#who's writing a fic of this???

[ihavesomejays]

paper airplanes

watched paperman again with @keebssi yesterday and kind of just had this thought because isn't it perfect??? side note when i was first drawing i shaded alhaitham's shirt wrong and keebs fucking went "office belly" and now i literally cannot

closeups below keep reading

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[elexuscal]

squinting at the 'fix it fic' tag on any given story on Ao3, trying to discern if it's intended in the sense of:

I genuinely think the story had bad writing and I am taking my toolbox and improving it [and i the reader agree]

I genuinely think the story had bad writing and I am taking my toolbox and improving it [and i the reader disagree]

The story's ending was Tragic and I Respect that but also i just want to read about my faves having some kind of joy and fulfilment okay?

The story's ending was Tragic and I do Not Respect That please God Damnit Let Them Be Happy

We Are Literally Fixing The Canon With The Application of Time Travel or Reality Warping or some other Wild Plot Device

I am going to fix one obscure detail or plot element that 95% of the fandom has never thought about in their life

(because these are all extremely different vibes)

[khaleesiofalicante]

[lgbtlunaverse]

There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.

[bamsara]

If you're stressing out about a part of the writing process for fanfic to the point where it's not fun anymore, just don't do that part

Post that fanfic with 1000 grammar and spelling errors. Make your characters OOC and give it a Mary Sue. It is a hobby you're sharing not a literature assignment you have to turn in by midnight

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[da-janela-lateral]

It seems that 'popular', 'athletic' and 'bright blue eyes' aren't their only similarities.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[flwrstqr]

𓂃 ENHYPEN WHEN THEY ACCIDENTALLY CONFESS TO YOU WHEN THEY ARGUE WITH YOU ⌇

﹙NOTES. ﹚꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ 𖥔 ݁ fluff. gn!reader. requested 𓈃 ๋. ARCHiVE 759 wc.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

"i can’t believe you’re acting like this!" you shout, your voice rising as the tension between you and heeseung escalates. it’s been one of those days, where everything little thing he’s done has rubbed you the wrong way. you cross your arms, staring him down, but he doesn’t back away.

"acting like what?" he snaps back, "like you don’t even care!" you throw your hands up, turning on your heel to storm off. you’ve had enough, and the last thing you want is to continue arguing.

before you can take a single step, heeseung’s hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back gently but firmly. "of course, i care!" you turn to face him, startled by the sudden change in his tone. his eyes search yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything.

then, almost like he’s forcing the words out, he blurts, "i love you, okay? that’s why i care so much."

your heart stops. his words hang in the air like a heavy secret finally released, both of you frozen in place. your mind races, trying to process what he just said. "wait… what did you just say?" your voice comes out in a whisper, barely above the sound of your own heartbeat.

heeseung swallows hard, his hand still gripping your wrist. "yeah," he sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair. "i said it. i love you."

rest of the members below !!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘

"i can’t believe you're serious right now," you huff, crossing your arms as you glare at jay. he stands across from you, frustration clear in his eyes. "what? you act like everything's always my fault!" he fires back, his tone sharper than usual.

"because you never listen! it's like you don’t even care!" you snap. you turn away, not wanting to deal with him anymore, but before you can take another step, jay grabs your arm, spinning you back around.

"don’t say that! of course, i care!" his voice cracks slightly, catching you off guard. "if i didn’t care, i wouldn’t be this frustrated all the time!" his grip tightens just a little, but not enough to hurt.

"you’re frustrated? imagine how i feel!" you bite back, pulling your arm away. "you act like nothing i say matters!"

"it does matter!" he yells, his voice suddenly desperate. "everything you do matters! i love you, okay?" the words slip out in a rush, and the second they do, his eyes widen, realizing what he just said. there’s a moment of silence.

"wait, what?" you blink at him, your anger quickly replaced by confusion. "you… love me?"

jay curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "yeah… i do. i wasn’t supposed to say it like that, but yeah, i love you." he looks down, his face turning red as he finally admits it.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

"why are you always hanging out with him?" jake snaps, his eyes flashing with jealousy as he crosses his arms. you roll your eyes, not in the mood for this argument again. "he’s just a friend, jake! you’re overreacting," you reply, shaking your head. but he’s not backing down.

"just a friend? it doesn’t seem that way when you’re always laughing at his jokes or sitting so close to him!" his voice raises, frustration building. "i’m right here, and you’re acting like i don’t even exist when he’s around."

"it’s not like you even like me," you mutter under your breath.

"what did you just say?" jake asks, his voice tight with disbelief.

