#stop bullying them ne >>

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Hey, I don't normally make my own posts about this, but.

Do not argue with an anti on their own terms.

Don't get me wrong, I get it. You see the hypocrisy. You see the way they take aim at your favorite ships or characters or tropes while enjoying something similar. And you think "if I can point out to them just how hypocritical and idiotic they look right now, everyone will see our argument, they'll see that the anti is wrong and a hypocrite, and then maybe more people will stop harassing the people who like my thing. Maybe the anti will see the light and stop being a hypocrite."

But it will not work. It will not work.

There is an extremely high chance one of two things will occur:

They will double down on their argument, and ignore what you've said. (Ex. They might say "This relationship has an age gap. That's p3dophi1ia. That's dangerous." And you might say "well you ship something with the same age gap. Is it not p3dophi1ia and dangerous when you do it?" And they will just double down and say "This ship is dangerous. The shippers are grasping at straws to make their p3d0 ship normal.")

They will agree with you, but in the worst way possible. (Ex. Someone says "Ew your ship are basically siblings because they're childhood friends and grew up together. 1nc3st apologist." And you might respond "And yet we allow our most popular ship in this fandom to be popular? They grew up together as childhood friends and were inseparable. Why is that not inc3st?" because you think they'll gain a sense of perspective here. But then that person responds "People who ship that popular ship are freaks too then." Maybe they believed that before the convo or maybe they didn't, but the point now is that (while not your intention or fault by any means) some people have gone on to harass shippers of a ship that aren't doing anything wrong. What you think will bring clarity ends up raising tensions between shippers instead)

Do not meet them where they're at on their preconceived notions. You will not make them believe that they are wrong or hypocrites. Do not concede to their heavy assertions of abuse, p3dophi1ia, 1nc3st, etc levied against the thing you like for the sake of arguing that they are a hypocrite, or with intent to make them feel dumb for inadvertently labeling 80% of a fandom with said labels. They will not "see the light". The best thing you can do, if you have to say anything, is double down with "I'm not hurting anyone and it's fiction. I can do whatever I want" or "I don't give a shit what harmless things people like as long as it's tagged and I can filter out what I dislike" (especially if this is your stance). Then block and move on.

Antis, like trolls, thrive on engagement. They want you to argue so they can continue to point at you or lie about you or make you look bad.

It is in your best interest to pick your battles, and to try to sus out the difference between a friendly argument or standing up for yourself versus feeding the trolls. You won't make the right choice every time, all of us are human after all, but I promise you that ignoring and blocking bad faith actors, deleting their hate anons, etc, is not the coward's way out. Sometimes you don't need to fight. Sometimes keeping yourself from platforming bad faith actors and giving them nothing to go on will do the job (because there are more antis that are just small blogs with little power to do anything than you think, the kinds of people whose inflammatory posts will die if no one touches them).

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[tacobacoyeet]

Hello it’s me again

ART X READER

so basically it’s when they’re at boarding school and reader is kinda awkward but friendly but kinda an outcast, art is in like the popular group and stuff with Patrick and reader is ‘friends’ with the group but they all kinda bully reader but like don’t but they do but they don’t, anyways so art doesn’t really bully reader but he always laughs along and stuff ANYWHO one day they’re all lounging around in one of the community room and one of the girls in their friend group goes, “omg did you see her play today at practice, it was so bad” and one of them makes a joke that she was too busy drooling over art and they all tease art and then one of them has an idea that art should ‘entertain’ reader until a certain tournament so they have a better chance of winning, and art reluctantly agrees to it, kinda weirded out by reader in general. So he hangs out with her and then goes back to his friend group everyday to tell them everything and they all laugh about it and now she tries to flirt with him but as time goes on art actually starts to like reader, and really falls for her. Then when the tournament comes around maybe the team looses still because of her and everyone is pissed and then when she walks into the community room it goes quiet cause everyone is talking about it and she just goes into the corner to study while everyone glares at her. One of the girls on the team that are also in arts friendgroup rushes up to art with the rest of his friends behind her and yells at him because he was supposed to butter reader up in order to win and then reader runs out crying because she heard everything and then art reprimands the group for blaming her and him because all they do at practice is ignore her and she can’t get any better if she’s neglected and how they pushed this onto him when she’s really just a really cool girl. Then he rushes out to find reader and then they get into a screaming match but then they kiss and happily ever after cause this is #spring and a #fairytale

I’m sorry this is like my 4th request 😔 I just love your writing style sm

until the tournament | art donaldson x reader

a/n: thank you angel! hope this does your wonderful request justice!!

warnings: bullying, not proofread

The first time you cried at Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, it was over a dropped sandwich and a shoeprint in your lunchbox.

You hadn’t even liked the sandwich that much—turkey, the wrong kind of mustard, bread already going stale—but the weight of someone’s heel crushing through the plastic lid had been enough to set something loose in your chest. It was only your second week, and you hadn’t figured out yet where to sit at lunch or how to tie your shoelaces fast enough after practice or what to say when the other girls laughed about something that wasn’t funny.

So you cried. Quietly. In the farthest corner of the outdoor benches, head ducked like a kid in a storm. The bench was cold, even through your uniform skirt. The wind carried someone else’s laughter like it was meant for you and missed. Somewhere, a whistle blew—sharp and shrill—and it felt like it echoed down the center of your chest.

Art Donaldson saw you, but he didn’t stop. Just looked for a second longer than he probably meant to, then turned away to where Patrick was already shouting something about backhands and protein bars.

That was four years ago.

Now you’re sixteen and you’ve learned not to cry over sandwich boxes.

Now when they laugh, you laugh too.

Even if it’s about you.

Especially if it’s about you.

Now you know where to sit, even if no one ever saves you a seat. You know how to tie your laces faster than anyone else, double-knotted with the frayed ends tucked tight. You know how to nod when someone makes a joke at your expense—just enough to seem in on it, never enough to seem hurt.

You’re not friends with them. Not really. But you orbit the group like a borrowed moon—glowing just enough to be useful, just close enough to be kept. Never quite belonging to their sky, but still tethered by the invisible gravity of routine, of silence, of needing to be somewhere. You know that pulling away would leave a bruise too deep for anyone else to see.

Patrick talks the loudest. The other girls smile with their teeth and pass you looks like notes you’re not allowed to open. Once, one of them asked where you got your skirt, and when you said your mom mailed it from home, they shared a look like they’d just unwrapped a secret. Another gave you a granola bar after drills and said it looked like you needed it—smiling, syrup-sweet, like it was kindness instead of a blade.

And Art? Art laughs along. Always a second behind the punchline. Like he knows he should, even when he doesn’t want to.

Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, he glances your way. Not long enough to mean anything. But not short enough to mean nothing, either.

You pretend not to notice.

And you pretend not to care.

Because at Mark Rebellato, you survive best when you feel nothing at all.

The community room always smells like chlorine and reheated pasta. The couches are sagging, the carpet is worn, and the ceiling fan clicks with every third spin, but no one seems to care. It’s where everyone goes after practice—sweaty, loud, half-asleep with their shoes kicked off and protein shakes melting on the floor.

You sit on the edge of the room like always, notebook open, textbook in your lap, headphones snug over your ears—your walkman clipped to your waistband, rewinding the same scratched cassette you always turn to when the world gets too loud. You pretend to study while your eyes flick across the page, but your ears stay tuned to the noise anyway, letting the music blur the edges of their laughter.

Patrick’s sprawled across the couch like he owns it. Art is next to him, one arm thrown over the back cushion, legs stretched long in front of him. The rest of the group is scattered—elbows and ponytails and empty water bottles.

“Did you see her at practice today?” one of the girls says, too loud. You don’t have to look up to know she’s talking about you, but you tune her out. She either thinks you can't hear her, or she doesn't care if you do.

“She totally biffed that volley,” another chimes in. “Like, cartoon-level wipeout.”

Someone snorts. "She was too busy watching Art."

Laughter breaks out like a ripple. That's when you turn your music up loud enough to drown them out. You don't care to hear them anymore.

“Should’ve asked for his autograph,” someone adds.

“Oh please,” the first girl says, “she’s obsessed with him. It’s actually kind of sad.”

“Hey,” someone else says suddenly, mischief curling around her voice. “I have an idea.”

There’s a pause, the kind that means trouble.

“What if Art hung out with her a little? You know, keep her happy until the tournament. Give us a better shot.”

Art laughs, a short breath through his nose. “What, like—entertain her?”

“Exactly,” Patrick says. “Kill her with kindness. Or whatever it is you do.”

More laughter. A rustle of agreement.

Art doesn’t answer right away.

But he doesn’t say no, either.

The next afternoon, he finds you on the benches near the courts—same spot you always go when practice ends early and the sun still feels warm enough to chase the ache out of your legs.

You’ve got your notebook open, pen resting between your fingers, headphones on again. You don’t notice him at first.

He clears his throat, exaggerated. Twice.

You flinch when you finally look up, pulling one side of your headphones off. “Oh. Hi?”

Art shifts his weight. Leans one shoulder against the fence. “Hey. Just, uh… figured I’d say hi. See what you’re working on.”

You blink. “Homework.”

“Cool. I love homework.” He pauses. “That’s a lie.”

You nod slowly, brows knitting. He’s never talked to you like this before. Not without the rest of them.

“I didn’t know you liked sitting out here,” he says, squinting at the horizon like it's part of the assignment.

You shrug. “It’s quiet.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The silence stretches. He scratches the back of his neck.

You wait. Patient, polite. Wondering if he’s lost a bet or something.

Because it sure doesn’t feel like he came here for you.

Art clears his throat again. “You, uh… played well yesterday.”

You look at him like he’s just said the sky is green.

“I fell. Twice.”

He shrugs. “Happens.”

You tilt your head. “Are you okay?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. “What?”

“You’re acting kind of weird. Like… unusually nice. No offense.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. “None taken.”

You wait a second longer. Then, like flipping a switch: “Do you want to sit?”

He does. Hesitantly. Like the bench might bite him.

You both stare out at the empty courts. The sun makes everything a little too bright.

“I like your headphones,” he says eventually.

“They’re from 1997.”

“Vintage, then.”

You smile, small and surprised.

He doesn’t expect it.

And he doesn’t know why it feels like he just passed a test he didn’t study for.

That night, in the boys' dorm lounge, Art sits half-slouched on the couch while Patrick paces the room with a tennis ball in hand, bouncing it off the wall and catching it with one palm like he’s conducting a very casual interrogation.

“Well?” Patrick prods. “Did she bite? Did she fall in love with your soulful silence?”

Art shrugs. “We talked. She’s… weird. In a good way, I guess. She’s kind of funny.”

Patrick snorts. “Funny how? Like, funny haha or funny sad?”

“I don’t know, man. She made this joke about vintage headphones.”

The other guys laugh like that’s the punchline.

One of them flops onto the floor dramatically. “Dude, if you end up catching feelings for the homework gremlin, I swear.”

Art rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’m just doing what you guys asked. Keeping her happy until the tournament.”

But when he says it, it feels wrong in his mouth. Like he’s repeating someone else’s line.

Still, he leans back and lets the noise of the lounge carry him, pretending it doesn’t matter.

Pretending it won’t.

The next few days start to fold around a rhythm.

He finds you near the vending machines after practice, offers you the last red Gatorade without asking if it’s your favorite—somehow already knowing it is.

