#i decided to make this like a tumblr thing instead for now at least

[reddamselette]

Kevin isn't sure when or how it started.

Or maybe he does know but refuses to acknowledge it.

There’s a number of moments swirling through his head as he thinks about it.

A jump in his heart when his hand covered Neil’s eyes in the beginning, asking for his game. Did it have to be anything other than that? Could there be a way to justify asking someone for their devotion on the court, to dedicate that devotion to him as he pours his heart and soul into the very thing that gives him life? 

The undeniable trust Neil handed over before he left to Evermore. Kevin felt like he’s been holding Neil’s life in his hands since they met. He couldn’t help but think what would’ve happened if Kevin never sought him out in Millport, if Neil heeded his warning to run yet still willing to teach him every night no matter the consequences. Would their paths cross in that other life? Would Kevin recognize Neil, not for who he was hiding, but for everything he’s seen in the other man for as long as he could remember? 

Recognize Neil by his blue eyes. His voice, his quick quips and sharp tongue, his hands and featherlight touches. The cheeky smiles and the dimples on either side of his face.

Then there’s the other thing.

The excitement bubbling in his chest as he came face to face with Andrew for the first time. The potential Kevin had seen and how he wanted to so badly utilize it as he knew inside and out Andrew is worth more than anyone could ever think.

Relief flooding his body when Andrew promised to stand between Kevin and the Moriyamas. To never be hurt, never be taken away again and live a life full of misery in Riko’s shadow.

Patting checks of injuries and late night practices when it was just the two of them like a secret only they ever had.

It’s ridiculous, really. How his mind and his body associates the smell of cigarette smoke to Andrew. The cliché of it all as Kevin compares the sunrise to hazel eyes.

Kevin thinks the irony isn’t lost on him.

How well Andrew and Neil look together like the sunlight against the blue sky or the changing colorful leaves to the fall season. The effortless way they communicate silently with matching armbands, a fire in Neil’s gaze and the slightest twitch of amusement to Andrew’s smileless lips.

Just like day and night.

We’re all born with something missing, so that we can find someone else to complete us, his mother once said so long ago. Kevin still believes it but living tends to carve out holes in everyone and it makes it easy to need more than one person.

He hopes it all goes away.

“You know, I always look for him,” Kevin says quietly, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and he rubs his palms together. It’s an ache in his chest he can’t seem to get rid of. A void in his stomach that never goes away—it doesn’t matter what Kevin is stressed over because it’s there. It’s always there. “Even when I pretend I don’t care, I do. I care so much, I don’t know what to do.”

He sighs and peers over his shoulder to look at Thea sitting beside him. Her leg is crossed over the other, a thoughtful expression on her face as she listens. Kevin, though, didn’t come to her for advice but a peace of mind. To get it off his chest so it doesn’t affect his game on court. He’s not entirely sure if there’s anything to say about this.

Kevin can’t let anything go into ruin. He’d rather die than let that happen because he’d lose them both. It’s never one or the other, not when he wants something that’s his and could never be taken away. The scars on his hand and the two on his cheek made sure to engrave all of that into his soul.

“Are we talking about Neil? Or Andrew?” Thea asks and Kevin looks away. His silence answers her question and she places a tentative hand on his forearm. The touch draws his eyes back to her and he wishes he didn’t. He can’t stand that look in her eye. “It’s both, isn’t it? My god, Kevin.”

“I know.”

God, does he know.

Kevin drops his face into his hands.

It is incredibly easy to need someone but the cruelty of that, in which no one ever tells you about, is how excruciating it can be to need and want someone that isn’t yours the way you want them to be.

Kevin can practice and practice and burn himself down to the embers of his soul on the court until his stupid heart can give out but he will never have what he’s wishing for. Not here in this lifetime, not in the society where remaining heterosexual is easier, not when his entire life has been faced with cameras and articles.

Not when there’s countless people watching him at every turn.

In this moment, he finds himself wishing his mother was still alive to soothe him, offer reassurance or advice on how to navigate this issue because he has to be careful and watch what he says before it crumbles before him and he’ll need to start over.

“How did this happen?” Thea asks, carefully pulling Kevin’s hands away from his face before he has the thought to start spiraling in public.

Kevin shrugs helplessly with too many circumstances pounding at the doors of his mind, to allow his heart in and take control of the wheel, to guard the goal of logic and self-destruction. “I don’t know. It was easy to pretend it was nothing, that it is nothing, but I— It has to be nothing, Thea. I can’t have it not be nothing.”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Kevin. You can vent your frustrations. You can drink until you make yourself sick. You can try and fuck your way out of this but I can’t tell you what to do. I know you didn’t come to me for help so why are you asking me to help you?”

“I wasn’t,” Kevin sighs out.

“You implied it. I won’t tell anyone, you know that. And you also know that saying this out loud makes it into a bigger problem that you will need to fix,” Thea says without missing a beat, as harsh as she can but as supportive as she could be. Kevin appreciates the lack of sugar coating, though, she could’ve told him what he wanted to hear and they’d be parting in separate directions.

Kevin can’t talk about this to anyone.

Wymack seemed to pick up on it not that long ago and speaking as a coach—Kevin had to handle it, but speaking as a newly found father—Kevin could confess and request the advice he needs.

But it’s not the same as they’re still navigating the tightrope of their relationship.

It’s something only a mother could understand.

Kevin stands abruptly, brushing off Thea’s hands trying to pull him back and he doesn’t spare her glance. He merely shakes his head and inhales deeply. “I’m aware it’s a bigger fucking problem. It would’ve been easier if it was like what I had with you.”

“Kevin,” Thea scoffs and grips his arm to spin him around and face her. She rises to her feet as well and a frown settles over her face with furrowed brows and a narrowed glare. “Don’t walk away angry. You should’ve known what it would cost you if you got too involved. It might not be like what we had but it’s all the same, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re that stupid.”

“Should’ve known,” Kevin echoes and waves his hand around dismissively. “It’s not easy, Thea. I wasn’t in love with you.”

His words startle them both into still and stiff stances. Thea’s lips part and Kevin’s eyes widen.

Oh.

Is that what this feeling is?

The explanation for these dreams he has of them, daydreams and fleeting thoughts of what could be and what couldn’t be. The meaning to play with what if’s and obsessively watch over Andrew or Neil or the two of them when they’re in the same room. Is to love with a traitorous heart to believe the best of them, to act as a stepping stone to their victory and have a hand in crafting their futures because he only wants what’s best for them? Is to admire with wandering eyes tracking each and every mistake they make on court to help them work through it and grind it down into nothing so no one else can ever take advantage of them where they can feel somewhat safe away from what haunts them?

Is to speak with bitten lips as he glances once, then twice, then countless times in wonder of how it’d feel to have taste them on his tongue and swallow the sounds of their voices to always know it and always remember until the end of time?

Yes, he should have known what it would cost him for becoming too involved and too attached but the Foxes weren’t like the Ravens and sometimes, when speaking to Thea, he defaults to that mindset.

Kevin could ignore it before but he could never take those words back no matter how much he prayed and begged a god that would never listen. 

“You idiot,” Thea whispers and pushes at his shoulder harshly. “You idiot.”

“Don’t. Just…don’t.”

next

[seventh-district]

another Sunday, another evening spent unable to decide what to do with my free time

[neverendingford]

.

[phagodyke]

friends are making plans to go stay with each other but it's the weekend I'm going to see my favourite band. the universe fucking hates me

[minart-was-taken]

Short explanation of what the hell the Luffy tab on top of the dashboard is:

- For some reason the tumblr marketing team decided to make a deal with Netflix to promote the new live action One Piece movie with a site wide tab, instead of like... An ad.

- The Tab started with the name Luffy, the protagonist of the series. It has now changed to Zoro. There's not explanation given but I suspect it's in the order of the One Piece rap

- The tab seems to be very broken, only showing 5-7 posts that were posted months ago. The users who's art and posts have been included were not asked permission to be used in an ad campaign.

- The disclosing of this being an ad has also been suspect, with many only finding out through word of mouth rather than the tab telling it. I'm not a lawyer but I think that's at least skirting a crime.

- The popular reccomendation is to not engage with the tab, because it'll encourage tumblr to pull more stunts like this. Their sponsors will be delighted the more you click, no matter if its out of confusion or not.

This whole thing is a mess and I hate how marketing teams are trying to bypass adblockers by making alternative ads that get people talking. The act of me posting this is what they want and I'm enraged.... Still, uh, I want to spread the info we've gathered as a community. Let me know if you find more or something is incorrect.

Ps. dont attack one piece fans, they didn't know this was gonna happen either. Please dont leave weird comments to the posts in the tab, the OPs are not involved.

[formulaonecrumbs]

making space for you 🧡

Lando Norris x gf!reader (though gender isn’t specified and reader is set as a model idk)

summary: Lando Norris wants his girlfriend to move in but doesn’t have the nerve to ask directly, so he starts dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints. She starts catching on.

warnings: none that i can think of. it’s just pure tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: FIRST WRITTEN FIIICC RAAHHH!!! i’ve had this in my drafts (off tumblr) for weeks. i don’t put my writing many places so this is special 😇 i hope y’all don’t hate it because i kind of love it errmmmm ANYWAYS enjoy! happy reading 🫶 p.s. can one of y’all give me prompts, i’m so lost rn. my asks are always open ♡︎ LOVE U BABIES MWAH 💋

Lando was acting suspicious again.

Not in a cheating way. No—he was still very much the golden retriever boyfriend who texted goodnight with a heart and a photo of his feet hanging off the hotel bed. But suspicious in the “I’m clearly hiding something but I think I’m being slick about it” kind of way.

