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alchemistc · 1 day ago

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You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

#bucktommy fic #bucktommy #not-quite-fixit but it could be #tevan fic

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marysfics · 2 days ago

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Through the Dust

Alexia Putellas x DownhillRacer!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

This is a multichapter fic, and trust me, you’re in for one wild ride. No warnings so far. Just awkward fluff for now.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 2: "The Unsteady Ground Between Us"

You spent the night nursing a bruised shoulder and sore muscles, wincing as you applied ice to ease the swelling. But none of that discomfort compared to the restless buzz in your chest, the memory of that moment when you locked eyes with her—Alexia, as you’d learned from some fellow riders who were as intrigued as you were by the famous visitors. Her gaze had stayed with you, imprinted in your mind, sparking a strange thrill every time you thought back to it.

The next morning, the trails were less crowded. The early sun was low, casting long shadows across the mountain, and the chill of dawn clung to the air. As you prepared your bike, checking the tires and adjusting the suspension, you felt a familiar prickle on the back of your neck. Someone was watching you.

You looked up, and there she was again—Alexia, standing with her teammates just a few yards away. She had a distant look on her face, as though she hadn’t expected to see you this early. Her mouth was a straight line, her arms folded across her chest in that careful, almost protective way. But her eyes—those expressive eyes that seemed to flicker between fascination and doubt—told you a different story.

Your heart did a strange little leap. You weren’t used to feeling self-conscious, not on the mountain, not with your bike and the rush of the course to distract you. But with her here, it felt like every move you made was amplified, as though you were performing for an audience of one.

“Go talk to her,” Mapi’s voice teased Alexia from the sidelines, jolting her out of her stare. “You’ve been staring since yesterday. She’s going to think you’re some kind of creepy fan.”

Alexia scoffed, her cheeks flushing as she quickly turned her back. “I wasn’t staring,” she muttered, brushing off Mapi’s remark as if it was absurd. But her heart pounded in a way that felt foreign and dangerous, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Mapi laughed, nudging her shoulder. “It’s okay to be interested, Ale. She’s clearly interested in you too. I saw the way she looked at you after the fall.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “I don’t get it, Mapi. She risks everything for what? A thrill? A medal? I don’t… I don’t understand her.” But even as she spoke, she could feel the lie hidden in her own words. She wanted to understand, wanted to know why anyone would choose to be so reckless, so daring. There was something almost… alluring about it.

Or maybe, she thought with a jolt, it’s not just about the sport.

The next few hours passed in fragments. You caught Alexia watching you again between your runs, her gaze intense, almost assessing, as though she was trying to solve some unspoken mystery. You couldn’t deny that the attention thrilled you, even if you tried to focus on your training, forcing yourself to ignore the way her presence made your heart stutter.

During a break, you decided to take a walk along the edge of the trail, needing a moment to clear your head. The thrill of speed, the adrenaline, the freedom—all of it was different with Alexia here. She seemed to add a new layer of complexity, a subtle tension that wound its way through your focus.

As you rounded a sharp corner on the trail, your tires screeched as you had to brake hard to avoid colliding with someone standing right in the middle of the path. The abrupt stop sent your balance wobbling, your back wheel skidding on the loose gravel. You barely managed to steady yourself, irritation flaring as you pushed a foot against the ground to keep from tipping over.

“Hey!” you blurted out, breathless and annoyed, “Are you kidding me? Who just stands right on a blind—”

But the words died on your lips as you saw her face.

Alexia turned to you, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in your frustrated expression. She looked so different from how she did on the field or even in the company of her teammates. Her gaze softened as she registered your surprise, her posture a little awkward, as if she’d been caught somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

You fell silent, the rush of anger melting into something else entirely. The sight of her here—alone, bathed in the soft, dappled light filtering through the trees—disarmed you completely. She didn’t look like the superstar you’d seen between her teammates, the assured captain who commanded attention on the field. Instead, she looked… almost uncertain, her brow slightly furrowed as though she was lost in thought.

“I’m—sorry,” she said finally, her voice quiet, and you noticed the faint trace of a Spanish accent, the unexpected softness in her tone. “I didn’t realize this was such a dangerous spot to stop.”

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers closing around her wrist in a quick, instinctive movement. Before either of you had time to react, you gently tugged her to the side of the trail, out of the dangerous blind spot and safely off to the edge.

“Come on, you can’t just stand there,” you said, your voice softer now, the frustration melting as you became hyper-aware of the warmth of her skin under your hand. Your fingers lingered, and for a brief, suspended moment, neither of you moved.

Alexia looked down at where your hand held hers, her eyes wide, surprise flickering into something more as her gaze lifted to meet yours. She didn’t pull away, and you didn’t let go. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you standing there, the forest around you quiet and still.

Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Her expression was caught somewhere between surprise and… something else, something intense that you couldn’t quite read. You realized, with a jolt, that your hand was still on hers. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you released her wrist, feeling the loss of warmth as your fingers slipped away.

“Sorry, I just…” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly flustered. “Didn’t want you to get, you know… run over.”

Alexia’s lips quirked into a small smile, a hint of color rising in her cheeks as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice so soft it barely reached you. Her gaze lingered on you, her usual composure faltering as she looked at you with an expression that was open and unguarded, her eyes filled with curiosity and something deeper—something hesitant, almost like uncertainty.

For a moment, you were both silent, the sounds of the mountain fading into the background. You were caught in the intensity of her stare, feeling your heartbeat quicken as her presence washed over you, grounding you yet somehow leaving you breathless.

“Guess I’ll stay out of the way,” she finally said, her smile growing as she held your gaze a beat too long. Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes told a different story, a silent question you couldn’t yet answer.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “You… you don’t have to, really.” Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, and suddenly you felt a strange flutter of nerves. You cleared your throat, looking down and kicking at a loose stone on the trail. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

The words hung between you, and when you glanced back up, you caught the look in her eyes—a spark of surprise, her expression softening as if you’d given away more than you meant to.

For a moment, her teasing smile faltered, and she looked at you with a gentleness that caught you off guard. Her gaze softened, her lips parting just slightly as if she wanted to say something but was searching for the right words.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. She shifted a bit closer, her smile turning into something warmer, something real. “Thank you.”

You felt your cheeks warm, the air thickening with a tension that felt as fragile as it was electric. The confident Alexia you’d seen yesterday, was nowhere to be found—instead, here she was, looking at you as if you’d just broken down a wall she’d been guarding carefully.

Summoning the courage, you took a deep breath, feeling the words form before you even fully decided to say them. “Hey, if you’re interested, I could… show you around sometime?” You hesitated, a little shy but hopeful, the invitation hanging there, vulnerable and unpolished. “I mean, if you’d like to see the mountains up close…”

But before you could finish, a voice cut through the stillness.

“Ale!” Mapi’s voice rang out from down the trail, unmistakable and playful as it echoed off the trees. You both startled, the moment between you snapping back into reality. Mapi appeared a second later, jogging up the path, eyes scanning until she spotted Alexia. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere.”

Alexia’s expression shifted, a small flash of reluctance passing over her face as she glanced back at you. She looked like she wanted to say something, her eyes lingering as if memorizing the moment.

“I—” she started, but Mapi gave her a nudge, clearly in a hurry to drag her back.

“You coming, or what?” Mapi teased, oblivious to the moment she’d interrupted. “The team’s waiting.”

Alexia exhaled, a faint crease in her brow as she looked back at you. “Maybe… another time?” she said, her voice soft but warm, as if she, too, wished things could’ve paused just a little longer.

“Yeah,” you replied, managing a small smile even as the moment slipped away. “Another time.”

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

End of chapter 2.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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tarotbyjam24 · 2 days ago

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PICK A PILE : WHAT YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU

Choose a pile which you feel most drawn to , if reading doesn't resonate there was no messages for you through this reading

Every like and reblog is very very much appreciated:D

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 1 .

Your parents think you're backbone of others or you're usually supportive in nature ,you're always ready to lend a hand whenever needed . They think you've very business oriented mindset maybe you're about give and take relationship,you have success oriented mindset,they also think you're not afraid of ending things you're always welcoming new things\beginnings in your life . But sometimes you may lack confidence in yourself when things aren't going your way usually you're confident,using everything you have around you to create something Outta it . You're also someone who's not afraid of whatever comes on your way you just handle it all so effortlessly ✨ your parents are saying honey love yourself 😭💋

Initials for pile 1 : O,T,A,E,G

your moodboard :

Pile 2 . Your parents think you're not afraid for asking help when it's needed which is good from my pov because in modern world most of us are afraid of getting judged by people , you're always open to learn things from everyone be it older person or a child .you're very peace loving person in general,maybe you love being alone too , you're also advised to write by your parents maybe you can try some prompts from pinterest. Maybe you're not in right mental state rn maybe you're depressed regarding something,maybe you feel like someone's controlling you and you don't wanna be controlled anymore your parents think you tend to overshare things , may overgive\over pour too , can't hide things or can't keep secrets ,talkative,always have so much to say. Your parents are saying give me some more time ,give yourself some more time 🫂🩵

Initials for pile 2 : E,M,I,N

your moodboard :

Thankyou so much for letting me read for you 💗

I'm grateful if you read the reading , did you enjoy it ? Wishing you all the best in your life , thank you so much for everything 🌷,bless you all ⛄

Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so , reading may or may not resonate with you !

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seongwars · 2 days ago

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forget me not | ix

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 5.3K Warnings: some angst, fluff, a smidgen of smut

Fic Masterlist

a/n: crying happy tears because this is the final chapter 😭 a big thank you to everyone who followed along on this journey ❤️

“Do you think I did the right thing?”

Wooyoung blinked, surprise flickering across his face as he processed your question. His ears twitched slightly, betraying his curiosity, and he tilted his head, trying to gauge the weight of your words.

“What do you mean?”

“By giving you the card to pass on to Yunho,” you clarified, voice softer, tinged with a vulnerability you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. You looked down, unable to meet Wooyoung’s gaze directly.

He studied you carefully, his expression thoughtful as he tried to piece together what you were feeling.

“Are you saying you regret it?”

"Here," you said, thrusting the small embossed business card towards Wooyoung. The red and white design stood out crisply against your fingertips. Wooyoung eyed it suspiciously, eyebrows raised, as if the card might bite.

"What's this for?" he asked, one hand on his hip, the other reluctantly reaching out to take the card.

You shifted, resisting the urge to pull back. "I need you to deliver it to someone," you mumbled, glancing away to hide the blush creeping up your neck. But the avoidance only seemed to encourage Wooyoung’s mischief.

"Right," Wooyoung said, drawing out the word with a sly grin. "Does this someone happen to be tall, jobless, and obscenely handsome?"

You glared at him, your face heating up even more.

"Just... give it to him, okay?"

"Alright, alright," Wooyoung said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He pocketed the card, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Way to tell him you forgive him."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "It’s not about that.”

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, boss," Wooyoung grinned. He slipped the card into his pocket, patting it for emphasis.

“I’ll make sure this ‘mystery someone’ gets your little peace offering.”

You paused, letting his question sink in. It would have been easier to answer with a simple "yes" or "no," to shut down the conversation and avoid the ache you felt creeping into your chest. But instead, you found yourself caught in the truth of it, unable to ignore the swirl of emotions stirring inside you.

“No…” you began, though your voice wavered. “It’s not that. I just… I know he’s upset with me, and I shouldn’t be feeling this way, even though I was the one who left.”

“You know, just because you made a choice doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel the weight of it afterward. It’s human to feel conflicted. It doesn’t make you wrong, and it doesn’t make what you did the wrong choice.”

You bit your lip, eyes tracing the edge of the wooden counter as you turned the question over in your mind. Yunho had hurt you, in ways that felt like they had carved out parts of you that you’d never get back.

