#this should have been three posts I see that now

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[shimmershifts]

an open letter to those who have not yet shifted.

i don't know how many of you will see this, let alone how many will read it entirely. this letter is for those who have been trying to shift for two years, five years, more. those who cannot give up, and those who will not give up, and maybe even those who already have. to preface, this letter will not rehash everything you already know. you've scrolled every forum, you've seen every method, you've read every tip. you've trialed, and errored, and persevered... but you're still here. law of assumption, manifestation, belief, intention. but you're still here. you've been told all about shifting... right? you already know what shifting is... right? you should already know how to shift... right? but you're still here.

this letter is not intended to debase or invalidate those who do already believe in those things and who are satisfied with that. this is for those who have been trying that way for 2 years, 5 years, and more, and still haven't shifted. this is for those who might want an alternative perspective.

what you've been told

in my personal opinion, the online shifting community as it currently stands is very... rigid. narrow. there are a few dominant views, and then the many who drown out any possible dissent or disagreement. i do understand why this happens. reality shifting is already a marginal belief, hounded by anti-shifters and disbelieved and debunked on all sides, so it makes sense that people feel the instinct to close ranks at any sign of an outsider. unfortunately, this has led to a community that raises its hackles at even other reality shifters who simply don't believe the exact same way that you do. law of assumption. manifestation. intent. (and dare i say it, the multiverse.)

i don't believe in any of that, in the context of shifting.

now, wait! don't go yet, stay with me. it's okay if you do. i'm not intending to change the minds of those who already believe in these things. i'm not going to go at anyone and say "i'm right, you're wrong, and you must change your mind to agree with me!" that would be silly, and counterproductive. let's lower our guards, and extend an olive branch, please. if you feel these things serve your journey, then carry on. you're allowed to disagree with me, i won't be upset. you're allowed to think i'm wrong, if you want. literally no worries at all.

but i am a little tired frankly of certain ideas being treated as the only options, and often in a rude or hostile manner. if you are someone who has spent five years trying to shift, and you see yet another post that boils down to "all you have to do is want it hard enough" does that not hurt your soul? the following sections of this post are for those who these ideas have not been working for. for those who have not yet shifted. it's been two years. five years. more. and you're still here. are you open to another possibility?

what is reality shifting?

i've told you what i don't believe, but what about what i do? i'll try to keep this as concise as possible for the sake of brevity and comprehension, knowing i could potentially clarify in future posts. but please continue with the understanding that im a chronic overexplainer, and my curse is the fact that the extra words don't always actually increase understanding. bear with me.

reality shifting: broadly speaking, this refers to shifting your linear experience of reality from one, to another. this has been known by many other names in the past, across continents and cultures, even in pre-agriculture societies. i'd include ideas like persistent realms, quantum jumping, focus 21, etc. language is subjective, and people may describe or understand the same experience in different ways.

i believe reality shifting is a haphazard side effect of our limited ability to perceive and comprehend reality. let me explain. space, as we understand it, is three dimensional. but reality isn't. it's our bodies and minds limiting our perception and understanding that makes all of reality seem that way to us at surface level.

1D: let's consider a hypothetical one dimensional existence. everything would a straight line, and the only way to perceive anything else would be as a single point directly in front or directly behind you. forwards and backward. the 2D and 3D are beyond your limited ability to physically sense or feel, let alone to comprehend. Forget about the 4D (time). due to your lack of comprehension, you cannot move at will in two dimensional planes, let alone three dimensional space or even time. you are static, a single point.

2D: let's consider a hypothetical two dimensional existence. it would be a flat, infinite planar expanse. you might be a square, or a circle. you can move freely in two dimensional directions (forward, backwards, side to side), but not in the 3D. No up, no down. If you tried to perceive a three dimensional object, you would only be able to comprehend it as linear, a line on the horizon where it intersects your 2 dimensional plane. you would perceive the 3D as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it. the 4D, or time, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

3D: what about our three dimensional existence? congratulations, you now are a form, such as a sphere, or a cube. you can move freely in a voluminous, infinite three dimensional space. Forward, backwards, side to side, up, and down. if you *try* to perceive the fourth dimension (time), you can only comprehend it as linear, a line where it intersects your 3 dimensional space. You perceive it as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it yourself. any dimensions higher than that, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

quick 4D sidebar: clearing this one up now because this will confuse some of you who are involved in other communities. in many law of assumption and manifestation communities, "4D" has been used to refer to your imagination, inner world, a bridge to "higher vibrational states", etc. i don't use it that way. i use it in the sense of the mathematical concept, or linking three-dimensional space with time. 4D=time.

4D and 5D: so, time is the fourth dimension. that means it is four dimensional, yet due to our limitations as 3D creatures, we can only perceive it as linear. we perceive it as moving around us, without our direction, forwards, (or backwards in some cultures). what about the 5th dimension? the static one? the one we can only perceive one point of at a time? let's call this 5th dimension... reality. due to our limited perception, it may not seem like it, but time and reality are just like space in that all of it exists at once. if you were a 5th dimensional creature, you wouldn't see a bunch of different realities, you'd just see one the way we just see one 3D universe around us right now.

tip: think of it this way, if a three dimensional creature moving through time is only able to perceive it linearly, it may think that each point of time exists separately, passing by in chronological order. this would be like a character in a book, the character experiences each page one at a time as we turn the page. but we know that actually, the entire book exists all at the same time, and already did exist before we picked it up and started reading it, and continues to exist even when we set it down. the same is true of time, and reality. even if we perceive it as linear, or a point, all of it actually exists simultaneously, like space.

still, we can only perceive one point of reality at a time. i believe when we reality shift, we are by some freak of nature (or nurture) finding a way to trigger a "movement" in this "5th dimension," and therefor shifting our linear experience of time and our singular perceptual experience of one reality to another. ("movement" is a bit of an abstraction here, as movement generally refers to 3D space. you're not actually moving anywhere, you're already there, you just... can't see it at the same time as this.)

ok, so how the heavens do i shift?

if you read through all of the above, i assume that's what you're asking by now. "get to the point shimmer! how do i shift?" if you don't need intention, belief, assumption, manifestation, three gallons of water, crystals, or anything else then what do you need to shift?

if we boil shifting down to its absolute core, all you need to do in order to shift is to shift. (put down the pitch forks, and the flaming feathers and tar. i'll elaborate.)

shifting involves finding a way for us 3 dimensional creatures to trigger a shift in a dimensional direction that we do not have the capacity to perceive. so what i mean by "all you have to do to shift, is to shift" is that there is no physical movement, or secret password we can whisper that makes us shift, not inherently. it's sort of like being told to find your invisible and non corporeal primordial tail, and then swish it in a direction that doesn't spatially exist. find your "move in the 5D button", and then press it. except, there is no button.

so how do we "move" from one point of reality to the other? well, the first clue to this is in noticing what part of us is actually doing the "moving".

you don't make it happen with your three dimensional form. there is no body part or mass or motor function in your 3D body that triggers a shift. there's nothing that allows a three dimensional form to move in five dimensional directions... you just can't. your body stays here. that's good news actually, in my opinion. there is no need to force yourself into strange bodily positions, or chug water, or whatever else. your 3D body is irrelevant, because it's not going anywhere. you don't have to do anything with your body to shift. some people can shift awake, asleep, in the shower, walking around, etc.

you also don't necessarily do it with the fourth dimension, time. there is no specific amount of time that you'll shift after. it might seem you've spent a lot of time trying to shift, but the actual shift itself is instantaneous. some people shift their first try, and some of you might be on your second decade of attempts. again, the time factor being irrelevant is good news because this means it doesn't have to take time.

i also don't think we do it with just intent or belief. the intention word gets used so much it basically means nothing, but the general idea is that intent is the driving force that manifests your desired outcome. in the context of shifting, people use it like "set your intention to shift, and you will" or "intent makes you shift." or the dreaded "you just have to believe harder." personally, i don't think that's true. i don't think intention makes you shift. if it did, you all would have shifted by now, right? i think looking anyone who's been trying to shift for 4 years dead in the eye and telling them they just haven't intended to shift yet is honestly a bit cruel and unusual. some people who intend to shift will shift, but in my opinion, its a case of correlation, and not causation. there are also people who shift without intending to, or who intend to shift but don't.

it's also not really our thoughts that shift. or our mind as a concept, or our entire self. we know this because you don't turn into a comatose vegetable when you shift to a different reality. your thoughts, mind, and self here are unaffected by your awareness shifting away from it. if you successfully "permashifted" to hogwarts tonight, your self here would still wake up in the morning and go to work.

so what does shift? only our linear experience of our own awareness. so in order to reality shift, we just need to find a way to trigger our awareness to shift from one point of reality to another in a non linear fashion, and then integrate that into our linear experience. aha! you think. great! now how do i do that...? unfortunately, this is not an exact science (yet.) once you begin shifting regularly, i think it gets "easier" in some regards because you get a sense for how your awareness "feels" and what works for you. for those who haven't shifted, i can't say "take three deep breaths and recite the secret words, and then you'll shift." there is nothing specific you can physically do that will for certain make you shift. there's no secret passwords.

there is no key to shifting. the good news is, this means there is also no lock.

what we can do is get ourselves primed, into a state that increases the chances our awareness is triggered to shift. ie, find the "move in the 5D" button, (you know, the one that doesn't exist) and learn how to press it. and because it is our awareness that shifts, my "methods" have to do with priming your awareness for shifting. you don't need to believe, which is a good thing because it means doubts won't hold you back. you don't necessarily need to intend, which is a good thing because it means there are no secret blockages in your way. no "subconscious", no "reprogramming", no "delusion is the solution." you don't need any of that. you also don't have to do anything specific with your body or space unless you feel like it and want to. you don't need a script, but you can make one if you want. it's whatever, it's irrelevant darling, it's non-consequential.

these three methods below basically encompass all shifting methods out there. i might expand on techniques for these methods later, but for now i'll go over the basics.

method one: pure awareness

it basically boils down to two steps. get into a state of pure awareness, and then shift.

the first step for this method is actually a simple one, sort of, but i think it's unkind to call it easy. it can be easy, if you just happen to have a perfect technique that works for you on your first try. if so, congrats! if not, don't despair. it comes more naturally to some than others, at first. you can probably build the skills and try different techniques necessary for you to get there.

but what is pure awareness? it's currently very often being called "the void state", but i'm not using that term for a few reasons. one, i think using the term "the void state" or calling it "the void" is making people think it's some sort of place that they're trying to go. it's not. it's not a physical place at all, and that's kind of the point. most of the time, your awareness is perceiving reality through the confines concept of 3D reality, because that's the data input it's receiving from your brain and body. that grounds you in this reality, and allows you to go about your day to day life. your goal with the pure awareness method is to focus on just your awareness, absent of all 3D distraction data and input. that way, your awareness is primed to be triggered to shift its focus to the 3D perception of a different point of reality when you come out of that state.