You let him walk you back to the dorms. You make fun of the way he tapes his grip, the dramatic way he groans after drills. He teases you for your annotated notebook margins and the way your socks never match.

It’s easy. Easier than he thought it’d be.

Until you start flirting.

Soft, blink-and-you-miss-it things at first—like brushing your hand against his when you pass him a pen, or bumping your shoulder into his on purpose, laughter tucked behind your teeth.

One afternoon, he catches you watching him stretch from across the court. You don’t look away fast enough.

The next day, he lingers beside your desk in the study room a few beats longer than necessary. You ask if he wants help with algebra. He says no but pulls up a chair anyway.

You compliment his backhand form. He forgets how to respond.

He doesn’t go back to the lounge that night. Or the next.

By the third day, you’re under the bleachers together, sneakers kicked off and the backs of your hands brushing on accident and then not so accidentally. The courts glow in the late sun, soft and hazy.

You’ve been trading favorite songs and cafeteria horror stories when your voice gets quiet. Too quiet.

“It’s weird,” you say, fingers picking at the rubber edge of your notebook. “Being seen.”

He doesn’t answer. Just tilts his head slightly, waiting.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever… tried. Not really.” You let out a half-laugh that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Maybe it’s easier when you’re the joke.”

He watches you a beat too long.

Then nudges your shoulder.

“They shouldn’t get to make you feel like that,” he says, and it’s not loud but it’s sure.

You look at him like you’re not sure how to believe it. Like it’s something you’ve never been told before. Like it's something he shouldn't be allowed to say.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

And it’s the first time he forgets why he started this.

The softness keeps unfolding like pages he never meant to read.

You share your music with him—one earbud each, knees brushing, both of you pretending not to notice how your shoulders keep inching closer. He hates your taste in music. He doesn’t tell you.

One night, he finds you asleep on your notebook in the library. You’ve underlined every third word in pink. He watches you breathe for a minute longer than necessary, then tucks a hoodie over your shoulders and walks away before you wake up.

He starts bringing you extra granola bars. Pretends he “accidentally” grabbed too many. You pretend to believe him.

He starts looking for you on the court before every practice, just to see where you are. Just to see if you're looking for him too.

You always are.

And then the week of the tournament arrives.

Everything at Mark Rebellato gets sharper when the stakes are high. Voices carry farther. Shoes squeak louder. Coaches bark orders like their lives depend on it. Even the sun feels more blinding.

There are extra drills. Extra laps. Extra eyes watching everything you do.

You try to focus—on your serves, your footwork, your posture. You try not to notice how quiet Art’s become.

He doesn’t meet your eyes as often. Doesn’t joke as much. There’s a kind of electricity humming under his skin like he’s stuck between wanting to win and wanting to tell someone he doesn't care.

You ask if he’s okay. He says he’s just tired.

You believe him. Because you want to.

And when you miss a shot during the second round of practice matches, you hear the scoff from one of the girls behind you. You don’t look. But you feel it.

Art doesn’t say anything.

That hurts worse.

You lose in the third round of the tournament. Not spectacularly. Just enough to sting. A wide shot here, a misread ball there. You try to hold it together through the match, through the post-game shake, through the claps on the back that don't feel like they mean it.

No one says anything as you walk off the court.

But you feel it in the way no one looks at you.

By the time you walk into the community room that night, it’s already started. The hush. The way laughter cuts off mid-sentence.

You make your way to the farthest corner with your books. Your hands shake when you unzip your bag. You try not to drop anything.

It doesn’t matter. They’re all watching you. Even when they pretend not to be.

You can hear them whispering. You don’t even need the words.

Then one voice rises above the others.

“You were supposed to keep her together, Art!”

You freeze.

It’s one of the girls—one of the ones who’d laughed the loudest that first day.

“You were supposed to butter her up or something! We said keep her calm so we could actually win this thing.”

And that’s when you hear it. Like the floor drops out from under you. Like every laugh, every kindness, every afternoon on the benches has been rewound and played back with the volume off. You hear it, and suddenly your hands won’t stop shaking.

What it was. What you were.

What it meant.

You don’t look at him. You don’t want to know if he’s surprised or sorry or silent.

You just run.

And when the door slams behind you, Art doesn’t hesitate. He turns to the group, fire catching behind his eyes.

Something inside him snaps—something he didn’t even know was still holding on. Maybe it’s the way she didn’t look at him before running. Maybe it’s how quiet the room went, like they all knew exactly what they’d done and didn’t care. He hears his own voice rise and doesn’t try to stop it. For the first time, it feels good to speak up. It feels like truth clawing its way out of his chest.

“She didn’t lose it for us,” he snaps. “You did. You ignore her in practice, you treat her like a joke, and then you expect her to pull off miracles?”

No one speaks.

“She’s better than any of you even see. And yeah, I talked to her because you told me to. But I stayed because I wanted to. Because she’s smart and kind and actually tries. Which is more than I can say for the rest of you.”

He leaves before they can answer. Before they can say anything that might make him stay.

He runs out after you.

You’re already halfway down the hill behind the dorms, gravel crunching under your shoes, your lungs burning like they’ve turned inside out. You don’t care where you’re going—just away. Away from the stares and the silence and the sound of your own heartbeat trying to climb out of your chest.

He calls your name once.

You keep walking.

He calls it again. Louder.

And then his hand wraps gently around your wrist, not tight, just enough to stop you.

“Let go,” you snap, voice shaking.

“Just—please. Please listen—”

“To what? To more lies? To more of you pretending I ever mattered?”

Your voice cracks, loud and raw and too real in the dark.

“I never mattered. Not to them. Not to you. I was a joke to you, Art.”

“You weren’t,” he breathes. “You weren’t. I didn’t mean for it to start like that—God, I didn’t even want to be part of it—but then you—”

“Then I what?”

“You mattered. To me.”

You laugh. Harsh. It feels like it tears your throat on the way out. “So what? I was your project? Your personal charity case? Did you write about me in your group chats? Compare notes?”

“No.”

“Did you tell them how stupid I sounded when I tried to flirt with you?”

“No.”

“Did you pity me?”

“No!”

The word echoes, punches between you.

He looks wrecked. Hair a mess. Chest rising and falling too fast.

“I liked you,” he says, so softly you almost miss it. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. But I did. I do.”

Silence rings.

He takes a step closer.

“You made it easy to be real. And I didn’t know how to handle that. I was stupid and scared and—”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he says again. His voice is breaking.

“I thought you saw me,” you whisper.

“I did,” he says. “I do.”

And then he kisses you.

Not soft. Not delicate.

It’s desperate. It’s messy. It’s the kind of kiss that only comes after too much silence and too many lies and everything finally, finally snapping.

And somehow, it’s the only thing that feels like the truth.

You don't pull away.

Not when his hand cups your cheek. Not when his forehead rests against yours, breathless and trembling. Not even when he says your name like it’s something he’s still learning how to say right.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The quiet wraps around you both like the dusk settling in.

Then, softly:

“I meant it,” he says. “All of it.”

You nod, but it still takes a minute for your voice to come back. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“But I’m really glad you chased me.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “I’d do it again.”

You link your pinky with his without thinking. It feels small. It feels steady.

And under the stars, beside the gravel path behind the dorms, with hearts pounding and eyes still red—you let yourself believe in something soft again.

Just this once.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

I need more dad bill with a daughter fics I love them they are so good

(YES YES YES!

Title: "Main Charater Energy"

You’re chopping onions when you hear the front door slam. Your daughter storms past you — coat half-on, backpack dragging, face red and splotchy — and vanishes into her room.

Bill looks up from his laptop, one boot propped on the coffee table. “That’s not normal,” he says like he’s narrating a crime scene.

“She didn’t say anything?” you ask.

“Not a word. Just a grunt. Sounded like something outta The Exorcist.”

You wipe your hands and follow her down the hall. Ten minutes later, she’s in your lap, tear-streaked, small fists clutching your shirt. You stroke her back, ask her to breathe. Eventually, she tells you.

It was a boy at school.

He called her a “stupid bitch” who “only likes Star Wars ‘cause she wants attention from boys.” He told her she was “flat,” and that “no one will want to marry her unless she gets a boob job like Pokimane.”

You sit frozen, rage boiling under your skin. And Bill — Bill — is standing in the doorway now, face pale. Silent.

You’ve never seen him silent.

Then he turns on his heel and walks straight into the kitchen.

CRASH.

You find him three seconds later — the cabinet open, a glass shattered in the sink.

Bill grips the counter with white knuckles. His jaw’s clenched so tight you think he might crack a molar. You touch his arm.

“Bill—”

“I’ll kill him,” he says, voice low and shaking. “I swear to Christ, I’ll f***ing kill that mouth-breathing, Twitch-watching, Fortnite-brained sewer spawn—”

“Bill, you can’t—”

“Don’t you dare tell me I can’t. That feral little proto-Incel said that shit to my kid? My daughter?!”

You stay quiet. Let him rage. He has all the right too and you well you are trying to hold yourself back as well.

He slams a drawer shut.

“I get bullied. I get called names. I grew up eating cafeteria pizza with a fucking paper towel because the lunch lady said I ‘chewed like a lizard.’ But she’s nine.”

He finally turns. His eyes are glassy. That scares you more than anything.

“She’s not like me,” he says. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

You put a hand on his chest.

“She is like you,” you say gently. “That’s why she’s gonna be okay.”

Bill swallows hard.

“I wanna burn his fucking Roblox password and tell him his favorite streamer’s getting sued for tax fraud.”

You blink. “…That’s oddly specific.”

“He was probably repeating something that acne-riddled YouTuber. They’re all the same. Little boys with microphones and no dads.”

Then he stops, eyes distant.

“I’m gonna go write a list.”

You raise a brow. “Of what?”

He points at you like it’s obvious. “Creative, legal revenge tactics. Obviously. I mean its not like I can burn down another building."

---

Later That Night

Bill sits beside your daughter on her bed, a stack of comics beside them.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble for what he said,” Bill mutters, flipping a page. “You’re gonna grow up and be a fucking legend. He’s gonna grow up and make apology videos for his Twitch ban.”

She smiles, just barely.

Bill ruffles her hair.

“Also, if anyone ever tells you to get a boob job before you’re old enough to rent a car, tell them your dad says they are fucking stupid with worm brain.”

“What’s worm brain?”

“Exactly.”

———

The next Monday

It starts with a phone call during lunch.

The school secretary’s voice is cloyingly calm, like she’s about to offer you a coupon for coffee, not tell you your daughter got sent to the office for violence.

Bill’s chewing on a piece of beef jerky when you hang up. “What happened? Did she finally snap and go full Carrie?”

“She punched that boy.”

Bill’s eyes go wide. Then he grins.

“No shit.”

---

At the School

You both sit on the uncomfortable little plastic chairs across from the principal, who looks like she’s never had a single thought not approved by HR.

Your daughter’s beside you — arms crossed, face red, knuckles bruised.

The principal sighs. “While we understand emotions can run high, physical violence is never acceptable behavior in our school.”

Bill leans forward, voice dripping sarcasm. “But sexual harassment and verbal abuse is fine, right? Long as you do it without leaving a bruise?”

“Mr. Dickey—”

“She was being harassed for weeks. A kid called her flat, told her to get a boob job."

“Those are serious accusations.”