"you heard me," you snap, feeling your chest tighten. "you’re acting like this over nothing. it’s not like you even like me, jake!"

his grip on your arm tightens just a little, his eyes locked on yours. "are you serious? of course, i like you! i—" he pauses, his expression softening for the first time in the entire argument. "god, i don’t just like you. i love you, okay? i don't why you didn't even get the signs."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

"seriously? you're mad at me over this?" sunghoon snaps, his voice dripping with disbelief as he paces back and forth. "you’re the one who keeps canceling plans last minute, and now you’re upset because i didn’t tell you i was going out?"

you fold your arms, trying to hold back the sting of hurt and frustration. "it’s not about that, sunghoon! it’s about the fact that you didn’t even bother to text me. i had to find out from someone else. do you know how embarrassing that is?"

he stops pacing, turning to face you with a mix of anger and confusion. "embarrassing? for what? it’s not like i’m hiding anything from you!"

"then why didn’t you just tell me?" you demand, your voice shaking slightly. "if you don’t care enough to communicate, maybe i’m just wasting my time—"

"because i didn’t know how to tell you!" he suddenly shouts, cutting you off. his fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. "you think i don’t care? you think it’s that easy? i’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks!"

your heart skips a beat, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "say what?"

"that i love you!" he blurts out, his face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "i didn’t know how to tell you because i didn’t want to mess things up. i didn’t know how to say it without making everything weird, but… here it is."

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

"why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything?" sunoo snaps, his voice sharp as he glares at you, frustration etched across his face. the argument had started over something small—he forgot to invite you to hang out with his friends—and now it’s spiraled into a full-blown fight.

"a big deal?" you scoff, crossing your arms. "i’m sorry for wanting to spend time with you! but clearly, i’m just a second thought to you."

sunoo’s eyes widen, his expression twisting with anger. "that’s not true, and you know it! you act like i don’t care, but you have no idea how much you mean to me!"

"then why didn’t you invite me? why do i always have to find out about things last?" you fire back, feeling the sting of being left out. "if you cared, you’d actually want me around."

"i didn’t invite you because i didn’t want things to get awkward!" he yells, stepping closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "but you know what? maybe i should’ve just said it! maybe i should’ve told you that i love you so you’d understand why i’m so afraid of screwing this up!"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

"why do you always have to make everything so difficult?" jungwon snaps, frustration clear in his voice as he paces back and forth. the argument had started over something minor but had quickly escalated.

"difficult?" you retort, feeling your anger rise. "it’s not difficult. it’s just that you never seem to care about how I feel."

jungwon’s eyes narrow as he turns to face you. "you think I don’t care? you have no idea what it’s like for me!"

"then show me!" you shout, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "stop talking in circles and actually do something!"

before you can say anything more, jungwon closes the distance between you in an instant. he grabs your face gently but his lips crashing onto yours in a quick kiss.

when he finally pulls away, he looks at you. "i love you," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.

you blink, stunned into silence as you process what just happened. "wait, what?"

"yeah, I love you," jungwon repeats, his cheeks flushed. "and I didn’t know how else to tell you."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

"why do you always act like this?" riki snaps, his frustration evident as he stands with his arms crossed. the argument had started over a minor mix-up but had escalated into something bigger.

"act like what?" you retort, feeling your frustration rise. "I’m just trying to understand why you keep blowing me off."

"blowing you off?" riki’s eyes flash with annoyance. "I’ve been trying to show you how much you mean to me, but it’s like you don’t even see it."

"show me how?" you ask, your confusion growing. "I haven’t seen anything that makes me feel like you care."

riki’s frustration shifts to desperation. "did you not see the note I left in your locker? I wrote that I love you, yn!"

your eyes widen. "a note? I didn’t see any note."

riki’s face goes pale as he realizes what might have happened. "wait, did I put it in the wrong locker? oh no..."

"yeah, that might be it," you say, trying to hide a smile. "I didn’t get a note."

riki’s expression softens, and he steps closer. "well, now you’ve heard it. I love you, yn. I get these butterflies in my stomach whenever you walk in or when you smile. I really do care for you."

[stervrucht]

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

What if when Michael got Distortioned he/they/it/(?) had just kept showing up to work? Imagine Gertrude comes into the archives and finds a bunch of paperwork filled out in yellow highlighter and folded into impossible shapes, and then Michael-Distortion just walks into the room door-style and sits down at his work computer so it can email Gertrude a phishing scam.

[adhd-coyote]

“General Kenobi, you claim an assassin killed the Chancellor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, neither I nor Commander Fox saw them, as they used a flash bomb to disorient us and fled too quickly for us to follow.”

“And where, exactly, did they flee? No one reported seeing anyone leave this office.”

“Why, they fled through the broken window, of course.”

“What broken window?”

“That one.” Kenobi points. The previously intact window shatters, as if hit by a very strong invisible force. Neither Kenobi nor the Marshal Commander so much as twitch.

“Are you alright, sir?” Commander Fox asks, all concern. “You must be very tired, if you didn’t notice the clearly broken window. You should go rest. It’s okay, General Kenobi and I can take it from here.”

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, prim and proper. He raises a hand, fingers slightly curled, and his voice takes on a different note. “Go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time you wake.”

“I will go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time I wake.”

“Very good. Have a nice evening.”