obnoxiously smug grin imaginable. “Oh, wow. A public proposal? That’s adorable. Almost as adorable as the six months I’ve already spent dating this guy.”

Then he just kisses Tim’s temple like it’s nothing.

Before Tim can recover (he absolutely did not freeze), Dani materializes next to him, grabs Tim like a princess, and kisses the other side of his face.

Timothy Jackson drake-Wayne did not squeak. What?

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she sighs.

And that is the moment the villain realizes they have lost.

Because Gotham? Gotham loves drama. And right now, the story isn’t “Determined Suitor Wins Over Tim Drake”—it’s “Homewrecker Tries to Steal Gotham’s Most Beloved Power Couples” (because, yes, the media still refuses to acknowledge this is a throuple).

The crowd turns on the villain.

• “You’re breaking them up? Boo.”

• “Have you seen the way Superboy looks at him?”

• “Sir, how do you respond to the allegations that you are a clown?”

#TimsuperWraith4Ever trends within minutes.

And the villain, realizing they are rapidly losing public favor, does the only thing they can do—

They flee

(“…Well,” they say, trying to regain some dignity. “I can tell when I’m in over my head.”

(They can’t.)

“I’m going to retreat—for now.”

(They're not coming back.)

And then, with a dramatic wave of their capes, they run away.)

Tim is still being held.

By both of them.

In front of every reporter in Gotham.

Kon, still smiling, pulls Tim even closer to him. "So, babe, how about we go celebrate our victory?"

Dani smiles. "Ooh, yeah. I'm thinking date night."

Tim, who physically can't escape, groans. "I hate you both."

Neither of them let go.

And, okay, maybe he doesn't really mind .

—

Step Three: Realize You’re the Only One Still Pretending

Later, after the chaos dies down and Tim finally gets a second to himself, he turns to Kon and Dani with a sigh.

“Well,” he says. “That was exhausting, but at least it’s over.”

Kon raises an eyebrow. “Over?”

Tim frowns. “Yeah. The villain’s gone, so… y’know. We can drop the act now.”

There’s a long silence.

Then Dani just… tilts her head. “Wait. You think this is fake?”

Tim stares. “What.”

Kon grins. “Oh, babe. You really thought we were faking?”

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Because, oh no, he did think this was fake. But now Kon is looking at him like he’s an idiot, and Dani is smirking like she knew all along, and—

Oh.

Oh, he’s so dumb.

Because this entire time, they weren’t playing a role. They were just—being them. Touchy, affectionate, protective—except now, they had an excuse to be obvious about it.

Tim buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

Dani pats his head. “You’ll get there, babe.”

Kon leans down, kissing the top of his head. “Take your time.”

Tim groans.

(But maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind so much.)

—

Bonus: Cassie & Bart, Watching From Afar :

Bart: “You think Tim actually figured it out?”

Cassie : "probably. It was fun watching him suffer"

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 you, mingi & san have a song together and it’s very suggestive. when it’s time to perform it at a concert, a jealous mingi doesn’t want san to perform with the two of you, when you say to let it go, he pulls a stunt that you don’t know if you love or hate.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 jealousy, possessiveness, yearning, allusions to sex, but no smut.

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 this is my first time writing about a k-pop idol so take it easy on me 😖😖 the song i have for inspiration that they’ll sing is desire by meg myers, but one part in specific, if you want to listen to it, go ahead, if not, just listen to the part i talk about specifically which is at 3:30. i do not own the song, all rights go to meg myers.

as the hairstylist plays around with your hair, you admire yourself in the mirror and do some vocal exercises, when the hairstylist steps aside, you swallow the lump in your throat, the nerves you have right now are through the roof, and you feel as if your heart is going to come out of your throat. right now you were getting ready to perform your song with mingi and san, they had invited you to open their show, but now you’re fully performing with the two of them.

you and mingi have history, the two of you were an on-and-off couple, nothing was wrong with him or you, it was just a mutual decision to focus on your jobs. but whenever you saw him at your concerts, or when he saw you at his, that would all be blown to hell. one message led to a few drinks, a few drinks led to something else, and when you, mingi and san collaborated for an r-rated song, this changed everything. it was sort of a scandal, but none of the three of you cleared up what was going on.

the lyrics of your song had gotten to you—while recording, a few nights you and mingi were the only people in the studio, and you always took your chances, as soon as your manager stepped out of the studio for the night, you’d find yourself pinning mingi against the wall and letting your hands explore every inch of him, or when san left the studio to grab some food, mingi would prop you over the counter, bathing your body in kisses.

your staff isn’t dumb, they knew that the reason why the two of you stayed longer than usual wasn’t to “check the beat” or “change some lyrics” otherwise, how would those pants and moans make it into the song?

it was mingi’s flushed reaction and the way you got goosebumps when listening to the finished product and hearing your sounds, and mingi’s breathless pants that made you and him feel embarrassed—as if it wasn’t his idea.

san was taken aback, it was a song consisting of the three of you, and it was about how ‘paris is nice this time of year’ but those sinful sounds between his friend and a colleague were betraying the song—he should’ve been in between, then, really, the song would have been true to its lyrics.

“thank you.” you say to the people who styled you, giving them a soft smile “all of this is amazing, the outfit, the makeup, the hair.” you pull them into a group hug and pull away when you hear some footsteps enter the room. you look toward the door and it’s san and mingi—my God they look good. you press your lips into a thin line and bite your bottom lip discreetly.

“seonghwa is almost done, then, we’re up next.” san says and you nod, placing your hands on your hips. you feel a pair of eyes staring at you, since the moment he stepped inside the room, his gaze never left you.

your eyes narrow to mingi and you physically have to hold back a sinful noise, the outfit he’s wearing is telling you, begging you to take it off. you see a certain look in his eyes and it worries you, you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows, then, shake it off “okay…i’m so nervous, what about you guys?” you hold clammy hands together and stand on your tip-toes for a second.

“i’m kind of nervous, it’s because we’ve never performed anything like this before, especially with this song, you knew all the rumors that came out when we released it, imagine the rumors that’ll come out after our performance…our choreography.” you nod, you admit, your choreography is… something, and right now you’re hoping that nobody brought their parents.

“me neither, and yes, I’m scared for the rumors to come out, but, if it gets too much, can we agree that we’ll say something?” you look between san and mingi, san nods, but mingi doesn’t respond. “but, it’s just like we practiced, okay?? as soon as the guitar starts playing, we’re on our own, nothing more, nothing less, we cannot change anything now.”

“y/n.” mingi calls out, you look at him. “can i talk to you for a second?” his tone catches you off guard, it’s like he’s mad, or upset. you look at san once again and you nod.

the two of you walk away from the rest, mingi pulls you into a hallway, and your back presses against the wall as he leans forward, towering over you.

“mingi, what’s wrong?” he rests his eyes, you place your hand on his abdomen, and look at him, his dark eyes look back into yours.

“i don’t think san should perform with us.” your head cocks back, your eyebrows knitted.

“what?”

“i don’t think san should perform, baby, it’s our song and i don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” you shake your head and remove your hand from his body, and place it on your forehead.