i might make a post about techniques for getting into the state of pure awareness, but this post is already long enough.

method two: destabilization of awareness

this method gets over complicated, but it basically boils down to two steps. destabilize your awareness, and then shift.

honestly, most shifting methods i see online are in some way doing this. lucid dreams, the hypnogogic state, SATS, self-hypnosis, "symptoms", and also all those iterations of the "raven method" the "staircase method" the "alice in wonderland method" etc are all basically ways to destabilize your awareness from the linear perception it is so used to in this point of reality, offering the opportunity of triggering a shift to a different one. they're all sort of either distracting or subverting your focus on the 3D here in this point of reality.

basically, you'll be trying to discombobulate yourself to the point your awareness is not focused on 3D reality, and trigger a shift.

method three: absence of awareness

sleep method gang, rise up. i'm serious. this method involves reducing your awareness to zero, or as close to it as possible, another potentially prime state to trigger a shift. (and by sleep method, i don't mean lucid dreamers or SATS, i mean simply going to sleep here, having a period of complete unawareness, like totally dreamless sleep, and then waking up in your DR.)

this absence of awareness during sleep is (in my experience) the most common cause of accidental or unintentional shifts, but you might be one of those who can trigger a shift to desired realities with this too.

sleeping is not the only way to get to the state of the lack of awareness. i'd say total distraction methods also count for this. you're not asleep, your body is awake, but you're so "zoned out" (or alternatively in a meditative state such that) you're absolutely not aware of the 3D experience of this point of reality anymore.

this is completely different from the state of pure awareness by the way, because in the state of pure awareness you are aware. like, in pure awareness you have a full train of thought and total control. the absence of awareness is the opposite. it feels sort of like a "blip" where reality time and space passed you by and you were not aware of it.

[nqueso-emergency]

Okay so I must know your opinion because you are a voice of a reason in our BT purgatory: what do you think the chances are of BuckTommy getting back together? I’ve been convinced up until just recently that it was a no-go and now I’m not sure sure 🤔

Ngl I put off answering these asks because I'm well aware at how "passionately" my blog is devoured by some fans but, I'm a member of this fandom like anyone else, so, whatever.

There are three ways to view the chances of Bucktommy getting back together and I think it's important to approach from each different view.

There's the BoB view: stating we're all fucking delusional and Tommy was a plot device the entire time.

This view can easily be debunked for one major reason, which is... THEY'VE BEEN WRONG ABOUT BUDDIE FOR SEVEN FUCKING YEARS.

There's the bucktommy view: This one is where my actual doubt does start to sink in. I see the doubt among other bucktommy fans, the weird ass manipulation done by the BoBs (they can literally make you question reality. Am I as delusional as they are???) And then, of course, you have that "exit" review done by a professional BoB who found a keyboard.

This view can also be debunked because, in fandom, we read into shit waaaaay too much and being influenced by fellow fans can really skew your thought process, not to mention, it really isn't all that healthy.

The third view is the General Audience view, and it's the most important (and really the only way you should view the chances of things happening).

The General Audience is who the writers write this show for (besides Tim himself). They don't see couch theory. They see characters sitting on a couch. They don't read articles from publications called "fangirlish." They don't scroll through years of an actor's social media posts to make sure that person has the same views as they do (which is funny because I guarantee you at least half of the GA voted for Trump). But, I digress.

When you look at their comments or even talk to real general audience members, they believe Tommy will be back. The Halloween episode, along with Josh's speech (and the text bubbling from Tommy), solidified that. They expect to see Tommy again, OR for there to be an onscreen conversation about closure. Maybe Buck mentions that they talked and decided to just be friends.

But, no matter what happens in this next section of season 8, there has to be something in the storylines that involves Tommy in some way. It's left too unresolved for the general audience to accept the way things were left.

So, anon, I think the chances of bucktommy getting back together are extremely promising ❤️

[julieverne]

Jane knew Maura had been watching her. Waiting for her to fall apart. Maura had scheduled a time to cry; she was so organised that she probably assumed Jane had too.

Jane hadn't. She hadn't been expecting a post card from Frost. His optimism. That he'd been alive when he'd sent it. That he'd expected to be alive when Jane received it.

It hit her almost as hard as that car had hit him.

She'd never liked attending automobile accidents; too often they smelled of burning human flesh.

It was messed up how hungry it had started to make her feel.

But also the blunt force trauma, the scattered limbs, the crushing weight. Often there were survivors, their voices getting weaker as the firefighters worked the jaws of life often a little too late for those little survivors. Jane had supervised Tommy and Lydia installing TJ's car seats; it was why he'd survived having a building fall on him.

Frost had too, once. But not this time.

Not this time.

Even through her tears she found her phone. She had wanted to be alone, but now that she was she found herself desperately upset by her solitude. Jo whined frantically at her feet and Jane grasped her tight, letting the little dog lick her face in an effort to comfort her.

"You're okay, Jo. You're a good girl. It's not about you. You've done nothing wrong."

Jo licked Jane's nose and stopped whining but Jane held her until she wriggled away.

She called Maura. She couldn't speak; she was crying too hard. Maura didn't need Jane to speak; she understood. It was why Jane loved her.

"I'll be right there. I can stay on the line."

Jane nodded even though Maura couldn't see her.

"Please," she managed, and she heard Maura scoop up her car keys and heels and lock the door behind her.

She almost panicked at the sound of the Prius; Frost had died in a car and now Maura was in a car. She couldn't lose Maura. She'd already lost Frost. She wanted to take it back, to hang up, to have never called.

She wanted to go back a week and tell Frost to stay in Boston. She wanted to hug him and say goodbye. She wanted to say so many things to him. He'd been such a good partner. He'd been accommodating for her weird family. He'd never made fun of her in a mean-spirited way. He'd never been racist or sexist in front of her. He'd just been, quite simply, a lovely man, an excellent partner and a good friend.

Maura knocked, but Jane couldn't get up. Maura used her key and saw Jane huddled on the floor. She locked the door and slid the deadbolt on behind herself, then took a cushion from Jane's couch before kneeling beside Jane and scooping her into her arms.

Jane held herself because the hurt was too much to let anyone else in, because she was ashamed of crying, ashamed of needing too much.

Maura held her anyway. She was warm and smelled good; she always did, unless she'd been in close proximity to a decomposing corpse for too long. No, tonight she smelled fresh and clean and she was so soft. Her hands held Jane close. Her face rested against the top of Jane's head and she kissed Jane's temple once; twice. Three times. Maura didn't say it was okay because it wasn't okay. They'd promised each other back when they'd met that they wouldn't, and they never did.

"I know," Maura murmured. "Come on."

She helped Jane to her feet and pulled her over to the couch. She settled down with Jane in her arms, holding her even closer than before. Jane wanted to curl up in her lap. Jane wanted to live here.

"I loved him," Jane said, realising it was true. Not in a romantic sense, but he'd been family to her. Family but better because he was a detective. It was the same way she loved Korsak. It wasn't the same way she loved Maura.

"I know. I loved him too."

It struck Jane that she'd never said it out loud, that Frost had never known.

"I never told him." The sobbing started again. "I should have told him."

"Jane. He knew. He knew how much you valued him as a partner and as a friend. He loved you too. It was just something you couldn't say. You worked together."

"I love you," Jane said, the sobs still wracking her body. "Maura, you have to know."

"I know, Jane. I love you too."

"You told me once. I didn't say it back. I was worried you would think it was romantic."

"Well, this is hardly romantic, is it? So you chose your timing well."

"It is romantic," Jane whispered. "I mean, the way I love you is. Maybe this moment isn't, but there's things you need to know. You were driving over here and I thought 'what if she doesn't make it? What if she never knows?'"

Jane pulled away and found a tissue, cleaning herself up as best she could.

"I used to think the worst thing that could happen was you finding out. Now I think the worst thing is you never knowing. So you can hate me if you want, but you have to know. I didn't say yes to Casey because he doesn't make me feel anywhere near as much as you do. I see you smile and it lights up my heart. You're like a beacon and I'm just a stupid moth."

"You're not a stupid moth, Jane, and moths aren't stupid. They actually have incredibly advanced positioning systems based on light, and human technology has evolved faster than they have."

Jane smiled at Maura; she was such a nerd. She was so adorable when she had a fun fact to share. Jane loved her.

"I love you," Jane said again. "You don't have to do anything or feel any way, I just can't risk the best thing in my life not knowing that she is any more."

"Any more what?"

"Not knowing any more that you're the best thing in my life."

"Oh, Jane." There it was. The softening around the eyes. The pity. Jane braced herself. "I know I am. The way you smile when you see me every morning, the way you're always in my house even though Angela drives you crazy, the way you do anything I ask even if it's a major inconvenience to you. I know you love me. I've always known you loved me. Even when we were fighting you loved me. But you were raised to find that scary and evil. I know, Jane. I'm glad you got there, but I wish it hadn't cost us a dear friend for you to get there on your own."

Frost. It stung. It burned. There were hundreds of scumbags Jane saw every day who'd actually deserved death, yet it had come for sweet, gentle Frost instead. Tears slipped from her eyes and Jane was helpless to stop them.

Usually she hated anyone seeing her cry, but Maura was her exception to every rule she had in life.

"You don't mind?" Jane whispered.

Maura's hand took hers. She squeezed Jane's hand gently, careful of the foreshortened tendons. She brought Jane's hand to her mouth.

And then she kissed it. Her lips were soft and pressed gently, then she turned Jane's hand in hers and kissed the palm too. She released Jane's hand, and Jane found it drawn to Maura's cheek, cupping it. Her thumb brushed over Maura's lips and they parted for her.

Jane pulled her hand away slowly, trying to process what had just happened.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Maura nodded. Her eyes were dark and her lips were still parted. The uncertainty that often plagued her had left.

"Romantically, yes. I dated Dennis because I knew you hated him. I thought you'd stop me. I thought you'd say something."

"I'm an idiot."

"But you're not a moth."

Jane felt like a moth, drawn by the light shining through Maura's hair, buffeted by the wind, conveyed on battered wings. Broken but still moving forward. Maura's mouth met hers and it was twice as wonderful as Jane had ever imagined because she'd never managed to get this far in her imagination.

Maura drew back first. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You're grieving. I'm grieving. It's not a good idea to progress any further at the moment."

"But you're staying, right?" Jane's voice got higher in panic at the idea of Maura driving away from her through the night. She closed the space between them and held Maura to her. "I can sleep on the couch."

"You can't," Maura said frankly. "You're too tall. You can sleep in your bed with me. And I'll hold you when you cry, and you can hold me when I cry, and we can talk about Frost all night if you want, or we don't have to talk at all."