The thought struck you like a whisper in the back of your mind: Hadn’t you been the one to erase him from your life? You’d been the one to choose oblivion over memories, to protect yourself from the ache of what had once been.

"He still thinks about you, you know," Wooyoung said softly, his tone holding that rare tenderness you’d only seen when he was truly serious.

Your grip on the counter tightened as you struggled to absorb his words, a familiar ache in your chest now tinged with a quiet yearning. It felt surreal—after all this time—to think that Yunho might still care. That perhaps, despite everything, he hadn't let go.

“I’ve never seen him happier than when he talks about you or hears your name. He’s still holding onto you, even if you can’t see it. And I know the wound is still fresh, but you have to believe me when I tell you—he loves you, wants to make things right.”

The sincerity in Wooyoung’s voice made you look away, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. Yunho loves you. You’d told yourself a thousand times not to let those words get under your skin again, to keep the walls you’d built firmly in place. But here was Wooyoung, breaking down every defense with a few simple truths you weren’t ready to face.

“It’s just...” You struggled, each word feeling like a confession. “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m still afraid he’ll hurt me?”

“I get it. You have every reason to be scared. He could have ignored that card and disappeared. But he didn’t. He’s willing to fight for you and face all of his own mistakes.”

Wooyoung’s words softened the edges of your fears, giving you just a sliver of courage you didn’t know you still had. Yunho hadn’t been perfect, but Wooyoung’s words reminded you that people could change, that maybe both of you had been hurting alone for far too long.

“Just...give yourself permission to feel it. To remember what it was like before everything went wrong. He’s not asking for everything all at once. He’s just asking for a second chance.”

You tried to recall the last time you’d truly allowed yourself to think about your relationship with Yunho—not just the heartbreak, but also the warmth and beauty of your friendship. Yunho wasn’t just a memory; he had been your best friend, your first love, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever had.

You remembered the way he looked at you at the beach, the way his eyes held promises of a future you could almost believe in, making you think–if only for a moment–that “forever” was something within reach.

Maybe, in some ways, you were still that person—naive, trusting, willing to hand over your heart with expectations that perhaps no one could ever meet.

But were you still that person now?

So much had changed. You had changed. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep Yunho and everything he’d meant to you at arm’s length. It was safer that way—easier. If you never let him back in, he could never hurt you again.

When Wooyoung told you that Yunho, despite your rejection, still harbored immense love for you, you were stunned. Yunho's love had never wavered. Wooyoung saw it as clearly as the breath Yunho drew each day, as naturally as his heartbeat.

It was okay to feel, to take your time, to allow yourself the grace of uncertainty. You didn’t have to have all the answers or know where each step would lead. It was okay to be scared, to admit that this meant something to you.

And maybe all you needed to do was…try.

As the thought settled, muffled voices, sharp and angry, punctuated by the heavy thud of footsteps were heard from outside the door. You straightened, heart racing as you focused on the noises, feeling an unmistakable surge of supernatural energy.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

You moved to the shop’s entrance and peered through the small window, immediately recognizing the voice.

Yunho.

He was surrounded, eyes wide with frustration and something deeper—fear. And surrounding him, dark forms shimmered in and out of sight, their twisted shapes flickering as they taunted him.

Without thinking, you threw open the door and stepped out into the night. The cold air bit at your skin, but the chill was quickly forgotten in the surge of adrenaline that took over.

“The shop is temporarily closing, so you’ll all have to wait a little longer. No exceptions!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the creatures encircling Yunho. They would have to return when the shop reopened to gather whatever trinkets were needed for Lord Death’s Night Parade.

In one fell swoop, you reached out, fingers finding Yunho’s wrist. He flinched at your touch, a brief spark of surprise in his eyes, but you didn’t let go. Instead, you tightened your grip and pulled him toward you, drawing him away from the creatures’ prowling forms.

You took a deep breath, the weight of the moment sinking in as you slammed the emporium door shut. Yunho stood beside you, breathing hard, his wrist still loosely held in your grasp. His gaze was fixed on you, eyes wide and disoriented, as if still processing what had just happened.

You loosened your grip, letting your fingers slide from his wrist with a gentleness that felt almost foreign amidst the intensity of the night. His skin was cool under your touch, and you could feel a faint tremor, as if fear and shock still held him in their grip.

“Are you alright?” you asked, voice low, each word softened by concern as the urgency of the encounter began to fade.

Yunho looked at you, his breath steadying. "I... I think so," he replied, his voice shaky. "Thanks for pulling me out of there."

“Oh…you’re welcome,” you replied gently, hoping to ease his mind even as you saw how shaken he was.

“The veil is incredibly thin right now. That’s probably why you were able to see and feel them. The other travelers, I mean.”

His presence was almost overwhelming, making your heart pound in your chest. The way his eyes widened slightly as he processed your words made you want to reach out and reassure him, to tell him that everything would be alright.

"It's... it's not something that happens often," you added, your voice softer now. "But when it does, it means the boundaries between our world and theirs are almost nonexistent."

Yunho’s expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on you, then shifting away as if he were searching for something in the silence between you. His gaze fell to the floor, tracing patterns on the worn wood as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

The quiet stretched on, your anxiety building as each second ticked by. A thousand worries filled your mind—what he might think, what he might feel, now that he had glimpsed the world you’d become a part of.

"Why were you out there?" you finally, breaking the silence, your tone gentle, though curious.

He hesitated, searching for words as his face softened.

“I…was in the neighborhood,” he murmured, though there was an edge to his voice that suggested there was more left unsaid.

Your heart skipped a beat. You took a half-step closer, tilting your head to catch his eye, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“In the neighborhood, huh?” you echoed, sensing the familiar warmth of his presence.

“Alright…maybe it wasn’t entirely by chance,” he admitted. His lips twitched, and he exhaled a small, resigned laugh, glancing down before looking back at you.

He lifted his hand, revealing the small, slightly crumpled business card between his fingers.

“I just wanted to see you.”

You felt the weight of Yunho’s gaze, his admission wrapping around you. It was as if all the memories you shared—moments of laughter, quiet conversations, the comfort of simply being together—were coming back to life, filling the silence around you.

Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

“You still wanted to see me after everything?”

“Especially after everything,” he murmured, his words carrying a quiet certainty that melted the last of your doubts.

“So you’re not…upset with me?” you asked, your voice barely audible, as if speaking any louder might shatter the delicate moment.

You’d been bracing for this moment, convinced that Yunho must be holding onto resentment, that he’d come to finally air out the hurt you must have caused him. You hadn’t given him the closure he deserved, instead choosing to leave things unfinished.

But his eyes, so achingly familiar, held none of the anger you’d feared. They were filled with something…gentler.

“Oh god, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice calm but filled with urgency, as if he’d been waiting just as long for this moment.

“I could never be angry with you. You have every right to be upset, I was the one who hurt you. I was careless with your heart, and that’s on me. It’s my fault.”

His admission left you speechless, each word stripping away the defenses you’d built. He wasn’t here to lay blame or defend himself; he was here to own the truth of what had happened.

“You did hurt me, Yunho.”

The words came out softer than you expected, each one carrying a weight you hadn’t realized you’d held so tightly. Pain, long buried, surfaced as you finally spoke the words you’d once been too afraid to voice.

“I felt like… I wasn’t enough for you," you admitted, the ache woven through your words. "Like no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much of myself I gave, it was never going to be enough.”

The sting of tears welled up, and you drew in a shaky breath, fighting to keep them at bay. You looked down, biting back the flood of emotions, as a huff escaped you—a last-ditch attempt to pull yourself back from the edge of breaking.

“I just wanted to feel like I mattered,” you whispered. It was as if saying it out loud for the first time gave it weight, made it real, and you felt the bittersweet release of finally letting it go.

“To be the one you turned to, not the one you left behind.”

When you looked up, Yunho’s gaze was unwavering, his eyes glistening as they held yours, reflecting the pain and regret you’d both felt.

“You’ve always been more than enough. I was the one who was too scared to see it, too afraid to do what was right, to be there for you when you needed me most.”

Yunho took a step closer, his hand lifting slowly to rest on your bicep, his touch gentle, almost hesitant. The warmth of his hand seeped through you, grounding you in this fragile moment, pulling you back to a time when things were simpler, when trust between you was instinctive.

“I can live with the weight of my mistakes,” he continued, voice rough with honesty. “But I can’t live without you. I tried for three years, and every day was worse than the last. I hated it.”

He was painfully earnest, his voice tinged with the kind of regret that had its own gravity. You looked up at him, a gentle smile breaking through your otherwise solemn expression as his fingers traced gentle circles against your arm.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you were anything less. You’ve always the best part of me. I just didn’t realize it until it was too late. If there’s even a small part of you that’s willing to try again, I’d give anything for that to happen.”

The honesty in his words made your heart ache. All those times you'd wondered if you truly mattered to him seemed to unravel before you, evident in his words, his touch, and his gaze.

You searched Yunho’s face, catching a glimmer of hope, and realized that despite the years, lifetimes, and distance, maybe…just maybe, there was still something worth saving.

“I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling but resolute. "For as long as I can remember, and for all the lifetimes I couldn’t. You’ve been mine for so long, but I want to be yours.”

Your hands reached for his, as if drawn by an unseen thread. Rising onto your toes, you leaned closer allowing Yunho to close the distance. He pulled you into a kiss that felt like a promise, an apology—everything he’d withheld and everything he longed to give. His hands settled gently on your back, holding you close, as though grounding himself in this moment.

The kiss was slow, adoring, and vulnerable, filling every empty space within you. Yunho’s lips pressed against yours, gentle and reverent, it felt like coming home, like stepping into a future you’d always dreamed of but never dared to hope for.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you looked up at him, your heart racing. A smile tugged at his lips, and he rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you too," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, but just loud enough for him to hear.

Yunho gently cupped your face with his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he leaned in for another chaste kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing steady but filled with that same quiet intensity.

"Take it slow with me?" you asked, your voice a soft plea, tinged with vulnerability, putting your heart into his hands, hoping he would keep it safe.

Yunho’s face broke into a smile. Slowly, he moved his hand down, his fingers threading with yours. He held your hand between both of his, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

Life in the shop had settled into a comfortable rhythm, woven with little rituals that had become second nature. Each morning, you’d light the incense, watching as tendrils of fragrant smoke curled up to fill the air, a silent invocation for another day’s mysteries to unfold.

Yunho, meanwhile, would be wrestling with the coffee maker, half-asleep as he mumbled curses under his breath, yet somehow managing to coax it into yielding two cups of strong coffee.

His work as a recruiter kept him busy. Some days were filled with back-to-back phone calls, scouting reports, and meetings with stakeholders. Other days, he’d be out in the field, his energy brimming as he made connections with future talents.

But on quieter days, when he was in the shop, he’d drift down from his makeshift office to check in on you, often caught in wonder at some relic or enchanted object before remembering his intent to whisk you away from your responsibilities.

Today of all days, though, Yunho was off to Namhae, scouting a promising player. Before he left, he had lingered a little longer, offering you a reassuring smile as if to say he’d be back before you knew it. And as the door closed behind him, the shop felt both a touch quieter and warmer, his absence a gentle reminder of the quiet home you’d built together.

“What do you think about starting a delivery service?” Hongjoong asked, pulling you from your reverie. His eyes sparkled with that unmistakable gleam, the one that always appeared when he was on the verge of something new.

You raised a brow, eyeing him with amused curiosity. “A delivery service? Are we low on customers?”

"Not exactly. But now that you can leave the shop, and with Yunho around, we actually have the manpower to pull it off."

"Something tells me…this was spurred on by Lord Death.”

Hongjoong’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he huffed, crossing his arms with exaggerated indignation.

"Seonghwa has no idea what he’s talking about! He said we wouldn’t last a week if we ever ‘ventured into the delivery business’—said I’d lose interest by day three!”