“first of all, it’s not our song, it’s my song featuring you and san, second, what could possibly be the wrong idea?” he licks his lips, swallowing his answer, when he looks away, you follow his head, demanding him to look at you. “huh?” you exclaim.

“i don’t want people to think you’re san’s. i want them to know you’re mine. and that it’s me making you sound like that in the song, not him.” your eyebrows raise, his words and his possessiveness turn you on, but you can’t let him know that makes you mad, and you let him know with a push. you scoff and look at him up and down.

“this is what this is all about? your jealousy? you better not pull off anything stupid on stage.” mingi licks his lips and rolls his eyes, he begins to walk away and you shake your head. “song.” you call him out, the way you mention his first name as if it’s forbidden makes a chill run down his spine. he turns around to look at you, your mad expression makes him find you adorable. “whatever this is… stop it. i don’t like you like this.” mingi gives no response at all, not a sound, not a movement, he just continues to walk away. you let out one last breath and walk right after him.

the lights are off, and the three of you walk on stage. as the song starts, the lights fade in, and you’re on the ground, san and mingi are on the left and right side of you. you begin to sing your verse, and as the song continues, so do the boys. leading to the bridge of the song, you rise to your feet, and here, san kneels in front of you, while mingi steps in from behind. san’s hand travels from your thighs to your torso as he makes his way to your neck, his breath feeling warm against your skin, and his hand holds the side of your neck. mingi doesn’t follow the practice choreography, he stands by what he said backstage, he wants the people to know you’re his. his lips creep up to your ear, and he softly nibbles it, this makes your heart skip a beat, and your voice quivers while you sing your verse, you want to curse him for causing you to do that.

his hand goes below san’s and gets a hold of your neck, the roar of the crowd gets louder and louder with each movement the two of them make. forced to move away, san’s hand now rests on your stomach, but his lips now move to your cheek. your head turns toward mingi, and his lustful eyes are a warning, you can’t step away now, but man, why is he like this?

your lips are calling his name. your expression, one he normally sees while you’re under him, and the way his other hand is gripping your hair takes him back to those nights back in the studio. his eyes are begging for a response, a response in your eyes. “i want it all…” the lyrics you say right before the guitar begins are all he needs to hear, his lips were placed above yours, and you can swear you don’t hear the guitar anymore, only the screams and claps of everyone in the stadium, you shut your eyes, hoping this moment would be over, you don’t feel san’s hand or breath anymore, because he actually followed the choreography, unlike mingi, who is devouring you. and though you are against what is happening, you feel the need to kiss him back—so you do, but push him away as soon as you do.

you continue with the choreography while you can, the guitar was still going, but the song was ending, so, you could continue it like nothing. like nothing, yeah right. you can already see the millions of tweets and posts the atiny and your fandom are going to be posting, maybe not much from your fandom, but definitely from the atiny. when the song first came out, they made twitter break down, making it unusable for 15 hours. they might have to take down the app now after the stunt mingi pulled.

the song concludes, and you rush off stage, you're panicking, you're mad, you’re frustrated, you’re going through a roller coaster of emotions, and you feel like it’s going to crash any second now. you can hear some hurried footsteps behind you, and you already know who it is, not because of the way his tobacco and wood-scented perfume engulfs the place, but by his voice, and how in Korean he’s telling you to get back here—you don’t, of course, you ignore him.

but the adrenaline he has is too much, and he catches up to you. he opens the door to a room and pulls you in there, slamming the door just like he slammed his lips into yours once again. you grab his hands and tear them away from your face, then push him, which doesn’t do much, but your reaction makes him step back.

“what the hell was that?! i told you not to pull a crazy stunt!” mingi shakes his head, you feel your voice break, and tears pool in your eyes, only because of the frustration you’re feeling. you can’t even look at him.

“i said what i said. i told you i wanted to make them know you’re mine.” you shake your head, taking in a deep breath.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, his expression changes, from mad, to angry. he takes a step toward you and towers over you once again, he hits the wall behind you and your eyes widen.

“you! you’re what’s wrong with me!” your mouth stays agape, you want to say something, but you know he won’t let you. “the way you haunt my every thought, the way i can’t breathe without you, the way i can’t stand to have san anywhere near you. you are what’s wrong with me! everything about you, your voice, your eyes, your lips.” his shaky hands come near your face as if he wants to grab it and kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. “loving you is torture.” he sneers for a second, leaning closer to you by the second, every word that comes out of him, is one word closer for you to be his once again. “i love it. just like i love the way your lips feel against mine…” his finger brushes over your lips and your breath hitches. “and how your voice can compose such sounds.” he takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “i love you.” he wipes your tears away and you stay still, you let out a sigh, right before you wrap your arms around his neck, your lips tangling with his.

he picks you up with ease, and your legs wrap around his torso, your fingers find his locks and you slightly pull on them, mingi’s hand cradles the back of your head and deepens the kiss, earning a muffled moan from you. you pull away, only to adjust your head, but the kiss continues, you’re feeling the heat he always made you feel all over your body once again. he nibbles on your bottom lip softly, then you both pull away to catch your breaths, you rest your forehead against his, and place a soft peck on his lips once again. “you’re mine. you know that?”

you let out a breathy laugh and lick your lips. “do you?” you ask him, and this turns him on reassures him, he smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“want to find out?” you smile and nod.

mingi wasn’t able to perform the remaining songs. he fell asleep, and it wasn’t because of how tired he was of the concert. everybody knew why. Twitter knew why, and instagram knew why. the ateez group chat knew why, you even sent them a message with a picture confirming that it’s entirely your fault.

you were exhausted too, and it sure as hell wasn’t because of the concert either. the view you have of mingi next to you, with the sheets below his abdomen and his arms hugging the pillow was so good, you had to take a picture, you wanted to post it so bad, just so everybody could shut up, but you didn’t, you just put your phone down and leaned toward him. your touch wakes him up, and he turns around.

you smile at him and lay down on his chest while his arm wraps around you. “now do you know I’m yours?” you ask him and he scoffs.

“i always knew.” you tilt your head and hum. “i just wanted to make sure.” you both share a laugh, minutes before you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

❛ but you already got me feeling some type of way,

if i could figure it out, I’d take you back to

my house so we can meddle about. ❜

[black-is-beautiful18]

The response to Beyoncé winning AOTY isn’t surprising cuz this is literally a repeat from like 9 months ago, which is why I haven’t even really bothered to say anything about it. The album ain’t even a year old and here these fools go again saying what that woman can and can’t sing cuz she’s Black and apparently Black ppl don’t listen to country music and can’t be country. WE CREATED IT! Blues is a major inspiration for the genre at its core. One of the key instruments associated with the genre, the banjo, was created specifically by enslaved Africans and can even be found in both North America and the Caribbean as far back as the 1600s. This is the same instrument white ppl wouldn’t touch with a 10 ft pole because they deemed it as less than. That is until they started playing them in minstrel shows, and even then they didn’t wanna play them. That’s how much they looked down upon it. It was the same thing once the Jazz Age hit. They hated that instrument along with anything that we did. The Black ppl feeding into it are a bunch of uneducated idiots who don’t understand that sometimes art is simply more than the artist. Beyoncé got that from the jump which is why she moves the way she does and why she has 70+ credits on Cowboy Carter. She won AOTY and so did everybody she credited. That will follow them for the rest of their lives whether you think they deserve it or not. Y’all only see art as a commodity and something to consume. Something to fuel your stan wars cuz y’all don’t have the brain capacity to look at art critically while also enjoying it. The two are not mutually exclusive. You don’t see how it shapes ppl and cultures. It literally is a major part of any culture. Y’all are just racist losers.