You first noticed it when you came back from Milan. You’d just wrapped a runway show and all you wanted was to crawl into Lando’s ridiculously oversized bed and not speak to another human for at least twelve hours.

Instead, you walked into his closet to steal one his hoodies, as you usually did, and found your clothes—folded. Color-coded. Already in there.

“You reorganize now?” you asked, raising a brow as he leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grinned. “It’s practical.”

“Is it?”

“You’re here, like, half the time,” he shrugged. “Makes sense.”

“Except I have a place five minutes from here.”

“Which you barely use.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still. Weird.

—————————————————————————

The next time, it was the bathroom.

A whole drawer. Toothbrush, hairbrush, your favorite moisturizer, that one serum you can never find in the UK—he’d somehow gotten it shipped from Paris. Though, he was Lando Norris, you should’ve expected it.

You squinted at him when you found it.

He shrugged again. “I know your skin freaks out if you switch products. Thought I’d help.”

“I could’ve brought it myself.”

“Yeah, but this way, you don’t have to.” His grin widened. “Aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?”

“You’re something,” you muttered, though your cheeks flushed all the same.

—————————————————————————

But then there were his socks in your designated drawer. Your shampoo replaced by full-sized bottles of his favorites. His phone charger always “accidentally” ending up in your purse. A second key to his flat mysteriously showing up in your handbag, like it walked there itself.

You weren’t dumb. He was doing something. Slowly. Subtly.

But he wouldn’t say it.

Not once did the words “move in” pass his lips. You knew because you’d started counting how many days he danced around it.

Seventeen.

Seventeen days of hints and nudges and one very suspicious IKEA receipt.

So naturally, you decided to make him squirm.

—————————————————————————

“Baby,” you called one afternoon, holding up a pair of his boxers from your laundry basket. “Why is your underwear here?”

Lando peeked up from his phone, lying on the sofa with his feet draped over the armrest. “We share laundry now. Efficient, no?”

“You’re not even here half the week.”

He smirked. “Yet my socks keep ending up in your drawer. Funny, that.”

“Funny…” You narrowed your eyes. “You planning on invading more drawers, Mr. Norris?”

“Just testing the waters,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t a completely weird thing to say.

You sat beside him, kicking his legs off so you could steal his spot. “You know, normal people ask their girlfriends to move in with them.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s this crazy concept called communication. You should try it.”

Lando turned his head, giving you that boyish smile—the one that got him out of trouble and into most people’s hearts. “And if I were to ask you… what would you say?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I get full control of the bathroom cabinet or not.”

“You already have it!”

“Then maybe I’d say yes.”

He grinned, looking relieved. “So, hypothetically… if I didn’t want to ask because it’s terrifying and what if you say no and break my poor fragile heart—”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“—hypothetically, would it be okay if I just kept sneakily merging our lives until one day you wake up and realize we already live together?”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s literally what you’re doing.”

“Subtlety is a skill.”

“No, it’s avoidance.”

He poked your knee. “It’s a love language.”

“Yours is physical touch and being annoying.”

“And yours is pretending you don’t like when I’m annoying.”

You smiled then, small and soft. The look in your eyes not less amused, but now accompanied by complete fondness and love. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” he said, full of himself.

You nudged his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

He blinked. “Do what?”

“Move in.”

His mouth dropped open for a second. “Wait—you’re serious?”

You shrugged. “You said it, didn’t you? I already basically live here. Might as well make it official.”

Lando stared, like he didn’t believe you. “You want to move in with me? Like… permanently?”

“I’ve tolerated your snoring for over a year. I think I can handle the rest.”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms, half crushing you in a hug, peppering every inch of your face with kisses. “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

“I think I do,” you said against his chest. “You’ve been plotting this since December.”

“Okay, maybe I’ve had a Pinterest board since November—don’t judge.”

You groaned. “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”

“I just wanted it to feel like home. Like ours. Not just mine.”

You pulled back to look at him, my expression softened. It always seemed soften with him. “It already does, Lando.”

His eyes softened, voice gentler. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I already ordered us a matching towel set.”

You laughed into his hoodie, shaking your head.

Of course he did.

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot) Part 2.

General Masterlist THIS IS A PART 2 - YOU CAN FIND PART 1 HERE Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages.

A/n: OKAY again, i wasn't expecting SO MUCH love to this One shot, i actually wasn't expecting anything tbh, I want to thank @eileenrry for giving me the last push to publish it, ily 🥹. Just a reminder, english is not my first language bare with me with grammar. and it's also my first One shot so be gentle 🥹. Andddd this isn’t the end there’s one more part coming. Anddd please let me know if I missed someone in the tag list, I’m trying to get used to tumblr again after a few years so everything it’s upside down for me.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Use of y/n, slow burn but things catch up quickly at the end, a small vulnerable moment. (idk if it counts as angst, please let me now if i should add another warning)

You froze, gripping your cup as if it could somehow tether you to reality. Your mind raced—what were you supposed to do now? Walk over and say hi? Pretend you didn’t see him? Was he expecting you to make the first move? Or maybe you were just desperately hoping to wake up from this fever dream.

Before you could decide, he pushed off the wall and started walking toward you. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your heart pounded in your chest. Every step he took felt deafening, like the slow-motion build-up to a climactic movie scene.

By the time he reached your table, you were caught between bolting for the door or sinking into your seat to avoid collapsing altogether. You knew him, of course—who didn’t? A few years ago, you even considered going to one of his concerts but didn’t manage to get tickets. It wasn’t something that crushed you; you weren’t the kind of fan to cry yourself to sleep over it. Instead, you shrugged it off with an “Okay, maybe next time.”

What you didn’t know was that “next time” would turn out to be a one-on-one meeting with him in a café, while he tried (and failed) to stay incognito.

“Hi,” he said, sliding off his sunglasses. That voice—his voice—sent a shiver down your spine. And then came that signature, disarming smile. “Is this seat taken?” he asked as he sat down without waiting for an answer. Of course, it wasn’t taken.

You stared at him, frozen, your mouth slightly parted. Every movement he made was deliberate yet casual, like he was completely at ease in this moment. Meanwhile, your brain was still scrambling to process whether this was real life or a fever dream. Somehow, you managed to breathe out a shaky, “Hi.”

For a moment, the space between you was thick with silence, though not uncomfortable—just charged. He gave you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin.

“I guess this is the part where the serial killer takes the victim,” he said, teasing to break the tension. “Lucky for you, I’m not one—as you can see.”

You blinked, finally finding your voice, though it was a little wobbly. “No, no, I clearly see you’re not a serial killer.” A nervous smile tugged at your lips, trying its best to outshine the chaos of emotions tumbling through you.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah. Guess fate wanted me to see if you’re as interesting in person as you are over text.”

Your face flushed, your mind racing to keep up. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment, disbelief, or something else entirely—a weird kind of thrill that you couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” you said, fighting to steady your voice, “I guess this is where I admit I didn’t think you were real—or at least, not this real.”

“How not ‘this real’?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as curiosity glinted in his eyes. “I mean, I’m way too real right now.”

“Like… I thought I was texting a random Harry,” you said, stumbling through your words, trying to explain yourself without sounding completely ridiculous.

“I’m still a random Harry,” he replied with a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. To himself, he was just Harry—not the Harry. You sat there for a moment, considering his words. In some strange way, nothing about him being this Harry changed what you’d already come to know. It didn’t undo the weeks of shared thoughts, the genuine conversations, the effortless way you clicked.

You thought about the little quirks you’d picked up from his texts—the way he used emojis just enough to be endearing but not overkill, the offhanded pictures of random things he’d shared, the teasing yet thoughtful tone that felt so easy to respond to. Famous or not, none of that felt fake.

“You’re right,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through your nervousness. “You’re still just Harry. The same Harry who asked for help picking nail polish colors like it wasn’t a BIG decision for a BIG brand” His laugh came easily, soft but genuine. “Hey, it wasn’t that big, i told you i already had those colors in mind.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “But honestly, I’m glad it was you on the other side of those texts.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing, but his words—and the way he said them—settled something in you. Maybe this wasn’t as surreal as it seemed. Maybe it was just two people who happened to find each other, one text at a time. “Why glad?” you asked, frowning slightly, not quite understanding what he meant. He leaned back a little, a soft smile playing on his lips as he considered his response.

“Because,” he said after a moment, “it’s rare these days to have a conversation that feels real, you know? No filters, no pretense. Just… people being themselves. And with you, it felt like that from the start.”

You blinked, his words hitting a little deeper than you expected.

“I mean, I didn’t know I was texting someone who I needed filters for to begin with,” you joked, trying to lighten the moment. He laughed, the sound warm and easy, a sound that felt like it reached across the table and wrapped around you. “That’s the point,” he said.

You paused, taking in his words. It felt big, weighty, yet oddly simple at the same time. Like he was trying to say something beyond the words themselves, but without complicating it. Instead of overthinking it, you just nodded, letting out a small, genuine smile.  “Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes, “I’m glad it was me, too.”

He didn’t have much time that day, just stopping for a coffee on his way to the studio. You secretly wished this was that rom-com moment because moments like this only existed in movies, right? After some light small talk about the coffee and an exchange of polite goodbyes, he stood up to leave. You stayed behind, frozen, letting it all sink in—this wasn’t a dream. You felt butterflies over a pop star. You’d been talking to him for more than a month without knowing. Suddenly, your boring, predictable life felt like it belonged to someone else. It didn’t even matter what would happen from now on—this was your story.

----

"Morning, Tulip 🌷. Today’s question: Favorite recent album of all time?"