“You think? Maybe if you’d handled it the first ten times she reported it, we wouldn’t be sitting here!”

The principal clears her throat. “Regardless, your daughter did throw a punch, and the student in question was injured.”

“Good,” Bill mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Good,” he says louder, sitting back with his arms crossed. “I hope he cried. I hope he called his mommy and she took away his gaming chair. I hope the other kids laughed when he ran off with tears on his Minecraft hoodie.”

You elbow him. But not too hard.

“She defended herself,” you say firmly. “She didn’t start this.”

The principal gives you a tight, polite smile. “Be that as it may, we’re assigning her in-school suspension for the day.”

Bill scoffs. “You’re punishing a kid for not taking shit from a future failed podcaster. Real inspiring.”

You reach over and squeeze your daughter’s little hand. She looks worried — scared, even.

So you kneel in front of her, meet her eyes.

“We’re not mad at you,” you say. “You stood up for yourself. You did what we taught you.”

“Violence isn’t—” the principal starts.

“—the first option,” you interrupt. “But it is an option. Especially when adults won’t help.”

Bill pats her on the shoulder. “Next time, go for the stomach. It’s more humiliating.”

“Bill.”

“I’m just saying.”

---

In the Car

Your daughter sits in the back seat, chewing on a Capri Sun straw like a toothpick. “I’m gonna be in trouble at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bill says. “But he’s gonna be too scared to talk to you, so that’s a win.”

You glance at her in the rearview. “How hard did you hit him?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He started crying. And he called me a name I didn’t understand.”

Bill grins like Christmas came early.

You sigh, but you’re smiling too.

She’s learning the world’s ugly. But she’s not going to be small in it. Not afraid.

Not with you two in her corner.

[yunsound]

Update on the Ao Bing Zhuan drama

Oh my god this never ends.

Part 1 here , read for context

It's actually so funny to watch on XHS. Literally last night I came across an Ao Guang solo art (solo meaning no ships or anything implied, it was just Ao Guang being hot) and there was a comment like "Ying Long your husband is so sexy". I told them not to 嗑药 (keyao) which means not to bring up other ships under an art that's not tagged with that ship. The comment was three words long: 别磕药 (don't keyao).

Holy shit. Within 20 minutes, 6 comments from 6 different people calling me a whole manner of things.

Disgusting fujoshi Dilong shipper (no joke, they literally wrote this)

Fuck off and mind your own business, they're canon

I hate all Dilong shippers, Ying Long is his canon wife

No wonder your ship gets attacked, Dilong fans are so fucking annoying

All fujoshis leave Ne Zha fandom (which is funny because 80% of Ne Zha fans are fujoshis who ship Oubing)

Fuck you

Okay. Wow.

The artist of the post liked my comment but they didn't tell the others to stop, which I get- no one wants to be attacked either.

Funniest thing is I've never even shipped Dilong. Starting to see the appeal now though, at least compared to Guangying.

OKAY.

I think I mentioned this in the last post, but Ying Long's design copied a genderbend Dilong art's design of Ao Guang back when Ao Guang's human form was never shown. This is really ironic.

An update: Oubing is currently the top ship in Ne Zha by FAR, like, by FAR FAR FAR. No other ship comes CLOSE to how big Oubing is. However, Oubing fans have mostly been able to stay out of Guangying vs Dilong drama as well as Ao Bing Zhuan drama.

One of the platforms ABZ is posted on, however, posted two of the author's sketches. One of them is child Ao Bing. The other one is an unknown female character who wears red and has red hair. The caption included this: "Guess who Ao Bing's new ship is with?"

The female character lated debuted and is called Hong. She's a thousand-year old jellyfish spirit.

When I tell you the author couldn't have done anything fucking dumber than try to pair Ao Bing with some random OC girl, I mean it. Oubing makes up like 80% of the fandom. The other 20% consists of half Ne Zha Ao Bing friendship stans and half casual fans. Oubing is probably the only ship with a negative hater rate in the fandom.

If the author tries to pull some "Oh this webcomic is official content so Oubing is a ship that breaks up a canon ship so it's not allowed" I guarantee ABZ will be bullied so hard the author might never be able to do anything ever again. Oubing is probably one of the biggest ships ever in Chinese fandom history. It's also one of the most wholesome, un-problematic (whatever that means) and sweet ships ever. But Oubing fans are hardcore. Like, not rude, but will NOT take shit.

Aside from the unknown girl the author is trying to pair Ao Bing with, they changed the setting of Oubing. One of the biggest parts of Oubing is that they're each other's first and only friend since they're so isolated.

ABZ, however, has Ao Bing go off and make friends with a whole bunch of people- his brothers, (who in the movies are probably dead), a bunch of abyssal sea monsters, etc.

Also the author is one of THOSE Xiao Zhan fans. Not the normal ones- I am also a Xiao Zhan fan. The kind of Xiao Zhan fans that led to the 227 incident and AO3 being banned in China.

ALSO!!!

The most important part!!

I made a Ne Zha post explaining that Ao Guang, Ao Bing's dad and the poor dude caught in the middle of these ship wars, is usually portrayed as an ugly old dude. In fact, Jiaozi said verbatim in an interview that he was originally going to look like

this.

The comparison. Jesus Christ.

Jiaozi said that it was fanart and fanwork that gave him the inspiration for Ao Guang's sexy dilf design. Back in 2019 and 2020, ABZ wasn't out yet: the ONLY Ao Guang arts were all Dilong! Dilong art is the ONLY reason Ao Guang is a sexy dilf instead of whatever the fuck that is.

IDK, I think I've become a Dilong fan despite only seeing Dilong art like twice in my life just because I feel so bad for them.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side

part 2 is out! part 3! part 4!

whaddya know, i already have my first piece of writing that's not for an rp. it's a mess, but that's okay, because i admit i have no clue what i'm doing! i welcome all feedback as long as it's not just plain mean. when i asked for writing ideas, i was suggested to try my spin on the twst bully!au, and so i present: reader/yuu is done with their bs. no beta we die like my sleep schedule. genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, slight yandere that hasn't escalated yet word count:896

You’d had enough, thank you very much. The constant jeers, “misplaced” textbooks, and shoves in the hallway were only the beginning. Before long, you were beaten and bruised, and all for what? Just because you didn’t have magic? According to your research, the majority of the population here didn’t either! But alas, such was your plight. The professors turned a blind eye, and Crowley couldn’t care less.

So, when someone “accidentally” dislocated your shoulder during PE, you decided enough was enough. The students you’d never bothered to learn the names of were one thing; you were going to call your former friends out on their bullshit. Despite Grim’s protests, you dragged him all the way back to Ramshackle the moment you had a break in between classes. Why that timing? Because the model student prefect would never cut class, of course!

You locked the door not once, not twice, but three times, thanks to the padlocks you’d had placed on your stuff in the past. Then you took your time creating the Junk Tower. Your materials were all the scraps people had thrown in your yard in the past. You had quite the collection. The windows? They’d been boarded for years, according to the ghosts. Back door? Kalim had it removed. Something about first years sneaking in. You figure it’s better not to ask how he managed to have a door seamlessly replaced with walls in one afternoon.

About twenty minutes after the last class of the day ended, you had your first knock on the door. “Oi, prefect, open up!” Ace demanded. Because of course it was Ace. He was the first student you met here, so it was only fitting that he’d be the first to know you weren’t fucking around anymore. You ignored him.

The knocking stopped “Oi Ace, maybe they’re not home?” Deuce, ever the voice of reason, pondered. You weren’t sure whether to love or hate him. He’d stop others from picking on you, sure, but the moment you disobeyed him, he went back to his old delinquent ways.

“Well, they weren’t in class, and there’s no way my prefect’s with someone else, so they’ve gotta be inside!” Ace insisted. His prefect? Since when were you his? Did Ace eat something funny while you were gone? Because the last you checked, he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

Deuce’s voice dropped an octave, or maybe two. You weren’t too sure how that applied to speaking voices. “Oi, Ace, what the fuck do you mean your prefect? They don’t belong to you!” Yes, thank you for the reality check. Deuce must’ve had the brain cell today. “Obviously I’m way closer to them than you are!”

Scratch that. Deuce did not have the brain cell today. Really though, what was with them? Why in the world were they fighting over who was closer to you when all they’d done lately was make it clear how much they hated you? Oh, wait. They thought you could hear them. This must be some sort of trick. Trey and Cater must’ve put them up to it, since they were far too dumb to think of anything this elaborate on their own. You decided to ignore everything they said from here on out.

All was well, until Adeuce simultaneously let out an ungodly screech. Now that was troublesome. What could possibly scare those two like that? Surely nothing good for you. With luck, it’d be Riddle come to behead them for not wearing fluorescent pink or some other dumb rule, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You soon had your answer. “Ne, where’s Shrimpy? I wanna squeeze ‘em!” Suddenly you didn’t blame those two for being scared. Floyd Leech in a bad mood was always a force to be reckoned with. You could never tell if he was in a good or bad mood when he was “squeezing” you, and quite frankly, you’d rather not know. The sick fucker probably took pleasure in hearing your bones pop and crack under the extreme pressure.

“Floyd-senpai! The prefect is, uh, we’re not actually sure where they are,” Ace volunteered. You almost pitied him, having to put up with the more rambunctious Leech during basketball practice. Almost.

“Hah? What do you mean you don’t know? Crabby is always crowding around Shrimpy like a little parasite,” Floyd whined. Um, what? Is Floyd in on the joke too? Is the whole school conspiring against you? You wouldn’t put it past them.

A cloud of dust blew up from the floor where you swung your foot back and forth, making you sneeze. You froze. Did they hear that? Wait, what were you acting so scared for? What were they gonna do anyway, break the door down and hit you? All within your expectations when you’d formed this plan. The point was to prove that you wouldn’t just sit and take it anymore. You’d seen all their dirty little secrets, especially during the Overblots; you could hit them where it hurt if you felt like it. No one would ever think the perfect little prefect would tell someone else what they’d confided in them! So when Floyd broke the door down with a display of monstrous strength, you were prepared. You greeted them with a smile. “Ne, you guys,” you began, “would you believe me if I told you I’m done with your bullshit?”

[beenbaanbuun]

jongho

PLEASE BEHAVE YOURSELF AGDJAGSJSGSH

anyway, i know i’ve already written something for this but my fingers just can’t stop themselves 🤷‍♂️

words: …….

genre: nsfw

warnings: marking, biting, licking, head pushing, jongho is a little shit, name calling

—————————————-

it’s hard not to stare at jongho as he wades through the water towards you, the rays of sun bouncing of his glistening wet skin and his hair slicked back giving you a perfect view of his face. there’s a sly smirk on his lips as he slowly inches closer, hands already reaching out to grab you. you mentally brace yourself for whatever it is he’s planning. he’s a menace down to the very core of his being, a fact that you both love and, for the sake of your sanity, hate.