Hongjoong waved a dismissive hand, brushing off any lingering doubts. "Well, I’m going to prove him wrong. By the time we’re done, our services will be able to expand to other realms. Might need to hire another hand for that."

With a dramatic flourish, he snapped his fingers, summoning a swirling puff of smoke that quickly dissipated to reveal...a hand-drawn presentation, sketched in thick, colorful strokes. It hung midair, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the almost childlike quality of it.

The first page of Hongjoong's plan was a roughly sketched map, barely more than a few wavy lines connecting a series of floating islands labeled "Other Realms," each island outlined in a different pastel shade. It was whimsical yet somehow serious, as though his haphazard lines could shape whole worlds. He tapped his finger on a small dot labeled “Astral Emporium.”

"This is our expansion plan. Right now, we’re here," he continued, pointing to the shop on the map, "but soon we’ll be...everywhere!"

“You really think Yunho and I are up for running around, delivering enchantments and charms to every corner of the city?”

Hongjoong chuckled, his smirk widening as he crossed his arms.

"Actually, more like Yunho and Wooyoung. You and I will rotate manning the shop, keeping things under control. All we have to do is equip Yunho with a pair of magical glasses, and he’ll be able to spot clients without worrying about the veil."

You imagined Yunho, looking unexpectedly dashing with enchanted glasses perched on his nose, pedaling a vintage bike through the bustling streets. Wooyoung would be nestled in a woven basket up front, surrounded by tiny glass bottles of potions and carefully wrapped charms, all neatly packed and ready for delivery.

“I’m sold.”

"Really?" Hongjoong’s eyes widened, sparkling with delight. The sorcerer laughed heartily, clasping his hands together in a rare moment of unbridled joy.

“Seonghwa’s going to eat his words,” Hongjoong said, his voice brimming with triumph and a gleeful satisfaction that was hard to resist.

He turned back to you. “Before I forget,” he added, casting you a sidelong glance. "You planning on visiting your parents anytime soon? Leaving magical seed packets isn’t the same as actually seeing you, you know."

The question lingered in the air, and you felt a familiar ache bloom in your chest. You shifted uncomfortably, your gaze falling to the counter as though it might offer some answer.

The last time you’d visited, it had been nothing more than a quiet spell—a small enchantment to slip through unseen, to place a few enchanted seed packets by their doorstep, enough to help your dad achieve his goal of growing the ultimate vegetable.

It was the closest you’d come to a real visit since Yunho had broken the shop’s hold on you, freeing you from its grasp and allowing you to walk the world on your own terms.

“I know,” you murmured, running your fingers along the worn edge of the counter.

"But they’ve already grieved, Hongjoong. They’ve accepted that I’m gone. It’s probably better that way. If I showed up now, after all this time…” You trailed off, your hands fidgeting as if your fingers could occupy the unsettled thoughts in your mind.

“I’d just be tearing open wounds that have barely healed. They’ve found a kind of peace, I think. I don’t want to be the one to undo that. And maybe,” you added, voice almost a whisper now,

“Maybe it’s a way for me to move forward, too.”

Hongjoong’s gaze softened, a trace of understanding settling in his expression. “I get it,” he said, his voice gentler than usual. “But remember, you don’t have to carry all of that alone. Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they’ve stopped loving you.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, nodding in silent agreement. For now, it would have to be enough to leave small reminders of your love—a packet of seeds on their doorstep, wordlessly expressing your affection.

The bell above the emporium’s door chimed, its familiar ring sparking an instant thrill in your chest. You turned, heartbeat quickening just a little at the sight of Yunho stepping inside. He noticed you immediately, his expression softening as he took a few easy strides toward you.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice warm and low, a tone he seemed to reserve just for you. He reached out, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The touch was a reminder that home was here, and it was wherever he was.

“Long day?” you asked softly, your entwining with his as he let out a chuckle, nodding.

“Long but worth it,” he replied, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Especially knowing I get to come home to this.” His gaze lingered on you, and even as he glanced around the shop, it was clear his words were for you. The tiredness in his expression softened, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly in place.

Hongjoong looked on, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as if he’d always known that, somehow, you and Yunho would both end up here, together, ready to face whatever came next.

And for Hongjoong, that future definitely included his long-planned delivery service.

Hongjoong cleared his throat dramatically, breaking the quiet between you and Yunho. “Well, since we’re all feeling cozy and inspired,” he said with a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “might I propose a little idea?”

He snapped his fingers, and with a soft poof, a floating, hand-drawn presentation appeared, complete with a slightly crooked title that read, “Yunho: The Delivery Driver.”

A deep chill had crept in with the early dawn, settling over you as you instinctively curled up tighter, trying to preserve whatever small warmth remained. Groggily, you reached out, fingers searching for the missing blanket, only to find nothing but the cool, empty edge of the bed.

Squinting against the morning light, you rolled over, and there he was—Yunho, cocooned in what could only be described as a fortress of blankets. He lay sprawled out, half-buried in a mountain of covers, blissfully unaware of conditions on your side of the bed.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to tug a corner of the blanket back. But Yunho shifted, clutching the fabric even tighter, as if sensing your mission in his sleep.

“Yunho,” you whispered, nudging his shoulder. “You’re hogging the blanket.”

A muffled sound came from his side, something between a grunt and a sleepy laugh. One eye cracked open, blinking groggily at you, and a lazy, mischievous smile spread across his face. Without warning, he reached out, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you against his chest, the blanket effectively forgotten as his warmth enveloped you.

“Who needs a blanket when you’ve got me?” he murmured, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I'm half naked and freezing," you whined, exasperated. He smirked, his fingers tracing slow circles along your spine.

“How about I give it back if you beg for it?”

You huffed a laugh, but his hand on your back, gentle yet insistent, was quickly making you forget your original mission. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, his eyes dark, and before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another, closer, teasing.

“In your dreams,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you tried to turn away, but Yunho only grinned and smoothly flipped you onto your back, pinning you gently under him.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice low and playful as he braced himself above you, “Dream You would’ve folded by now.”

“Oh, would she?” you replied, raising a brow, trying to feign annoyance even as your pulse quickened.

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, she tells me how much she loves it when I’m rough with her,” he teased, leaning in to kiss you again, this time deeper, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made you melt, his warmth seeping into every inch of you.

“Well she’s wrong because I love it when you wear your glasses.”

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling as you pulled him closer, the blanket entirely forgotten as he kissed you, slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. You could feel his smile against your lips, his playful challenge lingering in every brush of his mouth.

Yunho wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you flush against him. He ground against you, his movements unhurried, savoring every shared breath, every flicker of connection between you. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, heightening the anticipation that hung thick in the air.

Your nails lightly grazed the delicate hairs at the back of his neck, drawing a low, contented hum from him. You traced along his nape, feeling the warmth and tension melt beneath your touch as he dipped his head, his lips brushing along your jaw before trailing down to your collarbone.

Your senses heightened with each delicious drag of Yunho’s cock against your walls—the warmth of his skin, the whispered promises between each kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, feeling the way his heart raced in sync with yours.

Every touch, every kiss, every slow, tender motion felt like a culmination of countless lifetimes. Yunho wasn’t just here with you; he was here with every version of you that had ever yearned for this closeness, for the feeling of being truly seen and loved.

And now, here he was, holding you close, as if he had always known you would eventually find your way back to each other.

Yunho whimpered your name into the curve of your neck, his movements becoming rougher, each touch and thrust a silent promise woven across time as the heat between you surged to a crescendo.

He pulled you closer, his urgency spilling over as you felt yourself unravel, swept up in the bliss that enveloped you both. His gasps blended with yours, and in the haze of it all, you were aware only of him—his scent, his warmth, and the way he fit perfectly against you.

“Love you. God I love you,” Yunho murmured softly, his voice tender and thick with emotion.

You giggled, reaching up to brush his tousled bangs from his forehead, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face as you took in the softness of the moment. The warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter, even in the gentle light of early morning. The world outside was waking up, but here, wrapped in his arms, it felt as though time had slowed just for you both.

“Love you too,” you whispered, your voice filled with the same affection that he’d poured into his words. “But…” You grinned, tapping his nose playfully.

“You’re going to be late for deliveries.”

He groaned in protest, tightening his hold around you, as if to shield himself from the reality of a busy day waiting just beyond the sheets.

“Just a few more minutes,” he grumbled, his voice muffled against your skin. “Deliveries can wait. I’d rather stay here with you.”

You felt his breath tickling your skin and laughed softly, only to hear a loud, impatient voice call from the other side of the door.

“Y/N! Feed me, I’m dying of hunger!” Wooyoung’s dramatic tone was followed by a series of thumping sounds as he pawed insistently at the door.

"I’m going to die!" he wailed, drawing a groan of frustration from Yunho. Your boyfriend sighed, glancing at the door with thinly veiled irritation.

“I swear, he has the worst timing,” he muttered, shifting reluctantly as though debating whether to let you go. He held you tighter instead, as if Wooyoung’s complaints were some distant nuisance that could be ignored.

“Y/N!”

With a soft laugh, you planted a kiss against the tip of Yunho’s nose in an attempt to placate him. “He’s just lonely,” you murmured with sympathy for your familiar.

“He probably needs a friend to keep him occupied. He seems to be making it his mission to ruin your mornings.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, muttering something about demanding cats under his breath, but before he could say more, a dramatic wail sounded from the other side of the door.

"I’m fading away… I can see… the light…” Wooyoung yowled, his voice an exaggerated plea for attention.

“Alright, I’m coming!” you called out, with a chuckle.

With a playful smile, you pressed another quick kiss to Yunho's lips. His eyes softened, the irritation all but forgotten as you stepped toward the door. You glanced over your shoulder, catching the trace of a smile breaking through Yunho’s resigned expression.

The threads of your past lives wove delicately between you, fragile yet enduring, stronger than time itself. Fate had always teased the possibility of you together, leaving behind only fleeting traces and unfinished stories. But in this life, you had taken the first step—crossing the line, to lower the walls you had so carefully built around your heart.

For so long, you’d been bound to the shop’s mysteries and the shadows of your past. Now, you felt a sense of release, as if a tether that had held you in place had finally loosened, granting you the freedom to shape your own path. With Yunho by your side, every moment held the promise of something new, a life you could build together.

And you couldn’t wait.

<< viii | epilogue >>

a/n: it was always going to be a happy ending, I had to set it up for the epilogue hehehe 🤭

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie @jonghosbrainrot @e3ellie @koyagifs @notevenheretbh1 @corgilover20 @almondtofu006

#ateez #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic #modern au #ateez au #magic au #yunho #ateez imagines #yunho angst #forget me not #supernatural au

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idkwhatimdoingbutslay · 13 hours ago

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Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

#Just a little ramble #im so glad I rewatched s1 before s2 #To slay or not to slay #Arcane #vi arcane #vi #caitlyn #Caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #Jinx #jinx arcane #jinx #Arcane spoilers #arcane s2

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loverslodge · 2 days ago

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leading up to the date

You have been very unlucky in love. You were a thoroughbred romantic but that definitely wasn't a good thing when it came to actual experiences.

You had been in quite a lot of relationships, none of which lasted more than six months. Now, here you were, at the ripe age of 30, wanting to finally settle down and have a consistent lovelife. But when has your plans ever worked out for you? With no potential partner and an exhausting dating scene, you were worn out.

So you decided to do what you do best. Watch rom-coms, cry over how perfectly the couples fit each other and have wine and pizza.

You got tipsy, more on the drunken side and a thought popped in your head. So you opened your email and did the one thing only a drunken desperate idiot would do. Send emails to every famous crush of yours to ask them on a date for one night. You were feeling generous so you also added that you will pay them $10000 for their troubles. You wrote a few of your conditions and it was a surprise that for a tipsy person, your email was well written.

…………………..