[whchenlvr]

Can u write about reader as little sister (prob 1 year gap) of one of the eunjang student??

Like how would baekjin na and the gang react to their gf as the little sister of their enemy (eunjang student)??

IM SORRY IF THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE U CAN IGNORE IT IF U WANT 😭😭

i decided to use their korean names for this one since the requester did. anyway i hope you don’t mind!

when your brother is in eunjang ;

union x fem!reader

baekjin “donald” na

➤ oh boy

➤ it took him a long time to trust you in general because of his past, but it was even harder once he found out your older brother was a student at eunjang. more specifically, one that hung out close to big ben and the others

➤ it wasn’t a secret, so you didn’t feel the need to explain yourself when baekjin “suddenly discovered” that you were in “cahoots” with the enemy

➤ “you’re a spy.” “i’m not a spy.” “you’re a SPY!” “NO!”

daehyun “jake” ji

➤ his extroverted self does not care

➤ daehyun knows he can’t date you publicly like he wants, but he gets your brothers begrudging approval before asking you to be his girlfriend with the promise of never involving you in any of the union’s activity

➤ in private, you’d hold hands and invite him over to your house to play games, read comics, and eat dinner. sometimes the two of you kiss super dramatically just to annoy your brother

➤ in all honesty though, your brother likes daehyun. he trusts him with you and thinks you’re super cute together

hyeokjin “dean” kwon

➤ hyeokjin is taller and older and scarier than your brother, and you use those facts alone to tease your brother into letting you see him

➤ “if you don’t let me go on my date, hyeokjin is going to punch you.” “Y/N??? IM YOUR BROTHER?!” “YEAH BUT HES HOT SO”

➤ hyeokjin finds the two of you more amusing than anything else. your brother and you are constantly bickering, but at the end of the day, hyeokjin still makes it known to your brother that he will protect you

➤ “he’ll never admit it, but my brother likes you a lot.” “you’re just saying that so i pull my punches.” “yeah <3”

jihoon “jimmy” bae

➤ “you’re brother goes to eunjang?” “yeah..” “… would you totally dump me if i beat him u—OW!”

➤ you love jihoon. you love your brother. you hate seeing them argue, especially when it’s on your behalf, but you understand that they’re rivals and it can’t be helped

➤ after several months of dating, your brother accepts the fact that you won’t be breaking up with jihoon. he isn’t happy about your relationship, but there isn’t anything he can do to end it

➤ likewise, jihoon hates the fact that you have familial ties to eunjang. still, he loves you enough to look past it and is sure to limit the fight talk when you’re around

jeongyeon “jack” kang

➤ he starts scheming

➤ “okay, so, is there any chance you could ask your brother where he and the eunjang students are planning to meet?” “no.” “… would you do it for a scooby snack?” “???”

➤ honestly, he was worried that you’d break up with him when your brother said he didn’t approve of your relationship. however, after you slapped your brother for laying a hand on jeongyeon, he knew that it didn’t matter

➤ “y/n…” “don’t mention it.” “you smacked your brother.. for me?” you’d laugh at his super dramatic and cheesy reaction. “anything for you, snookums!”

seongje “wolf” keum

➤ just because your older brother fights for eunjang doesn’t make you eunjang property, and seongje reminds them of this often

➤ thankfully, even though your brother finds seongje quite terrifying, he agrees and knows that despite everything, seongje would never let anything happen to you

➤ if only the other eunjang students thought the same

➤ “i’m going to break their fingers—“ “no, no finger breaking.” “—yes finger breaking :)”

[elliecore4eva]

Id love a reader x elille story were elille is out on patrol and finds reader injured and takes them in and reader gets more comfortable and left there guard down over time and comes to finally trust Ellie only for elille to overthink and start panicking thinking about caring about someone so hard maybe make it take place after or before Joel's death and maybe make it a series

oooh i love this! i had so much fun writing this piece i called the series “Through the Snow and Shadows” i was also thinking of turning it into a 4 or 5 part series! Thank you so much for requesting! Hope you like it, love!💕

Disclaimer: I used the pronouns, she/her, i wasn’t sure which one to use, please let me know if i would change it to another one!

Pairing : Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst/ fluff : slow- burn

Summary: Through the Snow and Shadows follows Ellie as she rescues an injured woman on patrol and brings her back to Jackson. As their bond grows, Ellie struggles with her fear of opening up after losing Joel. Through small moments of trust and vulnerability, they both begin to heal, but Ellie must confront her panic about caring for someone again. A slow-burn, emotional journey with a romantic ending.

Another Disclaimer: There are no specific descriptions of the reader. i did this so it can be enjoyed by a lot of people. Again if there are any elements that make people feel uncomfortable please do call me out, respectfully of course since it isn’t my intention to do so.

Part 1 - Found in the Snow

Ellie had never liked the cold. The bitter wind that cut through her jacket, the snow that coated the ground like a never-ending blanket of white—it all felt wrong. And yet, here she was, trudging through the dense forest outside of Jackson on another patrol, just like any other day. She didn’t expect it to be anything special. It wasn’t supposed to be.

But then she found you.

She had caught sight of your figure lying in the snow, half-buried, limp, and completely still. Ellie’s heart skipped, panic bubbling in her chest as she rushed forward, her breath coming in quick, panicked bursts. She knelt beside you, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to check for a pulse.

You were alive. Barely. But alive.

The sight of your blood-drenched shirt and torn skin made Ellie’s stomach twist, but she had no time to dwell on it. She had to act. She knew the risks. She’d seen the infected, the bandits—hell, she’d lost people she loved. But you? You were human. And you needed help.

The trek back to Jackson felt like an eternity. Every step Ellie took, carrying you through the snow, felt heavier than the last. She was tired, cold, and scared, but she couldn’t let you go. Not like this. Not when you were still breathing, still fighting.

When she finally reached the gates of Jackson, Tommy and a couple of the medics helped get you inside. Ellie was too worn out to speak, her mind swirling with a million questions she didn’t have answers to. What had happened to you? How had you ended up out here all alone?

And why, despite everything, did Ellie feel this strange pull to stay by your side?

Days passed, and Ellie found herself visiting you in the infirmary every chance she got. It wasn’t like her to linger, to get involved with someone she didn’t know. She had learned long ago to keep her distance, to keep her guard up. But you were different. The way you looked at her, the silence between you, it made Ellie feel like there was something more, something she wasn’t sure she could ignore.

You didn’t say much at first. When Ellie would bring food or clean bandages, you’d barely acknowledge her presence. But Ellie couldn’t stop herself from coming back, even if it meant facing the awkwardness of the silence between you.

One afternoon, Ellie sat beside your bed, watching as you stared out the window, lost in your own thoughts.

“How’re you feeling?” Ellie asked, her voice tentative. She didn’t want to push you. She didn’t know if you wanted to talk. But she was here, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t answer at first, your eyes distant, as though the question hadn’t registered. Ellie’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to make some kind of connection. But she stopped herself. You hadn’t asked for that.