"I miss him. I really, really miss him."

"Come on. Get out of that dress and into bed." Maura blushed. "I mean, get into something you can sleep in. So we can sleep."

"Thank you," Jane said. "For coming over. For not minding. For being so kind to me when I don't always deserve it."

"Jane. Of course." Maura helped Jane to her feet, then to the bedroom. She helped Jane with her dress too, keeping her eyes modestly averted for once. Then she undressed and borrowed some of Jane's clothes, sliding into bed beside Jane.

Casey in her bed had always felt wrong. Maura in her bed was like heaven.

She knew Maura liked sex; liked a lot of sex. Maybe it wouldn't be good, maybe Jane would feel that same pressure she had with Casey.

Or maybe it would be like this, with Maura's heartbeat next to Jane's and lazy murmurs into the night until they both fell asleep.

Either way, Jane felt somehow that she'd gained almost as much as she'd lost.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Kaiju!AU Rewrite Snippet

So as stated in a previous post, I've started rewriting the chapters I currently have for the Kaiju!AU due to the original not meeting my original vision and my own pacing minimizing the quality (in my own mind anyway). I'm still on hiatus from answering asks for imagines for the AUs, but I am still working on the ideas at my own pace and will slowly reintegrate myself into something comfortable and enjoyable.

Anyway, this is set shortly after Yuu discovers the ship and plane graveyard from the original prologue, expanding a bit more on the island itself...as well as meeting someone MUCH earlier than I had planned the first time around. >v>

I've still got much to finish writing for the first chapter and get it to a point where I'm satisfied with it, but I'm happy that I've been able to add more of the worldbuilding ideas I had discussed in previous posts so far!

In short: Story begins relatively the same, but it's been expanded a helluva lot more than before and will progress differently now that I'm gaining more confidence in my own skills since first attempting this AU!

Warnings: Some swearing in the snippet and some implied blood. If I need to tag anything in here a specific way, please let me know so I can keep it in mind whenever I post the final product!

//////BEGIN SNIPPET//////

The sun was steadily rising now as they continued their search, somehow managing to escape the giant metal deathtrap maze and into a wide clearing. Up ahead they could see a jungle tree line, immediately recognizing the cluster of yellow at the top of one of the trees. Relieved to have found a food source, they ran as fast as they could towards the trees. As they grew closer and closer, however, their excitement turned to confusion as they slowed to a trot. Still the trunks of the trees continued to grow bigger, dwarfing Yuu as they stopped and stared up in horror at the sight of the trees looming over them like towers.

“What the hell is going on,” they uttered, slowly turning in a circle as they realized just how small they were compared to the foliage. Plants that should have come up to their waist or shoulders were large enough to form a canopy, shielding them from the steadily growing harsh sunlight. Trees that should have been easily 15-20 feet tall were easily three times that height, fruit that should have been easy to pluck and gather now swayed threateningly like a boulder ready to be dropped.

Buzzing overhead caught their attention as they looked up, pure terror filling their veins as they saw what could only be described as a giant dragonfly-like creature flitting about. It hovered close to a flower, the downdraft of its wings buffeting Yuu with strong winds as it landed on a petal—and disappearing the moment the flower snapped shut around its body, clamping down like a vice as it struggled to escape.

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope!” was all Yuu managed to say before they scurried away, not wanting to find out if anything else had a taste for flesh. “Giant food is one thing, but I draw the line at man-eating plants!”

Giant food, giant bugs, giant plants, a deserted island, and an entire graveyard of ships and planes? This had to be a fever dream or a nightmare of epic proportions! Yet it was getting harder and harder to find logic in anything they were seeing. None of this should even be possible, and yet…here they were, stranded in the middle of nowhere with no idea of who they were, how they got here, or even why they were here. And if the insects and plants were enormous, what else was even bigger than them? They didn’t even know if there were any other survivors out the-

‘Get a grip, Yuu!’ they thought, managing to stick close to the edge of the jungle on their right and keeping the shore on their left side. ‘Panicking won’t help anything, and you need to stay focused. Food will have to wait, so let’s just find water and shel-‘ the ground collapsed under their right foot, sending Yuu sliding down a steep incline with loud, “Aaaah!!”

Whud!

“…ow,” they uttered, groaning as they slowly sat up. Glancing back where they came from, they spotted the steep slope that had been concealed by one of the leaves. The dirt was smoothed away to reveal red and yellow clay, as though someone had carved out the opening with a tool to remove any bumps or ridges. Realizing that it would be too steep a climb to get out of the ravine, they sighed and shook their head. “Great…is everything on this island trying to kill-”

Thoom…

“…me…” Their voice trailed off as another thud hit the ground, the earth vibrating beneath their feet as they slowly turned towards the densest part of the forest. Something was coming, the sound of branches creaking and snapping reaching Yuu’s ears as they slowly started to creep behind a large rock formation—before finally noticing the razor-sharp teeth and the empty eye socket. They clamped their hands over their mouth as a massive black shape began to emerge, ducking into the gap of the skull until they could peek through the socket.

The creature that emerged was gigantic, towering beyond anything they could imagine as it crept into the area on four legs. The sunlight fell across its body, black and green feathers gleaming while its beak—wickedly sharp and deadly—was slick with something damp.

‘What…what the fuck is that thing?!’ Yuu thought, pressing their body against the inside of the skull as they watched the monster move.

It sniffed the air, its four glowing golden eyes scanning the area. It sniffed at the colorful crystal formations at the base of the tree. A pair of thin, small arms extending from its chest as the strange hands grasped at the stones, snapping them from the base. When it opened its beak, the sun glinted off of sharp rows of teeth before it crunched down on the crystals. Once the crystals were gone, it sniffed around for a moment before it stood on its hind legs and leaned against one of the trees. Its neck stretched out further than they thought was possible, its sharp beak plucking at the fruit that seemed so ridiculously small in comparison. From this angle, they could see a pair of massive wings pressed tightly to its sides and a long serpentine tail lazily sweeping across the ground.

‘Okay…whatever the hell that thing is, it seems only interested in fruit, so maybe it won’t mistake me for a bug and eat me…?’

Something skittered across the bark near the monster’s claw, and a moment later its head had darted forward. A giant spider-like bug with crystalline spikes was squirming in its beak before it tossed its head back, swallowing it whole before continuing to pluck at the fruit with a distinctly happy trill.

‘…yeah, that makes more sense,’ they thought, feeling their heart beating heavily in their chest. ‘Dammit…I can’t run or that thing will spot and eat me like that spider! Maybe I can just…wait here in this skull and-”

Beep-bwoop!

“Shit!” Yuu whispered under their breath as they immediately reached down to the ankle bracelet. To their horror, the bird-lizard monster’s head immediately snapped towards their direction, the two feathery ears popping up and swiveling left and right—searching for the sound again. ‘Dammit, why is the universe trying to kill me?!’

THOOM…THOOM…

Each footstep from the monster made their heart jump as they pressed their body against the wall of the skull, bracing their feet against the other side to avoid falling over and making more noise. They could hear the beast sniff the air, the musty smell of rotting meat and fruit washing over the area while something loud scraped against the ground around their hiding spot.

‘Please don’t beep again, please don’t let it find me, please, please, please, please!’ they thought, staring at the bracelet as the light blinked mockingly up at them. The monster sniffed—horrifyingly close now—as a wave of hot air rushed through the eye socket. Through the gaps in the skull’s teeth, they could see its shadow blocking out the sunlight, the tips of what they realized were its massive claws beginning to curl underneath their hiding spot and starting to lift. ‘I just woke up, I don’t want to die!’

Just then, in the distance, a loud, echoing roar filled the air.

Immediately the bird-lizard let out a sound akin to a chirp as it dropped their shelter back down, the quiet crooning it was making earlier devolving into a terrifying hissing snarl and caw. The earth shook as Yuu heard it bound away, branches and leaves snapping in its path as they heard it barrel through the forest. Then…

Silence.

///////END SNIPPET////////

MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! This is only a snippet of what to expect once I'm finished with my rewrites! Something I've come to realize is that whenever I introduced some of the Kaiju, I never really elaborated on their appearances outside of the basics from that species list I wrote before. Definitely going to be making more of a point of describing how they look to make it easier for my readers to imagine!

[straows]

𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘺, 𝘕𝘖 𝘔𝘈𝘕. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭… 😔

𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰. 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘞𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.

You were quick to leave the house. Feeling sick to your stomach, and salty tears burning down your cheeks, you pulled out of the drive. You looked like a hot mess. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and nothing but leggings and some socks, you shouldn’t be on the road.

And you damn sure shouldn’t be driving.

Your phone was blowing up though, the contact ‘Handsome man❤️’ get popping up. One call, two calls, three calls, and before you knew it you racked up 75 missed calls, and 124 messages.

After running a few red lights, and almost pit maneuvering some old bitch for going to damn slow, you made it finally to your girls house. And before you could even knock on that door, the lady herself had ripped the door open from its hinges and yanked you inside.

“Ho, I have seen you on Life360 driving like you ain’t got nothing to lose! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She glared at you, worried for sure, but her anger melted in the face of your teary, puffy and red face. “Oh what happened? Here sit down and I’ll get you a drink.”

“H-he thinks I’m ugly and- and he knows I’ve been working out now and-“ your sniffles kept breaking up your sentence, soft voice cracking under the pressure of heart ache.

“Baby he does not think you’re ugly. Have you seen that man? Have you seen the shit he comments on your post? If he wasn’t your boyfriend I’d have half the mind to report his ass for harassment. Dude is thirsty.”

Now that did make you laugh, a little smile rose to your lips before you sighed and stared at the ground before finally talking about what happened. And you told her everything.

“That’s why you’ve been losing so much weight? Girl that is for the wrong reason! You are so fine already, woman what the hell is wrong with.” Your best friend sat down beside you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as she wiped your face.

“I don’t know… it’s just the way he looked at her.” And the water works started all over again.

“He was drunk- and now I know the saying drunk words are sober thoughts but I don’t think that applies to this situation.” She held your hands before letting you rest your head on her shoulder. “That man is in love with you, y/n. Yeah, he’s a dumbass. And yes, you did gain weight but that was some sexy weight.”

You found yourself smiling again as you looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“Hell yes. If I was a man I’d be tappin’ that ass so quick!” The woman laughed along with you, smiling before leaning forward and handing you some water.

“So you think he was just talking out his ass?” You looked over at her, eyes no longer glossy from crying.

“Yes! Didn’t you say he just watched Transformers? You KNOW what that movie does to him- makes him act all weird n shit.” Your friend’s lips curled in disgust and you couldn’t help but cackle.

“Oh my god he does do that doesn’t he?” You couldn’t not laugh. It was like a kid trying to be a gangster, except it made Gojo act like an asshole. “He’s so weird.” You smiled fondly, the pressure on your chest elevated a little bit.