Three months had gone by and you had completely forgotten about what you had done. Honestly, when you woke up the next morning, you thought that either the people you emailed to will either spam it, delete it or laugh at it. So you laughed at how ridiculous it was and just went on with your days.

You were working from home that day, luckily, and things were going just fine. You were on a lunch break when you heard two pings from your email box. Thinking it must be work, you popped open to see your personal email had received two replies. The subject line glaring at you and your breath quickened.

You had received responses, on your three month old desperate email. By one Steve Rogers and one James Buchanan Barnes. They both had agreed to every terms and conditions and were asking when it would be okay to meet for the date.

You spent two days contemplating. Should you even agree? Did your drunken thoughts even matter? Even if you do agree, whom will you choose? You liked them both. Of course you didn't know them personally but their public presence has always attracted you to them in a way. They were the two men about whom you've daydreamt, occasionally with a vibrator but also, respectfully.

On the third day, you decided that it would be best to leave this decision on both of them. Make them choose who wants to stay for the date. Because you were really using up a lot of your money to pay one person. Why try and lose sleep when you can throw the ball in their court?

You opened their emails and sent them the exact same reply saying that they can meet this Saturday at your usual cafe and then plan from there. Surprisingly, you received both their replies within an hour agreeing.

………………….

Life had been very unforgiving to Steve and Bucky. While they did have women fawn over them, they were having a hard time dealing with the female fanbase.

Bucky tried it once, one night stand with a fan. It did not end well. She had to be dragged away by security and Bucky started questioning what went wrong. He withdrew completely. He did flirt but that was the end of everything. He called it healthy flirting, good to practice just like training.

Steve, after witnessing this, drew back even more. He had been in love with Peggy, still. Seeing Sharon, he saw hints of Peggy in her and so developed a relationship with her. It didn't end well. After just two months of trying, Steve found the relationship exhausting which it shouldn't. He talked to Sharon about it and they both deemed it best to end things while they were ahead. They were just colleagues now.

But one fine day, in the middle of the night, both of them received the same email. A random woman had asked them out on a date and was willing to pay them $10000 for their efforts. Well, not them together but individually.

They were sitting together when this happened. They found it ridiculous and joked about it. Later, bidding each other goodnight, when they were in the comfort of their own room, they both actually started thinking about the proposition.

They both asked FRIDAY, separately, privately, to look into this email. They wanted to make sure they were not being lured into something unknown. All they received was a photo of yours and very clean data. They started thinking about this more.

Finally, they both mustered the courage to email you back saying they agree. Both Bucky and Steve wanted to add that they don't need money but thought they will refuse the money once the date is over.

Steve never actually wanted to date again. He had his chance to go back to Peggy but he didn't want that either. He saw her life flourish and he wanted her to rest now. He said yes to your email mostly because he found it interesting. Also, it was for one day. It was a no strings attached offer and it will help him get his mind off of his stagnant love life.

Bucky found this entire thing funny. But he said yes regardless because he wanted to talk to the brilliant mind that came up with this. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, Bucky also thought that this idea of one day romantic excursion without expectations was titillating.

Steve and Bucky were having dinner together when they both received your email confirming their email and set up the day and time. They both pretended that there was something very important in their phone and agreed to meet you.

The rest of the week was torture for both of them. They wanted to tell each other about this thing but also wanted to hide because who in their right mind would agree to something like this?

They spent the rest of the week separate. The rest of the team found it weird but did not question it. They didn't want to get in the middle of whatever was going on.

As Saturday rolled by, Steve left almost two hours early for the date. He didn't want Bucky to ask questions. He went to a local florist and bought three pink roses for you.

Bucky also wanted to be sneaky so he waited till he heard nothing but silence to leave the compound. He went to a local florist and bought three pink roses for you.

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yan-lorkai · 1 day ago

Note

Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much 🙏👍🫂✨

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too 🥺💓. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!

Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.

While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.

By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.

Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.

⠀⠀

Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.

And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.

⠀

Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings — he finds it all so fascinating. He’s absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you — what you like, your habits, your friends — and he’s not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, he’s ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.

Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floyd’s body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality — whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????

⠀

Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.

But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.

⠀

Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.

Riddle’s meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as “perfect” as he can, so when you’re back, it’ll be clear that he knows what’s best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your “own good.”

In Twisted Wonderland, you’re now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddle’s strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.

⠀

Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, he’s strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out who’s important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust — and who to remove from your life. He’s ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is “best.”

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re handling Jamil’s carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.

⠀

Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. He’s absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. He’s incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about “you” that leave people puzzled. He can’t resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking he’s treating you.

As for you, adapting to Kalim’s responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as you’re thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.

⠀

When Ruggie wakes up in your body, he’s initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; he’s not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.

He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a “threat” to his place in your life. He’s not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety — most people won’t even realize he’s manipulating things from behind the scenes.

If you have a job, he’ll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. He’s naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money “for emergencies” (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks you’ll need down the line).

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggie’s life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world — from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leona’s rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. It’s a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggie’s way of surviving in a world that doesn’t make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.

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silent-stories · 5 hours ago

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𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: little bit of angst (fluff is always there, I don't even write it in the tw anymore)

Series masterlist

3 years earlier

Your apartment felt suffocating. You stood by the kitchen counter, staring at the sink, trying to breathe through the frustration that had been building for probably months. Jason was pacing in the living room, the sound of his feet on the hardwood floor sharp against the silence.

"Why is this always so difficult with you?" His voice was rising, the anger behind it unmistakable. "I try to talk to you, to explain how I feel, but it’s like I’m speaking to a wall. You don’t listen."

You turned, your patience wearing thin. "I am listening, Jason. But you can’t just lash out every time things don’t go your way. It doesn’t work like that."

Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. "You think I’m the one causing problems? You think I’m just making this up?" He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You don’t even seem to care when something’s wrong. You shut down every time I try to talk to you about it!"

You let out a slow breath, trying to hold on to the last shreds of calm you had left. "That’s not true. I care. But you’re trying to control everything. You are trying to control me, and it’s exhausting. Every time we have a disagreement, you make it feel like it’s my fault, like I’m the one who’s doing everything wrong."

Jason scoffed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, so now I’m controlling? That’s rich. I try to make things work, I try to talk to you, but all you do is shut me out."

"Don’t act like this is just about us not communicating," you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration. "It’s not just one thing, Jason. It’s everything. The way you treat me like I’m supposed to be available on your terms, the way you talk down to me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You’re always making everything about you and your needs, but you never ask how I feel about anything."

Jason’s eyes darkened, but you saw something else there too—fear. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face what he was losing, but you had already made up your mind. "You’re overreacting," he muttered, taking a step toward you, but you didn’t back away.

"No, Jason. I’m done," you said, your voice more firm than you felt. "This isn’t working anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Jason froze, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You don’t mean that. I love you. I need you."

Your chest tightened at the words,. "We shouldn't feel the love so painfully. I shouldn’t. You don’t love me, Jason. This isn’t love," you said. "Love isn’t trying to control someone, love isn’t belittling them every chance you get, love isn’t making them feel small. You don’t get to hide behind 'I love you' and make it okay."

His face twisted in disbelief, like he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. "You’re throwing all of that away? After everything?"

You shook your head slowly, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to break free. But you didn’t let them. Not now. "I’m choosing myself, Jason. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and thinking it’s okay. I’m done with this and I am truly sorry things didn't go in a different way, trust me."

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, his lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words didn’t come.

"Just go," you said, your voice barely a whisper but stronger than it had been in weeks. "Please. I need you to leave."

Jason hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides. "You’re making a huge mistake," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You can’t just throw this all away. You’ll regret it."

You shook your head. "No. I won’t. I’m not doing this anymore."

He stood there for a long moment, and then, with a final glance at you, he turned toward the door. It clicked open, and then shut.

The sound echoed in the silence of your apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, your back pressed against the door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You told yourself you had made the right decision, that you had done what was best for you. And yet, as the seconds ticked by, something inside you twisted.

The tears came in slow waves at first, and then, like a dam breaking, they poured out. You didn’t try to stop them. You didn’t even know how to. You sank to the floor, knees pulled to your chest, burying your face in your arms as the sobs wracked your body.

You had told him to leave. You had closed the door on him. You had made the decision to walk away from a relationship that has never been healthy.

And still, your heart ached like it had been ripped out of your chest. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you were stronger than this, your heart betrayed you. You had loved him. You loved him.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself that the way he treated you—his lack of respect, his jealousy, his need to control everything—had been enough to make you forget the love you once shared, your heart couldn’t let go.

You loved him. Even if you didn't want to.

One week after he stepped out of your house, you got the news that he left the city to open his shop somewhere else. And you haven't heard from him since.

Now

You were still staring out the window, frozen, as the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

Jason’s Ink Studio.

The name was loud and clear in your mind, a flashback to everything you had worked so hard to leave behind. You hadn’t expected this, not today, not now. You never thought he could get back in town, and yet, here he was.

Your gaze fixed on him before your mind could even catch up with the shock in your chest. He was standing on the other side of the road, talking to someone, his face in profile as he lifted a package—large, wrapped in brown paper.

His hair, lighter now than it had been back then, was short but messy, like he’d run his fingers through the light brown locks and forgotten to smooth it down. The buzz cut he once wore was gone, replaced with something more grown-up, but still familiar.

He was wearing a simple black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos that snake around his forearms, ink you remember well. His skin is still a bit tanned, like it always was.

His eyes, those blue-grey eyes that had always caught the light in that almost magnetic way, were hidden from now, but you knew they were shining under the morning light.

You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t help it. As he turned, walking toward the door, his eyes flicked up, right toward the window where you were standing. For a split second, you could have sworn his gaze landed on you.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you, or if you were just imagining it. But in that moment, everything around you seemed to stop. You held your breath. You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want to acknowledge him, not in this place, not now. You were happy with Noah. You didn't want to see him everyday in front of your workplace.

For a moment you both stood there, and then, just like that, he disappeared through the door of his own shop.

You exhaled slowly, the air feeling thick in your lungs. Your palms were suddenly clammy, and you found yourself gripping the counter for stability. He was here. Of course he was. Back there like nothing had changed. But so much had changed. You had changed.

You stared at the door he had just walked through, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach, still trying to wrap your head around the sight of Jason standing outside. It had been years, but seeing him again—especially in front of your café—stirred up a mess of old memories. Why the hell was he back?

Noah’s voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yeah. I'm fine," you muttered, brushing off the question. But before you could add anything else, Grace, leaning over the counter, caught sight of what was going on on the other side of the window.

"Oh well—look who’s back."

You stiffened. Noah looked over, clearly confused. “Who?”

You let out a sharp exhale. “You remember when I told you about my ex?”

Noah raised an eyebrow. "The tattoo artist who treated you like shit and left the town to chase a bigger paycheck?"

“Yeah.”

Grace, without missing a beat, pointed at the window. “Him. Right there.”

Noah turned, following her finger, and the look on his face shifted. His eyes narrowed, “Of course he’s back.” He muttered.

You felt your stomach tighten. “I don't know why he's here. But I don't fucking want him here. Not in front of my café."

Grace, clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much, leaned in with a smirk. “I wonder if he already knows about your ‘charming’ new... rockstar boyfriend with pink nailpolish here?”

Noah shifted on his feet, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if the guy’s gonna get jealous seeing you’ve moved on... to someone else.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, and before you could respond, Noah cleared his throat. His voice, though calm, had an edge to it. “Yeah, well, that’s none of his business.”

The casualness of his tone didn’t escape you, but there was something else—something in the way he said it that made you wonder if he was a little too quick to defend you. Or maybe he was just annoyed by the whole situation, too.

Grace watched the two of you, clearly entertained. "Oh, I get it now. High-school reunion vibes, huh? A bit embarassing and awkward?"

You shot her a glare. "Don’t even joke about that."