You didn’t expect a text from him the morning after. You figured he’d need time to process the fact that you’d actually met in person. But no, there he was, texting you like nothing had changed, his chill demeanor so endearing it almost made your heart ache.

"Is this a trick question?" you replied, grinning at your phone. "Because I don’t want to hurt your feelings if I don’t say it’s one of your albums."

The thought was surreal—bantering and teasing Harry Styles over text? That was straight out of fanfic material. (A/n: Not me breaking the fourth wall in my first fic lol.)

"Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to say one of my albums," he replied. Of course, he wasn’t.

"‘You’ by Larry Lovestein," you texted back after a moment of thought.

"Love that," he responded quickly.

How was anyone supposed to concentrate on mundane daily tasks after meeting Harry Styles in a café the day before? And not only that, but he was texting you like you were the most interesting person in the world. And—AND—he had a nickname for you! A nickname.

"Y/N?" Gwen’s voice jolted you back to reality. You blinked twice, trying to refocus. "Yes?"

"Coffee?" she asked, smirking knowingly as she handed you a cup. "What’s up with you?" she said, sitting down next to you. 

"Nothing… just… clients, emails," you said quickly, trying to act like your insides weren’t throwing a full-blown party.

"Clients and emails, huh?" Gwen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I’ve never seen you smile like that over clients and emails."

You swallowed hard, thankful she wasn’t too nosy. You didn’t want to risk sharing too much, not when you were casually texting with Harry Styles. That thought lingered—Why did he trust you? He could’ve easily stayed anonymous. He could’ve walked away from the café and pretended it never happened. Instead, he chose to tell you. It was terrifying to imagine how vulnerable that decision must’ve been for him. What if you were the wrong person? Someone who’d plaster it all over social media the next day? The weight of his trust settled over you, and for the first time, you realized just how fragile this connection was—and how much you wanted to protect it.

You weren’t rushing into anything; neither of you were. It was easy, light, and fun—like reconnecting with a long-lost friend, only this friend was Harry Styles. Over the next month, the “question game” continued, but it evolved. There were more pictures, videos, and now… voice notes. Yes, voice notes. You couldn’t help but replay them at the end of the day, savoring the sound of his voice as if it were a melody written just for you.

The intimacy deepened as more pieces of your lives were shared. Selfies of him at the studio, casual and effortless—selfies meant only for you. These weren’t circulating on Twitter or stashed in some secret Reddit thread. They were yours alone. And you shared back: snapshots of your day-to-day life—your desk cluttered with coffee cups, a corner of your office bathed in sunlight, and even a shy selfie taken at the café table where you’d first met him.

You didn’t know if you could call it a real friendship just yet, but it certainly felt like one. There was a comfortable rhythm between you now, a bond that felt genuine and unforced.

He clearly didn’t have much free time to casually meet again, though you hadn’t asked. The idea of seeing him in person again was both thrilling and terrifying. It wasn’t just his fame—it was the weight of the connection you were building. Trust was a fragile thing, and you both seemed to understand that. Brick by brick, you were quietly constructing something that felt worth protecting.

“How’s THIS cold today??” you texted, attaching a selfie where only your eyes peeked out from beneath two bulky jackets, a beanie, and a scarf. The icy weather was relentless, and staying home had been the original plan, but of course, the two important files you needed were on your office computer.

“How are you OUT in THIS cold? That’s the question” he replied almost immediately

“I need some files I left at the office. Forgot to upload them yesterday”

“Don’t freeze out then”

“I’ll try.”

You smiled at the screen, tucking your phone back into your pocket. It was so easy—he was so easy to talk to. You didn’t feel the need to answer immediately, and you didn’t panic when he didn’t either. It was a natural back-and-forth, effortless and grounding. The way he interacted with you made you feel like he wasn’t someone crazy famous, like he was just Harry—your Harry, in a way. And you hadn’t told anyone yet. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but you hesitated to share it. How would people react? Would they even believe you? For now, you were content to keep it to yourself. It felt special this way, untouched by the opinions or expectations of others. Just you and him, chatting like old friends.

In your mind, it was going to be a quick trip—drive downtown, grab the files, and rush back home under a cozy blanket. In your mind. But life had other plans, didn’t it? 

Sliding into your car after uploading the files and rubbing your hands for warmth, you turned the key in the ignition. A rusty, choking sound filled the air, followed by... nothing. “I’m sorry??” you exclaimed, staring at the dashboard as though sheer willpower would coax it to life. “No, no, no, you can break down TOMORROW! Not now!” Your fingers fumbled to turn the key again, and again, each attempt more pathetic than the last.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped back against the seat, a puff of breath visible in the freezing air. Accepting your fate, you pulled out your phone and opened your insurance app to report the issue. Unsurprisingly, the weather had caused delays, and it would be a while before they could send a tow truck. You quickly snapped a screenshot of the insurance chat and sent it to Harry. 

“I don’t know if I can keep my promise of not freezing out.”

His reply came almost instantly. “What?? Your car broke down??”

“Yep. They say it’s going to be a while because of the weather” you texted back.

“Where you at?”

“Parked in front of my office,” you replied, your stomach doing a small flip at how fast he was responding.

“No, I mean the address” he sent back.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? You immediately typed back

“Don’t even try it, I’m fineeee,” 

You lied, knowing full well you weren’t fine at all. But it wasn’t the cold or the broken-down car that had your stomach in knots. It was the thought of Harry coming to “save you” that sent a swarm of butterflies into overdrive. Because it wouldn’t just mean Harry coming to help. It meant seeing him again—really seeing him—since the big reveal. No screen between you, no casual texts to ease the nerves. Just him, in person, showing up for you in a way that made it harder to ignore what was happening between you two.

And as much as that idea thrilled you, it scared you just the same.

“Please?”

That was all it took. How can a girl resist a please from Harry Styles? Go ahead, i’ll be here waiting if you find someone. You sighed, caved, and typed the address, pressing send without overthinking. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to—you both knew what was about to happen. No confirmation was necessary.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were bundled in your car, trying to stay warm and still, counting down the seconds until the surreal became reality. The street was eerily quiet—only a few brave souls trudging through the cold. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? That’s when you saw it—a black car pulling up right in front of yours. Your breath hitched as you recognized him in the rearview mirror, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. Then, your phone buzzed.

“Did you order an Uber?”

You let out a chuckle, a mix of nerves and amusement, and grabbed your purse. Stepping out into the biting cold. Sliding into the passenger seat, everything about this moment felt surreal. The warmth of the car, the subtle hum of the engine, and, most of all, him—Harry, sitting next to you like this was the most natural thing in the world. Your movements felt slower, deliberate, as though your body and mind were bracing themselves for what this meant. Sitting in the same car with Harry Styles wasn’t something you had ever imagined happening, not like this.

“Hi again” you said softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Hi” he replied, flashing that disarming smile. “Need a friendly lift? or should I just keep pretending I’m an Uber driver?” You laughed, the tension melting just a little. 

“Well, that depends…what’s your rating?”

“Solid five stars,” he said, easing the moment even further. And just like that, the butterflies in your stomach settled into something a little calmer, a little more certain.

“Sounds good then,” you replied, falling into a silence that was more reflective than awkward. Your mind was spinning with a million thoughts—what this meant, how this even happened, and whether you’d wake up any second now.

“So, where to?” he asked, breaking the silence with a soft smile.

“Oh! Right,” you snapped out of your daze, quickly explaining where you lived. It hit you how crazy this was—months ago, you’d been so cautious, terrified to even drop a vague hint about your location. And now? Now, Harry Styles was driving you to your apartment.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said, glancing at him.

“I know,” he replied, flashing a smile that made your heart stutter.

The drive was… nice. Surprisingly nice. The small talk flowed naturally—not forced, not the awkward kind you’d exchange in an elevator. It felt easy, even comforting. If you didn’t look at him for too long, you were almost able to suppress the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Almost.

“Weren’t you busy? It’s a Thursday,” you asked, realizing the absurdity of the situation.

“You really think I know what day it is?” he replied, his tone light and sincere, not smug or pretentious—just endearingly innocent. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What, no color-coded calendar?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Nope. I’ve got the schedule of a 60-year-old retiree, not a nine-to-fiver. Days kind of blend together, you know?”

And there it was again—that disarming charm that made it all feel so normal. So easy. Like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had ever happened to you.

“Yeah, I should’ve guessed,” you muttered with a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

The whole drive, your mind raced with scenarios. What would happen when you reached your apartment? Do you invite him in? Do you just thank him and say goodbye? And if—by some miracle—he did come in, did you even remember to pick up the clothes from the bathroom floor? But before you could spiral any further, his voice cut through your thoughts, casual and confident, like he already had the answers to all your questions.

“Can I invite myself over for a tea?” he asked, pulling into a parking spot in front of your building.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I was going to invite you,” you said quickly, defending yourself as you scrambled to regain composure.

“No, you weren’t,” he replied with a teasing grin, already stepping out of the car. And just like that, you knew the decision had been made for you. Butterflies? Gone. They’d evolved into full-blown fireworks. You shakily opened the door, praying the apartment was in some semblance of order. To your relief, aside from two glasses sitting on the kitchen counter, everything was in place.

“You can still blow me off if you’re busy,” he said, stepping inside and glancing around, taking in your space with quiet curiosity.

“It’s fine. Perks of being a freelancer,” you replied, heading to the kitchen and opening a cabinet to search for tea. “I don’t have many flavors, though,” you admitted, scanning the limited options.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like most,” he said with an easy grin. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Okay,” you said softly, smiling as you set the kettle on to boil. While waiting for the water to heat, you found yourself watching him. He wandered a bit, casually inspecting the books on the shelf, a framed photo on the wall, and the little details of your life.