“He is so weird! Why the hell did you pick him? And after all the fine ass men I tried to set you up with.” Your friend got up and grabbed some snacks.

“Um, they weren’t fine, you just wanted them to give you free weed by extension of me.” You rolled your eyes but laughed when she glared at you.

“We would have BOTH gotten free weed.” She threw a bag of chips at you, before noticing your phone still blowing up. “Damn- 300 unopened texts?!”

“Should I answer him?” You looked down at your phone, the phone still locked but you could see the number of texts and called.

“Yes. Girl I promise you he loves you. And even if you do gain weight, you look good with some thick on you. Like white on rice I’m finna be on that ass if you don’t answer that phone cause it’s starting to piss me off.” Your friend left the room to give you some privacy.

You smiled as you watched her walk away before finally picking up the phone and opening it.

“BABY! PLEASE ANSWER ME!”

“DONT DO THIS I LOVE YOU!”

“I MEANT TO RESPOND I WAS JUST SHOCKED!”

“I REMEMBERED WHAT I SAID AT THAT PARTY- BABY I DIDNT MEAN IT!”

“PLEASE RESPOND TO ME Y/N I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I DIDNT MEAN IT!”

“I JUST WATCHED CARS, YOU KNOW WHAT IT DOES TO ME!”

“BABY YOU COULD BE 900lbs AND I WOULDNT CARE!”

“PLEASE!”

“I WILL KEEP TEXTING YOU!”

“AND CALLING!”

“BABY!”

“NOT TO MENTION I WAS DRINKING YOUR BAD BITCH JUICE!”

“PLEASE IT WAS THE WINE NOT ME”

“I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOUR BODY. YOUR FACe, YOUR PERSONALITY, I LOVE YOU!!!!!”

Sighing softly, you finally answered one of his many calls. Picking up the phone, you could hear his breath panting into the phone, little sniffles heard on the other line.

“Baby?” His voice sounded so sad it broke your heart. “Look I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be I was an absolute prick- I’m so so sorry!”

“Satoru…” looked down at your knees, you took a moment before answering, “that’s the reason I’ve been dieting and doing all this… I just want you to look at me like you did that woman…”

“Baby, fuck that woman! I was not in my right mind CLEARLY, because I said some stupid shit! I love YOU and your body. Baby I love you for you. And yes, you had some extra weight put on, but I loved it. Knowing that I was making you happy enough to relax and eat freely? I was so proud.”

“Really?” You asked, your bottom lip quivering as your heart did flips. “Even my belly?”

“Baby your belly makes me feral. I see it freely when you wear a dress? My cocks hard instantly. I don’t know what it is but I love that shit. But I love YOU more. If you wanna lose weight? That’s fine, I’m here with you. Hell I’ll go with you to the gym. But you wanna gain weight? Oh baby I am so fine with that too.”

“You really mean all this?”

“Yes. On my life. On the elders’ lives. On the neighbors and his children’s lives, and on the life of that stupid ass American president, I’m in love with you and everything you do. I will forever feel like shit for doing this to you baby I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” You cried into the phone, happy tears as all that heavy weight of anxiety and sadness rushed straight out of you.

“Please let me come get you, or you come here- or- or I’ll come to you- anything you want y/n.” Gojo was shaking on the other line he was talking so fast. You had this man so wrapped around your finger he was sweating. The thought of him hurting you- in anyway, had him going through more phases than Bella did when Edward dumped her.

“I’ll come home. I miss you.” You were quick to get up and grabbed your things. “I love you, I’ll see you when I get there.” Quickly hanging up, you gave your friend a bone crushing hug before rushing to your car.

When you pulled into that driveway, Gojo was standing outside by the front door. And when you opened your door he yanked you out of that car so fast, wrapping his arms around and pulling you to his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, then your nose, eyes, corner of your lips, your forehead, cheeks and chin, no part of your face went unkissed.

Giggling at all his antics, you wrapped your hands around his nape before pulling him into a deep, but loving kiss.

His hands grew tight around your waist, keeping you close as could be as he pressed further into the kiss. Mind you, y’all hadn’t been with each other in weeks. Let alone touched, hugged, kissed or cuddled.

The neighbor rushed out of the house, his ass on fire he was so angry, “quit kissing in the got damn drive way!” Grabbing his hose he immediately aimed it at you two.

Gojo merely flipped him off and deepened the kiss. A giggle split you two apart, you couldn’t stop smiling. Like the happy ending to a movie, Gojo guided you up the steps and inside, but not before he slapped your ass playfully.

After that day, things went back to normal. Hell, even better than normal. Gojo did not go near your wine, nor did he watch Cars 1 or 2. He always had a hand on you, an arm around your waist or an arm around your neck. Where you were, he was.

You gained the weight back, and Gojo did as he said he would. The happy weight you gained was like an aphrodisiac, this man is insane. He’s bending you over the counter, the couch, the bed, the shower, everywhere. He’s fucking you in the walmart bathroom, in an alleyway, at a bar. Hell he cannot not be around you or touch you.

It’s safe to say he’s definitely in love with you. But so are you. And that makes y’all the best couple.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.

𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥’𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘢 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘐’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 😏.

𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦

@thesecretlifeofmo @hanakotateyama @fishrene @moonchhu

[binomech]

I keep thinking about the simplicity and kindness with which Severance treats grief, and death. That you can express your pain in a million different ways but ultimately, what it always amounts to is: This person was alive, and I loved them, and now they aren't, and I still love them. Love is the only thing pulling us forward, even as it forces us to look back.

There's a few quotes from the show under the cut. There's not much else to this post, just like there isn't much else to someone you love dying. It hurts, and you miss them. It will always hurt a little bit, and that's okay. That's what remembering does.

Ms. Casey about Mark Scout:

Your outie can parallel park in less than 20 seconds. Your outie can roller-skate with grace. Your outie pays all of his gas and electric bills within three business days. Your outie listens to music while shaving, but not while showering. Your outie prefers two scoops of ice cream in a serving, but they must be the same flavor. Your outie once captured a butterfly.

Mark Scout about Gemma:

My wife was extraordinary. My wife was allergic to nutmeg. And when she sneezed, she always sneezed twice. My wife liked other people's dogs. My wife thought cardigans looked ridiculous. I loved all these things about her... Equally.

Dylan and Irving about Burt:

Irving: The last time I was happy was when all I knew was MDR. When I was good at my job and not trying to be happy. I'm going to leave, Dylan. Dylan: It is not leaving. So stop fucking calling it that. I know, you want... I know... Just fucking try. Irving: You're a good friend, Dylan. (...) I wanted you to know before I left. Dylan: Okay. Well, you're not. You... No. Stop it. Stop it. Listen to me. Look, I'm sorry that outie Burt has a hot husband or whatever. But he is not the point. Innie Burt is the guy you fell for, and I know because I encouraged the courtship. Irving: I... I want it to be over. I want the pain to be over. If he's gone and I'm gone... Dylan: Stop saying that. Irving: ...then somehow, we'll be together. Dylan: He wouldn't want that. Irving: How do you know? Dylan: Because I don't want that. Because I would be sad, and I would be less productive, and I'm really good at what I do here, whatever it is. And you're part of what makes me good at it. So please, do not go. Irving: Dylan... I'm your favorite perk. Dylan: Don't bring them into this. All I'm saying is, if Burt was still here, he would be telling you to stick around and figure out what the fuck this is.

Felicia and Irving about Burt:

Irving: I can't... My God, he was... he was fearless! Felicia: I worked with Burt for six years. And I only ever saw him scared of one thing: He spent two hours on his hair the first time he went to visit you. Irving: Really? I should... I should show you something. I'd draw [one portrait of him] every day I couldn't see him. My numbers went down, but I didn't even care.

Dylan about Irving:

It's hard to pinpoint a favorite Irving story. For the least fun guy in the world, he was really fun. He put the "dick" in contradiction. One time, he was pissed at me for watering down the toner, so he put toner in my water cup. He stopped me before I drank it, though. He just wanted to make a point, not harm me physically. But I did accidentally take a sip of it later, 'cause I forgot he said that. He asked me for help with something near the end, and I didn't listen. And in his final moments, he would have been totally justified in telling me to suck my own fuck. But he didn't. He was awesome, and I miss him.

[oceanicwriting]

hey, bro!

summary: where mattheo riddle is obsessed with his best friend sister, and for the first time, he can fuck her without protection and now he doesn't give a fuck about who knows what. not even his best friend.

pairing(s): non-wizard mattheo riddle x non-wizard female!reader

a/n: i'm so sooooorry this took me a while to post... but here it is! i'm still doing my road trip and i have no idea when i'll be back, but i have some good ideas if you are patient with me hehe.

+18 smut, unprotected sex, missionary, praising

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, —you moan as you feel his lips descend to the neckline of your shirt—. mattheo, wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ you thought he would ignore your voice because he easily lifts you up to sit on the counter, standing between your legs ready to receive him. although he continues to caress you with his large palms, he seems attentive to listen to what you have to say.

ㅤㅤㅤ —we can’t do this, —you whisper, looking him straight into his soft puppy brown eyes—. theodore could catch us, and we both know that would be fatal.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i can handle it, —he says, smiling and leaning in to kiss you again—. where does all this guilt come from, baby? i don't remember these words when we did it at my house, my car, the beach, the closet, the bathroom...

ㅤㅤㅤ you roll your eyes at his tone. funny but ironic.

ㅤㅤㅤ —get to the point.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo caresses your face with one of his hands, moving his thumb delicately over your cheekbone lit up red. his other hand travels to your back, where the neckline of the shirt allows him to feel your warm skin against the tip of his fingers. a shiver runs through your body, as weak as ever to his cold touch.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i don't think all the other times you cared so much. —you hated that his gaze enjoys so much seeing even the slightest reaction of your body to his presence—. theodore is drunk and, minutes ago, he went with my cousin to his room. why is that not illegal?

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh, playing with the collar of his black t-shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ —besides, it's my fault that his sister is so fucking hot? —he questions, letting out a soft laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ you give him a punch on the shoulder as he tries to lean in to kiss you again. lately, he didn’t seem to care if theodore, your brother, found out about you two, and it was driving you a little crazy. mattheo growls at your action and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —not here. go to my room in five. —you jump off the furniture, pushing mattheo against the wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ —there’s my girl.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo riddle and theodore nott have been friends since they were five. when they met, after your family moved to his neighborhood, you had just turned three. over time, the brunette became a constant figure at home. now the two great friends shared an apartment near the university in the busy streets of london.