Noah’s posture had shifted. He was still looking at the window, but the way he stood now had more tension in it. “If he thinks he can just show up and start making trouble, I’ll deal with it,” he said, the words sounding like more of a promise than a suggestion.

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden protective tone in his voice. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—but why was he getting so worked up?

“I don’t need you to deal with it,” you said quickly. “I can handle it myself, don't worry.”

Grace leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But... still, if he tries anything, I’m pretty sure he’ll wish he hadn’t.” She finished the sentence looking at Noah.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the tension building between you and Noah. You could feel his eyes on you, but you weren’t sure if it was out of concern or something else entirely. Was he already jealous? Without even seeing Jason yet?

“He’s not gonna try anything,” you said, trying to reassure both you and Noah. “I’m done with him. For good. It's almost been four fucking years. I moved on. He probably did that too. Maybe he moved back with... I don't know, his wife? Who knows.”

Noah just nodded, staying silent. You knew his mind was full of thoughts but that wasn't the right moment to talk about them.

You stared at the window again, watching your ex as he spoke to someone outside, completely unaware of the tension building inside the café. The knot in your stomach only tightened.

You kept working after Noah left to work on something with the band.

The café was busy and you used that as a distraction from the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn’t shake the image of Jason standing outside.

You busied yourself behind the counter as you made drinks and refilled pastries, trying not to look up at the window every few minutes. But every time the door opened, your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

A couple walked in, laughing together. The man’s grin reminded you too much of Jason’s—slightly crooked, genuine, and a little too familiar. For a split second, your heart skipped, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. But as they made their way to the counter, you saw it wasn’t him. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Can I help you?" you asked, your voice a little shaky as you forced a smile.

The man ordered a cappuccino, and you moved through the motions, trying to push the thought of Jason from your mind. But every time the door opened, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping. You looked, always half-expecting him to walk through.

The bell above the door chimed again.

The man entering had brown short hair, his face half-obscured by the collar of his jacket, but for a moment, your mind screamed, It’s him.

You froze, watching as he approached the counter, but when he turned his face toward you, your stomach sank. It wasn’t Jason. Just another stranger.

You forced yourself to breathe, to smile. To get it together. You couldn’t keep reacting like this.

Minutes passed. Then another hour. The tension in your chest never quite eased, but you managed to focus on the customers, the tasks at hand, your routine.

Jason wasn’t coming in. He couldn’t be.

And as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, you didn’t see him again, not even outside the window.

You kept working, moving through the motions. But the truth was, the sense of unease wouldn’t leave. Every time you heard the door, part of you braced for the possibility that it was him. The man who had once been everything, but now felt like a stranger.

But he didn’t come. Not today.

Noah was sprawled on the couch in the band's living room, casually scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat across from him. The quiet hum of the house felt comfortable, but Noah’s mind was clearly elsewhere.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Noah set his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

“What's wrong, man?” Nick asked casually.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just... Y/N’s ex is back in town,” he said, his tone less than enthusiastic. “And he opened up a tattoo shop right across from her café.”

Nick’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that guy? The tattoo artist?"

“Yeah,” Noah confirmed, leaning back against the couch. “Jason. He’s been gone for a while, but now he’s back. And of course, right across from where Y/n works.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... uh, that's gotta be awkward."

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it’s not great. And I can’t help but feel like something’s going to happen. It just doesn’t feel good."

Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get it, man. But, you don’t have to worry about that. Y/N’s with you now, and she’s moved on. She’s not gonna let some guy from her past mess things up.”

Noah hesitated. "I know. But... I don’t know, man. I can’t shake this feeling. Ever since I got involved with Y/N I’ve been scared of losing her. I’ve always been scared of it, after... well, after everything that happened with Hannah." He took a deep breath and looked at Nick, his expression more vulnerable than usual. “But now... with Jason back in the picture, I feel it more than ever. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Nick studied him for a moment, then leaned back into his seat, shaking his head slightly. "You’re doing it again," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You’re thinking about things that haven’t even happened yet. I get that you're worried, but listen, you don’t have to keep carrying that fear around."

"I know I sound like a broken record,” Noah said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just... I love her, man. I don’t want anything to mess that up."

Nick’s tone softened. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to be scared of losing her. You’ve got a solid thing going. Y/N chose you. And she’s with you now. Jason’s part of her past, and that’s where he’s gonna stay. She’s moved on."

Noah let out a long breath. "I know. But it’s still hard not to worry, you know?"

Nick gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I get it. But trust me, man. You’re enough. You don’t have to live in fear of something that might never even happen. You’re already doing everything right."

Noah nodded slowly. “Thanks, man. I needed that.” He stood up, stretching. “I should go pick up Luna. She’s probably starving by now.”

Nick chuckled, standing up with him. "Good idea. But hey, remember, if you need to talk, you know where I am."

Noah smiled. "Appreciate it."

With a final wave, Noah walked out the door.

Things would work out, he hoped. But he still couldn’t shake the weight of his own worries.

He didn't want to get hurt again.

When Noah stepped into the daycare, his eyes quickly found Luna sitting at a small table in the corner, her little brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on something with a pile of crayons scattered in front of her. She caught sight of him immediately and waved enthusiastically.

"Daddy!" she squealed, bouncing out of her seat.

Noah grinned, walking over to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Luna nodded excitedly, but before Noah could move, Ms. Harper, one of the teachers, approached with a warm smile.

"Noah, do you have a second?" she asked. "We had a little project today, and I wanted to show you something."

Noah glanced at Luna, who ran off to rejoin a friend in a nearby play area.

"Of course," he replied, following Ms. Harper to the small corner of the room as she handed Noah a folded piece of paper.

"We had the kids draw pictures of their families,” she explained as Noah opened the paper carefully. “Luna was really proud of hers, and we wanted to make sure you saw it."

The paper was an explosion of color, with vibrant swirls of pink, blue, yellow, and green. In the sky, there was not a sun (like it usually was in kids' drawings) but a moon.

The clouds were big and puffy and a small house stood in the middle of the page.

Noah’s heart warmed as he looked at the three main figures in the foreground. One was small, the other two larger. The shapes were simple—a circle for each head, a few lines for arms and legs, but they were immediately recognizable. A man, a woman, and a smaller figure.

"That’s us, isn’t it?" Noah asked, looking up from the drawing to meet Ms. Harper’s eyes. His voice was soft, filled with warmth.

The teacher smiled and nodded. "Yep, Luna said it was ‘Daddy and Y/N.’ She was so proud of it."

Noah’s heart swelled as he looked back down at the drawing. The way Luna included you made him smile. "I love it," he murmured.

As he admired the picture, his eyes wandered to the background. He noticed several small shapes scattered on the horizon, almost like trees but not quite. They looked out of place compared to the other elements in the drawing, and his curiosity piqued.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at the figures.

Ms. Harper chuckled softly. “She said those are her uncles,” she explained.

Noah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a laugh escaping him. "Her uncles?"

"Yes," she replied, grinning. "She said they’re the uncles who love her."

Noah couldn’t help but laugh too, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Well, I'll tell them Luna included them in the family," he said, shaking his head with amusement. "This is perfect."

Luna, who had been playing with her friend, returned to him just as he was carefully folding the drawing.

"Dad" she asked eagerly, "did you see my picture? What do you think?"

Noah beamed down at her. "I love it, Luna. I think it’s the best drawing ever." He picked her up with one arm and kissed the top of her head. "You’ve made me so happy with this."

Luna’s face lit up, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged him tightly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "I’m glad you like it!"

The teacher gave them one last smile before stepping away.

"Alright, Lu," Noah said, shifting Luna slightly in his arms, "let’s go home."

The soft glow from the TV illuminated the dim room as you and Noah lay on his bed, wrapped up in the warmth of his blankets as Luna was already sleeping in her bedroom.

The gentle hum of some anime playing in the background was more of a comfort than entertainment at this point. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you. His hand idly brushed through your hair as you watched the fight happening on the screen, though you noticed he wasn’t quite as engaged as usual.

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, almost as if his mind had wandered far away from the bright colors on the TV. You could feel the subtle tension in his muscles, the quiet distance that had come over him.

"Hey," you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "Mrs. Linn asked to come see her sometime, yesterday. We talked a bit when I was about to get into my car to go back home. I forgot to tell you. She seemed such a sweet lady." You smiled, hoping to bring his attention back to the moment, but his gaze didn’t move from the ceiling.

Noah’s lips tugged up slightly, but it was more of a reflex than a genuine response. "Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her," he said absently. “Maybe we could all go sometime, say hi." His tone didn’t carry the usual warmth, though. His mind was still clearly elsewhere.

You frowned, now fully aware of the shift in his mood. You grabbed the remote and paused the anime, the room suddenly feeling quieter, even more intimate with the absence of noise.

"Is it about Jason?" you asked softly, almost afraid of what his reaction might be.

Noah didn’t look at you, but his head gave the smallest nod, confirming what you already suspected. His jaw tightened, and you could tell his thoughts were running in circles, probably replaying some old memories.

You let out a quiet sigh, lifting your hand to gently trace his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. "You don’t have to worry, Noah," you said. "I love you. I love Luna. I love the life we’re building together. He’s a ghost from the past, and that’s all he’s ever going to be now." You pressed a soft kiss to his naked chest, hoping the words would reach him, would soothe all his worries.

For a long moment, Noah didn’t respond, but then he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes were soft but looked tired. "I know," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "It’s just... when I realized he was back earlier, I don’t know... it just stirred up a lot of shit that is still there. You are important to me. I don't wanna lose you."

You smiled gently, sliding your hand to his face and cupping it tenderly, your fingers brushing his stubbled cheek. "You’re allowed to feel however you feel. And if you wanna talk about anything, I'm here." you whispered. "But don't think I'm gonna leave you. I’m right here. I'll be here until the day you'll tell me to go away." You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And as if in response, his lips curved into a smile, a soft, real smile. You moved away slightly, your gaze meeting his.

"There it is," you teased, pressing more kisses to his face, his cheeks, his nose. His eyes closed, and he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine.

"Finally," you grinned. "I didn’t hear you laugh since this morning. I was starting to worry."

Noah’s laughter filled the quiet space between you two, and you thought, in that moment, that everything would be okay.

Even if Jason was back in town, he was still part of your past and that's where he was supposed to stay.

🍪 a cookie for you if you caught the little bmth reference

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfighforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens

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infinitelystrangemachinex · 2 hours ago

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Jayce and the fallacy of the butterfly effect in Arcane's narrative

If Jayce's symbol is the butterfly, then my theory is that we're going into a full "butterfly effect" narrative in Act 2. Either we'll watch it happen, or we'll only see Jayce come out the other side of it changed by the experience, knowing - or more importantly, THINKING he knows - what to do to change the future. Literally, to "defend tomorrow."

tl;dr: Jayce will encounter the butterfly effect in season 2. Viktor and Mel both foreshadowed this in season 1. I think Jayce will fixate on Viktor and will believe that stopping or changing Viktor either in the past or the present - most likely the present - will mean he can save the future. I believe this will lead to an even worse tragedy and may have the same effect as a self-fulfilling prophecy. Ekko's approach to changing the future by sticking closer to the present - considering only tiny increments of time to alter more immediate future outcomes - will be the superior approach. I also think that Jayce attempting to change the future will create the conditions that push Viktor to become the Machine Herald.

One of the most common reactions even the casual viewer had to Arcane season 1 was this: "If [character] had just done this one small thing a little differently, [tragic event] wouldn't have happened!"

Arcane has been called a Greek tragedy for the main reason that because of how well built up the characters' personalities and reasonings are, there's no other way season 1 could have gone. There was no stopping the multiple tragedies that occurred, because with one event leading to another, the chain of seemingly inevitable events goes too far back to identify what one singular event caused everything, what one character made what one decision to put our characters on the terrible paths they walked.