“don’t you look pretty,” he coos as his hands finally come into contact with your calves that dangle into the pool. they squeeze the flesh tightly, massaging the muscle in a way that has you moaning in appreciation. “you sound pretty too,” he whispers into the empty air between you. it doesn’t come as a surprise when he tugs your legs apart and bullies his way between them, just like it doesn’t when the wet palms of his hands snake their way up to rest upon your nice dry thighs. you shudder as the icy water soaks your skin; a sight that jongho is all too happy to see.

a chuckle leaves his throat as he leans in close. his breath flutters softly against your stomach as he stares up at you with those gorgeous doe eyes that you fell in love with what seems like forever ago. it’s hard not to get lost in the endless pools of chocolate that reflect amber beneath the sun’s rays, and you find yourself having to remind your lungs to do their job and breathe. it’s something that should come naturally to you and yet in jongho’s presence the skill seems to evade you.

one in, you let yourself inhale through your nose as his eyes flutter closed.

one out, you purse your lips and exhale as he presses his soft lips to the skin of your stomach.

one in, he pulls away slightly, but not far enough that the scent of your coconut sunscreen evades his senses.

one out, your breath hitches in your throat as he darts his tongue out to lick a stripe up your stomach.

you squirm, thighs shifting against the tile of the pool-side, but jongho is determined to keep you right there. his grip tightens on your thighs, fingertips digging in hard enough for you to know they’ll leave bruises in the morning. somehow you can’t find it in you to care that tomorrow, as you walk around the small town that your villa sits right on the edge of, everyone will be able to see the marks your boyfriend left sitting just below the hem of your shorts. you’re his, after all, and you’re not afraid to show it.

“sit still while i’m appreciating you,” jongho growls against the skin of your stomach, baring his teeth as a warning. they scrape against your stomach in a way that has your thighs fighting against his grip, desperate to snap closed against his waist. it’s the slightest of movements to you, and yet to him it seems cause enough to carefully nip the soft skin that sits unmarked beneath his lips.

the dull ache of his teeth on your tummy, followed quickly by his tongue lapping at your flesh is enough to make you moan. it’s loud enough to make you glad of your lack of neighbours, pornographic enough to have jongho letting out an appreciative sound of his own. the sound ripples through you, heading straight to your pussy that sits just a few inches south of where he rests his lips. your walls clench around nothing, forcing your juices to ooze from your empty hole.

and whilst normally you aren’t so forceful, it almost comes as second nature when your fingers find your boyfriends hair, lacing themselves with his black locks and pushing slightly against the top of his head. his eyes shift up to yours in question, as if it isn’t already obvious what you’re trying to hint at. as if this isn’t one of his own favourite tricks to pull when he’s in need of a warm hole to put his cock in. he’s a menace, your mind reminds you as he smirks up at you, cocky grin reassuring you that he understands exactly what you want; a menace that is going to make you work for the reward you so clearly want.

“it’s not polite to push, sweetheart,” he scolds, voice condescending as he kisses at your belly once more, “maybe try asking politely and i’ll give you want you want.”

“you never ask politely,” you remind him as you use your grip on his hair to tilt his head back. he almost whines as you remove him from your stomach, barely catching the sound in his throat before it echoes out of his plush lips and embarrasses him. you raise a brow at him as he swallows the sound back down, taking a second to clear his throat.

“you never ask me to,” he counters, “if you did, i’d be the perfect gentleman.”

you doubt that very much. while a gentleman in many aspects of your relationship, the bedroom is not one of them. no gentleman would call his partner his ‘good little whore’ as he pistons his cock into their pussy, their head rolling back over his shoulder as he pins them to his chest in a headlock. it’s just not very polite.

“well can you please eat my pussy?” you sound rather needy, yet you can’t find it in you to care. he told you to ask, and you’re desperate enough to do it without much of an argument at all. sure, it pains you a little to give into the little shit so easily, but you want it too much to dwell on the irritation you feel inside of your chest.

desperate times, and all that.

“oh?” he tilts his head as his hands slide up to your hips, fingers dipping into the waistband of the tiny bottoms your wear, “that was almost too easy, sweetheart,” he tugs on the material until it’s taught, releasing it suddenly and letting it snap against the flesh of your hip. you let a little sound slip from between your lips at the sting of the elastic against your skin.

“i want it,” you respond simply, “and if asking is what gets me your tongue on my pussy then that’s what i’ll do.”

he sighs, a loving expression washing over his face for just a moment or two. “you’re too adorable,” he murmurs quietly, face quickly shifting back to that annoying smirk, “i almost can’t believe i’m the lucky one who gets to destroy you.”

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

When James had many things in his brain that he couldn't deal with he called only one person for advice. His mum.

People used to say he felt things too much and he was too dramatic. He was the kind of person to spot a problem, talk about it, find a solution and move on. He had managed to help his friends before. He was satisfied when they smiled in relief after a problem.

With time, it became harder to fix things. Or even harder to make his friends talk.

Right now, on top of many things in his brain like school, Headboy duties, Rugby, his father being sick, his relationship with Lily (the girl of his dreams), and the leaving the Marauders legacy to his minions, James was aware of other issues.

Sirius was a mess since he left The Blacks over the summer but pretended he was okay.

Sirius didn't talk to him like he used to.

They had gotten distant but Sirius was closer to Remus.

He knew now they were doing more than hanging since he saw them kissing the other day.

They didn't know he knew.

Remus was skipping classes because Sirius asked him. They smoked a lot already but they included weed when they mysteriously disappeared.

On top of that Peter was not okay. He barely ate but pretended it was not a big deal.

James knew Peter felt lonely and secretly blamed them for his breakup with Susan.

Maybe his crush on Mary was more than a crush.

Sirius hadn't told him things and he was not okay and James didn't know how to be there for him anymore and that was killing him.

He missed Sirius. He missed the Marauders.

Why didn't they hang out anymore?

"You know how The Marauders used to be close?" James told his mum over the phone. He missed his parents too.

"Yeah..."

"Well, we are not close anymore!" He was pacing around the dorm "Sirius and Remus are... doing their own things..." he couldn't tell their secret to his mum "Not quite productive things, I may add. I feel like Sirius is in the destructive mood. And I know the things he had gone through with his family. Not detailed because he didn't tell me, his best friend, he told you. But still it feels like he is a ticking bomb that will explode any second. I know he is sad, I know it. And Remus is there but he is too good to tell Sirius what is wrong. I should be there giving him advice and containing him but he doesn't let me. I want to be there for him, mum!"

"Oh honey..."

"And Peter, don't get me started with Peter. He is stubborn as it gets. He looks so lonely and I want him to feel special within The Marauders again. But is there any left? Are we a group again? Are we going to stop being friends forever?"

"James..."

"Remus is a good kid. He is part of the family at this point. But he had gone through so much, mum. Bullying and feeling different. We've gotten along better because he had helped me with Lily. And he listens. He listens about Lily and my problems which is fine. And I understand why Sirius would confine in him and not me. But why doesn't he trust me? I don't want to get jealous of Remus but maybe I am. What if I am, would that make me a bad person?"

"Bloody hell, James!" Effie exclaimed with a soft laugh.

"Sorry, was that too much?"

"I can feel the breeze you're provoking with your pacing from over the phone"

James stopped pacing, but he moved his leg.

"What do I do?" he asked "I miss my friends. I love my friends"

"Have you talked to them?"

"I've tried..." James sighed "They certainly think I am too intense sometimes"

"They don't think that"

"Peter literally said I'm intense the other day" James moaned "He used that word"

Effie was giggling on the phone which made James smile. He needed his mum so badly sometimes. Embarrassing for a seventeen-year-old, but true. Effie and Monty used to be the only people he told things. His best friends.

"James, darling" Effie said carefully "You know it's not your responsability to fix everything, right?"

"I know but I want to" James bit his lip "I just want to see the people that I love be okay"

"Honey, sometimes what people need is space" Effie added "And not all problems are fixable"

James took a deep breath. He wanted another kind of answer from his mother. Something optimistic like he was doing well and with the right amount of love, people were going to be happy.

"Do... you... am..." God, he had tears in his eyes already. He wanted to feel Effie's soft arms around him and smell her sweet perfume "Do ypu think they miss me as much as I do? Do you think they care? The Marauders are crumbling down"

"Jamie, you're growing up" his mother said "You boys will have more complex problems, and life is going to get difficult..."

"Well thanks..."

"And sometimes you might not be together or spend as much time as you used to"

James thought of the years to come, away from Hogwarts, each one of them living a different life. Was he going to lose them?

"That doesn't mean you stopped being friends"

"I want The Marauders back, I miss them"

Though that sounded immature. What did he want exactly? Pranks, jokes, immature bullying to others? He swore not to be that way anymore.

"This is hurting me. I wish I could tell them"

"Why don't you?"

"Like I said, mum. They have their stuff going on. They are not okay. And I have to be strong for them. I can't crumble. They need me. I need to think about them. Especially Sirius"

"You're golden, sweety" Effie sighed "But what about you? Who thinks about you? Or takes care of you?"

His immediate answer would be them, his parents. But he was not a little boy anymore.

"Your feelings are important" Effie carried on "Maybe if you talk to them and tell them how you feel, what worries you, they might take you in consideration..."

James was just about to cry when Sirius and Remus walked into the room giggling about something. Red eyes, they had been smoking again. Swollen lips, they had been probably snogging.

"You cannot help them if you are not happy, love"

"Amm... Okay, thanks mum, gotta go"

James hated it but he hung up before Effie asked to speak to Sirius. He couldn't bare Sirius telling her things again but not him.

"Hey!" he gave them a big smile "Where were you?"

"Around" Sirius shrugged. James wanted him to look him in the eye.

"By the lake" Remus clarified "Is a nice night"

"Was that Effie on the phone?" Sirius asked walking to his bed.

"Sure, she says hi" James answered quickly "And Pete?"

Both boys shrugged. They weren't aware of where they friends were anymore.

"So what did you guys do?"

It was obvious the quick glance between them and the complicent smile. James was no stupid.

"Amm... Chatted" Remus said "Not much"

Sirius nodded in agreement.

"Did you smoke weed?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other and cracked a laugh. James tried not to be jealous of how they communicated so easily. He was thinking that Remus knew more about Sirius than him. And he hated that.

"Are you my father, Prongsie?" Sirius rolled his eyes. He crumbled into bed making a soft moan.

"We didn't smoke much" Remus clarified sitting on his own bed.

James bit his inner lip. He was worried.

"Okay..." he faked a giggle "Are you doing homework now? It is late"

Sirius whined, covering his face with the pillow. Like he was annoyed of his suppossed best friend.

"Give me a break, Potter" Sirius said under it "Pete is right, you're so intense sometimes"

James tried hard not to get offended.

Remus gave him a pitiful smile.

"I'll make sure he does homework, don't worry Prongs"

"Okay..."

James was trying to act chill. But all the things in his brain felt like he was going to explode.

He wanted to leave it be. But the voice of his mother inside his brain told him to talk.

"When Peter is here, I want to talk to all of you"

Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius groaned.

"About?"

"Feelings"

Sirius scoffed.

"Bloody hell, Potter" he snapped, getting the pillow away and looking good with his hair all messy. "Are you a girl or something?"

"Sirius..." Remus tutted.

James ignored him.

"The Marauders are in crisis" he declared "So sober up and when Peter arrives, we'll talk" Sirius was about to protest but James stopped him "Whether you like it or not, Black!"

James walked to the loo hearing all Sirius's mumbling about how he was insane.

But James was determined. He had fixed them before. He was going to fix The Marauders again.