It was surreal—a good surreal—watching Harry Styles in your apartment, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like how? How was this happening? And why did it feel so oddly natural, like a longtime friend had stopped by for a chat?

The sharp whistle of the kettle broke your trance. You quickly poured the tea, handing him one of the steaming mugs.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it with a small nod. Then, as if sensing your disbelief, he gave you a sly smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, taking a sip of your tea to avoid answering further. Were you okay? Absolutely not.

He sat down on the couch, cradling the mug in his hands, and you followed, sitting on the armchair across from him. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with the sound of the occasional sip of tea and the faint hum of the heater working overtime against the cold.

“Nice place,” he said, his eyes scanning the room again before settling on you. “Feels very...you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What does ‘me’ feel like?”

He chuckled softly. “Warm, cozy. A little bit of chaos in the details.” He nodded toward the stack of papers on your desk.

You groaned and put your head in your hands. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t fully prepared for company.”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said, grinning. “Makes it feel real.”

You smiled at that, the tension in your shoulders easing. “And your place? What’s it like?”

He leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Depends which one,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes dramatically. 

“Okay, fancy. You know what I mean. The one that feels most like home.”

His expression softened. “It’s quiet. Lots of books. A few random things I’ve collected over the years. Nothing too extravagant.”

“That’s not what I imagined,” you admitted honestly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should hold back or just say it. “I don’t know. Something...flashier? Like an MTV Cribs episode or something.” He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the room.

“God, no. I’d hate living like that. Flashy isn’t my thing.”

The conversation flowed from there—effortless and natural. You talked about little things, like favorite movies and weird food combinations, and at some point, you stopped feeling like you had to pinch yourself. It just felt like two people enjoying tea on a cold day. Eventually, though, the tea mugs were empty, and the silence settled in again, this time heavier with unspoken thoughts.

“I should probably get going soon,” he said, breaking the stillness.

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He stood, stretching a bit, and you followed him to the door. He hesitated there, turning to look at you with a small, almost shy smile.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said, lingering. “And...for letting me pick you up.”

“Anytime,” you said softly, and you meant it.

As he stepped out into the cold, he glanced back one last time. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching him walk to his car, the promise of “soon” hanging in the air. You closed the door behind him, leaning against it as you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The room felt emptier now, even though he’d only been there for a short time. You glanced at the two empty mugs on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a moment, you let yourself replay everything in your mind—the way he casually fit into your space, the warmth in his voice, the way he lingered just a little before leaving. But then, your phone buzzed.

“Thanks again. Made the cold much more bearable.”

----

“Are you dating someone?” Gwen asked, her smile widening as she caught you grinning at your phone.

 “What? No, I would’ve told you,” you replied quickly, placing your phone face down on the table. Normally, that would’ve been true—you’d tell her about a new guy or someone interesting in your life without hesitation. But this wasn’t a normal situation. This was different. And as much as you tried to keep it hidden, clearly your expression was giving something away.

“Would you, though?” she teased, leaning in slightly, her tone playful but probing.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, hoping to sound convincing. Deep down, you felt a twinge of guilt. You’d apologize later for lying to her—she’d understand. At least, you hoped she would.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question lingering in the air. “Something I’ve never told anyone?” you said to yourself, stalling, your mind racing. “Okay… when I was younger, I used to think I wasn’t enough for the things I really wanted. Like, I’d convince myself it was better not to try because failing would just prove it. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.”

You stared at the text, feeling vulnerable. Naked even. It wasn’t easy to admit things like that, not even to yourself. But somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as scary. The way he spoke, the way he made you feel like he’d never judge you, created a space that felt safe.

"I think wanting things, letting yourself want them, is the bravest part. Like��� taking that first step, you know? Even if it’s scary. Besides, from what I can tell, you’re more than enough. Probably always have been. You just needed to catch up to it."

You read that, smiling softly at your screen. It was strange—how he could make you feel like all those nagging voices in your head didn’t stand a chance against his words. Like he had this way of dissolving your doubts faster than your therapist ever could. Maybe it was because you believed him so easily, the way he spoke like he knew something you didn’t, like he could see a future you hadn’t dared to imagine yet.

"Wow, how much you charge per therapy session?" you texted, hoping to lighten the moment without brushing it off. "Your turn," you added, nudging him back into the conversation.

The pause before his response wasn’t long, but it was enough to make you wonder what he might say next.

"Sometimes, I miss being no one. Just… Harry. Not Harry Styles. I love what I do, don’t get me wrong. But there’s a part of me that wishes I could walk into a room and not feel like I have to be something for everyone. It’s strange. How can you be surrounded by people all the time and still feel like no one really sees you?"

You read his words slowly, letting them settle in. And then it hit you—both of you knew the feeling. Both of you felt seen by each other in the way you both wanted to be seen. It didn’t need to be said out loud, but it was there, clear as water.

"I met you as Just Harry. And ‘Just Harry’ is pretty awesome to me 😉. I still see Just Harry"

His reply came almost instantly.

"Thanks, Tulip 🌷❤️."

You stared at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. The little red heart stood out in the conversation like a tiny, unspoken promise. It was the first one either of you had shared. And somehow, it felt like a beginning.

The day went on as usual, no more texts exchanged. Both of you were busy, focused on work, yet your mind kept wandering back to Harry. How everything between you was unfolding—it wasn’t painfully slow, but it wasn’t rushing either. It was just… perfect.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. Sometimes you even laughed, scrolling through the gossip and pictures of him on Twitter. THIS is the man you knew? The same man who shared something he hadn’t told anyone else? It felt surreal.

Millions of people thought they knew him, adored him, and claimed a piece of him for themselves. But you—you really knew him. In a way that was different. Special. Personal. It was crazy to think about, but somehow, it felt right.

You were scrolling through many tweets in bed when it came. Another text.

"I’ve been around the world and back, and I still find myself wanting to talk to you about everything. What does that mean?"

PART 3

--- Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @proudravenclawbird @hopeyoustaythenight @maryjahps @obsessiveenthusiast @liiit44 @loveheart-123 @harrystyleshotwife @harryscherries28 @addiemb8332 @cumuluscranium @gguksfilter @alemunson42069 @sarah22194 @summertime-pills @hescrush @cosmomento @harrys-wifeyy

[meghiee]

sinister!invincible x reader

warnings: psychological horror, cannibalism, gore

summary: sinister!invincible learns that he cannot live without you as he survives a wasteland. one day though, he finds a way to go back home to you.

a/n: i learnt a little bit about how tumblr works and how to change text color! :D i also learnt how to open up my asks, so if there's anything you wanna ask me or maybe a request, go ahead! :)

-

It started with screaming. Mark barely remembered what he said the moment the green portal in front of him closed. It was something about Angstrom... Something about making him suffer for this. Something about never seeing you again.

"Ugh... He can't hear you, idiot..." Another Mark had remarked, his arms crossed as he scowled at him.

Then, there was silence...

A wasteland. Lifeless, endless, dead. But, he wasn't alone... not really at least. Not at first. All the other Marks left over from the war were tossed in this desert with him. Some were angry, others prayed to the vast desert around them to go home. One decided he was going to be the pack leader on the first day, and thus a fight broke out. He went after Mark, but he ended up killing him instead. His body was laid out; a reminder to the rest to not try anything. Eventually, it didn't go to waste. Nothing ever did anymore.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks began to blur into months. Hunger clawed at his mind first, not his stomach. It came in the form of memories. You. You reaching for his face, whispering his name, "You're still human, don't forget." But, humanity is a distant thing in this wasteland.

One by one, the other Marks fell. Some to time, some to insanity, some to him. The hunger was too much, and Mark... well, he stopped pretending it wasn't what he wanted. He didn't kill them out of desperation or survival, no, he tore through them like it was just another battle. As his other versions whined about the pain and their guilt, he reminded himself that they weren't strong enough. They didn't deserve to remember their version of you.

He kept your name like a relic. Mark would whisper it into the hollow air while he slept. He wrote it in his own blood across the stone walls of a ruined fortress before licking the crimson off his finger as if it was nothing but sugar. Licking his lips as he stared at your name. He scanned his brain for you. But... he could no longer recall your face in perfect clarity. All he had left now was your voice, maybe hints of your scent if the wind blew just right, and the taste of your lips as you kissed him. Those memories remained, and somehow, they sustained him.

Mark laughed more now. A loud, hysterical laughter which echoed throughout the broken sky. All the others had gone silent. And then, one day, as he dragged the last remaining variant to the top of a corpse pile, something flicked in the dust.

A portal. Green and alive.

It was small, cracking, and unstable. But, it was real! The first real thing he'd seen in what felt like eternity... And through it, he saw your world. Your city. Your world's sunset on the skyline. You.

Mark no longer cared for the corpse in his hand, dropping it mid-scream. His legs gave out beneath him. His strength was gone, all that remained was hope. Hope that this was actually real. Hope that he truly hadn't reached the end of his rope. His bloody hands reached for it like he was nothing but a starving animal. A starved dog.

His voice cracked, it sounded so... alien to him now. "Y/N...?" Your name fell from his lips like it was a sacred prayer.

The portal opened wider.

He didn't wait.

You were washing dishes when the air bent sideways. You turned, startled. The plate you were washing fell from your grasp to the floor as your hands began to shake out of fear. A ragged shape stumbled through the rift that had opened in the middle of your apartment.

Mark collapsed on your floor.