Arcane is about to investigate this idea in its own narrative, and I think that Jayce will be the character to stumble into the flawed idea that you can change one event, or stop one character, and change the future for the better. This is because Jayce struggles with a few very interesting character flaws, one of them being that he believes himself to be the main character, and it is therefore his responsibility to intervene, be a hero, and fix things.

Viktor and Mel both foreshadow Jayce's future encounter with the butterfly effect.

Recall that Viktor said: "There is always a choice."

Jayce sees choices in black and white, believes that he has no other options but to go along with what he's persuaded and pushed into, and acts too boldly with too much power multiple times.

Recall that Mel said: "We can't change what fate has in store for us, but we don't have to face it alone."

Jayce tries to solve big problems on his own, and though he delegates to Enforcers and the like, Jayce relies on his reasoning and his alone to make important decisions if he doesn't simply become persuaded - usually through strong emotions like fear - by other characters. In addition, since Mel is specifically talking about Viktor's plight here, it's worth mentioning that while Jayce did say that he would help Viktor in acts 2 and 3 of season 1, Jayce does wind up leaving Viktor to face his fate alone. When Jayce tries to change that fate in s2 ep1, ep2 shows that only tragedy can come of this as well.

Viktor and Mel's statements here are not contradictory. Viktor makes the point that you can always make a choice. In context, he's literally referring to the classic "secret third option," because given a choice between aggression and passivity, war and surrender, Viktor chooses to defuse the bomb instead. Mel, interestingly, seems to believe that destiny is fixed in a broad sense, and she operates as a politician and diplomat and investor who navigates that line of destiny in the most optimal way possible. In reality, in context, she is referring to the fact that Viktor can't change the way he was born and so he has no way to change his fate and therefore must face it, which is true - she's only missing the information that Viktor actually does have the means to change his illness and his body. Her wisdom still applies however, because he'll have to accept the hand that fate deals him after he makes that choice. Will he face it alone, or not?

There is always a choice, there's even secret third options, because having a fate doesn't mean that you are doomed to make only one possible series of choices. What it does mean is that each choice comes with a hand that fate deals you. It is impossible to know what all of these branching choices and consequences are in advance, and it is just as impossible in hindsight - the branches are too complex and the end outcomes are all equally meaningful, just different. If Arcane season 2 is to be a tragedy, it may show us that each possible outcome is still tragic if you fall for the fallacy of the butterfly effect.

Jayce is counseled by some of the wisest, cleverest characters with the deepest life experiences in Arcane, but he hardly ever takes that counsel to heart. If he does, he still acts on that counsel in flawed ways that have unintended consequences. This will come to a head in season 2.

Viktor and Jayce both have a butterfly following them around in season 1. The butterfly effect refers to one small seemingly insignificant event changing the course of history, and changing that event therefore changes history. Viktor bled over the railing of a Hexgate in season 1:

And Heimerdinger sees what we can only assume is Viktor's blood contaminating (?) the Hexgate in s2 ep3:

This might be the seemingly unimportant "inciting incident" that Jayce (and Heimerdinger and Ekko) settle on as something that should be avoided or erased by changing the past (if they time-travel with Ekko, for example).

I doubt that, if this is what this crew chooses to fixate on, it will be the only event that is considered as something to change. But let's take this and run with it for the sake of discussion.

As silly as it sounds, how do you stop Viktor from allowing his blood to come into contact with the arcane? Stop Viktor's involvement with the Academy entirely? Don't invent Hextech at all? But what if someone else invents Hextech besides Jayce? What if future tragedy befalls Piltover because it didn't invent Hextech?

The possibilities and what-ifs could branch on forever. But because Jayce is who he is, and because his tragedy with Viktor is still raw and recent and frightening, I think Jayce's butterfly effect experience will have to do with Viktor.

My personal prediction is that the timeskip between s2 ep3 and ep4 will be Jayce experiencing a timeline where Viktor, taken over by the Hexcore, brings about an apocalyptic event similar to what Heimerdinger experienced in his past. Either Jayce and co. can't go into the past to change the present, or Heimerdinger and/or Ekko advise strongly against it to avoid a paradox. This will lead to them re-entering the canon Arcane timeline before this apocalypse, but still after the timeskip. Jayce, believing that destroying Viktor and his cult will save the future, and believing that resurrecting Viktor was Jayce's mistake to fix, attacks him. But the consequences don't unfold the way he hopes, because trying to change fate once the cards have already been dealt has led to tragedy before.

The butterfly is a symbol of something other than just the butterfly effect - change, evolution, and rebirth. If the butterfly symbolizes the butterfly effect for Jayce, then I think it has a different meaning for Viktor - the change and rebirth meaning.

I've always found it very interesting that we see a similar-looking butterfly on Progress Day... but made of metal.

Every time Viktor's situation changes, he adapts and evolves. If Jayce attacks him, if his cult is destroyed, if the Hexcore is causing Viktor to decay, if all of these things happen at once - he'll just evolve again, and I think the Machine Herald is the next step. And the Machine Herald will be a triumph for Viktor, but Jayce will believe that he's created something even worse. The resulting feud will be a personal nightmare for both of them.

I think this still allows Viktor to use his own agency to choose to become the Machine Herald (the MH will probably be the "secret third option" that saves Viktor, or there will be a secret third option that ends the feud) while still allowing Jayce to be offended and horrified at whatever the Machine Herald represents or is trying to do in the undercity. Introducing the element of time travel allows Arcane to explore the meta concept of tragedy and fate that season 1 was built on while showing that you can't "solve" a tragedy, because there are other terrible possibilities lurking behind alternate choices. Especially if what you're trying to change is singular people or events and not systems of power.

This is why Ekko's approach with his Z-drive will be superior to Jayce's sweeping attempt at changing the future. Ekko's goal has always been societal change. He creates his own punk society in the undercity, more progressive and successful than anything Vander or Silco ever created, and a better bastion of safety, hope, and progress than what Heimerdinger founded in Piltover. Trying to change systems by going back in time is most likely futile. But taking what Ekko has already built in the Firelights, curing his tree, and fighting for the Firelights' survival bit by bit by optimizing the present with the Z-drive shows that:

It's more worth it to focus on becoming wise (Ekko's mask is an owl) and making choices you won't regret

It's best if you don't face your fate alone (act as a collective and take care of each other)

Consider every option, not just the obvious black and white choices

Maintain and fix what you've already built instead of abandoning it once things get difficult

Adapt as needed if the choices you made lead to dark consequences, and once again, stick together and take care of each other when the bad times do come

That's my Act 2 but, ultimately, my season 2 prediction based on the butterfly symbolism we've already seen. Ekko's involvement is what will give the series the at least partial happy ending that the creators have referred to. I personally don't think that the Viktor/Jayce feud will end quite so well, but maybe, they will still survive.

#arcane #spoilers #arcane s2 #arcane spoilers #jayce talis #ekko #viktor #viktor arcane #long post #meta #jayvik #arcane meta #heimerdinger #I'm positive that Mel will be deeply involved with this too considering her comments on fate #honestly the thought of her being caught in the Viktor/Jayce feud is terrible to contemplate so I'm just gonna pray for my girl #I did not like the time travel implications when i first watched act 1 but after thinking about this i feel way better about it #Another reason I think this will come down to Viktor is because Heimerdinger has distrusted Viktor since season 1 and he will focus on him #Ekko will see the faults in focusing on one person #Jayce is least likely to survive all this considering how fast the consequences of his actions are catching up with him #but there could also be a chance here of viktor choosing to spare him - if only to curse him with the Defender/Herald feud forever idk #anyway i am feral for season 2 so far can't you tell

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vanilla-lip-stick · 2 days ago

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Silco's Last Words

In light if the second season, especially what we see of Jinx, I have thought again about Silco’s “You’re perfect.” I haven’t stumbled upon someone talking about it, though most reactors I’ve seen took Silco’s last words as a clear statement of his love for Jinx. That may be true but is not what I want to focus on.

The thing is: the writers of Arcane did a fantastic job of making each line of dialogue count. So what else could “You’re perfect” mean? Well, words were always Silco’s sharpest sword. And that’s exactly what I think they are here as well: a weapon. He uses words to forcefully embed his will onto the world, and in this case, he directs them at Jinx and no one else. To me, his sentence is not tender but cruel.

Let me explain. Look at the word “perfect.” If you take it seriously and attach it to something, it means you can’t imagine any way this something could be better. This, I assume, usually goes hand in hand with you wanting this something to stay the same. So his message to Jinx is: you are the way I want you to be. Don’t change. Don’t apologise. Go on like this.

But Jinx doesn’t think of herself as perfect. She’s torn. I’ve read somewhere: “Powder killed Silco, so Jinx killed Powder,” and in season two’s third episode, Vi explicitly blames Jinx for killing Powder. I think, however, that Powder is still in there. The ghosts of her family are still in there. To overcome her failures and the guilt of her repeatedly killing her family, Jinx leans into the chaos, into doing “evil” things. It is what Silco would have wanted were he still alive.

That’s the power of “perfect.” Jinx can’t heal, can’t repent, can’t regret. She can’t change. The only path is forward. That much, I believe, was already visible in the first season, and the second season’s first act reinforces me in this regard. In episode two, she says:

“Yep, that’s me. You ever need to curse a sibling or a family or a society: my card.”

She says that as an introduction, but also, in my opinion, as a self-affirmation. She is this “monster” that, in her eyes, Vi created (which I think is wrong, but that’s not the point here), the monster Silco came to love, the monster she chooses to keep alive because it’s the only thing left that ties her to the only person who embraced this side of her.

I believe she hates this side of her because it took Vander and the others from her. It is also the most influential side of her, offers her the most potent tools to make the world bend to her will instead of the other way round. This powerlessness was the overarching experience of her childhood until everything fell apart, and why would she want to repeat that? Before Silco, she received love despite what she was. With and from Silco, she received love because of what she was. After Silco, she receives maybe not love but affection from Sevika and Isha.

Sevika is a little lost, like Jinx, after Silco’s death, and Jinx means familiarity (maybe even family). Jinx is also a tool for her, though, useful because of her havoc-wreaking traits and abilities. Isha is grateful to Jinx for rescuing her by virtue of, again, her havoc-wreaking traits and abilities. Of course Jinx leans further into the monster side.

But Jinx wants to die. She could hardly be any clearer when she tells Vi, “Then stop me. ‘Cause no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to die.” She wants Vi to kill her, to end her suffering, to – that’s how I read it – restore some balance, some justice, wants Vi to finally punish her for killing her family which she knew was wrong since the very moment it dawned on her what she did in first season’s third episode. She can’t do it herself because Silco told her she was perfect.

When Jinx taunts Vi with the barely veiled innuendo about Vi wanting to have sex with Caitlyn, it shows, in my opinion, that Jinx is jealous and that she approves. She wants Vi to go on. Because she still loves Vi. That shows when she aims a pistol at an unsuspecting Vi in episode two and cries. But Jinx also cries because she can’t give Silco what he wants, because neither Silco nor Vi will love her back ever again. She cries because she knows the monster is just a patch to her broken self.

This single tear made me think about why she cried when she fired at the council at the very end of season one. I have no definite answer to that question, but perhaps she already knew back then that she could never fully become Jinx. After all, nothing but herself prevented her from killing Vi and Caitlyn right then, right there.

Perhaps she cried for Silco, too, out of grief, out of wrath. Perhaps she knew this action would put her on a path where, eventually, someone would end her suffering and let her rest, and she cried for herself, for the unfortunate girl that couldn’t safe herself, for the girl she could have been.

In the state Jinx is now – at the time of writing after season two’s second act – she reminds me of a golem: a lifeless tool, animated by magic. If we opened her head, we’d find a slip of paper inside that bears the magical words:

“You’re perfect.”