ㅤㅤㅤ your story with mattheo is somewhat different. sure, you knew each other since you were little, but theodore became an overprotective brother by the time. no one could ever get close to his little sister, much less his friends who he knew so well. everything turned upside down when you turned thirteen, and your parents sent you to a boarding school for girls in the outskirts of the country. you didn't see mattheo again until a year ago, where all kinds of things started to go wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤ the first time you two had a run-in was eight months ago. theodore, after having insisted for hours, took you to a party with the strict condition of not being near his friends. the big problem started when your brother drank so much that he was unable to drive the car, and mattheo was the only sane one to take you home. if your brother hadn't drank more than he should have, you wouldn't have had the slightest intention of getting close to them, and everything that's happening with mattheo would never have blossomed.

ㅤㅤㅤ from that time on, mattheo started looking for you, and even if you insisted that it was forbidden, nothing could stop the desire of your eager bodies.

ㅤㅤㅤ and that's how you've ended up, once again, whimpering under his sticky body. you're not fully aware of how many times you've cum under the brunette's caresses, but you're sure you've enjoyed each one of them. the labored breathing, aroma of the room, and condoms thrown on the floor were proof of that.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, —he whispers, coming out of you to throw away the condom that was squeezing his cock—. so perfect. and just for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you barely smile because you're still a little lost from the explosion of sensations you'd experienced seconds ago. mattheo, until now, had tested your pussy until exhaustion. he had bitten, licked, and sucked every corner of your naked body with the need to mark you until the last day of your life. of course, as fascinating as everything he'd done before, burying himself in you over and over again wasn't going to be left out of the long night.

ㅤㅤㅤ —how i love to see your face after the orgasm —he whispers, caressing your legs, standing between them—. so beautiful and bright.

ㅤㅤㅤ seeing him naked and stained by soft pink marks can only awaken a new wave of need that intoxicates you. it is an unrecognizable force of desire that generates all kinds of thoughts loaded with lust. then, motivated by instinct, you hug his waist with your legs and pull his arm.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what is this? —he questions, resting one of his hands on the bed so as not to crush you—. seconds ago, you were screaming that you couldn't take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ there is a hint of concern in his voice for taking you to an unknown limit, but also a certain mockery that does not go unnoticed motivating you to rub your pussy against his slowly hardening crotch. it was as clear as the day that mattheo riddle could never resist you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo. —the guttural moan that escapes your lips is enough to make him lose his mind a little—. i need you to fuck me again. i need to feel every inch of you, please.

ㅤㅤㅤ —baby, i don't...

ㅤㅤㅤ knowing exactly what he was going to say and taking the initiative you speak—. i don’t want you to use a condom. please, mattheo, i need to feel it all inside me.

ㅤㅤㅤ how could he think straight when you’re rubbing yourself shamelessly, his lip marks glistening on your chest, and you’re smiling like the devil himself has possessed you?

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo’s lips tangle with yours in a messy, exhausted, needy kiss. it was such a strange mix that your heart skips a beat against your chest. he settles against your pussy, finding your entrance and gently pushing himself inside you. he didn’t want to go fast because mattheo wanted to remember every corner of your insides with agony.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you feel so good.

ㅤㅤㅤ when his member is completely inside you, you feel his warm skin throbbing and stretching your muscles to the limit. the feeling of that connection drove you completely crazy because being with mattheo was already dangerous territory, and having him inside you without any barriers was even more exciting.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do it slowly —you ask, moving your hips to let him know that he could move.

ㅤㅤㅤ just as you had asked, mattheo does not rush. his entries and exits are smooth, enjoying the exquisiteness of your hot interior. he was fascinated by the way your muscles embraced him, sliding without problem against your walls that could have made him cum from the first moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ soft moans begin to escape from mattheo's lips, forcing you to pay attention to those sounds that you had rarely heard. they were loud, husky, and shameless, perfectly matching the clash of their bodies and your own moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, i could get addicted to this. feeling you like never before, —he whispers, kissing your chest and speeding up the movement of his hips—. but i can’t take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ a soft cry escapes your mouth at the speed that tickles the inside of your body. mattheo separates his chest from yours, raising your hips held by his hands and burying himself deeper this time. you try to keep your composure, but it’s impossible not to whimper and shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, i can’t... —a stream of tears escapes down your reddened face—. i need to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ he doesn't respond, dropping your body back against the bed and stimulating your clit with one of his fingers. the simple contact makes you arch your back in unrecognizable pleasure, clouding your gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so stupidly cute, —he whispers, admiring the way his cock comes in and out of you to discover every corner of your interior—. you're going to look so gorgeous after this. come on, baby, cum for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you close your eyes tightly, moaning loudly at the amount of sensations that whip through your entire body. then, you feel it, a relieving heat that runs through your entire body accompanied by a soft pop. mattheo has just left your interior to cum in your abdomen, while a soft convulsion releases your own orgasm.

ㅤㅤㅤ you can’t open your eyes because you’re too tired, irritated, and relieved to do so. mattheo takes the liberty of cleaning you up, tidying the room soon after.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you can’t fall asleep, —you whisper, feeling the heaviness of his arm around you—. mattheo?

ㅤㅤㅤ —i know, baby. i know.

ㅤㅤㅤ and the truth is, you should have found the strength to get him out of the room, but you didn’t, waking up the next morning with his arm still squeezing you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo!? —it's a little scream that you have to stifle with your own hand, getting out of bed and watching him wake up lazily—. shit! mattheo, wake up. you have to go. now.

ㅤㅤㅤ —five minutes...

ㅤㅤㅤ —what? —you climb onto the bed, pushing him towards the edge as best you can—. shit. come on, please, mattheo...

ㅤㅤㅤ and the silly smile that appears on his face at your useless efforts doesn't help the panic growing in your chest. then he pulls your arm, making you fall on top of his bare chest.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you know that you're wearing my shirt? i can't leave without it.

ㅤㅤㅤ the truth is that you hadn't realized that until he mentions it. mattheo, in an attempt to kiss your lips, approaches your face with impulse.

ㅤㅤㅤ —if that's what you need to get out of the fucking bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ and mattheo shines at the idea of ​​seeing your tits. however, the second you try to take off the garment over your head, your door bursts open. theodore nott, your brother, is now part of the equation.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what the fuck am i looking at? —at each word he pauses a little, exchanging his gaze between you and his best friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo has jumped out of bed, and the obviousness, given his semi-nakedness, is comical.

ㅤㅤㅤ —god! —you approach your brother, determined to push him out of your room—. why the hell are you coming in without knocking?

ㅤㅤㅤ —hey, bro!

ㅤㅤㅤ if it weren't for the fact that you know that's the worst thing he could say, you would have considered that goofy smile one of the cutest you've ever seen on his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shut the fuck up! —theodore bellows, pulling his best friend closer to pull his arm with your failed attempts at stopping him—. i'll talk to you later. walk, motherfucker.

ㅤㅤㅤ —theodore, wait!

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo doesn't seem to have the best face in the world, but he doesn't seem sorry or afraid either. what the hell is wrong with him today?

ㅤㅤㅤ —see you soon, baby.

ㅤㅤㅤ and you can hear mattheo receive a blow, followed by your brother's voice saying—: you're not going to see her anytime soon, shit face. what the hell do you think you're doing...?

[eyejest]

Happy Valentine's day everyone (coming from the aro guy but hey platonic love is love too)

I felt like drawing Skaterlight angst again... fork found in kitchen BUT I also wrote a fanfiction for this in the style of one of Lampert's journal entries, it's under the cut (1514 words)

I apologize if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I wrote this in one go and wanted this entire thing posted before midnight

Dear Journal,

It’s currently day 3766, or three-thousand seven-hundred sixty-six. But looking at the clock, it seems like it’s getting close to midnight. If I hurry with finishing this entry it will still be day 3766. It doesn’t matter for now, I can correct it later if I was wrong.

Today is valentine’s day. It’s a day to celebrate love, usually romantic but I’ve heard some folks celebrate it for platonic reasons. Anyways, I’ve seen a lot of couples in Rokea today. I thought more people would be busy celebrating, going on dates, having fun with their loved ones. But it seems like I was wrong. Maybe some people enjoy going to Rokea for a date, I’m not sure. I’ve seen a fair share of pregnant people and families as well. The couples that didn’t have children quite yet seemed to buy a lot of things. They were probably moving into bigger homes for their growing family. The families that already had children were a lot to deal with. Some of them kept their kids on a short leash or sent them to the daycare area, but some just let them run wild. What a nuisance. I kept my distance for the most part, I didn’t want any of the children to get dirt or snot into my system. When there weren’t any children in the plots with toys and plushies, I cleaned them and organized them. I remember sorting some when the store was about to close when a child went up to me, she couldn’t have been any older than 7. “Miss?” She asked. I was quite startled because I didn’t see her. I was turned around. “I can’t find my mom and dad, have you seen them?”. I put on the friendliest tone my voice box would allow me. I find children to be quite annoying, but she was clearly worried. “I don’t know where they are, I don’t even know what they look like. Sorry.” The girl started to tear up. I got worried about the tears and snot her crying would produce so I had to think quickly. “Maybe we can go to the cashier. They could make an announcement so your parents know you’re safe and by the register.” That seemed to calm her down, thankfully. “Maybe…” she sobbed. I thought for a second and then said she should come with me so she doesn’t get lost. She seemed skeptical, stranger danger and all that. But I told her I’m an employee, which is sort of true, and that made her trust me a bit. “Follow me, but don’t touch me.” We started walking towards the exit where all the registers are. She was quiet for a while which I enjoyed. But then she started asking questions, great. “Have you ever lost your mom and dad?”. I sighed and told her I was made in a factory since I’m a lamp… and a robot too I guess. She seemed confused and asked if I ever had a family. “Well, the employees are kind of my family. I think. They took care of me when I needed it but nothing more. They didn’t have to do anything fancy, though. I managed just fine by myself.” “That sounds boring,” she mumbled. “You never ever had fun before?”. I was hesitant to reply, but I didn’t want her to run away or cry. “I used to have a best friend. But he’s sick and at home right now.” I thought about it some more. “We used to go bowling together.” The kid got excited. “I LOVE bowling! Me and mom and dad go bowling a lot! Mom says that's where she met dad!” I felt a bit melancholic about it and just replied with a simple nod. The kid became quiet again, she probably noticed now was not the time for this amount of chitchat. We arrived at the register, her parents were already there and were about to ask the cashier to make an announcement. They seemed to be very relieved as their child ran into their direction to hug them. The father went up to me. “Thank you so much, miss. She’s not usually like this. We were worried she was kidnapped or ran out of the building!” I waved it off: “No problem. I’m glad I could prevent any further panic.” The mother turned to her child: “What should you say to the nice lady?” “Thank you.” The kid said quietly. “I like your necklace a lot.” Right, my pendant. I forgot I was wearing that thing, it was a gift from Kasper. “Oh, thank you.” I said back. “Have a good rest of your evening.” I told the family as I walked away, the kid waved for a bit before they headed out.