But... this wasn't the Mark you remembered. This was not your boyfriend. The one who kissed your forehead and laughed at bad sci-fi movies. This Mark was... barely human.

He was emaciated but still powerful. Bloodstained. Drenched in filth and fury. His hair was tangled, and his eyes were wild with bottomless hunger. Not for food... no. For you.

"...Mark?" you whispered as your body began to freeze up in fear. He looked up to you. His tears were already streaming down his dirt caked face. "I found you," he gasped. "I found you!"

He tried crawling across the hardwood towards you. His limbs were shaking; maybe from fear? Adrenaline? Hunger. "I thought I lost you. I thought I..." his voice croaked as it dissolved into animalistic sobs. "They said I'd forget, that I would move on. But, I couldn't. I couldn't breathe without you..."

You backed into the sink behind you, your hand grabbing the edge of the counter as your nails dug into the material. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost felt as if it was going to burst right from your chest. "Mark... what happened to you!" You spat at him, almost sounding accusatory. He smiled through blood-crusted teeth. The sight made you wince in disgust. "I'm home now." He stated flatly, like it was something so obvious.

Mark stood, slow, almost reverent. His hands reached toward you, shaking, trembling. Not to hurt... no, not yet. Just to touch. To prove you were real. And as you looked into his eyes, you realized something horrifying.

He wasn't just broken.

He was starving. Not for food. Not for water.

But, for you.

"You cannot live without them," Angstrom had mocked. But, Mark smiled now, his steps closing the suffocating gap between you two.

"A dog always finds it's way back home."

And dogs, when starved long enough, don't ask permission before they bite.

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.

[bigmasterpiece4444]

What Everyone Is Forgetting: Everything Is Possible

Disclaimer: First of all, I want to say that what I’m saying comes from my own experience and from what I’ve built as truth for myself in this reality. Just because I say it doesn’t mean it’s actually that way (I’m only sharing what I’ve learned). Remember that from each point of view, reality is different or works in a different way.

Lately, I’ve found myself thinking a lot (a lot, really...) Things have happened to me in this reality that feel like a sharp splinter in my brain and heart. Yes, even though I’ve proven to myself that reality shifting is real and that I’ve consciously manifested many things, I still fall into the “trap” of the 3D. Sometimes circumstances get the best of me and I feel like they’ll make me forget everything I’ve learned, but that never really happens. I know there’s something much greater than we can even imagine. I feel it in the air, in my whole being. I feel the calling. I feel like all of this is just a game (a game we can take control of or keep letting control us).

I completely understand you. Even though you keep persisting and persisting, you can’t see anything, or feel it. You feel like time slips through your fingers and you can barely catch a distant glimpse of your desire. It’s okay, breathe, say it out loud, let it go. Just because you have doubts doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I know exactly how it feels because I still go through those thoughts. I know that lately on Tumblr, posts keep saying things like (persist, don’t give in to the 3D, circumstances don’t matter, PERSIST NONSTOP). And well, that’s fine, but I think those who “made it” forget something. At some point, at some moment, they had those same thoughts and doubts, those same fears. Most people who succeeded did so in very different ways. Some believed, some didn’t. Some fell asleep and woke up there, some just assumed, some used a method. Some saw things, felt things, and there are also those who didn’t feel the shift at all (it just happened naturally). Believe me, even those who’ve shifted still have fears, doubts, and blocks.

This is where this theory comes in. (I read this theory from @reynashift and she got it from @alisluvrob, by the way I couldn’t find her profile. That’s her Tumblr account but I saw her on TikTok, her posts are in Spanish). Everyone always says (at least in the shifting community) that we’re constantly changing realities without realizing it. I kept repeating that too, even though I didn’t feel it as truth for myself. Every time I said it, inside me it sounded like (how is that possible? So there’s no fixed reality? Then what are we? Where are we? Is nothing real?). The doubts haunted me.

Until I read that we don’t just shift realities randomly for no reason. Instead, there are branches in every reality/universe and depending on the decisions we make, we choose which branch to follow. Imagine a tree. That tree represents exactly where you are right now. This tree has branches and each one of those branches holds infinite outcomes that unfold depending on the decision you make in this moment. Let’s take a simple example: right now you’re reading this post and you decide you’re going to try it. You lay down on your bed and in your mind there are two dominant possibilities (among infinite ones). You either shift or you don’t. And unconsciously, you choose the branch where it didn’t happen because you let doubt take over and in your beliefs there’s this idea that you can’t do it if you have doubts. But in reality, you didn’t fail because you had doubts but because you unconsciously chose the branch where it didn’t happen. So now choose consciously to go down the branch where it doesn’t matter whether the doubts exist or not (it will happen anyway). Choose the branch that feels right for you and aligns with your own truth.

This means that everything is possible and you can achieve it in any way. You can consciously choose which branch to follow and it doesn’t matter what you believe in (because it’s not wrong, because you are the one who defines reality). Everything you believe leads you to a branch where that belief works and helps you shift. It will work because this experience is unique, personal, individual. There are no rules. Nothing can stop you. You can do it freely, however you want. Everything works, everything is valid and real. Do whatever you want, experiment, live, live your way, do it your way. If you believe that following a method step by step will help, do it. If you believe that doing “nothing” works, then keep doing that. Please start listening to yourself (what is it that you want? what makes you feel good?). Stop putting other people’s beliefs first and follow what your heart tells you.

I had an epiphany. I was forgetting about myself and what actually feels right for me. Every day I would go on Tumblr and read about what worked for others and tried to follow that, but it didn’t feel good for me and I remembered. Honestly, I let fear take over, but it’s okay. Every experience is unique and real.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

So having finally gone through the main story update once, stared at the ceiling, then gone through it immediately again... I am in fucking awe. Speechless. How tf am I supposed to digest this lore drop??? I've been taking notes, gone over screenshots, gotten misty eyed over how much I love SylusMC and just augh... this has rewired the way I view a lot of things in this game.

For example... just how large part Sylus truly plays in the main story. How vital he is. He has been there from the very beginning, pulling strings, moving events along, watching, protecting... he is honestly Everythinglus atp. Universlus. Love and Deepspacelus. I cannot stress how central this man is to MC's story. No wonder he took 5 years to craft. And (loath as I am to say it) ... the gatekeeping of some of his content up 'til now kind of makes sense. His lore is just too closely tied to the main story plot (the lack of communication is still shitty though). I am still kind of shocked by this tbh because it's forced me to do a 180 on my stance re: Paperfold's feelings towards him.

This main story update is just mind blowing in different ways, sort of like Beyond Cloudfall and how that changed everything. I'll be obsessing over it for the rest of the week, at least.

Anyway, idc that it's too early in the morning for this I need to get my initial thoughts out of my system and what better way to do so than a long ass tumblr post. So yeah just gonna go ahead and wordvomit/theorize share some screenshots/details that blew my mind all the way to sunday, and also attempt a timeline b/c my autistic brain demands that of me.

(Be warned, it's long and kind of all over the place. I don't blame anyone that won't bother with it lol).

(Spoilers, obviously)

Can we talk about the SOULMATISM between SylusMC and how that is actually canon to the main story??? They reference the 10.5 grams of soul... Sylus says this

They are pretty much confirmed to still be destined archnemeses in their current timeline – they were meant to kill each other as kids/teens. But like in the myth – and honestly like always – they decided to give fate the middle finger and chose their own path together. Then they got separated but found each other again. Twice. And they always will keep finding each other. No matter which "soil" they find themselves in. They have always been soulmates. But not by fate. But by CHOICE.

I have tried to make a timeline of their relationship from what was revealed here, that I kind of think makes sense?

First, Beyond Cloudfall. Dragon!Sylus and later Dragon!MC dies, and are then reborn on the same planet. Note, that this is not earth but possibly Philos.

They are expected to fight each other to the death in the Arena. But instead they succesfully run off together. And perhaps go on to commit crimes... I am speculating this to maybe be the case because of the "even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit" line but also because of the potential scenario I mention in point 3.

At some point in time, they are separated by the Deepspace Tunnel. Either before or after the separation, Sylus is thrown into Tartarus. If it happened before, then it's possible that MC was somehow responsible for it (remember, as a child she threatens to throw Sylus into Tartarus. Which could be foreshadowing of some kind).

In whichever case, while Sylus is in Tartarus, MC has been taken to Earth – more specifically to the Gaia Research Center in the N109 Zone – where she has either regressed to or been reborn as a tiny child, and is experimented on by EVER who are after eternal life and want to use her powers to achieve it.

Sylus breaks out of jail and goes in search for MC, eventually pinpointing her location using the eye of Aether and landing in the N109 Zone in 2034 (this according to the Timelock Key). At this time, the Chronorift Catastrophe is happening and Dimitri – blaming MC for it and for the Wanderers – tries to kill her by putting her in the Deepspace Collision Chamber. But before she can succumb to it, Sylus arrives and breaks her out. He makes a deal with Dimitri to bring MC back to him in the future.

Sylus leaves MC to be raised by Josephine, and for the next 14 years he keeps watch over her from a distance (remember the giant red eye? And mephie ofc), while founding Onychinus and taking over the N109 Zone, and working on taking down EVER. He creates a special menu just for MC at Elysium, in the hopes that she will one day come there, order it, and find him.

LAR. They reunite again, but MC remembers nothing. Not their Dragon myth, nor their childhood, nor Sylus' rescue of her. Instead, she sees him as a monster and despises him.

Present time.

Now, there are some things I want to point out here re: this.

One – I was wrong about Sylus' being resurrected or reassembled. Clearly, he was reborn... but unlike MC with his past life memories intact. I also still see him as a Dragon for the same reasons I've stated before. And also because I want him to be lol. I definitely don't think he's human. Nor is MC.