How cruel.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #silco #silco's last words #jinx #arcane spoilers

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verdantwyrm · 7 hours ago

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I want you to take a really good long hard think about why Curly's first reaction to Jimmy being pissed is to immediately please. We all talk about how Anya is a victim of Jimmy, and she absolutely is, but so is Curly. His first immediate concern to the way Jimmy reacts to Anya announcing her pregnancy is met with immense fear and anxiety with the added soundtrack of what could be equivalent to the sound of Curly's heart racing.

He is beyond terrified, and when he does finally get to Jimmy, he immediately fawns, he freezes. He makes absolutely no mention of Anya, no mention of anyone else, because all that mattered in that situation of panic was easing Jimmy down and resolving the situation. "We'll fix it, one day at a time. Just you and me" He is trying to eliminate all potential problems in the situation so Curly can take the full front of Jimmy's rage.

Just like how he told Anya that she should have waited for him before telling Jimmy, he places himself infront of everyone else to take the blows. And having known Jimmy for a while now, he would exactly know what that looks like. Which is also representative of the fact that he braces the asteroid head on in the collision.

He was taking responsibility, and he took it. He took that blow, he took that punches, the insults and the degradation. Which again, furthers the point of exactly why Curly wouldn't recognise the signs of Anya being abused as well because this is all so normal for him.

He is just so used to looking at the bigger picture and how it doesn't ruin the illusion. Because he knows its fake, he knows that its not real, but he chooses to look anyways.

He wants so desperately to see the good in Jimmy that he doesn't even understand the damage its caused. His biggest weakness was his own kindness, and how normal it was to be a continuous punching bag, to be the thing in between his crew to protect them, he gave his whole life desperately trying to fix something caused by someone he genuinely tried to see the good in, and only realised he was being played for a fool until the bright, hot, rock was hurdling right towards him.

Because in that moment, he knew what was happening, and what Jimmy had done. But it was too late for realisations, and despite knowing this, he still tried. He still went into the cockpit, he still attempted to divert the ship, he still tried.

Curly is just as much as a victim of Jimmy's mistreatment and abuse as Anya is, in their own unique and parallel ways, they both had everything taken from them. Both an act of sacrifice, nowhere near their worst moments. Far from it, and it was the best one they've ever made.

And Jimmy continued to violate them, take, steal and destroy everything.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing anya #Can you tell im still thinking about this game #anya and curly my tragic wives

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bbyboybucket · 16 hours ago

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Okay okay, now that I’ve had time to actually think about all this and get the evidence and do the math: imma give y’all a little ted talk on Bucky’s Stockholm Syndrome.

So I’m gonna preface all this by saying that this probably wasn’t an intentional choice from the writers of TFATWS. For two reasons, one cause the show overall had a ton of writing issues beyond just Bucky and was kinda a mess as a whole. And two, to actually make that claim firmly, I’d have to do a rewatch and I don’t got time for all that. That said, as a viewer, choosing to look not just TFATWS, but at all of Bucky’s appearances from the perspective of him having Stockholm Syndrome, makes a lotttt of sense. It adds a lot of depth to his actions, words, etc. Also even if it wasn’t intentional, if you chose to look at it through this lens, the narrative of TFATWS being contradictory towards him can actually be a reflection of what’s going on in his head. The way the show is sometimes sympathetic but other times judgmental can be a reflection of how he sees himself and his inner conflict regarding his past. Again, I don’t think the writers intentionally did this, but it’s cool way to look at it and repurposes their mistakes.

Now, I just wanna point out that Stockholm syndrome can develop within merely days or weeks, so it’s almost kinda silly to think that it wouldn’t occur if someone had been held hostage for decades. It’s practically undoubtable that Bucky had Stockholm Syndrome for at least some part of his captivity, but I think he’s still dealing with the remnants of it. Zemo was right when he said there’s something still in Bucky and he can’t get rid of hydra. But it’s not that he’s some evil killer at heart, it’s that he has leftovers from Stockholm Syndrome.

In a very simplified summary, Stockholm syndrome usually happens and works when captors cause immense pain to the victim and then treat them well afterwards. The captor shows them some form of kindness, flattery, mercy, etc. back to back with harm. Also a big factor in it is the victim becoming dependent on them for basic needs. Seriously, learned helplessness is a huge factor in Stockholm Syndrome. All of it causes a “bond” to form. And the more this occurs over time, the stronger it gets because the victim is constantly exposed to them, they become their only source of interactions and relationships. Stockholm syndrome is thought to be a complex trauma response, a defense mechanism for surviving during cruel and terrifying conditions.

Think of it like the victim disassociates the perpetrator from the abuse and then emotionally bonds with them, so that they can lessen their fear and feel a sense of security. Also with Stockholm Syndrome (especially within cults), not only does the victim bond with their captor, but being isolated from the rest of the world causes them to adopt their captor’s views and lifestyle. They get completely indoctrinated and start to think the same way as the captor.

Now think about what we see with the Winter Soldier. Even from the very little that we know, it’s a cycle of Hydra severely hurting him but then giving him praise, encouragement, validation, etc. All for manipulation ofc, but a broken mind isn’t going to see it that way. He would be relishing in the fact that they’re making him feel like he’s needed and wanted, like he’s done good, etc. Especially since that’s the only affirmations and positive reinforcements he receives, and is otherwise forced to suffer. Those moments of praise and “kindness”, are so so so heavily weighted against everything else.

While he was captive, while Hydra had him, he likely thought they cared about him. It probably felt close to love. Now ofc Bucky, as a free man with a clear head, knows it wasn’t love or anything at all except being viewed as a weapon. But I bet there’s still a part of him that desires that again, even if he knows it was fake, especially in the wake of becoming lonely and left with his own negative thoughts. Because like I said before, the affirmations were fucking heavy weighted. During those 70 years just the slightest bit of praise or mercy probably felt like the world’s greatest high. Especially when it was given in the midst of pain.

These manipulative affirmations also result in the victim justifying their abuse. This happens in a lot of abusive situations but especially in Stockholm Syndrome. Think about the scene where Pierce is praising the winter soldier so he can convince him to do what he’s told. What immediately follows? He slaps him. Then he electrocutes him. But the winter soldier doesn’t resist either, doesn’t complain, etc. He takes both, which is definitely a conditioned response, but it’s also likely due to the thoughts of “I’m disappointing them, I deserve this punishment for not behaving.” And to play devils advocate, let’s say he didn’t feel as if he deserved it. Even so, without speculating his thoughts, his reactions to the abuse and the fact that he’s been conditioned to deal with that at all, are still signs of Stockholm Syndrome. Because the captor’s behavior has become normalized.

Also he very well was dependent on them for his every single need. For food, water, shelter, hygiene, human interaction, and probably things he didn’t need but was manipulated into believing were necessities. And that, especially with the learned helplessness and with him likely being in constant survival mode, reinforces that feeling of dependence. The feeling that he needs them. The feeling that they’re Hydra isn’t so bad because they take care of him. The dependence also circles back into kindness thing. Providing for him could easily be seen as small acts of kindness, further making him feel like Hydra cares about him.

Another huge huge huge part of Stockholm Syndrome is that the victim shows resistance and anger towards those trying to help them or that try to oppose the captor. Look at how the Winter Soldier reacts to Steve, various times throughout the movie. With almost everyone else, he’s mostly objective, just fighting anyone who stands in the way of Hydra. He’s brainwashed but he’s not stupid, he knows Steve had another motive. He knew Steve wanted to help him in some way or separate him from Hydra. And that made him fucking livid. He wasn’t just irritated, like he was when Natasha shot his goggles. He was fighting with full on rage, because didn’t want to even think about a life outside of Hydra.

Now, I don’t think it’s full blown Stockholm syndrome anymore now that he’s a free man. That’s why in my initial post I said it’s to certain degree. In remission is maybe a way to word it. He can’t have full blown Stockholm Syndrome, because if he did, he wouldn’t acknowledge that hydra was bad at all, he’d straight up defend them. However, he clearly has some level of it since he considers himself to have been hydra, to have been one of them, rather than just their captive.

But this all plays into Bucky’s overall-mcu characterization and the way he has conflicting views on his time as the soldier. Because Bucky knows what happened to him was fucked up, that it wasn’t actually his fault, but he still feels that way because he was indoctrinated into their culture and his psyche was completely altered by them beyond just trauma. The degree of his stockholm syndrome is what makes him having stressful, conflicting, confusing feelings on it. It’s cognitive dissonance. In case anyone doesn’t know, here’s a quick definition: cognitive dissonance is when you have two conflicting thoughts/feelings at the same time or when your actions conflict with your thoughts/feelings.

Cause we know he has cognitive dissonance from his actions as the winter soldier. We know he has extreme stress, shame, and guilt from the fact that he killed people despite it not being in line with his morals. BUT if we’re talking about Stockholm Syndrome, it unravels other areas of cognitive dissonance. It’s why he struggles so much with accepting his own innocence and forgiving himself, and rarely acknowledges what was done to him. He knows he was a victim yet he was also a perpetrator. Those don’t align, they contradict each other, he can’t see how they can be simultaneous, it doesn’t neatly make sense how the perpetrator could also be the victim, especially from his perspective. A lot of times, the way people deal with cognitive dissonance is by ignoring one of the feelings/beliefs. His way of dealing with this is to put the blame on himself, because even though it still feels shitty, it’s less confusing and easier to accept that than the fact that multiple things can be true at once. Or more accurately from the outsider’s perspective: the fact that his innocence outweighs his guilt.

That’s why he shuts down anyone who points out he’s not to blame. He’s avoiding the feeling of victimhood that conflicts with his beliefs that he’s at fault. It shakes everything thing up and makes him feel even worse than just the guilt alone does. Which also is due to the fact that it’s easier to believe you’re the problem than it is to acknowledge you were helpless. And to deal with the cognitive dissonance he’s choosing the more manageable option, being at fault. But all this cognitive dissonance just completely feeds into his guilt and self esteem problems.

(Side note, no I absolutely do not think his guilt is boiled down to just this. This looking at one little piece of the puzzle, it’s wayyy bigger than this. I’m just sticking to the context of this post right now.)

He didn’t want to do anything Hydra made him do, he never wanted to be with them, yet he accepted Hydra as a home during those 70 years and some of their practices linger in his head. It’s inconsistent to have not wanted to apart of it but adopted the lifestyle anyways. The stress that inconsistency brings is not easy to resolve. Especially because he likely doesn’t understand why he felt any kind of attachment to something that caused him and others so much pain. Think about the line “Hydra was my people”. We all hate it. But….if you look at it from this perspective, it’s not necessarily wrong. He spent 70 years with them. 70 years of having nothing but Hydra, having to rely on them, having to endure all the things that cause Stockholm Syndrome to develop. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, but it really was his home in his eyes. An abusive, nazi nightmare of a home but still, sadly….his home. They were his people, because they forced themselves to be. They were his only people. Again, that’s where the cognitive dissonance comes in: he hates them, he wishes they weren’t ever his people….but the fact is that they were. And that eats at him.

And like I mentioned before, Stockholm Syndrome involves indoctrination and adopting the ideals of the captor. It would be hard to completely remove that if it’s what you spent decades living by. Hydra’s world view and practices probably still slip into his mind a lot, but they don’t align with what he truly believes is right, they’re not who he is as a person: again, more cognitive dissonance that’s causing him distress.

All of this is also probably a factor in why he wants to make amends, not only because he wants to right his wrongs and make up for his sins, but he wants to act on this cognitive dissonance. Because amending does align with his feelings of being against hydra, of not wanting to be a part of Hydra. And acting on that might help push away those other feelings of being one of them.