[bothoutsiders]

I don't know if you're still looking for prompts for short things to write but I was thinking maybe something loosely based on this song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter? The MV has her meeting a guy at jail, which seems very Jason-coded. But idk 😅😅

The night had been completely wonderful. The weather was nice, the food was good, there was a lot of laughter and -- what was best: nothing was illegal. What had started as an awkward, quiet night, with some tension, had changed into something funny, relaxing and happy. It felt like it was a real night out with friends.

"Where do you want to go ne…?" Jason frowned, seeing how Bart took a couple of french fries to dip them in Tim's milkshake. "What the fuck?"

Tim laughed. Jason's reaction was not only adorable, but he was happy that the last words were only a whisper. He had been behaving all night in front of his friends, and it was making him proud.

When their relationship started, everyone had been pissed, worried and even anxious. Kon would be defensive all the time, paranoid that Jason might have forced Tim to commit crime with him. Bart would not be able to stop making the most uncomfortable questions. And Cassie? Cassie was the only one acting normal from the beginning, but he could feel it whenever she would look at Jason. She was judging their relationship. She was judging him.

"Movies! We were going to the movies." Kon reminded them, a hand hovering over his last fries, not wanting Bart to steal them.

"Yeah, we said we would go to the movies too." Tim smiled at Jason, looking up at his boyfriend, while the other male only winked at him with a smirk on his face.

There was a funny feeling in Tim's chest in that instant.

"I'll bring the car."

"I'll go with you," Tim said as soon as Jason stood up, leaving his milkshake to Bart, who grinned and tried to steal Cassie's fries now.

It felt like he couldn't just live without him. He was addicted to Jason-- and maybe this could actually work. Jason could leave his crime life behind. Or at least Tim thought that as Jason's warm hand held his gently.

"Are you having fun?" Jason asked, guiding the other to the car.

"Yes, bowling was fun, and this is the first time I've come to this diner. Very retro, I like it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jason said before he turned around and picked Tim up, placing him on the trunk of his car. "We wouldn't want a bad time for the prince."

Tim was about to say something, but Jason leaned in for a passionate kiss. It was sudden, and desperate. It felt as if Jason had been holding on as best as he could during the night, and right now was his only chance to satiate his need of him.

Naturally, Tim couldn't help but to go along with it. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's strong shoulders, and a tiny moan escaped his lips when Jason pressed against him, nesting between his legs, his big hands holding him by the hips.

Just when his body was feeling hot and needy, their moment was interrupted by a small but violent thump. Tim pulled away and when he tried to look around, Jason kissed him again, this time a hand cupping his face, not letting him escape.

"Ja--" another kiss, and another thud. Now Tim was sure it was coming from under him. Breaking the kiss, he immediately pushed Jason away and jumped off the trunk. "Jason, you mother f-- open this now."

Jason tilted his head back and sighed heavily before moving to open the trunk. Resting a hand on the trunk lid, he kept his eyes on Tim only.

Inside the trunk, there was a young man, tied up from arms and legs, and tape on his mouth. If Tim squinted a bit, he could see a swollen eye and a bloody cheek. It took him a few moments to recognize his face.

"What is the guy from bowling doing here?"

"He was being a dick to you." He said, sitting down on the edge of the trunk. "I don't like bullies."

"That's not enough reason to beat and kidnap someone, Jay."

"Perfect night for my babe."

"Jason, you promised you would behave tonight--"

"Guys! Are we leaving anytime soon?" Bart's voice wasn't that far and without thinking, Tim closed the lid of the trunk. Hard. "We are not going to be there in time for the commercials."

They probably had taken too long because now everyone was walking toward the car.

"Oh yeah, and you love those, don't you, Timmy?" Jason asked with a playful tone before kissing his cheek and going to open the door of the car for Tim. "Let's enjoy the night, darling."

"Please, please, please." Tim whispered as he got inside the car, but Jason only smiled big at him.

--

i admit it made me nervous to have an ask coming from you, but thank you so much for taking some time to send something. i watched the video a couple of times, and i had the song on repeat while writing this because it's actually a pretty good song, hehe. thanks again and i hope the story is of your liking!

[backtothedrawingboard]

Stupid Rabbit

As you get settled in your new home in the Digital Circus, you somehow can't avoid Jax's constant pestering. No matter what you try, nothing makes him back off.

Jax x Reader (Romance)

CW: Overall sfw, but one mildly explicit joke

TW: None

~~~~~~~~~~

Life in the Digital Circus was...mediocre at best. Caine's adventures were tolerable most of the time but downright miserable other times. It seemed like he was just trying to either keep them entertained but didn't understand how...or he was trying to torment them. It was unclear. No matter what his intention was, it ended up tormenting.

The first few weeks of living in the Circus were disorienting. The colors were bright and the atmosphere was tense. Your new body was that of a ball-jointed doll. You had replacement limbs in your room. Your primary outfit was a pink and white dress with white athletic shoes; although luckily, you could change into a more casual outfit for when you didn't want the dress.

Your main safe haven was your room. It had a pastel theme that was easy on the eyes and had somewhat dim lights compared to the rest of the place. Your bed was a decent size and had comfy covers with string lights hanging above it. On one side of the room, a desk with a laptop and art supplies sat and the half finished painting of sunset rested on an easel. Your room was your escape from reality and the inevitable repeated realization that you were truly stuck in this place.

You sat on the bed and doodled your friends in your sketchbook: Gangle, Zooble, Pomni, Ragatha, and Kinger. You enjoyed each of their company in different ways. Gangle geeked out on art with you and offered advice on how to improve. She was anxious without her comedy mask, but being in her presence was still comforting since she understood you. You weren't super close with Zooble since they tended to keep to themself; but you two could find a comfortable silence in each other's company that seemed to drain away all the stress of life. Pomni was a little clingy with you since you were new and understood her fearful desire to escape. Despite this, she was still compassionate and friendly and always seemed to know when you needed company. Kinger was...Kinger. Most of the time, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him because of his madness; but he had a surprising level of wisdom that came out every once and a while and provided a comforting shoulder whenever you needed it.

The only one left out of the main drawing was...Jax. He was merely a doodle in the corner of the page. You couldn't stand him. He constantly harassed and bullied you whenever he got the chance. You tried everything to get him to stop. Getting upset and lashing out amused him. Ignoring him amused him. Getting him back amused him. There was no winning. He just kept doing it.

Your drawing was about the last adventure Caine sent everyone on. It was actually...pretty relaxing for once. He sent everyone on a mission to a "haunted beach." To his dismay, the ai didn't function correctly and none of the NPCs spawned in and left them to enjoy a day relaxing and playing in the sand and water. You and the girls and Zooble made sand castles and buried Kinger in the sand. Jax tried to join in, but was shooed away by Ragatha for splashing water at them. This was one of the few times you felt pity on the bully because of his momentary downcast expression when he left them.

As you reminisced and stared at your drawings, you were rudely interrupted by a knock at your door. Remembering that Gangle was going to stop by for a visit, your eyes lit up. "Come in!"

Instead of your friend, the door opened to reveal...Jax. He had a smug and slightly frowning smirk and leaned against the door with his arms crossed. "What's up, loser?"

You rolled your eyes in frustration, leaning back against the pillows again. "Get out of my room, Jax."

"I'm not exactly in your room, am I, Princess?" His voice was irritatingly snarky. And that $&!? nickname grated her nerves. At least he didn't call her BJ...

"You're in enough." You glare at his foot that's half in your room.

"Pfft. Just my foot." The rabbit puts his foot in more, earning a harsher glare. Jax snickered and then stepped in completely, flopping on the bed.

"Wha-Hey!" You jolted away from him

The rabbit snickered again and propped his head up with his arms. "What? Why so defensive?"

You pushed at him to try to get him off the bed. "Get off, jerk!"

"Why? It's comfy."

"Ugh!" You finally managed to push him off the bed, satisfied by the startled look on his face the split second before he hit the floor. "Finally." You brushed yourself off with an air of regality.

Jax huffed and sat up, rubbing the back of his head in annoyance. "Not funny." What caught your attention was the faint blush that dusted his cheeks. You chose not to mention it.

"I never said it was, jerk." You eyed him him suspiciously to make sure he didn't try to get back on the bed. He didn't. He just smirked and layed down on his belly, propping his chin up with his hands and kicking his legs up behind him.

"So what're we doing now?" he teased. You huff and turn to ignore him. He just snickered and continued. "The old silent treatment, huh? That's ok. I can talk enough for the both of us." You rolled your eyes and got back to drawing again, facing the other side of the room. You managed to tune him out as he yapped about who knows what. The few snippets of words you did pick up were about new prank ideas or laughing about the malicious things he's done in previous adventures.

"Hey." You jumped when you felt his breath hit the back of your neck. You couldn't help but go slightly red from the proximity and looked back to find yourself inches from his face.

"W-what?" you growled as you scooted a little away.

"Watcha drawing there?" Jax snatched the sketchbook from your hand and looked at it. You yelped in alarm and tried to grab it back.

"Hey! Give that back!" you yelled. He just scoffed and held it out of your reach.

"Just gimme a second." He grinned and flipped through it, admiring your drawings. "You're a pretty good drawing here, Princess. Where are all the drawings of me, though?" He couldn't help but notice lots of drawings of all your friends, and barely any of him.

"I don't want to draw you! Now give it back!" You reached up to try to grab at it, but he avoided you again with a laugh.

"Why not? I'm awfully photogenic, aren't I?" He placed a hand under his chin with a charming grin.

"Absolutely not!" His cocky expression withered to slight pain for just a millisecond, but it was just noticeable enough for you to see it.

"Wow. Rude. I think I'm quite the looker."

You rolled your eyes and managed to grab the sketchbook cover. "Give! It! Back!" He didn't let go. You yanked. With a sickening rip, you fell backwards onto the bed, holding half of the cover. You let out a cry and stared at the cover piece in your hands with wide eyes.

Jax's eyes widened and he looked between the sketchbook in his hand and the cover in yours. "Oh, $!?&..." He dropped the book on the covers. "I did not mean to do that."

You looked up at him with an angry expression, causing him to wince a little. "YOU $!&HOLE! That was my favorite sketchbook!" He just scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Whatever. It's just a book. You can fix it or get another one," he grumbled.

"That's not the point! You tore it on purpose!"

"No I didn't! And technically, you tore it!"

You gave him the biggest death glare he ever saw from you. "Get out!"

"But-"

"OUT!" Jax flinched and blinked, and then turned with a grumbled complaint and stalked out of the room. Once he was gone, you looked down at the damaged sketchbook in your hands. It really wasn't a big deal, but it was the reason behind it that mattered! He was an jack@!& who always did stuff like that on purpose.

You finally sighed and put the book and its cover on the desk and headed out of your room. You figured you could hang out with your friends to let off steam. You found Zooble, Gangle, and Pomni in the common area and flopped on the couch glumly. Pomni looked down at you in concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" she asked sympathetically, petting your hair gently.

"Ugh," you exclaimed. "Jax tore the cover of my sketchbook." Gangle looked the most offended of the three.

"He what?!" the ribbon girl shouted.

"Yeah...He took it from my hand and then wouldn't give it back, and it tore." Your friends gave you a sympathetic look and Pomni continued playing with your hair.

"Sounds like the kind of @!&$? he is," Zooble said coolly.

"I know...It's just...I really liked that journal." They all sat in silence for a moment before Gangle smiled and spoke up.

"How about we have a sleepover. You know, to help you feel better."

You smiled and nodded. "Sounds good. It's been a minute since we've done that, too."

They headed to Gangle's room and settled in. Half the night, they chatted and told ghost stories until finally going to bed.