The store closed down and the lights shut off. I had to turn my head on to see anything at all. I just wanted to go to a quiet and isolated place where I could calm down and rest. It’s been a while since I went to the outskirts of Rokea so I went to one of the pillars. I think that’s where me and Kasper met for the first time when he got lost. I usually just rest where it's neat and tidy but I felt nostalgic I suppose. Goodness, the plots around here were a mess. I don’t think anyone was here in ages, not even the employees. I started to clean up a play plot first. It had a heart lamp shining a soft pink light around the plot, a pullout couch, a rug and various plushies laying around. I just wanted everything to be over quickly. As I was pulling out the couch to see if it needed dusting I noticed something, a letter. Geez, that thing must be old, it’s all wrapped and it smelled like a couch. No way someone put this here today. I turned it around, and there was something written on the envelope. “To: Lampy”. I couldn’t believe my vision sensor at first. Lampy. That's what Kasper used to call me, it was a really cheesy nickname and sometimes it annoyed me a bit. I sat down on the rug. It was so dusty I regretted it instantly but I couldn’t help but lay down shortly after. Me and Kasper sat on this rug when we first met…  and the couch because he couldn’t sit still even if his life depended on it. That's when we were up all night talking about life. We sometimes went into this corner of Rokea if we wanted to stay in here and just talk without the employees finding us. He used to steal so many snacks from the cafeteria to eat during those talking sessions, kinda makes me wonder what it all tasted like. But I digress, I was holding the letter in my hand for a while, wondering if I should open it up or not for a solid thirty minutes. I decided to open it up. It read as follows: “Dear Lampy Haha, I know you can’t stand that nickname, sorry not sorry! It’s valentine’s day… well, not as of me writing this but it’s the day I’m giving this to you. You’re one of the best things to  have happen in my life. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me, how much we laugh together, how many things we can tell each other that we can’t tell anyone else, how much sorrow we shared and learned to live with together. IDK, I’m not good with words I suck when it comes to writing. That's why I’ve gotten an F in English on almost every test. I’ve never really had the guts to tell you this directly, but would you like to be my valentine? I’m not sure if we’re dating, heck, if you even have any feelings for me. But maybe giving you this letter can convince you to give this all a shot, we don’t have much to lose anyways. I love you so much Kasper”

I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel angry or anything like that after reading that letter. I just felt kinda numb. He almost confessed but probably hid it to give it to me later. I don’t know if he was just being stupid and forgot, or if he was too much of a coward to take the last step. I never told him either. Not because I was scared, but I wanted to let him take that step. It was so obvious, anyone with even a single brain cell could tell he had a crush on me. I wanted him to take that step to realize that he does have control over his life despite how many people around him made him feel like he didn’t.

I don’t know what I’m saying, I don’t want to get too emotional right now. It’s gonna be midnight in a few minutes anyways and I don’t feel like correcting anything. I’m going to call it a night, goodbye.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Ticket to Anywhere

This is my Valentine's gift fic for @qprpbj! You mentioned Paul/Darry in your prompt and I saw a post of yours about the lyrics of "Fast Car" by tracy chapman being Peril coded, so I wrote a songfic based on that. I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 2760

**************

You got a fast car

It’s a cold day in February of their junior year when Paul turns sixteen and shows up in the school parking lot in a brand new AC Cobra. It’s so shiny it gleams, painted a deep blue-black colour that’s almost a match for Paul’s eyes and a perfect match for his letterman jacket. For a second, jealousy flares so strong it burns up Darry’s throat until it chokes him, because he can pretend to be one of them all he wants, but he never will be, not really. He could never afford a car like that, not in a million years, one that costs more than his dad makes in a year, easy. His own birthday had passed a few months back, and the closest he got to getting any car was dad saying he’d start teaching him to drive and that once he got his license he could borrow the truck now and then. 

So he watches, envious, as Paul shuts the door, his stupid sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and Chrissy Smythe practically throws herself at him. She might as well be drooling, though whether it’s over Paul or the car, Darry isn’t sure. In any case, it doesn’t seem to matter, because Paul extricates himself from her simpering as quickly as he can without being rude and catches Darry’s eye with a grin.

“Nice car,” Darry says, because it is, any idiot could see that. It’s the kind of car Steve and Soda rhapsodize about, the ones Darry’s sure Steve is gonna try and steal one day. 

“Thanks,” Paul grins and tosses him a set of keys, “wanna take her for a spin after school?”

His eyes are twinkling, deep blue and mysterious and soft in a way Darry knows is just for him, a deadly secret swaddled in daydreams. Just like that the envy evaporates.

“Sure.”

Paul offers him a fist bump, the tap of their knuckles the closest they can get to holding hands in public. The contact still makes his heart race anyway. 

And I want a ticket to anywhere

“Theatre tonight?” Paul asks when they’re in the locker room after practice one Friday. He’s in just his boxers, towel slung haphazardly around his neck, hair still wet from the shower. Darry is being very careful not to stare, and even more careful not to hyperventilate. He should be used to this by now, after almost three years of being on the team together, but the thing about stars is that they’re hard to look away from, and Paul has always been the brightest star in Darry’s galaxy. It makes it hard to think. 

“Sounds like a plan. Who else is coming?” Is it date night or a hangout is what he’s really asking and Paul is even more casually nonchalant when he answers.

“I invited Chase and Angelina but they’ve got other plans, and Joey’s little sister is sick so it might just be the two of us, unless you got anyone else you wanna invite.”

“Maybe I’ll ask if Carla wants to come.” He says even though they both know he absolutely won't. 

“Cool,” Paul agrees, finally putting a shirt on, a soft looking Madras flannel Darry wants to steal. They bid their farewells to the rest of the team and Darry grabs both their duffel bags as they walk side by side out to the parking lot. 

Paul lights a cigarette while he tosses the equipment into the back of the Cobra. Darry pretends he doesn’t see the way Paul is checking him out, and flexes a bit more than is necessary when tossing around relatively light equipment bags.

Then Paul tosses him the keys to the car Darry knows he should never have had a chance to drive, and tells him to go faster until they’re flying down the back roads, sun in their hair and wind stealing the laughter from their mouths. They eat dinner at a greasy spoon in the middle of town between the east side and west side, and don’t talk about it. Paul pays for everything and Darry pretends it doesn’t send a familiar wave of embarrassment down his spine, even though he knows it’s the only way Paul knows how to show he cares sometimes. 

It’s getting dark by the time they reach the theatre and they’re running later than they meant to. Paul buys two tickets to the first movie he sees listed on the board, and neither of them have any idea what it’s about, but it doesn’t matter much anyway when they reach into the popcorn bucket held between them and their hands brush.

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

“You ever think about getting out of here?” Darry asks one night when they’re lying on the grass in Paul’s backyard, staring up at the stars. It’s a bit chilly out, but Paul is warm pressed against his side, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. He smells like fancy cologne and fabric starch and beneath that, sweat, and it’s so uniquely Paul that it drives Darry a little crazy. 

It’s a soft night tonight, just the two of them in Paul's almost perpetually empty house, his dad on another business trip and his mom back in some rehab centre rich folks call a wellness retreat. Paul is in an even better mood than usual, bright eyes almost feverish in their shine, and he’d been the one to convince Darry that stargazing of all things was a better date night activity than watching a movie. Now, he lifts Darry’s hand in his to press a kiss to the back of his palm, and hums.

“Out of where? Tulsa?”

“Yeah.”

Paul laughs, once, a bright chuckle, like a firefly in a forest, there and then gone again, fleeting and beautiful. 

“I don’t just think about it, I’m planning for it.”

“Oh.” It’s times like these that the true gulf between them smacks Darry in the face, when he remembers how truly different their worlds are. For some reason he can sit in Paul’s thousand dollar car and visit his giant house and not feel it, but then they have conversations like this and he remembers it. Paul doesn’t need to wonder about getting out of Tulsa because it’s already a done deal, because he’s been accepted to any college he wants before he’s even applied because the Holdens sit on a fortune and his mom has connections at Yale. Darry on the other hand…well, they’re not even seniors yet and he’s terrified. He already spoke to coach about extra training over the summer, and he’s been saving every penny from his job at the diner, because even if he manages a full scholarship he’ll still have to afford textbooks and board and everything else. His grades are fine for right now, but next year they need to be perfect. He needs to be perfect because he doesn’t have the luxury of second chances. He can’t make a mistake.

Paul starts talking about MIT and Yale, voice soft in the darkness, and Darry thrusts the whole thing from his mind, pressing a kiss to Paul’s lips to shut him up, because Paul is getting out of Tulsa and Darry doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to; and because it’s clear from Paul’s rambling that him getting out doesn’t involve keeping Darry, doesn’t involve staying them, and for some reason that stings more than the thought of never getting out of Tulsa at all. 

He wants to bring it up, wants to make him promise they’ll stay together even if it’s a lie, but Paul never makes a promise he can’t keep and Darry knows asking him to tonight would be a certain kind of cruelty he doesn't have in him. They kiss under the stars and Darry wishes there was some way he could love him and lose him without it feeling like an inevitable, final, ruining blow to the chest. 

Any place is better

He shows up on Paul’s doorstep one night, just two months into their senior year, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s always been big, broad shoulders and a tall frame, and it’s a terrible mockery of the universe, that he is such a big person and yet completely and entirely helpless, small in the face of the problems of the world.

He all but collapses into Paul’s arms, and Paul catches him like he always does, warm and solid and everything he wants and has but never completely, and he wants to leave Tulsa and never come back. 

Eventually Paul hauls him upstairs to his room, and they curl up together under his comforter. Paul is everywhere, and the sheets smell like him, and slowly the tears subside enough for Darry to hiccup out an account of Soda’s bruised face mottled black and blue, of Steve’s shattered ankle, and Ponyboy’s tiny, shaking hand raising a cigarette to his lips for the first time ever and far too soon while he watched dad put stitches in Soda’s sluggishly bleeding forehead. 

He tells his soc lover about his beat up greaser brothers and he is loyal to all of them and none of them and it doesn’t matter anyway because he’s helpless. He can’t stop the violence or the hate any more than he can save Pony and Soda, or even himself,  from their side of the tracks. For a second he hates Tulsa Oklahoma so much it sickens him, a slow poison sticking in his throat and choking him, making it hard for him to breathe or cry or think.

He had to get out, he tells Paul, had to get out of that house, away from his brothers’ fear and Steve’s anger, and the resignation in Pony’s frightened eyes that at only eleven years old were far too used to far too horrible things. He had to get out, just for the night.

It’s a lie. As he falls asleep, Paul’s arms warm and safe around him, he promises himself he will find a way out of Tulsa if it’s the last thing he ever does. One day, he swears, he’ll leave and never look back.