Two – I still think that Sylus is older than what his profile states. Why? Because we know now that he came to earth in 2034. Fourteen years prior to LAR. Which would – if his profile age is to be taken as truth – have made him 14 at that time. Now, dgmw Sylus is crazy powerful and honestly probably could have won a gang war and perhaps even conquered a planet etc at that age. However... it does not at all line up with the descriptions nor with the visuals we have of him at that time. In the Tangible Shackles video, he is in no way shape or form a 14 year old boy. Same goes for the Anecdote – he is described there as "a tall man" and having a "deep male voice" and "striking features". That's as far as the physical descriptions go. Nowhere in the text is there a single allusion to his being a kid, but rather the opposite. And I do believe that the text would have drawn attention to him being well below legal drinking age in a story like that.

And then there is ofc the Approaching Dusk image as well as this one of him breaking MC out of the Deepspace Collision Chamber (it destroys me btw).

Just compare MC who is roughly 8-9 here to Sylus. The size difference is massive. So no, that is not a 14 year old. They are not that huge, not even a Burj Khalifa on legs like Sylus.

Anyway, what we learned re: SylusMC's lore for sure puts both of these scenes in a different light

We all thought he was talking about their Beyond Cloudfall past here.

But no.

He is more than likely talking about their childhood etc here... "you were quietly moved to another garden in a foreign land" ie their separation in the Deepspace Tunnel, when they had earlier been two flowers growing up together in the same soil and who were supposed to keep growing together and ＿|￣|●💔 yeah. Thanks for breaking my heart again with the same scenes but with new context, game...

And on this note... fuck, man, do I feel even worse for poor Sylus now. Not only did MC forget him once, but twice. While he remembers everything – Beyond Cloudfall, the Gladiator Arena, being separated from her... and also knows just what she went through with EVER. He knows in what ways the love of his life suffered at the hands of evil people.

How the fuck has this man not crashed out yet. He is as mentally and emotionally strong as he is physically powerful imo.

And then there is just his sheer love for her. All the things he did for her: Running away together. (Possibly) being imprisoned. Searching the galaxy. Rescuing her from Dimitri, and giving her a chance to have autonomy and a normal childhood for the first time in her life. Devoting his own life to taking down the organization that hurt her.

And waiting for her. Always.

But even after everything still being ready to let her go. In spite of everything.

HE LOVES HER SO MUCH SOBSADFHUJHJ

I thought I loved Sylus before this update but I swear it has made me appreciate his character even more. What sorcery is that??? You can really tell how much thought and care his team has put into crafting him and his story.

And the same goes for MC. She got fleshed out here in all the best ways and I admire her immensely. I think that line she has about hoping that she made the Gaia Researchers even for a moment see her as the child she was rather than as an object or experiment says so heartbreakingly much about her and who she is.

The two together have so many fantastic moments in this story that had me giggling and kicking my feet. I honestly think it's more romantic/hot than some of the memory/date cards. But I won't talk about it more here or now because this is already way too long lol. Will probably just make individual posts for them.

Anyway, I do want to share some screenshots I took that made me lose my shit

I noticed the patterns on the bell when I was going to take another screenshot from LAR and omfg do you guys see it too????? Tell me I'm not reaching or deluding myself????? Ouuuu Sylus team you always gag me

STAYRUS MY LOVE YOU'RE BACK

I think it's pretty funny how chill MC is about Sylus having wings like she really don't care she just rolls with it (as she does with a lot of huge revelations tbh). Unbothered Queen.

This is one of my very favorite parts of the Kindled. Look how tenderly Sylus holds her here... shielding and protecting her the way he has all these 14 years, but physically this time. And you can see how MC genuinely feels safe in his arms. Oh, how far they've come since LAR...

Anyway, I'm gonna finally leave off here with a prediction for Sylus' future myth. I have an inkling it will take place before and after they escape from the Arena and up until Sylus gets imprisoned. That makes most sense to me. We need to know what they were up to in between and what led to Sylus' imprisonment. In other words I feel like I can taste the Gladiator & the space pirate lore. If I am wrong though, I'm betting it will be a Hades & Persephone inspired one. There have been quite a few references to greek mythology after all. Gaia. Charon. The River Styx. Tartarus. Not to mention the Pomegranate imagery and references. And probably more I can't think of rn.

Oh and I'd love to hear if any of you guys have any theories or things you noticed in this update! I would not be surprised if I've missed important details.

[hyuckswoman]

“thank you for agreeing to talk to me” jisung said picking at his fingers from nervousness

“it’s fine jisung, we’re just talking” you said trying to distract yourself with anything that could distract you

“no yeah, i just wanted to apologize” “for what?” you asked, you had to make sure he knew what was wrong with this situation “for ghosting you, i just. look, i don’t want to seem like i’m making excuses so i’ll just leave it at an apology but i really am sorry”

“so you’re not going to explain why? cause i’d be glad to know” “honestly? i’m just immature. I’m not the best at communicating and running away is just so easier than actually facing any difficult situations i’m in. I just got in my head too much and next thing i know i was ghosting you and treating you like shit and i’m also so mad because it’s upsetting me as if i’m not the one who put myself in this situation in the first place you know?”

“i mean i guess? but I don’t know i kinda feel shitty about you leaving all of a sudden like that” “yeah, and i respect that like it’s valid, i was just freaking out and handled it in a stupid way instead of just communicating but i want you to know that i’ll get better at it” “that’s good tho, that you realize that. i think it’ll help you later on in life”

“i’m also sorry for the text i sent you, i wasn’t trying to do anything i was just regretting my decision and felt like telling that i was missing you because then maybe you’d know that i don’t hate you or whatever” “i know you don’t hate me, at least i figured you didn’t” “good, that’s- that’s great yea. I did mean it tho I miss you but just awful timing and a really emotionally stupid thing to do. but i am working on it, and I’ll be better. just wanted to let you know” “thanks, i forgive you tho so don’t beat yourself up too much”

“you do? that’s cool i missed my partner” “oh let me be more clear my bad, i forgive you for what you’ve done because i understand where you’re coming from and since you’re a man your frontal lobe has not really developed so i have to be lenient with you. joking. kinda. but i don’t know if us being friends again is what’s best. you already fucked me over once and it was confusing how easily you switched up and then we were cool and then you ghosted me. and listen, i don’t like to be made a fool of, and you did that. twice. so maybe i’ll change my mind but for now, i don’t think we should be friends. no bad blood between us though”

“i understand and respect your decision and will be patiently waiting if you ever decide to give me a chance. that’s of course except if you allow me to kind of chase after you a little bit” “you shouldn’t put yourself in that position, i’m not worth chasing after trust me” “to me you are. so do i get your permission?” “do whatever you want jisung, but don’t say i didn’t warn you” you sigh getting up to leave while he just nods and slightly smiles at you

39. apology

previous chapter masterlist next chapter

notes: sorry i disappeared for a while i was on a short holiday with my girlsssss (also tmi posting this chapter made me cry i HATE how tumblr lags it’s so FRUSTRATINGGGGGUGHHHHHHH)

taglist: @kgyam4 @sunghoonsgfreal @injunnie-lemon @nctrawberries @222low @multifandomania @nemonemoz @bearhyuckz @222brainrot @sinsgaybutthatsokay @defzcl @lostinneocity @junviadinho @mrsbyun-baek @skepvids @wonbin-truther @jkslvsnella @jising-jisang-jisung @nanaxwi @polarisjisung @amrqxz @jirsungs @haechansbbg @dalsosapple @pookime @pinklemonade34 @lotties-readings @roseangelxfuma @jiiieun @hrtleehan @mystverse @alethea-moon @stqrgr7 @nosungluv @dinonuguaegi @addyanm @kenmaswoman @okkkcausewhet @starfilledgaze @iseos1 @jovialdelusionbouquet @tywritesstuff @luffysprincess @pinkberryy15 @theandypark @keeryverse

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.

[carn4g3]

Hi! Could u make a ticcy toby x male reader hurt/comfort-ish oneshot where the reader feels ignored in a way, like ppl dont rly care to listen to them or let them express themself? And gets comforted with words of affirmation/physical affection If that makes sense lol its ok if not tho! Have a nice day :)

Rookie Mistake | Ticci Toby x Male Reader

Summary - One of these days, you're going to give Tim a taste of his own damn medicine. But, for now, you have Toby.

TWs: Descriptions of blood, dead bodies & murder, reader has some anger issues, indirect mentions of abuse

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Tumblr kept eating this ask without my permission, I swear it disappeared at least 3 or 4 times before I finally caught it and saved it to my drafts. I rewrote sections of this a few times so lmk if something isn't as clear as I thought it was lol

"I'm supposed to do this and clean up on a solo mission?" You asked the masked man incredulously.

Tim looked less than interested in the question, a loud sigh leaving him as though you were just another chore, "You can handle that, can't you?"

His response felt more like a trap than an actual expression of concern. If you said you could, he would dismiss the rest of your complaint. On the other hand, the opposite answer would only spur him to poke further at your abilities-- like you hadn't heard from him and everyone else a million times over.

"You always have Brian with you for clean up," You chose to answer with instead, "Why don't I get someone?"

"Everyone has more important things to do than help you out, rookie." Tim scoffed.

You scowled at the nickname. It didn't take long for you to not only receive the moniker but also grow incredibly tired of it. Damn near everyone called you it now, and you were beginning to gather that the tone wasn’t always just playful teasing. People like Tim said it out of a place of superiority— thinking they were better simply because they had been around for longer.