After a long pause, you glanced at her, your expression unreadable. “I don’t belong here,” you muttered, almost to yourself.

Ellie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve it.”

Ellie’s heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice. She didn’t know what you had gone through to feel like this, but she could understand. She’d felt it too—like she wasn’t worthy of kindness, like she didn’t deserve any of it.

“Everyone deserves kindness,” Ellie said softly, her voice steady despite the way her stomach was twisting. She was trying to be strong for you, even though she didn’t feel strong herself.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick. Neither of you spoke again for a while, and Ellie found herself lost in her own thoughts. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to caring so much about someone she didn’t know. But there was something about you, something that made her want to stay.

[idiashroudshusband]

Spectral Circut - Idia Shroud x Reader / Fluff

It was a quiet, lazy afternoon at Night Raven College. The kind of day that begged for an escape into another world—specifically, the fantastical realms of anime. Idia Shroud had invited you to his room to watch some shows. Well, technically, you had half-suggested it first, and he mumbled something that sounded like “Y-Yeah, okay,” his hair flaring a nervous pink at the ends, before retreating to his room.

Now, here you were, standing outside the door of his dorm room, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every passing second. You knocked once—barely loud enough for a person to hear—but it was too late to back out now. You heard shuffling, the sound of something falling, and then his voice.

“Uh… come in. Door’s open!”

You opened the door to a room lit only by the soft blue light of multiple monitors and various tech around his room and the faint blue hue of his glowing hair. Idia was standing in the middle of the room, looking down and nervously playing with his hands, his hair blushed a soft pink tinge* “H-Hey…” he said softly, glancing up at you nervously. “Y-You actually came. I mean, of course, you came. We said we’d—uh, yeah.”

“Hey,” you replied, stepping further in, feeling a little awkward yourself.

There was a silence—comfortable but charged with something new and thrilling.

“I have- um… a few options,” Idia began, moving to sit down on the edge of his bed. “S-So, we could watch whatever you feel like. No pressure. I mean, it’s just, uh, anime. Nothing fancy.” He picks up his tablet and pulls up a glowing keyboard, one of his hands typing away at it as he pulls over the screen over his bed.

You sat beside him so you could watch what he was doing, careful to keep a respectable distance but close enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. The bed dipped under your weight, making the space between you shrink just a little more.

“What did you pick?” you asked, peering at the screen.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he scrolled through the list. “Uh, a few classics, some new stuff. This one’s a rom-com—wait, n-never mind, that’s lame. Maybe this action series? Or, uh, this one’s about video game worlds—totally not a self-insert thing!”

“I’m fine with whatever you want,” you said softly, smiling.

His fingers twitched, his eyes darting toward you briefly before looking back down. “O-Okay. Cool. Let’s start with this one, then.”

The opening theme began to play and you moved, sitting up against the headboard, settled into the pillows, feeling yourself relax. Idia sat stiffly beside you, his hands gripping each other like they might run away if he didn’t hold them tight enough.

As the first episode progressed, you leaned ever so slightly closer, pretending to adjust a pillow but really just trying to bridge the space between you. Idia noticed—of course, he noticed—but he didn’t say anything. His hair flickered pink, his cheeks softly flushing.

When a particularly funny scene played, you both laughed. The sound of your laughter together filled the small, dark room. Idia glanced at you again, his lips quirking into the tiniest, shyest smile.

“This… this isn’t so bad,” he murmured.

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

The anime continued, but neither of you really paid much attention anymore. Your hands were so close they were almost touching. Almost.

With a sudden burst of bravery, you shifted your hand slightly, brushing your pinky against his. Idia froze. His hair flared pink, looking away as his hair gives the room a soft rosy glow, and he quickly tried to compose himself, but the damage was done.

“S-Sorry!” he stammered, pulling his hand back. “I didn’t—! I mean—!”

You smiled gently and placed your hand over his, squeezing it lightly. “It’s okay, Idia. I’m kinda nervous too.”

His eyes widened, and then, slowly, he let your hand rest in his. His grip was tentative, his fingers cool but steady.

And as the second episode began to play, you both settled into a new kind of comfort, hearts racing but finally a little more at ease. The screen glowed, the characters moved, and in the quiet of Idia’s room, a small, sweet connection grew.

—————————

yeah uh i hope u enjoyed i love my silly little blue guy so muchh hes so skrunkly silly i wanna hold him and put him in a jar like a bug and study him cuz hes my pookie bear 😻

[slowcatsisland]

Some physical headcanons for Zoro 🥰🙏

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Roronoa Zoro; Physical Characteristics Headcanons

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A/N: yes

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His pre timeskip color palette was PERFECT

His hair genuinely looks like a mint chocolate chip green and it’s because of the sun. The more sunlight he receives the lighter it makes his hair look (it got really dark during the timeskip because of Muggy Island’s climate but is progressively getting lighter currently)

When he was young his hair was more of a grassy color

His hair is really thick and surprisingly soft despite how spiky it can look, Luffy likes messing with it when he’s bored (yk when a guy gets a buzz and when you run your hand over it one way it’s soft and then the other it’s prickly? That’s kinda like Zoro’s hair no matter how long he grows it-he also doesn’t ever grow it that long)

His hair takes a long time to grow in general he cut it all off once, never again

(Yosaku, Johnny, and himself all shaved their heads together once when they were growing up. Prolly something to do with touching their mental fortitude and trying to become with the sword or smth. Zoro found out that he has a weird, rectangle head shape without hair to frame it and refuses to lose all his hair ever again)

His hair can’t hold a curl for shit

He smells like steel and iron. He also probably had a strong natural musk bc of his hygiene (bro needs to shower more)

His facial features are so sharp. From his defined temples, the bald patches of forehead along his hair line, his jaw, nose, even his eyebrows and cheek bones all collectively make his face full of sharp lines and cuts

(I’m so not a fan of how rounded he looks post timeskip, especially in Egghead and I mean u could argue that it makes him resemble a tiger more but just guyss)

He actually has more Asian facial features than shown in the manga/anime imo

His eyebrows are either the same light mint green his hair is or they’re a green so dark they look black from afar I just can’t tell which it would be

He has serious threaded eyebrows. Law might have 90s eyebrows to an extent but Zoro is on a whole other level. He never does anything to them either, he’s actually had a whole conversation about this with Nami (she’s envious)

Zoro has a slight concern about accidentally getting his eyebrow hair shaven off somehow and them never growing back

YALL THE HAIR ON HIS EYEBROW PART OF THE SCAR STILL HASNT GROWN BACK-

He has long eyelashes but they’re straight so you don’t see them from the front (his side profile is beautiful-)

His eyes look like they turn upwards but it’s subtle

His eyes are a shade of gold I tell you!! It fits with his whole ‘tiger’ as his animal thing so well

Also also yk how guys in One Piece don’t rlly get their eye color shown unless it’s a specific frame in the anime at least? That happens with Zoro during his fight with King I’m like 90% sure

They’re a type of gold that matches the darkest shade of his earrings

I’ll forever believe his eyes were meant to be gold

He’s got that epicanthal folds trust

He under eye also has that slight puffiness to it too trust trust trust

I heard a theory abt how in his closed eye post timeskip is another soul (one of his swords) and if/when he opens it it’ll be ringed I feel like that’s worth putting here