~~~~~

The next morning, you woke up with a yawn and stretch. The others were already gone. The night before must have really tired you out. You got up and padded out to your room to change into your casual outfit. As you grabbed the tshirt, you paused, your eyes fixed on your desk. You sketchbook was still there; but it was fixed. The cover was decorated with tape of your favorite colors and expertly reattached to the journal. You picked it up and ran a hand over it carefully. It looked better than new. You carried it out of your room with you and headed to the common area to meet your friends.

"Did any of you fix my sketchbook last night?" They blinked in confusion and looked between each other. Except for Kinger. He just sat there with his usual blank stare. You immediately wrote off him as a suspect.

"Um, I can assure you, us three were with you all night," Pomni said hesitantly, beckoning between herself, Gangle, and Zooble. The two of them nodded in agreement. Ragatha shook her head.

"I was with Kinger all night," she said curiously. Kinger just blinked. You tilted your head.

"Maybe Caine...?"

"Maybe Caine, what?" You jumped as you heard the loud announcer voice behind you. The strange teeth-humanoid ai looked down at you curiously.

"Um..." you started. "Did you fix my sketchbook?"

Caine tapped his chin dramatically. "Hmmm. Not that I can recall. I didn't even know that you draw. Did you fix it, Bubble?"

The bubble popped into existence. "Sure didn't, boss."

"Well that rules the two of us out!"

Caine and Bubble went on yapping between each other loud enough to distract everyone. You looked down at your sketchbook. If all of your friends, Caine, and Bubble didn't fix your sketchbook...that only left one person. You couldn't help but smile to yourself. Despite everything, that stupid rabbit really did care about you...

[crxerries]

•beneath the surface•

bullied yandere x freader

Aveloria University is widely regarded as one of the most prestigious institutions in the country, known for its academic excellence and rich legacy of innovation. Aveloria University offers a diverse range of programs, allowing students to choose from various fields of study. Whether you’re passionate about engineering, medicine, culinary arts, sports management, IT, or accounting, Aveloria provides top-tier education across numerous disciplines.

It’s been your dream ever since high school to enroll at Aveloria University. However, gaining admission to Aveloria University is no easy feat. With its prestigious reputation, most of the students are not only well-known but also come from wealthy backgrounds. You, on the other hand, consider yourself incredibly lucky — you’re not as rich as many of them and were only accepted through a competitive scholarship.

English lectures are the last class of the day for me. With an open afternoon ahead, I’m free to do whatever I want. Maybe I should grab something to eat since it’s almost 2 o’clock. with that, i walked to the cafeteria.

i plugged in my AirPods and continued making my way to the cafeteria. On my way there, I walked past an old classroom and heard voices coming from inside. I stopped in my tracks, pulling out my left AirPod to try and hear more clearly. The strange noises that followed caught my attention — the sound of things being thrown, muffled cries, and some unsettling noises. I leaned my left ear closer to the door, straining to hear what was happening inside.

“come on, what’s with the tears oily?”

I heard a voice from inside, its tone mocking and dripping with sarcasm. I slid the door open just a crack, enough to peek through and see what was happening inside. inside, I saw five guys circling around another, who was sitting on the floor with his face buried in his knees. i could hear sniffing came from the guy who were on the floor. that’s where the muffled cries from.

“oi, i’m talking to you. out of all the girls here why do you have to like MY girlfriend oily.”

The guy with brunette hair spoke angrily to the crying male, his voice laced with frustration. You’ve seen him before. He’s one of the athletes, well-known for his skills in basketball and other sports. You know him, what’s his name again? Issac or Isaiah not sure, but either one. He’s also quite popular because of his looks and his prestigious family background. Professors, teachers, even the dean all know him and like him, especially since he brings a lot of benefits to the university. You’ve also heard plenty of rumors about him — how he tends to bully anyone he doesn’t like, much like a typical jock from a high school movie.

when the jock didn’t get any reply from the male, he become furious and grab him by the collar and pick him up. He looked the crying male in the eyes, his gaze filled with anger and annoyance.

“are you deaf, you punk? am i talking to the fucking wall right now? or is it you feel like you to good to talk to me now?”

the jock said angrily.

“aight, that’s enough.”

You slid the door open all the way and stood there, locking eyes with the jock as you spoke. the jock look shock before replying.

“and who are you lmao, his girlfriend or something? did you get yourself a girlfriend punk. you need your girlfriend to come and rescue you.”

the jock said mockingly. while you just stand there waiting for the right moment to reply.

“he’s gotten beaten enough issac, you let your anger out on him, that’s enough right.”

the jock face thighten with my reply.

“it’s trent.”

he reply, anger and annoyance could be hear from his voice.

“shit, my bad. that’s enough Trent, give him a break. That guy isn’t the one you need to keep an eye on, you know,”

you said, your voice steady as you spoke.

Trent’s eyes widened in confusion at my words, and he asked

“What do you mean?”

“You know Kyle from the engineering department? He’s the one you need to keep an eye on. I’ve heard some rumors about him apparently, he’s been hooking up with other people’s girlfriends. You should really watch out for that guy.”

you explained

 Trent’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch or anything, but I’ve noticed a few times that your girlfriend and Kyle seem to be acting a little too friendly. I don’t know, maybe you should look into it yourself.”

“the fuck you trying to implied?”

Trent asked, his voice laced with coldness and anger as he stared straight at me.

i shrug before replying more.

“I don’t know, man, figure it out yourself, but I have to say, the way they act around each other doesn’t look too good. It seems a little too friendly, if you know what I mean.”

i give Trent a playful wink.

Without wasting another second, Trent let go of the male’s collar, and he collapsed to the floor. Trent walked past me, his friends following close behind. I waited until they were completely out of sight before moving toward the guy on the floor.

I crouched down in front of the male and asked, ‘Are you okay?’ He didn’t respond. After a couple of seconds, I gently tapped his hand to check if he was injured, but once again, he didn’t react. After what felt like an eternity, I heard sniffles coming from him, and I was taken aback. Maybe he was scared, I don’t know. I swear, I could feel the tension in the air, but then I gently patted his head, waiting until his breathing slowed a bit.

After a while, he finally calmed down, and I asked again, ‘Are you okay?’ This time, he slowly lifted his head, and I couldn’t help but notice his deep emerald green eyes — they were mesmerizing, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. He wore round-framed glasses and had a few old acne scars, but his nose was small and cute. His features gave off a soft, almost boyish vibe, yet he was undeniably handsome. I didn’t realize I had been staring at him until he asked, ‘Are you okay? Why are you staring at my face so long?’ I could tell he felt anxious, maybe even weirded out by my gaze.

I apologized profusely, saying I didn’t mean to stare and that I was sorry for being rude. He just shook his head and said, ‘It’s fine. Thank you for helping me.’ Then, both of us fell silent. After a few seconds, I broke the quiet and asked, ‘Are you okay? Do you have any injuries? Can you get up?’ He stared at me for a moment before looking down.

He said, ‘I don’t know, my right hand hurts. Maybe it’s because Trent gripped it so tight just now, I’m not sure. It just hurts so much.’ I looked down at his right hand and gently took hold of his wrist, lifting his sleeve. I could see a purple, almost blue bruise forming, meaning his hand was going to be bruised for quite some time. I then asked for permission to check for more injuries, anywhere on his body — his neck, his leg, his other hand, his head, his back — anywhere I could see a visible injury.

After inspecting his entire body, I didn’t find any other cuts or bruises, except for the one on his right hand. I slowly helped him up and took him to the nurse’s office. When we arrived, there was no nurse in sight, just a note saying she was in an urgent meeting and that we could help ourselves. I told him to sit on one of the beds and wait for me. After gathering the necessary supplies, I returned to him, lifted his sleeve, applied some ointment to his bruise, and carefully wrapped it up.

“so, never got your name.”

i ask, while still putting the ointment carefully on his wrist.

He seemed surprised when I spoke to him. After a few seconds, he finally replied.

“my name’s Oliver, what about you?”

He replied while looking down at his injured hand, eagerly waiting for me to answer.

“name, nice to meet you oliver.”

you said. no wonder Trent called him oily earlier. you thought.

Oliver paused for a moment before asking

“Why did you help me just now?”

“why, you don’t me to help you?”

you asked jokingly.

Oliver’s eyes widened at my response. He quickly corrected himself

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just… no one ever steps in to help me. They’re either scared or just don’t care. So I was really surprised and taken aback when you helped me. Thank you.”

You could see that he was somehow relieved, and a faint blush started to form on his cheeks, but you didn’t say anything.

“it’s nothing, don’t mentioned it. it’s the right thing to do.

i replied while gently taped his wound with the gauze.

“That should do it. Try not to get it wet. If you want to shower, you can wrap the hand with cling film to keep it dry. You might want to see a doctor to get it cleaned or checked, just to make sure it’s not more serious than a bruise. I guess that’s it. I’ll be on my way then.”

i said as i put away the ointment back to the place it belong.

oliver want to say something but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Wait,” Oliver said. “Can we walk together?”

after seeing you nodded he immediately walk to you and both of you guys walk outside the campus together. since it’s past 3 not much students still around. you then turn to oliver.

“Then I’ll go ahead and leave first. See you around,”

you said, walking away toward your car parked in front of the campus.

You gave Oliver a chance to say something, but he didn’t. He just watched you walk away, his eyes following you until you reached your car and drove off. For some reason, he felt something in his chest and stomach, something he’d never experienced before. It didn’t hurt, but it felt… funny. He didn’t know what to make of it, so he just shrugged it off and walked to his own car.

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> chapter 2

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note: if you want to be in the taglist comment it or send me a message & and i hope you like it

Chapter Warnings: bullying (mean comments, self doubt...)

One sunny afternoon, Yn's mother, Pascale, noticed her daughter dancing around the living room, mimicking the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Yn's eyes lit up with excitement as she tried to mimic the ballerinas she saw on a children's show. Observing her daughter's genuine interest, Pascale decided to enroll Yn in toddler ballet classes, hoping it would be an enjoyable experience for the young girl.

Excitedly, Yn attended her first ballet class with a heart full of enthusiasm. As she stepped into the dance studio, she noticed a group of girls already practicing their pliés and twirls. They appeared like little princesses, dressed in their pink tutus and ballet shoes, moving with elegance and grace.

As the class began, Yn tried her best to mimic the graceful movements of her instructor. However, she was a bit clumsy, often stumbling and losing her balance. Her tiny legs would wobble, and her coordination seemed far from perfect.

"Regardez-la ! Elle est maladroite !" (Look at her! She's so clumsy!) giggled one of the girls named Isabelle, pointing at Yn as they practiced their pliés.

"Oui, c'est vrai ! Elle danse comme un canard !" (Yes, that's true! She dances like a duck!) chimed in another girl, Elise.

The other girls joined in, mocking Yn's efforts and whispering behind her back. Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she tried her best to ignore their hurtful remarks.