"Really? And what important things are you doing." You scoffed in disbelief.

"Watch yourself." Tim shot back sternly.

This was hardly the first time you had fought with the man. At first, you had been pretty obedient towards all of those who took on "teaching" you. You reveled in their advice, taking their harshness as an opportunity to grow, and even enduring their verbal assault as something you would just grow used to. After months of it, you felt fortunate that your senses finally returned to you. Of course, it wasn't without the help of Toby. He fought with Tim just as much, probably even more, and he helped you realize how much of an asshole Tim really was.

"Grow a pair and do your dirty work yourself." You replied, letting the words spew out before you even really thought them over.

You could tell he was mad, fists clenched at his sides as though he was barely restraining himself from throwing a punch. The subtle shift of his mask suggested he was grinding his jaw, something he did as to not lash out fully. A normal person would be relieved, but you could only feel more irritated when he chose to be the "bigger" person. He had to have known it upset you. That was the only explanation for why he would do it.

"It's your job," Tim said tersely, "Don't do it and you'll answer to the Operator."

His tone suggested the conversation was done there. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he took a few steps back to return to whatever depths of the woods he had crawled from.

"Fuckin' asshole." You knew he hadn't missed the muttered words when his movements paused, shoulders tensing as though he were daring you to say it again.

"I said you're a fuckin asshole!" You repeated louder.

Deciding that you would be the one with the last word, you made your own exit. Glancing over your shoulder, you had hoped to see Tim still standing there-- reeling from your verbal assault. Instead, he was retreating silently just as you were.

You were exhausted-- no, beyond that. All but dragging your body through the woods, muscle memory was pretty much the only thing that got you back to the rundown cabin now sitting before you. The exterior was almost entirely dark given that the porch light had long since succumbed to the dust, cobwebs, and moss that patterned every nook and cranny of the building. Despite that, a sliver of illumination peaked its way out from between the drawn curtains just left of the doorway: the kitchen light, if you remembered correctly. Forcing your aching muscles to pull you up the creaky front steps, you reached for the doorknob. As expected it twisted with ease; the man inside never really did remember to lock it.  

Eyes falling lazily over the interior, you found that your suspicions about the light source were proved right. To your left, the dim yellow glow of the kitchen light cast a net of illumination that extended only a few feet from the room’s entryway. Shutting and locking the door behind you, you easily found the object of your interest rustling around the pantry. Loose tufts of hair and edges of dirtied, blood spattered clothes peeking out from behind the door, Toby seemed to be surveying it for options. 

"I'm home." You greeted abysmally.

"Hi." Toby replied, clearly engrossed in his task.

The kitchen space was minimal, pretty much a glorified hallway, but you managed to brush past him anyways. Settling on his right side, you let your head fall to his shoulder as you observed the sparse pantry. It had been a while since the last supply run, and it wasn't like either of you had the luxury of free time to go shopping.

"There's Doritos." You noted the party sized bag that had been folded shut.

"Yeah," Toby's body lurched, but it didn't deter you from your position for very long, "You look like sh... shit."

You sent a half assed glare his way, "So do you, dick."

You didn't even need to fully take in the other man's appearance to gather that much. Just like you, he had come right from a mission. Dried mud clung stubbornly to the notches of his boots, the particles of which were undoubtedly spread all over the floors by now. From your close proximity, he reeked of sweat, BO, and blood-- all of which you had long grown accustomed to.

Although, you weren’t in any position to pass judgement. Perhaps more blood stained than your counterpart, you could feel the mostly dried sticky substance clinging to the front of your clothing. Splattered and messy, it stained your hands, caked under your nails, and hid in the creases of your skin. You were sure some of it still gently dotted your face as well-- all mixed with sweat and dirt.

"How'd it g-go?" He chose to ignore your insult in favor of asking the question.

"Fine," You answered bluntly, "You?"

Thinking over the previous events, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Killing the victim had been easy. A hardly athletic, 30-something year old man glued to his computer, it was easy to attack him from behind and send him helplessly to the floor with a single hit. You wouldn't admit it, but it was partially intentional that the first hit didn't even knock him out properly. Seeing him crawl away in futile desperation only spurred you to strike him a second time. Then a third. If you had to guess, he probably expired somewhere between the fourth and the sixth strike.

It was cathartic in a way, picturing the pathetic corpse before you as the remains of the masked bastard who had ordered you there in the first place. You were certainly less than gentle with the body as you went about hiding it, taking some creative liberties in the disposal method. Though, it came to bite you in the ass when you began to embark on the several mile journey back into the woods, shoulders and legs aching from the effort before you even started.

"Fine." Toby echoed, "Got what I-- shit!-- nee-needed."

"Nice." You sighed, too tired to ask anymore questions as you turned your attention to the bag of chips.

Plucking them off the shelf, you turned swiftly to the darkened living room on your left. Though it would have been easy to flick on the light switch just adjacent to the pantry, you opted to throw your body onto the awaiting sofa instead. Knowing the couch had been through far worse, you hardly perturbed by the thought of blood and dirt sticking to the already stained fabric. Toby, as expected, was just as uninterested in maintaining the couch’s cleanliness or in illuminating the room as he trailed in just behind you. Taking a seat in the relatively small gap between your body and the left arm rest, he looked down at you expectantly as you ruffled through the bag of chips.

"You g-gonna share?" Rolling your eyes at the question, you grabbed a handful before shoving the rest of the bag into the other man’s lap.

"What'd you ha-- have to do anyway?" Toby asked, the bag crinkling loudly as took some chips for himself.

"Kill and clean up." You answered.

Toby paused at that, "By yourself?"

"Blame that fucker with the mask." You didn't even need to clarify which one, both of you knowing exactly whom you were referring to.

"C-course," He scoffed, "that asshole."

"That's what I told him, said he shouldn't make his fuckin' dirty work my problem." Your teeth grit together at the memory.

"Should've told me, we could... could've switched." He replied.

"No," You responded a bit harsher than you intended, "Wouldn't fuckin change that he thinks I'm some weak little bitch who can't do anything for myself. They all think I'm some fuckin’ dumbass! And for what? Because Slender chose them first? It's bullshit! None of it makes them better..."

You let the rant spill from your lips as you felt that simmering rage from earlier finally boil over. 

Without realizing it, your hand clenched around the remaining chips in your hand, causing them to crumble into an array of pieces across your palm. Feeling the pieces poke at your skin and the dust becoming intermixed with the already sticky concoction of sweat and blood, you felt yourself become even more disgruntled. 

"Fuck!" You cursed, throwing the remains aimlessly into the dark room, "I wanna wring that fucker's neck."

Wiping your hand aggressively against your clothes, you found no reprieve from the uncomfortable sensation even as you felt the skin turning raw from the repeated movements.

"It would do the w-world a fuckin' fa... favor." Toby's voice joined in once more.

Turning your gaze in his direction, you waited silently for Toby to say more. Instead, you were only met with the sight of a triangular chip dangling over your face. A bit confused at first, you reached out hesitantly to take it. Just as fingers started to brush it, he abruptly pulled it away as though it were simply some sort of taunt. Finally realizing what he wanted, you parted your lips, waiting as Toby finally dropped the chip into your awaiting mouth.

"Thanks." You replied, already forgetting about whatever it was that had just upset you.

He grunted in acknowledgement, returning to the previous topic instead, "I wouldn't rec-recommend trying it. He'll si-sick his real bitch on you."

You couldn't help the small snort that left you. He was talking about Brian, of course. You hadn't thought the hooded man was all too bad initially. Brian was pretty nice to you, from what you remembered. Though, it did help that he very rarely spoke– unlike his counterpart. You had no clue what he saw in Tim to hang around him so frequently, but it only took a small push from Toby for you to hate Brian as well. 

"Fuckin' coward." You commented. 

Eating the rest of the chip you were handed, the two of you sat in relative silence for a moment. Turning your gaze towards Toby once more, you watched as he absentmindedly ate. With his faceguard pulled down around his neck, you had a full view of the opening in his cheek: the strands of saliva that formed across the opening, his teeth gnashing at the chip, and drool involuntarily pooling at the corner. He usually made it a habit to not eat around others, so you couldn’t help but be mesmerized every time you got a rare look at it. You didn’t even realize he noticed your staring until another chip was thrust unceremoniously over your vision. 

“Something on my face?” Toby asked.

“Nah.” You averted your gaze quickly, feeling your face heat after having been caught.

“Yeah right, creep.” He muttered, the words mostly playful.

You weren’t allowed a response as he shoved the awaiting chip into your mouth the second you opened it. Letting him take the win on this one, you fell back into the cozy moment. Despite the loud crinkling of the bag and the usual creaks and groans of the old building, you could feel that itch of tension slowly melting away as it always did when you were around Toby. You liked spending time with him for that reason.

Admittedly, you hadn’t thought he was much different from the likes of Tim or Brian at first. He talked more than the latter but was only a little less harsh than the former. But, unlike the other two, you steadily warmed up to him. You were both the new guys, relatively younger than any of the proxies or Slender’s other allies. It felt easier to express your frustrations to him, to trust the advice he gave you, and to see the underlying compliments in what was usually admonishment from anyone else. It was an easy decision once you were finally granted Slenderman’s full trust as a proxy to move into this rundown cabin you had spent many nights before. Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t notice the way Toby was attempting to get your attention until he outright flicked the center of your face

"Ow,” You hissed, “What was that for?”

"You're far." He replied.

"I'm right next to you." You scoffed.

"You know wh-- what I f... fuckin' mean." Despite the way he matched your tone, he turned his gaze away as though he were embarrassed.