His scar along his eye is actually a really clean cut with minimal texture differences I guess? If you run your finger across it you feel the ridge of the scarring but it isn’t messy like how Luffy’s under eye scar is

His nose is like, idk sturdy I guess? Yk his live action Mackenyu’s nose is a perfect reference imo

His lips downturn so it looks like he’s frowning or brooding a lot even when he’s not (Sanji’s threatened to fix his face countless times)

He has a scar on his bottom lip going to the end of his chin from getting cut by Kuina when they were using real blades against each other (one time Franky thought Zoro was really messy when they were eating a type of pasta that Sanji made and told him to wipe his chin..nothing came off)

He also has a cheek scar from Kuina on his right cheek going from the center of it to just below his ear (it’s really faint)

His neck has uneven flexibility because of his lack of visibility on his left side (he can turn it around like an owl to the left)

He’s naturally tan but he also soaks up sunlight like a sponge and almost never burns

Pre timeskip Zoro was obviously more lean but he was still the most jacked person on the crew. His muscles were probably more noticeable pre timeskip due to his tighter clothing than they are post timeskip even though they’re bigger now

He’s pretty well proportioned torso and leg wise, not like some of the other characters such as Sanji, Law, or Nami that are mainly legs.

Yk bros back is a holy sight

Pre timeskip he had defined abs but post timeskip he has a healthy layer of fat covering them slightly (Sanji has him on a meal plan, Zoro’s unaware he’s on said meal plan)

Bro lowkey everything about Zoro is just big post timeskip

He’s still the same height, but pre timeskip Zoro looks taller than post time skip Zoro (the muscles and baggy clothing make him look more blocky)

I feel like comparing him to 2000 Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine in Marvel’s X Men or Mackenyu for pre timeskip 👌

Then post timeskip Zoro is more comparable to say 2014 Dave Bautista’s Drax in Guardians of the Galaxy

His stomach scar is actually rough like Luffy’s under eye scar because of how it was healed and it’s probably pretty sensitive I’d assume

Bros legs are built so sturdy. If Sanji’s legs are like pillars of steel then Zoro’s legs would be bricks of iron if that makes sense

His hands are plenty calloused along his palms

He also has a good amount of smaller slash-esque scars from training with real blades along his hands, arms, and quads

It was easier for him to move around quieter pre timeskip but he’s still considerably quiet when he’s walking around

I feel like he’d be ticklish or skittish, mainly around his sides just cause he doesn’t receive physical affection that much

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I feel like I could talk abt him forever

Mwah 😽

[xsweetcatastrophe]

you broke me first

part 33

authors note: i’m back, what’d i miss

Zoe sat at her desk at work, staring at the blank screen. She had an article to write, but her mind was elseware - specifically, the text messages from Cillian she received this morning.

She thought about it as she got dressed, as she combed her hair, as she tried to find shoes that went with her outfit. She thought about it so much, she burnt her toast in the toaster and almost left the house with Scout still out in the backyard.

She ended up making another piece of toast; she was nauseous again, probably because of how her morning went. She inhaled it as she drove to the office, wiping the crumbs off her shirt as she parked and speed-walked into the building, hoping she got to her desk before anyone noticed she was 20 minutes late.

Once she made it to her office, she closed the door and sunk into her chair with a sigh of relief. She made it; she was behind on all her assignments and now she can hide out until 5, keep the office door closed, put her head down and just work. Shen she can leave and dwell on this some more.

That was the plan, at least.

And, you should know by now, nothing in Zoe’s life ever goes to plan.

Which brings us here, 12:30pm, with Zoe staring at her blank word document and her mind on Cillian.

Her phone buzzed. Her heart dropped, but saw Dana’s name and released the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

dana: hey! leaving pilates now, you still want to meet for lunch? Wanna do the cafe on the corner by your office?

Zoe quickly replied with a yes, and grabbed her bag. She put on her sunglasses and slowly opened her office door, peeking out to see if anyone was there.

Empty hallway. The front door is right there. A quick getaway. I can do this, Zoe thought.

“Excuse me, Zoe, do you have a minute?”

wrong.

Zoe turned around and saw Donna there with a legal pad and pen in her hand. She looked like she was about to go into Zoe’s office.

“Hey! I actually don’t, I gotta run to a lunch meeting..” Zoe lied.

“Oh great! With who?” Donna countered.

“Uh.. Emma Stone’s manager. Still hasn’t gotten back to me with a date yet. Gonna get one today.”

Donna’s smile faltered. She blinked and broke eye contact, giving off the feeling that she knew she was being lied to.

“…okay. I still need a lot of stuff from you, the Jennifer Garner storyboard you wanted to do… I can’t pitch anything to her people without a gameplan- ”

“I got it Donna, don’t worry. I’ll get it to you today,” Zoe asserted. Shit, i haven’t even started that.

“Let me know if you need Mia to take some stuff off your plate, the junior writers are here to help” Donna said, walking away coldly.

whatever. i’ll deal with that later.

—————-

Zoe sipped her iced tea and poked her overpriced salad with her fork. She had three, maybe four bites tops. She had no appetite.

She just told Dana everything, and she currently had her phone looking at the texts that Cillian sent.

“that is… so bizzare,” Dana replied, handing the phone back to Zoe. “It’s like night and day. This isn’t the man that picked us up from the bar that night. He sounds like a dick.”

“I was scared of this happening..He assured me that it wouldn’t. And here we are,” Zoe said, sighing.

“Have you texted him back? or called him?”

“no, he told me not to.” Upon hearing that, Dana’s hand fell to the table.

“Zoe, for God’s sakes, stop letting a man tell you what to do.”

“Dana, don’t start..” Zoe groaned.

“No Zo, i’m serious. Don’t let this scrub drag you from across the world. It’s not fair and i’m sick of it. You are an amazing girl and my best friend. He should be so disgustingly in love with you that your phone doesn’t stop going off from texts and phone calls. You helped him out so much in such a short time, helped him organize his new house while he’s off filming, and he talks to you like that? Beat him at his own game. If he wants to be cold and tell you not to text him? fine. but YOU go out and live your life. don’t sit at work dwelling over this. Don’t text, don’t call, don’t think about him -”

“Dana i’m staying at his house,” Zoe interrupted.

“GOOD. Stay there until he kicks you out. Look at you, I bet you got no work done today, right? because he has this much control over your emotions, all the way from across the ocean. Put yourself first babe,” Dana begged.

“It’s not that easy, Dana, I…I really opened up to him…”

“Just because you opened up to him, does not mean that you are obligated to put up with being treated like this. I’m serious, i’d make him sweat this. Fine, don’t contact him until he contacts you. But let’s go out later. Let’s have FUN. We’re young and pretty and live in one of the best cities in the world…. and you’re staying in a mansion for free. Hello???” Dana added, trying to lighten the situation.

Zoe sighed. She knew Dana was right, she didn’t deserve to be talked to like that. But Dana also knew how insecure she was, and how this will effect her for months. She wasn’t strong like Dana was and she knew that.

“Zoe,” Dana said, interrupting Zoe’s thoughts. “look at me.”