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

As weeks passed, the situation at ballet class only worsened for Yn. The other girls excluded her from their little circle, leaving her feeling isolated and disheartened. Yet, she never let her spirit be completely crushed. She persevered and practiced in hopes of getting better

Yn's teacher, Madame Dupont, noticed the unpleasant behavior of the other girls after some days and intervened immediately. "Arrêtez ça tout de suite, les filles !" (Stop that right now, girls!) she scolded them firmly, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Madame Dupont then knelt down beside Yn, offering a warm smile that reassured the little girl. "Tu es une danseuse merveilleuse, Yn. Ne les écoute pas. Continue de faire de ton mieux, et tu seras une ballerine éblouissante !" (You are a wonderful dancer, Yn. Don't listen to them. Keep doing your best, and you will be a dazzling ballerina!)

Yn nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Madame Dupont's kind words gave her the courage to push through the obstacles and embrace her love for dance wholeheartedly.

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

The situation wasn't much different when they started kindergarten. Charles's outgoing personality allowed him to form bonds with his classmates effortlessly. He was blissfully unaware that his popularity overshadowed Yn's presence in school

They remarked, "Pourquoi elle est toujours seule?" (Why is she always alone?) The words were like daggers to Yn's heart, and her eyes welled up with tears. "Je ne sais pas, peut-être qu'elle est bizarre." (I don't know, maybe she's weird) another kid said, and Yn's heart sank, and tears welled up in her eyes as she heard the cruel remarks. But the most hurtful comment came unexpectedly from Charles himself, who, without realizing the impact of his words, said, "Elle ne sait même pas comment se faire des amis!" (She doesn't even know how to make friends!)

For two long months, Yn endured the feeling of loneliness at school, while Charles remained blissfully ignorant of her turmoil. He spent his days laughing and playing, oblivious to the storm that brewed in his sister's heart. It reached a tipping point when one day, she couldn't bear it any longer.

That evening, at home, Yn mustered up the courage to confront Charles about her feelings. "Charles, pourquoi tu ne joues jamais avec moi à l'école ?" (Charles, why don't you ever play with me at school?) she asked, her voice quivering with emotion.

Confused, Charles replied, "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, Yn ? Je joue avec tout le monde. Tu n'es pas exclue." (What do you mean, Yn? I play with everyone. You're not excluded.)

But Yn couldn't hold back her pain any longer. "Tu ne comprends pas, Charles ! Tout le monde se moque de moi et dit des choses méchantes ! Et toi, tu ne fais que me repousser pour être avec tes amis ! Tu ne te soucies même pas de moi !" (You don't understand, Charles! Everyone makes fun of me and says mean things! And you, you just push me away to be with your friends! You don't even care about me!)

Charles was taken aback by Yn's outburst. He hadn't realized the impact of his actions on his sister. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas. J'étais égoïste, tellement heureux d'avoir autant d'amis, je n'ai pas réalisé que je te faisais du mal." (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know. I was selfish, so happy to have so many friends, I didn't realize I was hurting you.)

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Yn continued, "Les autres enfants se moquent de moi parce que je suis timide. Ils disent que je suis ennuyeuse et que je ne devrais pas être ta sœur." (The other kids make fun of me because I'm shy. They say I'm boring and that I shouldn't be your sister.)

Charles felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so caught up in his own happiness that he had failed to see the pain his sister was going through. "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je promets de faire plus attention et d'être là pour toi à l'école et je vais t'aider à te faire des amis" (I'm sorry, Yn. I promise to pay more attention and be there for you at school and I'll help you make friends)

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude as Charles embraced her. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games. Slowly but surely, Yn started to feel like she belonged

That evening, Charles went to their parents and confessed his mistakes. "J'ai été égoïste, maman, papa. J'ai blessé Yn. Je veux être puni." (I've been selfish, Mom, Dad. I hurt Yn. I want to be punished)

Their parents, understanding the importance of this learning experience, instead chose to teach their children a valuable lesson. "Ce n'est jamais trop tard pour faire mieux, Charles. Sois simplement là pour ta sœur." (It's never too late to do better, Charles. Just be there for your sister)

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

From that moment on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends. The next day, Charles introduced Yn to his friends, encouraging them to include her in their games, and they patiently encouraged her to open up. Slowly, Yn began to feel more at ease, and she found herself making connections with her peers. The other children soon discovered that beneath her shyness and clumsiness, Yn was a kind and caring friend. 

However, Yn's struggles continued in her ballet school. The girls there couldn't resist being envious of her natural grace and elegance, so they decided to ridicule her, hoping to dent her confidence. "Tu ne seras jamais aussi bonne que nous, Yn. Arrête d'essayer!" (You'll never be as good as us, Yn. Stop trying!) they jeered

"Elle n'a aucune grâce !" (She has no grace!), another girl sneered

"Pourquoi est-elle même ici ? Elle n'est pas faite pour la danse." (Why is she even here? She's not meant for dance)

Yn's determination, however, only grew stronger. She spent hours practicing, trying to prove to herself and her detractors that she deserved to be there. She practiced so much that her technique improved drastically, but the emotional toll was immense.

The insults and taunts persisted, but Yn learned to shield herself from the negativity. She danced with passion and determination, ignoring the jealous whispers around her. As time went on, her ballet form improved, and she found solace in the art form she loved.

taglist: @love4lando @celesteblack08 @gcldtom

the divider is from the incredible @reveriesources

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Ray’s birthday put this on my mind, what do REN do for each other for their partners birthdays?

Mishmash of canon and No Reward AU thoughts here.

☆ I feel like they'd be pretty lowkey about their birthdays in general? Since their main focus is spending time together. If they're not out on a trip together, they'll spend time with friends and family, though I imagine there's a special kind of energy for certain landmark birthdays.

↳ In 2048, while they try to keep their spirits up, Emma's disappearance is still so raw for either Ray or Norman to not dip into melancholy thinking about the last respective birthday of theirs she'd been present for, though there's some comfort in them finding their way to the other's side later in the night to gaze up at the stars. ↳ In 2049, Ray's able to reflect on how they've come so far already in truly stating their lives in this world, like what Emma wanted. For Norman, finding Emma again around the time of his is the best gift he could have ever received. They try not to overwhelm Emma on hers. It doesn't stop the guilt that creeps into her heart over little things like realizing a trip into town with Alex wasn't the first time she tried carrot cake, but something she was known to delight in on her special day back at Grace Field. ↳ In 2067 when they turn 33, I imagine there's some brief somber musings about how they're as old as Isabella was when she died, whether they're silently aware of them from their intimate familiarity with one another or they're openly discussed. RE already experienced this from living longer than Lucas and Yuugo, but it doesn't stop them from having that similar moment of reflection dashed with wistfulness for a kinder world with her in it, though ultimately they take solace in knowing she would be genuinely happy about the future they'd created for themselves and their family. Repeat in 2068 when they turn 34.

☆ Overlap with the REN dates post, but even if they have other events planned for the day, they like to take some time to themselves to watch the sunrise on Ray's birthday, wherever they might be. From a balcony or porch at their home or a hotel, a good spot on a hill that will allow them to have a nice picnic, etc.

☆ Eventually they settle into a routine of birthday cuddles and kisses to end the day (my general cuddle headcanons here), with the birthday boy/girl in the center. NE are pretty open in their delight of them, while Ray can range from putting up a fake huff over how they're making such a big deal over him to being a bit of a cheeky bastard in saying he's owed some birthday cuddles as his trump card in a playful argument they might be having.

☆ Norman is very open to having a hot tub soak with RE accompanying him during the cold, frigid month of his birth (ever one for the dramatics if they're in the northern hemisphere at the time).

☆ Maybe not on the actual day depending on the season, but they also like to take in the cherry blossoms for Norman's during peak bloom to recreate a scene similar to his 2023 birthday art.

☆ I debate exactly when NR present Emma with the replica of her Grace Field music box, but it could be on her birthday.

☆ Sometimes they'll set up treasure hunts for each other's gifts.

↳ The boys love seeing the energy Emma throws into her deductions and search just as much as they enjoy seeing her pout over more convoluted clues or things placed juuust out of her reach as they lord their few centimeters of height over her.

(Chapter 90 | Chapter 1)

It's a toss up of whether she bullies them into getting it for her or if she refuses their help to get it herself. Norman's very proud of himself on the occasion where she nearly slips and he catches her so she doesn't wind up in the hospital. ↳ Similarly everything will be worth it if a long-winded clue ends with some dumb wordplay or a non-sequitur that has Ray looking at them with a feigned disdainfully incredulous expression. It eventually melts to one very fond.

(Chapter 17 | Chapter 43)

↳ If Norman has even the briefest moment of open confusion with his clues RE take it as its own separate victory from the gift itself, but the ultimate one is drawing out a brilliant, unbridled laugh.

(Chapter 128 | Chapter 181.4)

☆ The boys get flowers for Emma. Sunflowers, marigolds, it switches up each year, but they always get a matching set of three to put on their kitchen table. They also take turns gently weaving one they find out on a walk together into her braid. She keeps them in a pressed flower journal with brief notes to further imbue them with loving memories.

[smilingangel582]

Heyooo, it's been a while, and I've been going on a wind breaker fic streak for a while. Alsooo this is another lee!sakura with another special lee! Surprise... though I'm not sure if it will work, lol

Ohhh, and a bit of SuoSaku shipping! I love those two, btw...and the imaginary girl I put can like a y/n reader... hehehe, up to u.

Warning spoilers after episode 11

Not a scary guy... see?

Kiryu gives Sakura an unimpressed tilted smile as he insists the girl next to him, who looks like she's in middle school, "Ne, sorry if he's being a little dramatic but I can assure you Sakura-chan is a nice guy..."

The girl looks frightened regardless. She's one of the girls Kiryu, Suo, and Sakura encountered being bullied by another turf. Saving her, thankfully.

Her blue eyes glisten as she stares at the black and white-haired boy. Somewhat enthralled by how he beaten the 10 guys swiftly without the help of his two friends. They had run to Kotoha's restaurant - but probably because Sakura gets hungry after every fight.

However, when Sakura started getting angry at another guy named Sugishita... He's even scarier.

She felt a sudden surge of fear snatch within her gut. But luckily for her the long haired guy is gone since Kotoha had to send him away with her menacing glare and Sakura settled sitting down rocking his foot with irritation, he slammed a hand on the desk as well.

"Damn that guy! I'll stuff him tomorrow at school for sure!"

The girl squeaked, now hiding behind Suo.

The comforting Kiryu pats her head sweetly. "There there... you are safe"

Suo sighs, but with a fond smile, he decides to approach Sakura from the side, "Sakura-kun, you shouldn't be this aggressive..."

"I-I'm not!" Sakura snaps so loudly that the girl whimpers again. of course... he couldn't help but look somewhat guilty for that.

Kotoha groaned now drying the plates as she decided to get her omelette rice started for him, "Geez, Sakura chill... honestly, if you're being this angry, then you can forget your omurice"

Sakura snaps, now hands slamming on the table again, leaning close and daring, "Huuh? Why? Can't I be angry?"

Kotoha stares, not intimidated in the slightest as she knows him well enough now. She reaches to flick his forehead, "Because you're scaring my customers," then she adds with a poke to his side, smiling a little as he was rubbing the stinging flick she gave him. "And you're so uptight!"

He stiffened at that backing away with a little uneasy growl, sitting down. The younger girl noticed, Kotoha proudly understands, Suo hummed curiously, and Kiryu tilted his head, "Oya? Sakura-chan, it's rare for you to back down..."

Flustered Sakura looked sideway, his ears red, falling back on his chair like a good puppy, "I-I I just felt like it o-ok?"