It was endearing how he got flustered whenever asking you for affection. Though, you suppose you forced him to the point of reaction just for your own interest sometimes. Shifting your body against the couch, you slid towards Toby until your head rested comfortably against his thigh.

"Happy?" You teased him.

"Little sh-shit." He hissed, though still gave you another chip as though it were some reward.

As you chewed on it in stride, Toby spoke once more, "None... none of them know what they're ta- talking about. They're all-- shit!-- stuck with their heads up... up their ass."

You huffed in amusement, though didn't find yourself too moved by the words, "And they're in charge."

"Not f-forever," Toby scoffed, "Slender will grow ti-tired of them soon. Then they-- fuck-- they'll be beg-begging us for their lives."

Now that thought was appeasing to you, "Yeah, and we'll make those assholes pay."

Toby's hand moved to your hair, ruffling it in agreement with those words, "Damn right."

Described this to my roommate as: Hurt/comfort but the reader has been trained like a dog.

[moonlightmornings]

hannah's buddie fic recs || pt. 10 💫

happy tuesday, friends :) it has been rainy and gloomy and foggy all day and its been soooooo lovely. also there's a few extra fics i threw in here, not my usual 15 :))

as always, if you're the author of one of these please reply and i'll tag your tumblr! and check the tags and warnings before reading!!

<- PART NINE: hannah's buddie fic recs

our own little world by buckleys_girl911 | 9.7k words | explicit Buck and Eddie have a date night at a drive-in movie, and Eddie wants Buck and doesn't care that other people are around.

look how they shine for you by icarvslwt | 9.1k words | NR Buck turned in the corner of the hallway and waited for Eddie to get in the elevator. The doors were closing when Buck looked at him and opened his mouth to speak. Eddie watched him closing it and opening it again... “Can we-” he finally said before a loud noise sounded from somewhere and just like that, the lights were off.

could have followed my fears all the way down by icewhisper | 3.9k words | teen+ In 2019, Buck writes a letter and sits on the edge of his roof, but he doesn’t jump. He never tells anyone about how close he’d come. In 2024, in the midst of packing up the loft so Buck can move in with him and Christopher, Eddie finds the letter.

it was not my lips you kissed, but my soul by @cathcer1984 | 32.1k words | explicit Buck comes with Eddie to El Paso. Eddie's family make assumptions about their relationship which they don't correct.

merry/bright by @pansiesandposes | 20.8k words | teen+ There’s fake dating, Buck is loved by many people, and Eddie Diaz interacts with snow for the first time.

talk me through it, touch me softly by buckleys_girl911 | 14.3k words | explicit Consent is sexy, Buck talks Eddie through their first time.

give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye by biIlionlittlepieces | 3.0k words | GA Buck takes care of a drunk and crying Eddie who misses his son.

all i need is you by browneyedgirl6 | 2.6k words | teen+ Eddie's been back to work for about a month now since being shot, and things seem to be going fine, he's gotten past that day—at least he thought he had. That all changes when they're on a scene with exploding paint cans, one splattering Buck right in the face, the sight chilling Eddie to the core.

acts of service by @aashiqeddiediaz (tawaifeddiediaz) | 4.3k words | teen+ Buck sleeps weird, Eddie fixes it, gets stuck, and Buck loves his man.

dragged in dust (bathed in blood) by @aashiqeddiediaz (tawaifeddiediaz) | 39.1k words | mature The aftermath of Eddie's decision [to leave the 118], and what it means for his relationship with Buck.

don’t look at me (you got a girl at home) by justhockey | 4.4k words | NR Buck gets handsy when he’s drunk. Eddie has Feelings about it.

weightless by raptorax | 18.5k words | teen+ Eddie brings Chris home, Buck bakes cookies, and they both figure out how to stop running from the things that scare them most.

when it’s sunny or storming by saintsnames | 3.0k words | GA In the future, Eddie is still a little afraid of thunderstorms.

what do you want? (desires of the heart) by xcursequeenx | 11.9k words | explicit The one where Buck corners Eddie for answers after Eddie starts acting weird and it leads down a road neither of them expected.

the arms of the ocean by @anatargmova | 9.6k words | teen+ After Christopher leaves with his grandparents, Buck notices just how much touch-starved Eddie is — and decides to fix it.

forever, ceasing never by @clusterbuck (lecornergirl) | 3.9k words | teen+ Until he drifts over just a little too far and loses his balance, and instead of resting his head on Buck’s shoulder like he’d intended he overshoots and finds himself sprawled out on the sofa, his head somewhere in the vicinity of Buck’s hip... He should get up, but Buck’s hand slides into his hair, and when he looks down his eyes are impossibly soft.

[adripakoffee]

I don't post on here often and by that I mean I'm on here once a month to look at writing prompts but right now I'm thinking of Anya from Mouthwashing, and Tumblr is better for long form posts. Apologies if this rant isn't super clear, I'm on pain meds right now.

CW: S/A, SUICIDE, OVERDOSE, MOUTHWASHING SPOILERS

Anyway, Anya very well may be one of the most doomed characters to ever doom. Firstly she's trapped in a relatively small space ship with 4 men, who she has to keep alive and healthy along with giving them periodic mental wellness checks (which she, herself never gets). Two of these men don't take her seriously at all because she probably doesn't actually have a medical degree and is just someone the company hired to cut corners. If that wasn't all ready awful, the co-captain, Jimmy, has been assaulting her since at least the start of this voyage that's been going on for 100+ days. She falls pregnant because of this and while this isn't where her spiral started, this is where it gets worse. She originally plans to kill herself with the Captain's gun, but decides against it since she can't get to the gun without Curly's help anyway.

Speaking of Curly, he knows what's been going on, she told him about Jimmy a while before the crash. Every time, Curly says "I'll do something about it," or "I'll fix this," but the most he does is keep Jimmy away from Anya when they're working. Anya seems fine with that for the most part because I think she assumes Curly will report Jimmy and have him arrested when they land (he won't, at this point in the game he'd defend Jimmy for anything because "he sees the best in people. He loves to say "our worst moments don't define us" and apparently that extends to r@pe). So at this point, she's biding her time until they land.

Back to the gun, when Curly finds her holed up in the cockpit, she tells him she's pregnant. He's a little taken aback but he tries to reassure her that it's fine and he'll fix the "situation" with Jimmy. He says he can't let her kill herself because he does actually care about her. One of his flaws is he cares about everyone so much he can't imagine compromising one of them for any reason. Anya tells him she wasn't going to hurt herself, though she thought about it, she just hid the gun case so Jimmy couldn't kill her instead. She's so convinced Jimmy just wants to kill and torment her when the sad truth is, he couldn’t care less.

In all of Jimmy's "take responsibility" hallucinations, Anya barely shows up. Swansea, Curly, and Daisuke do, but he can't bring himself to even recognize what's happened to Anya is also solely his fault. He doesn't care at all.

Speaking of which, what seems the straw that breaks the camel's back for Jimmy is Anya telling him that she's pregnant because he crashes the ship pretty sure after. And this really seems like a spur of the moment action because if he'd planned this he could've done it much earlier after the news of the company closing reached them.

Curly says Anya should've waited for him to help her tell Jimmy about the pregnancy, but that doesn't matter because he is put out of commission like (I forgot if it's a day later or the same day) later because he's in the cockpit when the ship crashes.

Now Anya has no hope, Jimmy knows she's pregnant, the seemingly one line of defense she has against him can't leave his bed, and they're stuck in space. She's terrified because not only because of that, but because Jimmy is captain now and because of the way the ship is set up, you need the captain for a lot of things. Jimmy being captain also means if he finds the gun case, he now has the code to open it.

Anya, being the ships medic, is tasked with keeping Curly alive and giving him his meds. It's really difficult for her, A. because Curly is hard to look at, B. because unless he's full of pain meds, he's making noise, and C. because that was her friend and one of the only people she felt safe around and he's been reduced to this. And from her perspective, this is his fault, Curly crashed the ship.

This situation is stressful for everyone, Swansea has reverted back to alcoholism and never drops the ax he has, Daisuke is slowly losing hope and also starts drinking, and Jimmy won't stop yelling at her. He's so pissed at her the entire game, more so than everyone else. She was already scared of him but before there was at least a light at the end of the tunnel. Now there's nothing to look forward to because she doesn't think there's any way out.

She, at some point when he's sober enough, confides in Swansea who then tells her that she's gonna be the one to get out of here. He has the one last working cryo pod set aside for her specifically and refuses to let anyone into the room where it is. Unfortunately, at this point, her anxiety concerning Jimmy is so bad, she's convinced he'd do something to the pod too.

So then Anya locks herself in the med bay with Curly and all the rest of the ships medicine (- minus the Isopropyl which she probably left for Daisuke and Swansea) and overdoses by Curly's bed. Curly was awake the whole time she went through a probably painful death. She also, as maybe a final revenge, took the last of the pain meds that were meant for Curly. And she dies right next to him.

That's where her story ends. She felt so trapped and scared by her r@pist that got her pregnant that she killed herself next to the one person who could've done something, but instead, from her perspective, trapped her with said r@pist.

She died probably hoping that Daisuke or Swansea would make it out, not knowing they died soon after.

TLDR;

So from her perspective: A guy she's been friends with for years starts repeatedly assaulting her and she's stuck with him, then he gets her pregnant. Her other friend who she tells says he'll do something about it (he won't) and she has no choice but to trust him. Then the guy she told crashes the ship they're all on and fails in taking himself out. Now she's trapped with her r@pist and she tells someone else who does actually try to do something but she kills herself instead.

Anyways guys, I'm just missing my wife, the end.