Zoe took her eyes off her sad salad and looked at Dana, bracing for whatever she was going to throw at her next.

“Do you remember when you told me you were visiting your sister, and when you both picked up Sophie from daycare, the teacher said she was being really bad and was ‘being like a brat’?”

Zoe stared at her. “yes.

“And what did you do?”

Zoe knew where this was going. “I told the teacher to never speak about my neice like that again.”

“….and? i think you’re leaving a part out” Dana hinted.

Zoe sighed. “And i said if she ever called her a brat again, she can have a meeting with me, her aunt who is 10 times more bratier than her and knows how to punch.” Zoe concluded.

“There you go,” Dana said. “How would you feel if one day, Sophie’s boyfriend talks to her like this. How would you feel? what would you tell her? Why can’t you take that advice for yourself?” Dana smiled, reaching across the table and squeezing Zoe’s hand. “You know, you’re someone’s daughter too. Someone’s aunt, someone’s sister… someone’s friend,” Dana said softly. “I know if i came to you with this, you’d tell me exactly what to do. I just want you to want more and better for yourself. I don’t want you putting up with this kind of stuff. Or this kind of treatment from him… or ANYONE, in any type of relationship in your life, wether it be boyfriends, friends, work relationships… put yourself first. Please. I love you.”

Zoe blinked back tears. She was right. Dana was right. She won’t admit it out loud, but she was right.

“Ok,” Zoe whispered. “you’re right. i don’t have control. over anything. including my emotions. It ends here,” Zoe said with a sigh.

“I’m here for you,” Dana said. “no matter what. You. First. No exceptions.”

“What do i do when he calls?”

“Just be short and to the point. that this isn’t going to fly if this is how it’s going to be. and if he can’t handle it - BYEEEEE” Dana said, yelling the last part, causing some people to turn and look.

Zoe couldn’t hold back from laughing. She loved Dana for this exact reason. She was the perfect cheerleader.

“Okay, okay!!” Zoe said, picking up her glass, holding it out. “here’s to me, and me only”

“and that big ass house you’re staying in until he royally kicks your ass out” Dana replied, clinking her glass against Zoe’s.

——————-

Zoe had just gotten back from a run when he called.

Shit, shit, okay, okay, Zoe thought, placing Scout’s leash on the counter. she took a deep breath and hit the green “accept”

“hello?”

“hey! I haven’t heard from you all day”

“sorry. I was busy.” Zoe replied coldly.

“oh.. anything good?” Cill responded.

“Work. Stayed late to catch up on stuff. Went for a run with your dog.”

“my dog?” Cillian replied. “okay, okay. how was work?”

“fine.”

Cillian knew something was wrong. “what’s wrong, bunny?”

“I’m just tired, i want to go to bed. I had a long day”

“okay, well go take a bath and relax. I have another late night ahead of me.”

“Yea? another cast dinner?” Zoe spit out before she realized what she was saying.

“Oh yea, you saw those pics i assume,” Cillian chuckled nervously. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, Cill. enjoy your dinner. I’m taking care of everything for you back here. Tell Lizzie I said hi,” Zoe said before hanging up the phone.

Zoe dropped the phone on the counter as if it was on fire. Her heart was pounding so fast, she couldn’t believe she just said that.

Her phone buzzed a minute later:

Cill: baby, stop. don’t let those thoughts get in your head. i love you.

Something about him texting her immediately after felt … empowering?

Zoe didn’t respond. If he wanted to go to another dinner with Lizzie Longlegs, that’s his prerogative. She had a shower to take and her own dinner to date to go on.

He didn’t need to know her “date” was Dana.

———————

Cillian stared at his phone, at the last message she sent to Zoe. She had her read receipts on, and it clearly stated it was read shortly after he sent it … no response.

Cillian was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach, like Zoe was mad at him but not wanting to talk it out with him.

His anxiety peaked because this is exactly what happened with his ex wife.

He picked up the phone to call her again when Hannah came into the hotel room, unannounced.

“Hey Cill! got a minute?”

Cillian sighed and looked at the watch. “it’s nearly 1am Hannah, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Just wanted to let you know filming got pushed back for tomorrow - well technically today. They need additional clearance for the horses, and they shouldn’t have it until 3 or 4pm. so you have a free day until then, but the cast wants to get together at about noon if that’s good?” Hannah replied sweetly.

“uh, yea sure. that’s fine. I wanna get some sleep though..” Cillian said, hoping she’d get the hint.

She did. “Say no more i’m out. sleep good! i’ll check in tomorrow at about 10 to make sure wardrobe and stuff is here for you. goodnight!” Hannah said, leaving.

She walked across the hall to her room and sat at the small table and pulled out her phone, dialing the number she had come to memorize over the last week.

“Hey, Tara? It’s Hannah over at Elite… those pictures you got of the cast the other night was PERFECT… do you think you can do it again?…. no no, no cast this time… this time, it’ll be just Cillian Murphy and Lizzie Hughes solo… yup. A day date. can it make the next day press?….. you’re the best. Thanks Tara,” Hannah said, hanging up the phone.

tags: @lau219 @cillianmurphyvevo @bleakmidwinter00 @amelyyyyyyy @teawonderfultea-blog1 @lavender-haze-01 @cillianinlove @supershadowymiraclestudent @shopgirl6us

[zones-spinterest-corner]

So, it’s been over a month since TPC s2e4 released, throwing us one of the biggest curveballs the show has ever created by purifying Cyanide.

Since the initial shock and anger has died down (mostly.), I wanna talk about how I personally feel about Teal and the storyline! Mainly because I’m brainrotting over Cyanide rn and wanna talk about her lmao

I don’t hate the concept of a purified Cyanide, or the concept of trying to purify her, but. It needed a LOT longer in the oven I’d say.

One thing that makes Cyanide interesting (to me, at least) is the fact she’s, well, a corrupt hero. Heroes are supposed to get rid of the corruption, and yet, there’s one made of it and spreading it. I think her having conflicting morals and being unsure of her place in the world is a really interesting concept that was kinda wasted on a short bossfight with text you had to decode in order to get the moral conflict.

Honestly, I don’t think she should’ve been purified, mainly because it just. Doesn’t make sense to me. She was born corrupted, she raised so many interesting questions, why make her part of the status quo when she theoretically shouldn’t be able to be part of it?

Also, looking at this specific merch design on RedBubble, I kind of notice something: (sorry its not transparent I had to screenshot it because the site wouldn’t let me save it otherwise)

Teal looks… honestly kind of bland compared to Cyanide.

Like, the design is cute, but there’s no flair. No intriguing choices. She barely looks like a hero, honestly.

There’s something distinct about Cyanide, I can’t quite describe it, but she stands out in a good way. She doesn’t look like a background character, she looks like someone you need to focus on. She looks like what the concept of a corrupt hero could make someone think about.

I also feel like there was a huge missed opportunity for the main gang to have a corrupt on their side, as, let’s be real, they don’t know what Dub is planning. Having someone who can gather intel from him on their side could prove invaluable.

I feel like there was so much potential that was just… thrown away by purifying her.