Also think about how he never argues or defends himself when people speak down on him and his past, he never corrects anyone when they say he’s hydra, he never has any rebuttal against negative comments about him. Which of course, is due to his low self esteem, and again, guilt. But also it goes back to the Stockholm Syndrome and cognitive dissonance that fuel those feelings. He can’t argue or defend his character to anyone else, because he can’t even convince it himself. Because for any excuse, any explanation, any proof he has of being good….he has something to contradict it with. And how can he truly say he’s still a good guy and not at fault when even he is confused about what’s true? When he still has uncomfortable, lingering attachments to Hydra that he hasn’t shaken yet?

The point is, his head is fucking mess, which we all already knew….but looking at it like this just makes you realize how much more confused and lost he is, how his thoughts are literally at war with each other all the time. And when you look at the narrative as a reflection of his feelings, it makes sense why it switches up every second. If it’s confusing for a viewer to see the seesaw go back and forth from “victim” to “criminal”, then imagine what it’s like in Bucky’s head.

Now I do feel like there’s a lot more here, you could go way deeper and I’m probably missing some stuff, but it’s a place to start. Just some fuel to get the motors running.

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #Bucky Barnes meta #james buchanan barnes #ca:tws #ca:cw #meta

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incomingalbatross · 1 day ago

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Thoughts on Ghost Days by Jim Butcher (and possibly the earlier books, if they spill over into this post)

All of this is, as Harry observes, absolutely typical of his existence. Of course he can't just die, he gets sent back as a special unknown type of ghost to solve his own murder. And of course he shoulders like three different new obligations, makes a new friend, and adopts a criminal teenager within his first 24 hours of unlife.

Kinda love how quickly and understatedly he's incorporated the very latest familial revelation into his narration. He says something like "I'd lost the scar on my arm that I got while skinning a fish on my grandfather's farm" and it's so casual it almost slips by.

(Side note: I need to see his grandfather and his brother find out about each other now. I realize there has been no opportunity and these aren't exactly Harry's secrets to tell anyway, but please.)

Mort going "all cats can see ghosts, they just don't usually care" checked out completely, of course, but it was also perfect setup for Mister's "HELLO YOU'RE BACK MY HUMAN HI." Which. Oof.

Ways you can tell it's really Harry Dresden: 1) Mister hits him in the invisible shins, 2) he opens the conversation with a Star Wars quote, 3) he's talking a teenager into turning his life around.

Love all the Bob content in this one. Harry got to see how the other half lived and everything. (Though his amorality credentials are slightly tarnished by that heroic last stand of his. Which he'd better have survived.)

Everyone here seems like they're an inch from cracking, and I'm concerned for all of them, but they're DOING THEIR BEST. (Butters isn't an inch from cracking. He seems to be doing great, I'm very proud of him.)

Very glad and also a little amused that the Super Secret Safe Witness Protection Home for Maggie is... the Carpenters. I mean it absolutely should be, but it's also funny.

Of course Mouse exists equally in the physical and spirit world. I'd be more surprised if he didn't.

I DID have several moments where I went what about Thomas. why isn't your narration even mentioning Thomas, but the payoff of "I couldn't stand to face even the thought of what I'd done to him" made it make sense.

More general/Thematic thoughts:

Uriel and/or the narrative really said "You're going to take a good, hard look at the unintended consequences of your actions. And you're going to do it disembodied so you can process a little better."

There was something that really struck me at some points in the Lasciel period, and it's back again now: I love that when Harry crosses lines, not only is he capable of seeing it, but the reaction of the people around him is, "yeah you sure did cross a line! you did wrong. so stop doing it and get better, because you can. this isn't a slippery slope unless you decide it is."

He has! Free will! Contrition is always meaningful! Change is always possible! Harry is never allowed to write himself off. He is always told that he's capable of picking himself up and doing better - because he is. He's alive and human and that means he has as much hope as he chooses to hold onto.

That said, I also really appreciated the weight his choices in the last book are given here. It's so easy to just go along with "it was for Maggie, it was his JOB" (and it was his job), but this book made Harry and us stop and linger on both the lines he crossed and the unintended harm he caused.

(Though he is taking too much weight on himself. Martin maneuvered a lot of this into play, not to mention the ACTUAL Red Court. And there is something to be said for the SG-1 approach of "stop worrying about ramifications and just kill the ancient evil first.")

(Oh, now I remember! I was also thinking of Hunger Games re: this. Katniss and Peeta's defiance of evil was personally motivated and sparked a lot of unintended harm to others - but it was also the only spark that could have destroyed the machinery of evil. Not quite the same but made me think of it.)

ANYWAY. Speaking of crossed lines and harm caused: I was NOT prepared for the murder reveal.

It DOES explain so much about this whole book, especially in combination with the (not as shocking :P) reveal that he's only mostly dead. He NEEDED to know this. He needed to know and understand all the choices he made, and their results - and the lie that influenced him - if he was going to be allowed back to his body.

First, he needed to know there was no outside killer to worry about. He also needed to know that HE did this. All of it. Part of accepting culpability and facing his choices meant facing that there was a third murder on his account - because that is how he frames it - what he did to Molly and what he did to himself and everyone who loved him.

He also, most crucially, needed his free will reasserted, both by the manipulation being revealed to him and by Uriel balancing the scales.

Because a Harry Dresden who had given up on himself as the Winter Knight is a nightmare the world's not ready for.

Instead he's ready to give Mab new problems. :) She gets what she paid for.

Closing thought: If, when he finally gets back to the world of the living, he does not make at least one "mostly dead" and/or "really most sincerely dead" joke, I will be very disappointed in him.

#this got long #i am rambling because i can :P

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starlitprism · 3 days ago

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"That's a Major": My Marcille Degree Rant

OK we're starting with this. Funny right? Yeah.

BUT IT GOT ME THINKING

You know what no one brings up in that story? NO ONE?!

This is just a major. This is a MAJOR! YOU CAN DO IT AT HER ALMA MATER.

It is not HER FAULT that this was available. She went in, saw something interesting and went "COOL" because IT'S A MAJOR. Because apparently this CODIFIED FORM OF STUDY is also just something the elves hate. NOW, it honestly seems to surprise all the characters that this was a MAJOR she could choose but let's be honest here. This is just a reverse of the meme where experts greatly overestimate how much the average person knows about their craft. Of course they don't know. The only one that WOULD know in the story is the impetus for the whole FUCKING PLOT.

She who probably would respond by "yeah I know. That's on the curriculum. I took an intro class" BUT NO. We don't get that because she's too busy being dead or other weird shit partially thanks to that same set of courses. Like, you will notice everyone is super surprised when they bring her back but NOT HER. SHE KNEW. Everyone else is like "look at this unholy abomination" when it's just like a history degree. Seriously though, Falin seems a little surprised and disoriented at first but otherwise seems utterly unfazed at waking up in a blood circle surrounded by a dead dragon's innards.

THAT SAID, I am exaggerating for comedy. Here is what we actually know. In the very next scene in the hot tub, she does note that there was something about the circle that felt wrong to her. So maybe she didn't know her shit about this. Or, maybe she only knew about it academically as related to what Marcille studied and never seen or experienced it in any way. That or somehow Marcille managed to keep a secret from the woman she very obviously adores with her literal everything which I... doubt. Then again, she is Laios' sister so who knows if she carries the same level of general obliviousness (I am also autistic like Laios is so I can just state that outright. We can be fucking OBLIVIOUS at times).

It also goes to show, the elves are idiots. They are so certain that this is so unknown that they have to hunt individuals while there is some professor(s) somewhere just... teaching it. Or at least something related! For, like, a day job! And they never even think to ask "where are all these people learning this" NO. THEY DON'T. THIS IS GONNA KEEP HAPPENING. BECAUSE IT'S JUST AVAILABLE. AND THEY, in their hubris, can't imagine ANYONE EVER having this information BUT THEM. It could just be freely available and everyone knows not to talk about it because the elves got a SPIKE in their collective ass!

Ok, you ask, "but what if it was a secret?" and you know what? Fair. To that I have to say https://tenor.com/view/marcille-best-girl-failure-tantrum-breakdancing-dungeon-meshi-delicious-in-dungeon-gif-7429268588073434370

(The above is a picture and link to a gif of Marcille on her head, kicking her legs wildly because this girl doesn't react normally ever to anything) This. This is Marcille when something happens. She's not subtle. She has never been subtle. She commonly screams her reactions. I call bullshit on secret.

More importantly though, that's not really how education tends to work. People study something and, outside of MAYBE grad school level or PhD level minimum, you largely talk with people who know your subject.

You gotta remember, education is a bunch of nerds who want to talk about their shit. People don't just research something to know it. They research it to publish it and have it peer reviewed even if it's just an assignment they turn into their professor which I guess is like a first step to publishing.

Research is gathered, references found, pointed to, and then showed off. AND IN THE CASE OF PRACTICAL STUDIES, people do it! You got to prove your research was right. Otherwise it's a bunch of potentially useless theory. So if you think Marcille hasn't done SOMETHING like this before, there's no way. She was confident she could do SOMETHING about it. Just saying, I would pay a lot to see the face's on the member of her dissertation committee.

I brought this up with some friends and they mentioned that she might have just studied Dungeon creation and studied Ancient Magic on her own. And fair but then Ancient Magic wouldn't be her specialty would it? At least, except in a very egotistical self estimated way without ANY outside feedback which is a core tenet of education. Unless she was the pre-eminent lone scholar of ancient magic of course but she never goes on about that so i'm going assume that's not the case. Here is what we got from the show

In the show she says "What I specialize in is actually ancient magic which is highly forbidden. It's use is frowned upon but using it to revive Fallin, it's our best option"

When Senshi and Chilchuck, protested she just says "magic doesnt' have morality"

Now I could be wrong but for this wonderfully high-strung woman whose reactions are so so much, this looks practiced and calm. She either has defended this before, was quoting something someone else (like a teacher), or somehow she has suppressed all her beautiful exaggerated weirndess in the midst of ABSURD amounts of stress. Personally, I think Option 2 and 1 are more likely as this is a highly emotional subject for her and her self control is shit.

Like seriously, let's say her alma mater doesn't have a class that teaches ancient magic. Let's say, no one but her knows much of anything. What would happen if someone caught her in the library grabbing strange books that have scraps of ancient magic knowledge in them? She's allowed to be there but she's just so... HER that she would probably jump in surprise and try and justify it while trying NOT to reveal what she is researching. And because she has all the cool of a pickle, EVERYONE in school would know Marcille was up to something.

The above is a picture of Marcille losing her shit from a video titled "Marcille gradually losing her mind for 6 minutes || Dungeon Meshi. The link to it is https://youtu.be/gmY2x8_nnjw

So yeah, there would be rumors. The worst kept secret in the school is Marcille is a bad girl who researches something questionable. To say nothing of the fact that this girl has demonstrated major teacher's pet energy. I would put my money on there being at least one professor there who gets occasional downloads of ancient magic from one of their top students all while they look on going "I can tell no one" unless of course there is an actual program.

FOR MY FINAL POINT I HAVE BUT ONE WORD TO GIVE. Internet

By which I mean, the lack of it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to research something based only on the physical books you have access to in a specific location? IT TAKES AWHILE TO GET ANYWHERE.

That means travel for you or your subject matter and, with something like THIS that could be considered dangerous, you would have to be SO damn careful to make sure you don't get a reputation as "the ancient magic girl." That said, she's a (warning, spoilers) half elf so she has time. SO MUCH TIME. But we know it hasn't been too much time because Falin attended at the same time as her. Falin and her brother did various (failed) things for several years before Marcille showed up at the dungeon. I, at least, don't know how much time passed but they both clearly look to be in their 20s or so to me. Could be wrong due to the art style but that's just my read. At most, SUPER low 30s. Which means, Marcille couldn't have been traveling everywhere taking months and months to cross seas to get specific books for that long. That time would get eaten up so very quickly.

WHICH LEADS US back to the start. And my claim that the simplest most likely explanation IS

This Is

A Major

#marcille dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #research process #Useless lesbian

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