Starting from zero, got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

Darry was born on the east side to a father who worked construction and a mother who worked a factory job up until he was born and every odd job she could find afterwards. He’s a blue collar boy from a blue collar family, in a blue collar neighborhood. Needless to say, he’s no stranger to hard work. Still, as he moves into his last year of high school he works harder than he ever has before. If he isn’t playing football, he’s practicing it, and if he isn’t practicing it he’s doing homework, and if he's not doing homework or football he’s scrubbing plates in the dish pit at his job. Family, friends, and a social life take a backseat, sleep becomes an afterthought, and yet it will all be worth it when he gets a scholarship- any scholarship- for football or academics it doesn’t matter, to any college that will take him. All he needs is an acceptance letter with a full ride, enough money offered that he can leave, leave the second he graduates instead of sticking around for a year and working, trying to save enough to get out. He knows better than to try, knows if he doesn’t get his ticket out paid in full he’ll never leave this godforsaken town, no matter how much he wants to, knows there will always be something else holding him back. 

For the first time since he kissed Paul back in sophomore year, they’re fighting. Paul thinks Darry doesn’t care, is pouting in the way only someone who has only ever had everything can pout, and he refuses to see Darry’s side no matter how many times he explains it. Darry’s frustrated and tired and so stupidly, desperately in love that he promises to work on it, and Paul promises to try harder to understand, and things aren’t perfect, but they’re not gone, and Darry promises himself the slight distance between them will be worth it when he wins his scholarship.

In the end, it doesn’t matter at all and it never did. None of it is worth it, because Darry gets five college acceptance letters, and two partial scholarships, and neither of them are enough. 

He’s not going to college.

You got a fast car

And I got a plan to get us out of here

“Will you come with me?” Darry asks when Paul finds him, because Paul knows, better than anyone, how much he hates this town and how badly he wanted to get out. It makes sense then, that he knew without Darry having to say it how determined he still is to go somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here, even if college is off the table.

Paul’s deep blue eyes go very glossy very fast.

“I can’t.” 

Of course. Of course he can’t, and Darry knows why, knows all about the acceptance letter to Yale tossed carelessly on his bedside table, for a program Paul didn’t even want. Knows Paul would be beyond stupid to throw it away, and wishes he loved him enough to do it anyway. 

“Ok.” Darry nods, and Paul’s hands curl into fists because he hates apathy from Darry, for all that it’s his own weapon of choice. Darry figures he loves him enough and owes him enough to end it the way Paul wants, so they fight, and Paul leaves, and it hurts as much as he knew it would a year ago, that night when he realized this was the only way it could end. 

He finishes the semester with a bleeding heart that's been broken twice over, wondering why the curse of the east side meant he was never enough, even when he was the best of them all. 

And then Paul comes back.

Been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

He has money saved is the thing. Not a lot, but enough, every spare cent from the dish pit at Al’s diner carefully squirreled away into a fund that was meant to be for textbooks and now is meant for something different, something more. It’s a lifeline, not quite a ticket out, but an escape nevertheless. 

He hands in his resignation the same day he walks across the stage to get his diploma, and doesn’t look back. 

Won't have to drive too far

Just across the border and into the city

And you and I can both get jobs

Paul picks him up, the day they’re set to leave, in the same AC Cobra he let Darry drive back when they were sixteen. 

His parents don’t understand it, but they hug him goodbye and they love him anyway. Soda is understanding, but his eyes are sad, and Pony seems betrayed but there’s a look in him that’s beyond the kind of understanding Soda always wears, something Darry thinks might reasonably be called kinship, as he pulls away and Pony tucks himself into Johnny’s side like he was made to fit there.

Darry claps Dallas on the shoulder, hugs Two-bit tightly, and ruffles both Steve and Johnny’s hair before he hefts his bag and follows Paul back to the car. There’s a piece of him that wishes he’d spent more time with his family this past year, but it’s a hollow ache of a vague could have been, and it pales in comparison to the elation that comes with getting out, of the relief that comes with not being stuck. 

“You ready?” 

Paul is as beautiful as he’s always been, those stupid sunglasses perched once again on his nose.

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, and it feels like he can relax, finally, for the first time in his life, “I am.”

There’s a map in the cupholder, creased and scribbled on, with directions to New York City, and a note in his pocket with the address of their new apartment in his breath pocket. The air smells like adventure.

“Let’s go build a life together.” Paul smiles, carefree and happy, and Darry loves him so much he can’t even really describe it. 

The car turns the corner. He doesn’t look back.

Finally see what it means to be living

[lola-theshowgrl]

"Star-Crossed Blades" - Writing Update #3

Month: February Stage: First draft Word Count: 14,287 Currently Listening To: "Meet Me In The Woods" - Lord Huron Beverage: Spanish latte Mood: Sleepy

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for the outpouring of support and excitement for "Star-Crossed Blades" and for taking the time to read my little updates each week! It's such a boost to know there's any interest at all, and I really appreciated all the feedback, advice, and suggestions after last week's post. I'm checking out some options to be able to post serialised chapters of the first draft for those who are interested, so watch this space!

I've finished chapter three now, and given that I'm in the very unusual position of having a fairly detailed outline for this book, I suspect it's going to be getting on for about 150k words by the time I'm finished. You know me, I live for a slow burn! I know this is technically "too long" a book for the genre I write, but I know from past experience that paying too much attention to these sort of things can cut the heart out of a story. In the end, I'm here for the love of writing, and I've taken the executive decision to do whatever I want. I'm not one for arbitrary rules at the best of times (it's the *autism* lol) particularly not when it comes to writing, but I feel like that's a whole other post all by itself.

Speaking of other posts, I've been thinking about other things I could write about here. I enjoy the updates, and I mean to do them fairly frequently, but at some point I suspect it's going to get boring. (I'm also in something of a reading slump just now, so no book reviews coming up for a bit, unfortunately!)

I was very inspired by my good friend, @rachelillustrates artist and author of the amazing webcomic "Tock The Gnome" which you should absolutely go check out if you enjoy unique fantasy settings and beautiful artwork. Anyway, she does a weekly series of posts that I enjoy called "World Building Wednesday" which is exactly what it sounds like, and is a lovely way to dive into the lore of her world! (Seriously, go read it! The art is stunning, the story is magic, and she's a lovely person!)

I don't have her dedication and skills, of course, but I did think that if there was interest, maybe every so often I could make a post about the worldbuilding in Vadramia - what do you think? Would anyone be interested in that?

To be honest, I really want you guys to be involved in what I'm up to, and I'm so excited for this project, so any excuse to talk about it with you will be fun. I'm open to suggestions on what you'd like to see, but equally if you're happy with me just coming here each week to update on progress, I can keep doing that. Honestly, I'm just glad you're here!

[galaxymagitech]

❤️✏️ for the writing ask game??

Thank you for the ask!!!!! I'm gonna stick this in two posts, because I have many, many WIPs.

For ❤️"what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?" Here are three of my favorite scene fragments. It was difficult to restrict myself to three, so I focused on the scenes least likely to make it onto AO3.

fool me twice (which may never see the light of day...) (Warning for Referenced Child Abuse)

“Tim, I—I don’t—”

Tim’s heart sinks right down into his stomach. He can feel it there, bouncing against the fleshy walls and failing its desperate mission to keep a steady beat. The acid’s eating away at the smooth muscle, burrowing into his heart and filtering into his blood vessels. Tim is burning. “You’re right,” he says, pulling his lips into an empty smile like he’s on Joker venom. Tim clasps his hands together and lowers his head. “It’s not—it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have bothered you about this. I know you’re very busy.”

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of his lungs as he’s pulled into a hug. Tim is hyperaware of Dick’s warm arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly like Dick’s afraid Tim will disappear. “No,” Dick says. “No, I—I’m so glad you told me about this, okay? You did the right thing. I just—” He steps back, holding Tim by the shoulders. Tim can see the tears pooling in Dick’s eyes, the way his expression keeps shaking like his face isn’t sure which one to display. “Tim, he already crossed that line.”

“Okay,” Tim whispers, and his heart returns to his chest but it can’t seem to beat right because everything just seems so quiet. Like the world is dulled, blunted. “Should I talk to him?”

Dick bites his lip. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to go there right now.”

And Tim steps back, letting Dick’s hands fall off his shoulders. “This isn’t about safety,” Tim clarifies. “I’m fine, I’m barely hurt, I’m not even hurt at all.”

“Okay,” Dick says, raising his hands placatingly, patronizingly.

Tim takes another step back. “Don’t treat me like a child,” he warns. “I came to you for advice, not because I was in danger, or, or scared or something!”

“Okay,” Dick says again.

This time, Tim takes a step forward. “I’m Robin, I’ve been Robin for a year. I’m not one of your victims!”

“Okay,” Dick says, in that same infuriating tone and something just bursts inside of Tim.

Tim takes another step forward, clenches his fists, and screams right into Dick’s face.

“STOP SAYING THAT WORD!”

There’s the moment where Tim can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage and the sting of tears in his eyes and the strain in his clenched fists and the breath hot on his face and—

And then there’s the moment where panic shoots through him and Tim stumbles back, hands moving to a defensive position and his mind completely blank except for fear.

And then there’s the moment where the surroundings kick in and he realizes he’s standing across from Dick and the man’s hands aren’t anywhere near raised and—

Tim locks eyes with Dick.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispers. “I’m so sorry, Tim.”

Tim looks down to his side. “It’s not your fault.”

Dick swallows. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I don’t think you can get him to—to not do that again. I already talked to him about it.”

“That’s not what I’m going to say to him,” Dick says. “He’s shown he can’t be trusted. I’ll tell him that you’re quitting and that you’re staying with me now. And if he doesn’t like it, I’ll just call the Justice League and he’ll have to take it up with them.”

“Batman needs a Robin.”

“Robin needs to be safe.”

From Better Than Batman

“Do you know how many assassinations the League does in a week?” Tim asks, voice almost conversational. Jason knows better, though. Because the glint in Tim’s eyes from the Tower has returned, and he almost, almost looks like the boy in the Batman suit who attacked with the ruthlessness of Lady Shiva. “On average, it’s 23.42. I had access to everything, and I did nothing.”

And that—Jason laughs aloud with glee. “That’s just too perfect.” He never would’ve thought Tim had it in him. And he has the guts to call Jason a psychopath. “Does Brucie know?”

Instead of answering Jason’s question, Tim steps forward and poses a question of his own. “Are you better than Batman?”

Jason meets his eyes. It’s strange, he realizes. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tim without a mask. Not conscious, anyway. “Yeah,” he says.

Tim smirks. “That’s what you’re always saying. Well, here it is. Do what Batman never could. Compromise. You’re better than Batman?” He leans in close, inches away. “Prove it.”