I also feel as if the storyline came out of the blue, and happened WAY too early after Cyanide’s introduction. It honestly feels like Brittany feels that TPC isn’t gonna last and is just throwing whatever storylines she wants to explore into s2 as weird sideplot episodes, taking away from what was supposed to be the main focus of the season: Iris, in case she doesn’t get to explore them later. Hell, Iris hasn’t even obtained a group piece yet, despite Big Giant Circles being all together and pure.

I don’t hate Teal’s existence, and a lot could be done with the concept, but it felt rushed, out of the blue, and nonsensical, while also wasting a lot of potential for a really interesting character.

Idk how cohesive this is or anything so I’m sorry if parts don’t make sense, and you’re free to give your own opinions on this as long as it’s kept civil. I don’t really wanna have to deal with a flame war or whatever over this

[macabre-crab]

i could’ve sworn i’ve posted this before but i can’t seem to find it so maybe i deleted it so ill post it again but. there was something very beautiful about my experience playing persona 5 first and then persona 3 (reload, to be specific)

like anyone who even just glances at my blog can see from a mile away that goro akechi is one of my favorite characters of all time and is extremely important to me for many many reasons. and when i was 15 seeing his death for the first time, i really didn’t want it to be true

and some can argue that it Isn’t true, what with the post credit scene and all. but back then i was all for the post canon aus and the happy happy endings where shuake could be together for the rest of time and etc etc etc. it was far too painful to imagine any other way

but then i played persona 3. and everything about how i approached akechis character and his relationship with joker Changed. it sounds stupid, but p3 helped me fully accept a reality where akechi is truly dead. truly Gone. which, most people probably felt with p5r and the third semester, but honestly i needed more to realize it 😭 what i get for sympathizing/relating so much with maruki i suppose-

but the truth is, there is no happy ending with marriage and domestic bliss. not for akechi. sometimes, we lose people we love. we lose people who are very dear to us, people we would do anything to go back and save, but we Can’t. sometimes, reality is so sad you want to rip your heart out and smash it with a hammer so you can stop feeling but you Can’t do that. you have to keep living, in respect and love for the dead and gone. whether they’re really dead or you only perceive them as such…

and, anyways. accepting that fact did a lot for me. it’s very important, very Special… and i’m grateful for that. so from now on, in any of my writings or aus, akechi is truly dead. and it hurts, and it’s sad, and it’s unfair. but it makes for a better story, a better lesson, a more Realistic world. and i’m grateful for that

[eliotquillon]

write me a story where cameron finally learns chase is allergic to strawberries thank you (you can ignore this ask)

rip to chase if i couldn’t eat strawberries i’d pretend not to care about anything either. anyway set between s3 and s4 (or maybe at the very start of s4 idk whatever. point is they haven’t been together too long)

“I could’ve killed you,” Cameron says, sounding angry and annoyed and not very sorry, but Chase knows it’s all a front; she’d cried in the ambulance, small and scared looking as soon as the EMTs not-so-kindly told her that as a doctor she should know that there was little else they could do between giving him more epi and getting him to the hospital, and he’d wanted to reach out and comfort her, but that had been difficult what with his throat being all swollen up at the time. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to die, or anything,” Chase protests, because he doesn’t really want to talk about this right now: why he never bothered to sit Cameron down and go by the way, now that we’re sleeping each other regularly can you throw out everything you own that contains strawberry? Because there is a reason—Chase isn’t this cavalier with his health on a daily basis, honest—but it is going to upset her, and the whole reason why Chase never told her was specifically to avoid this kind of fight. There’s no polite way to say I was pretty sure you’d interpret it as a sign of impending commitment and run for the hills, especially now that Cameron is kind of adorably self-conscious about that whole period of their lives. He’s only been dating Cameron for three weeks; on balance, the risk of anaphylaxis is far less deadly than the one to their incredibly fledgling relationship. “I had my Epi-Pen on me.”

Cameron narrows her eyes at him in disgust. “I’m an immunologist,” she starts, preparing, no doubt, to rip into him about how Epi-Pens are a miracle of modern medicine but aren’t actually magic, and how anaphylactic reactions can worsen with repeat exposure, and Chase is actually kind of looking forward to it even though his throat is sore and his head is killing him and his body feels like it’s encased in syrup, because a side effect of the honeymoon phase is that he now finds it incredibly hot when she’s on the warpath, even at him—only she takes a big gulp of breath and she suddenly starts to cry again. Not quiet, terrified tears like the one in the ambulance, but big, rolling, heaving sobs. He’s seen her cry before, usually over patients, but not like this, and it freaks him out a little; Chase extends his IV-free arm towards her and corrals her in so she can rest her cheek on his chest. It’s lucky, he thinks, that they’d been closer to General than PPTH; she’d never let him do this if they were in the ER at Princeton-Plainsboro.

“Allison,” he says into her hair, voice still hoarse, “I’m fine. It was an accident.”

He almost adds this has never happened before—because it hasn’t, usually Chase has to actually ingest something strawberry to provoke a reaction, he’s never had one just from kissing someone until now—but he does, for better or for worse, know exactly how Cameron ticks, and he has a feeling that this won’t be as reassuring as he means for it to be. “I’m sorry,” he says instead, “I promise I’m not allergic to anything else.”

“You better not be,” Cameron huffs. She cranes her neck up to look at him, eyes red and puffy, and says, “You’re banned from my apartment until I can deep clean the kitchen. And the bathroom, and the bedroom. I have strawberry lube that I need to get rid of.”

“There’s probably not any actual strawberry in your lube,” Chase says. Cameron makes as though to thump his chest, then remembers he’s hooked up to an EKG and thinks better of it. “No need to ruin all our fun, is all I’m saying.”

“I’m an immunologist,” Cameron says again, but she doesn’t sob this time—it comes out more as a sigh. “You should’ve told me.”

Chase thinks, idly, of all the times Cameron brought her favourite strawberry cream cheese bagels into work and he’d turned them down—how many times House had raised his eyebrows at the sight, but never bothered to say anything, either. He thinks of Cameron crying in the ambulance. There’s a hazy memory of her suddenly running off as soon as the ambulance parked in the bay, which is strange, and then he realises she smells absurdly strongly of medical grade mint. “You threw up,” he realises, and pets her head clumsily. “You should’ve asked for some Zofran.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Cameron says. “When you’re better, we’re going to talk about this.” After a moment, she laces her hand with his. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She says it so nakedly that Chase doesn’t have it in him to fight back about her being mad at him anymore. “Told you I’m fine,” he says drowsily, and then he falls dead asleep.

[flock-of-cassowaries]

I think the different types of masks (transparent vs. opaque) also speaks the difference between Dr. Chilton’s extremely unethical approach to the presumed Ripper, and Dr. Bloom’s (equally, but differently) unethical view of the real thing.

As head of the BSHCI, Chilton’s main aim (with Will as with Abel Gideon before him) is to uncover some sort of sensational insight about the “Ripper” that he can use to further his own career. He wants to communicate with the Ripper - to see him, to analyze him, to build trust with him that he (Chilton) can exploit. All of this is supported by the choice of a transparent mask. It potentially assists (at least a little bit) in building trust with the “patient” / exploited party by dehumanizing them slightly less than an opaque mask would, and it allows the clinician / exploiting party to glean maximum information from the exploited party’s facial expressions.

Alana, on the other hand, has no interest in deepening her understanding of Hannibal by the time he ends up in her custody.

And while she’s probably an overall better steward of the BSHCI than Chilton, in that she isn’t trying to use the inmates to further her own career, when it comes to Hannibal, she illustrates exactly why psychiatric professionals are expressly prohibited from providing care to persons they’ve had romantic relationship with.

(More detailed Alanalysis under the cut. I don’t hate her, but I think that the way she breaks down in s3 is under-appreciated and under-examined.)

Dr. Bloom is absolutely not objective about Hannibal. She dismisses out of hand the possibility that there is anything about him that could or should be treated, and instead appears intent on punishing him to the greatest extent possible.

(I am assuming all the special privileges we see Hannibal enjoy in the BSHCI are the result of blackmail - something he alludes to when he mentions Mason, and says “You’re welcome for that.)

The opaque mask serves her purposes better than a clear one would, because (as the story of The Man In the Iron Mask illustrates), being forcibly deprived of the identity and expressive capabilities of your own face is its own form of dehumanization.

Quick Side Note, because Islamophobia is A Thing:

This is not an anti-niqab statement, or some covid conspiracy nonsense. Miss me with that conspiratorial racist bullshit. Choosing to cover your face is completely different from being forced to do so, and Muslim women are absolutely capable of choice, dear god. Looking at you askance from across the river, Marois and Legault governments.

Also, I’m immunosuppressed. I obviously support public health initiatives to limit the spread of respiratory infections.

…back to the topic at handibal..

But yeah…. as far as Alana’s choice of an opaque mask for Hannibal, I think it’s a good reflection of the fact that she only wants to punish and diminish him. She does not want to know him, or work with him as a patient.

She just wants to grind him down to a fine Hannipaste - to destroy him just as he has so casually destroyed a part of her.

Sympathy for, and criticism of, the soon-to-be-delicensed (if anyone spills the beans about her prior relationship with Hannibal) Dr. Bloom

And like… I get it. Hannibal, as a character, deserves many slaps.

But also… Dr. Bloom is probably not making him any less of a risk to the public with this approach.

Like, it’s hard to know if there even is an approach that could succeed in rehabilitating an offender like Lecter, but… this is definitely not an approach that ever had any hope of achieving anything constructive.

On Hannibal as the author of this dynamic / Hannibal’s solitary act of kindness to Alana

In a sense, Hannibal himself created this dynamic - not just through his atrocities (generally) and cruelty to her, but also through one of his only acts of actual kindness: specifically, the conversation at Muskrat Farm where she asked if she could ever have understood him, and he said no.

(Parenthetically, I think that, and “In your defence, I worked very hard to blind you” are some of the kindest gestures he actually makes towards anyone in the course of the show.

It’s far more kindness than Hannibal ever shows to Will, or to Bedelia.)

But yeah, in freeing her from the hope of ever understanding him, he allowed Alana to see him as a an unambiguous villain, without any nuance or shading.

Conclusion and Inevitable Personal Anecdote

As a person whose ex (accidentally) did something similar for me in our breakup conversation*, I can attest that being liberated from the binds of seeing an abusive partner as a salvageable human being that you “failed” or “gave up on” is very, very helpful to one’s recovery. 10/10, would recommend.

But like also, I probably shouldn’t ever be made responsible for my ex’s living situation and psychological care in a custodial environment.

* As I was breaking up with him, my ex said something so stupid and cartoonishly despicable that it instantly undermined my entire conception of him.

Kind of going insane about the different choices of bite masks for Will and Hannibal.

Transparent for Will vs. white for Hannibal.

At this point of the show, Will is in prison, but he is also needed at a crime scene because of his special autism powers.

His transparent mask is an interesting choice for that. People think that they have discovered his true nature. That he's a killer, a cannibal. That all along, he has been lying to everyone about who he truly is.

However, a transparent mask allows people to still see him and his facial expressions. Yes, he is being held back, but at the same time, he isn't hidden. It's all out there for anyone who has eyes and doesn't jump to a conclusion because it's the most convenient and easy option.

Those who choose to look, to really see him, can still do so, even when he's muzzled. In fact, Jack Crawford's first order of business at the crime scene is to take Will's mask off.

For Will, his mask doesn't take away from his essence, his character.

Now Hannibal gets a white mask.

Let's ignore the obvious associations of "clean", "sterile", "medical", and "Doctor". Instead, let's focus more on what the mask literally does.

Hannibal is at BSHCI on an insanity plea. At this point, people know who, or rather what he is. A killer. A murderer. A man who quite literally eats people. The metaphorical mask is off.

But at the same time, that is also what he is being reduced to. Hannibal the Cannibal.

This is where the mask comes into play. It hides his face. You can't see his facial expression. It's a shield, but it's a shield in both ways. It protects the world from Hannibal, but it also protects Hannibal from the world.

Even if you wanted to look, you can't. Everyone is locked out.

Everyone except for one person.

The one person in front of whom Hannibal chooses to take off his mask.

Will Graham.

[fruit-teeth]

Someone online seeing an art piece they don’t understand: ugh this is soo weird this person must have been on so many drugs when they made this LOL

Me: what if I hit you with a brick

[firestorm09890]

do you love the city you live in

[stopthatfool]

Consistently shocked by the idea that people think Bradley Rooster Bradshaw is chill and laid back. He’s actually shockingly unchill. He is the opposite of chill. He did not inherent any of his parents chillness. He’s a loser who’s too invested in everything.

Like ya hi I’m Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and I cut off my remaining family, surrogate father, and support system for 15 years cuz he pulled my naval academy papers because he didn’t want me to die like my biological father and because my mother wanted me to be free of the navy’s confinements and to exist outside of a system that physically uses me for their own power and political gains— gains I will never experience and feel for myself. A system that sees me as no more than a number, a soldier, something easily replaceable, as a body to be sacrificed in a war that i did not start nor will i finish.

“Bradley's chill.” No he’s not. He’s a beast. He’s a 30 something year old man whose entire purpose revolves around holding a grudge and proving his surrogate father wrong. This beast who literally said this to his surrogate father— "No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn when you burn in." Beastly. Ghastly thing to say. 15 years and he still hates the guy who's been there for him since day one. He’s a guy who refuses to even begin to understand where Mav was coming from or to even think of what his mother wanted. He’s evil. And I love him.

Hi I’m Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and when someone brings up a well known, easily accessible fact that my father and surrogate father used to fly together I will try to cause physical harm against them and my friends will have to physically hold me back. I’m Bradley Bradshaw and I was willing to put my entire career on the line (the one in which I put my family aside for) so I can attack and beat this guy up.

I love his big ol’ Bambi eyes… he’s evil and fucked up and he’s not chill. Yes he wears jorts and tropical shirts, but that just means he’s gay and a fucking liar. Just cuz he looks like some surfer dude does not mean that he’s actually laid back like one. He’s lying to himself— trying to convince himself he is something that he is not and never will be. He is unchill. He’s lame. He has undiagnosed anxiety and it physically expresses itself through anger and loserly-ness. He cares so much to the point of self sabotage. He will always be unchill, no matter how much he tries to change that fact.

Y’all ever want to cradle a grown man in your arms? (graphic design is my passion)