Of course. Of course that’s what it comes down to. Because no matter what unhinged creature Red Robin could be, he’s still a Robin. Still Batman’s protegee ‘til the bitter end. And here he is, trying to convince Jason to abandon his morals and cower in fear of his former mentor.

In a sudden movement, Jason throws himself forward. The chains go taught, forcing the cuffs roughly against Jason’s wrists, but Tim’s flinch is worth it. Jason lets himself laugh, laugh like he did in the Tower, like he did when dragging Tim’s pulseless body through the caves.

Tim’s eyes flicker down to the folder that lies strewn on the floor, then back up to Jason. “Think about it,” he says, and then turns tail and leaves.

Good riddance.

it beckons me to stay (Warning for Referenced Character Death)

Damian could phrase it like a proof—he’d written plenty of those, before he dropped out of high school at sixteen (just like Timothy did, the first time Father died). All of his nightmares feature his family. In all of his nightmares, his family die. All of his dreams are nightmares. When Damian sleeps, he dreams. Therefore, Damian watches his family die every time he sleeps.

Tonight, it is Todd. Damian grabs Brown’s hand and runs. He runs and he runs and he runs, but he always ends up in the same location. Take it, Brown says. There’s a gun in his hand.  

This isn’t real, Damian tries to say, but his mouth won’t move. 

Help me, Todd screams, fingers wrapped around Gordon’s throat.

Help me, Gordon screams, as she tumbles to the ground, still.

Help me, Brown screams, scrambling away from Damian.

Help me, Damian screams, but the sound doesn’t come out. His finger twitches on the trigger.

When he wakes up, Todd is still dead.

Damian hadn’t had a choice, he tells himself. Todd was under the influence of a potent toxin with no antidote. He had already killed Gordon. He would have killed Brown. He hadn’t had a choice.

Brown had promised to take the secret to the grave, and she had.It’s only Damian who knows, now, that he killed his brother.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Sometimes I wish that the show expanded on the miraculous lore instead of the love square drama. I mean, of course it's a rom-com at it's core but it's also a magical girl anime. Sailor Moon did a pretty good job juggling the two.

Anyways, I've been trying to make some headcanons that might fit the show given that they've given us crumbs. I would love to hear your thoughts about it.

1. There's a secret society or elite clubs where they're hoarding or possibly hunting for miraculouses. Which is why the guardians haven't been able to retrieve most of them.

2. The Order at Tibet isn't the only one. There's at least one order at every continent to keep an eye on the Miraculous/Kwami.

3. Master Fu just assumed that the kwamis in the Chinese Miracle Box are 'Chinese' but they are a collection of different miraculouses from different miracle boxes. (Maybe he also just named it as the Chinese Miracle Box because of their temple's location.

4. Some people who are akumatized are able to remember some of what they did. And some akumatized people still have bits of their transformation. Just to show that the power of ladybug isn't enough and that creation needs destruction in order to cure the damage during akuma battles.

5. Some of the kwamis are interrelated or that their forms aren't just one. They said that kwamis are born from concepts. And human belief/faith, is another form of concepts. So the kwamis physical form shouldn't be just one.

6. The sentihumans 'human body' cannot be destroyed nor die unless their amok is destroyed (show canon) so even when they die, they'll either reconstruct a new body or resurrect.

7. What do you think of kwamis that are related to sins, virtues, seasons, religion, and the soul? Since they are technically concepts so there should be kwamis of them.

Hope you enjoy this ask tbh. I just saw one of your post and couldn't help but ask you this.

-Rian

These were really fun! I'll give some notes on my three favorites.

Some people who are akumatized are able to remember some of what they did. And some akumatized people still have bits of their transformation. Just to show that the power of ladybug isn't enough and that creation needs destruction in order to cure the damage during akuma battles.

That would be an interesting way to use Destruction! I've always took the stance that Chat Noir should have a sister power that gets used whenever an akuma leaves something that needs cleaning up, but using it to destroy memories of people being used by the villain certainly has potential. I'm normally pretty against the destruction of memories, but it's hard to see a good argument for people being forced to remember something like an akumatization. I think most people would want to forget that or maybe the power would only work if people wanted to forget. Curious if others agree.

Some of the kwamis are interrelated or that their forms aren't just one. They said that kwamis are born from concepts. And human belief/faith, is another form of concepts. So the kwamis physical form shouldn't be just one.

Hard agree. I think the kwamis forms should all be a thing they chose that then inspired human legends. This explains the tie between the kwamis and myths while also justifying the mismatch between the powers and the myths. For example, black cats being bad luck came from Plagg's existence, but is obviously not right because Plagg is Destruction, not Bad Luck. A previous holder just got on the wrong side of the church back in the Middle Ages and now here we are.

The sentihumans 'human body' cannot be destroyed nor die unless their amok is destroyed (show canon) so even when they die, they'll either reconstruct a new body or resurrect.

Hard agree on this one, too. One of the many reasons why I didn't think the sentitheory was real was the fact that Adrien was a squishy normal human as we saw in Riposte:

Adrien: Watch out Ladybug! (He dives at her and they roll out of danger right before Riposte could skewer Ladybug.) Ouch! (Adrien holds his hurt ankle.) Ladybug: Are you hurt? Adrien: I'm fine.

He spends a good chunk of this episode limping around when it should have been used to hint that he can't be hurt because he's not a real human.

What do you think of kwamis that are related to sins, virtues, seasons, religion, and the soul? Since they are technically concepts so there should be kwamis of them.

I personally think that canon went way too abstract on the kwamis. As written in canon, yes, there should be kwamis for all of the things you listed, but that's a little insane in my book. Way too many powers and kwamis to deal with! Because canon isn't about tracking down infinite kwamis, I'd make the concepts way more limited. I'd also have the kwamis be created by Tikki and not just a thing that happens. The tracking-down-kwamis-like-clow-cards route is the only route in which I'd keep canon's current lore.

[jamiesfootball]

I’ve been twirling it around in my head how Ted and Jamie had similar but opposite movies assigned to them, both revolving around the concepts of dreaming and waking up, but which are very very different in execution. Like literally so different, that that’s the only common thread they have.

Ted, son of Dorothy, with the Wizard of Oz. Leaving the tornado back home in Kansas and traveling to another world where he builds relationships with people trying to discover the magic in themselves. Something about a road (but also something about quoting Robert Frost’s ‘the road not taken’). Crossing through the Dark Forest. Making his way to the Emerald (Man) City. And we know the point of Oz is that eventually you can not stay in the dream. The shoes you’ve found and worn will carry you back home - you’ve had the power within you this whole time. But it also begs the question: has Ted met the man behind the curtain yet? Or is that man meant to be the reflection of himself, the person - the dad and husband - he always assumed he’d be? Wizard of Oz is ostensibly a story about growth and questioning your belief in the role you’ve been assigned and when you’re ready, seeing who you really are and what the world really is. You had the power all along. The dream is a wonderful place, but it’s closing time and you want to go home. You want to go home.

“There’s no place like home.”

In Nightmare on Elm Street you are never safe in your home. Freddy Krueger hurt and sexually abused kids when he was alive (in the waking world), and after he died preyed on kids when they were asleep (in the dream world). And even when they were awake, the kids were always afraid that Freddy was after them. Jamie is literally afraid of his own Freddy Krueger. There are no magic shoes. There is no exploration of self, no growth, no learning - there is just constant, exhausting vigilance. The only way to kill Freddy Krueger is with fire, and even then he keeps coming back. And that’s the note that every Freddy Krueger movie leaves on. The idea and hope that maybe you’re safe. Maybe this time. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. So you try to enjoy that possibility as hard as you can, as much you can, but it’s forced, because you know deep inside that you can’t truly know that if you’re safe ever again. Because it’s the hope that kills you.

So Ted. Sweet Ted. Amazing Ted with his red heels and his beloved witches and his strange but wonderful companions and his flying monkeys. Ted probably feels like he is wrapping up in Oz, ready to face the wreckage of the tornado head on. He’s ready to leave the dream. And he thinks as he’s talking to a Jamie from his world, a Jamie that has grown so much and who’s so strong and smart and kind, a kid who’s so so brave. Because that’s what Ted has seen. That’s the role he’s played. From his viewpoint, this is how the movie goes.

But that’s not Jamie’s viewpoint. Jamie may have wandered into Ted’s play, but to him if he ever fit in, it was only because he was pretending. Because he was stopping himself from being a prick. Everyone else is great and does great things - it’s Jamie who needs to try harder. Ted’s dream was a great place to hide for a while, but Jamie was never waiting for the slippers; he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. You can’t hide from him. You can’t escape him. And he can even get you in your dreams.

Which is why there’s a point in every Freddy Krueger movie when the victim says they’ve had enough of hiding, and they take some sleeping pills, and they decide to face him head on.

So Ted thinks he’s ready to leave Oz behind and that everyone in Oz will be fine once he’s gone, when actually what he’s accidentally done is given Jamie an idea: to wade into the Dark Forest and confront Freddy Krueger head on. Jamie doesn’t h

Ted and Jamie are talking, but they’re not in the same movie. They’re not in the same genre. They’re both at the end of their movies, ready to face the bad guy, so they think they’re having the same conversation. But they’re not.

And once again I’ve typed so far that I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but there’s definitely. More story there. A climax that hasn’t happened. Another story to explore. Because what becomes of the companions after Dorothy leaves Oz? Even if Jamie defeats Freddy, will he survive to the end of his own movie? Does he make it to the sequel?

Will Roy Kent get to fight his dad like Jason Vorhees? Does he already own a machete, and does he borrow the hockey mask from Van Damme?

Now I’ll just pivot down a different somewhat related path (road):

Shoes.

Isaac literally told Keeley he just wanted to do something with shoes. Something about the shoes. Something about Jamie burning the shoes his mum got him. Something about all the football lads fighting over what kind of shoes they’re allowed to wear, and Dani hating mourning shoes and stealing Rebecca’s soft bright cozy ones that she never wears. Jamie being stuck in his socks at the locker room at Wembley. Roy wearing his colorful socks with the yoga mums. Keeley wearing shoes that out her on eye level with everyone else. Trent’s leopard shoes. All these people in Oz with their fucking shoes or lack thereof.

Dreams!

And shoes!

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[bakudekublogblog]

alright I’m bored so here’s my extremely optimistic crack theory: assuming katsuki seeing a vestige means we’ll see him in the vestige realm, when kudo sorted through izuku’s memories he put his forehead on the wall right??

what if izuku is having a crisis about being left quirkless again and vestige katsuki needs to touch foreheads with izuku to show him all his memories of izuku being heroic without a quirk and he tells him “you never needed a quirk. you were always a hero” or something like that because it’s what izuku always needed to hear