Suo who's been the closest to Sakura, literally, started to raise his hand to reach something towards Sakura and even though Suo didn't attempt anything, Sakura stumbled back, fists clenched defensively, glaring, as he turns fully, "Bastard what the hell...!?"

Suo lets a laugh. Letting his hand fall down, "Ah, sorry, I was just trying to take a small spec of dust from your shoulder... did you get scared of something else?"

Sakura merely looked at his shoulder. However, with a swift movement, Suo tases his side, making Sakura jolt to the wide with a yelp, "Hey!"

Kotoha laughs, "Now thats more like it... rather than you putting tantrums"

Sakura blushed, "Quiet! You better stop teasing me -geh! Ahaha, c-cut it ohohout!" As he was in the middle of snapping at Kotoha. Suo aimed another efficient poke to his side.

Suo grinned slowly, stepping forward with his hands ready to 'attack', "Don't be so shy... It's just a harmless little tickle... see?" He aimed another poke towards his stomach, making Sakura stumble backwards. Lucky for Kotoha, her shop is at closing hours. Otherwise, she might have to kick them all out for disturbing.

"Shy my ass! Stop that..." he used his arms to cover his middle, now hunched a little defensively. Suo loomed to the side, hoping to sneak another firm prod, and Sakura used his elbows to cover his ribs on the side Suo attempted to target.

"Wow... Sakura-kun, are you that scared?" He teased, now using feints to catch him off guard.

"N-not scared jerk! I-I just..." he flinched when Suo pretended to tickle his right side, but only for him to get tricked again.

Kiryu giggles, "Kyuun! Sakura-chan is cute! See he's not so scary, now is he, Hina-chan?" He turns to the girl who smiled a little, awkwardly enjoying this little game they are playing.

Perhaps not all delinquents are bad....

"Uh oh... Wahait!"

Surprised, it wasn't Sakura's voice. This time it was a light and calm voice of Suo who's suddenly being pinned down by a flustered Sakura. He growled, looking like a little angry cat, "Ha? How do ya like that! Can't take what ya dish!"

"Ahahahaha, hehey."

Suo didn't seem embarassed but rather he had a sweet laugh that Kiryu really liked. But he still think Sakura's angry laughter is way amusing than that.

Suo chuckles even more, now his cheeks a rare colour of pink, which somewhat did male sakura look softly at him "Sahahakuhura-kuhuhun..."

"What? Y-you started it -ah! Haha, wait, WAIT!"

Suo swiftly parries Sakura by using his hands to block his sides and then using his palms to push him down his back but grabbing Sakura's leg, and started digging into his knees and upper thighs, which are normally sensitive spots.

This bastard lied to him! The moment Sakura's fingers stopped a moment from his ribs, Suo takes that chance very swiftly.

"AH! SHihit! Wahaha not theHEHEREHE!!"

Kiryu pouted, "Aww and just when we get to see Suo-chan laughing like a silly goose"

Suo gives a short laugh, "Kiryi-kun thats mean... oh well Sakura almost got me and you have my respect there... but..." he stopped the attack on his knees and makes his way to intensify his attack on his upperbody.

"Y-yohohohou sneheheheak! Ahaha, matte!" He panicked, attempting to grab his wrists, now legs kicking uselessly.

Suo flips their positions, smiling proudly when he straddled him from the back this time. "Ah ah ah~ Sakura-kun... you can't get away with that little stunt... always remember in a tickle fight, don't yield when you're being tickled back... and you were very inexperienced, so it was easy for me to break free."

Sakura curled to the side now, sinking to the floor. He can't get him back now, "Ihihihihi nehehehever tihihihickled ahahahany one behehehefohohore haha! Shit stop ihihit!"

He grabbed Suo's wrist successfully, hoping to switch the tables, but a little opening allowed Suo to sneak his capable hand under his armpit. Surprised, it was so bad that his limbs suddenly became jelly.

"EEEH!"

Bingo. Suo thinks fondly, now teasingly testing the sensitivity there, "What was that Sakura kun?"

Kotoha stops her work momentarily to look up in amusement but giggles teasingly, "Uh oh, someone's weak spot has been exploited... that was a bad move, Sakura..."

Sakura couldn't even respond due to his preoccupied state, to think tickling is this unbearable when the right spot is targeted. His giggles turned to laughter, and his laughter turned to cackles that he felt so humiliated.

Suo grins, "Ah that's another fact... always look for the opponents weakspots... once u know... u can break them easily like this..." he began to drill his fingers deeper into his armpit.

Sakura squealed, and that bewildered Kiryu, who's been taking a video on his phone this whole time. He turned to Hinase with a chuckle, "Oh wow... he's that ticklish there?"

The girl now feels awkward watching strong delinquents have a tickle fight but somewhat likes the sound of Sakura's laugh since he's not that scary... especially the giggles that keep flooding through his lips.

Sakura'a face is red, now he slams his hand on the floor, showing truce as his elbows try to protect his armpits, "ahaha, fine, fine! FINE HAHAHA ENOUGH!"

Suo stops now, getting off Sakura yet remains kneeled down, pushing the strands of his hair to the side when Sakura rolled on his back, panting. Somewhat entranced... such a curious case

This makes Sakura blush and slowly shrug. The hand away as he gets up, sitting in front of where Kotoha is as she displays her special omelette rice. "Jeez, you will pahay ack!" he feels a simple poke from Kotoha who giggles, now she blows her finger as if it's a gun, "Now we know how to cool a scary guy like you... its adorable really"

Sakura wheezes in anger, bjt protectively covers his weak spots while glaring at Suo and Kotoha, "D-damn you! Dont call me cute!"

Suo grins, a finger aiming for a poke to his side which Sakura instantly caught his hands. Eyes narrowed, somewhat suspicious "Do not!"

"Ahh" he gives a little pout, a rare side of Suo, "But if you let me poke you here and there whenever I feel like I'll tell you my weak spot as well..." he winks.

Sakura's face heats up, curious and also embarassed, he looks away, now letting his hands go since he decides to eat the omelette rice, "h-ha? I don't need to know! I will find it myself someday!"

Suo grinned, elbow on the counter as he leaned on his palm, staring lovingly at him, "Hmm hmm, good boy," he pats his head in the process, making Sakura raise his spoon, as of he's gonna hit him with that. His face totally red.

Watching their antics, nobody, not even Kotoha, noticed Kiryu taking Hinase out from the cafe. She bowed to him politely, her face bright and back to her healthy colour, "Thank you! Kiryu-san... I can walk back on my own"

Kiryu smiles lightly, "That's fine... It's late, so I'll walk you. " he offered her his hand now.

She blushed in bliss, lucky to have met the first year high schoolers from bofurin. Taking his hand shyly they walk now.

She is indeed glad to have met them.

Especially Sakura... at the same time, they are human who like to mess around and have fun...

She giggles a little at the memory of Sakura's blushing face, "cute..." then blushes as well on the memory she just got of repeated Sakura blushes. she walks through the pavement, silently now, hiding her small snicker.

Kiryu asked, "What's so funny?"

"Ah... sorry, Sakura-san's face is quite adora -ahem interesting when he's shy"

Kiryu laughs, "very very! You won't believe how much of a tsundere he is. Tough and rough on the outside but a sweet kind softie on the inside..."

She agrees and now mentions, "Also about him and Suo"

Kiryu grins knowingly, placing a finger on his lips, "That is another story... but neither of them know what the story even is... hehe"

Another interesting story she would like to know... their bond seems unbreakable.

"Can't wait..." she smiles.

Meanwhile, at the cafe.

"Kotoha-saaan! Nirei is back!" The blond grins as he enters the cafe, looking spiffy as ever. Suo grins his hands still attempting to get Sakura once he finished his omelette rice.

Sakura's red face is still the same, and Nirei asks, "Eh? Sakura-san why your face red again?"

"Shut up! Y-you guys are so annoying!" He's still holding on to Suo's wrists cautious and careful not to let him poke him.

Kotoha chuckles, "Hai hai, Suo, you can stop teasing him before he becomes a tomato plant for Ume"

Suo casually let's his hands slip away but Sakura stares at him like a suspicious cat, "Grr... you will pay! Just you wait I will!"

Suo shrugs, "Oh scary much... until I poke you here..." he gives him a poke to the side but not touching as he's already stopped. Sakura squeaks attempts to grab his hand which quickly left.

Nirei Frown in confusion, "ehhh tell me? Why is Sakura embarassed and what do u mean poking him?"

Nirei's questions will be the death of Sakura. That top secret notebook is every bit of a menace as Suo's mysterious eye patch.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

Hi! I loved your writing about Hyunjin and was wondering if you could write a high school AU where ot8 being a group of popular guys but I would really like if Hyunjin was a softie for the reader who doesn't care about their group at all. THANK YOUU

literally i found this ask so adorable, absolutely!

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

Pairing: Popular boy!Hyujin x fem!reader Word count: 2.2k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖 Warning: er lil cringe, >.> Hyunjin's friends is a menaces to society, no smut just high schoolers being idiots, usage of y/n with you, useage of friend name (f/n) and second friend name s/f/n >.>

You were minding your business, simply reading "The Forbidden Daughter" at a small desk in the back of the library, enjoying the silence of a calm Wednesday after school. Then the female library student volunteer squealed, you cringed. Peeking from behind the bookshelf hut you saw them and rolled your eyes, it was always that group of boys at your school, led by their senior friend, Bang Chan.

You knew their names by now, everyone did, even the freshmen did, Bang Chan the senior, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin who your friends called the heart throb artist, Han Jisung, Lee Yongbok, Kim Seungmin the smart one, and the youngest Yang Jeongin the baby sophomore. Being the reserved person you were you ducked back behind your bookshelf hide out and gathered your things, as you were leaving you noticed a book that peaked your interest, "We Were Liars".

You walked over to the shelf it was on and tried to grab it but a long arm reached past you and grabbed it first.

"Hey." You turned. "I was trying to get tha-" You stared up at the boy, he pushed his long bleached blonde hair to the right and examined the book, Hyunjin.

"You wanted this?" He looked down at you. "I got it first soo... no."

Your eye twitched. "I saw it first."

"Ok, Shorty. Prove it." He tilted his head waiting for you to prove you saw it first.

You opened your mouth then closed it, you couldn't prove it. "Can I please have i-"

"Hyunjinnie!" The shrill squeal made you turn.

A short, muscular boy came running, Seo Changbin...

"Oh..." Changbin paused. "Am I interrupting, Da Vinci?" He smirked at you.

"No, not at all." Hyunjin turned to leave.

"I wanted that book." You fumed.

"It's mine now, I'll return it to the library in about 14 days, Shorty." Hyunjin said over his shoulder as he walked away with Changbin.

You grit your teeth and muttered. "Bully."

"Who was that?" Changbin asked Hyunjin as they walked to the other end of the library to catch up with the rest of their group.

"How should I know?" Hyunjin shrugged, looking at the book. "She wanted this book."

Changbin nodded and smirked. "She was pretty cute too.. Why didn't you give it to her in exchange for her number?"

Hyunjin turned to his friend slowly. "Do you want me to beat you with this thing?"

"No, I'm good!" Changbin walked a bit ahead and jumped on Yongbok, who wrestled him off as they walked.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and looked at the book again, smiling to himself, that girl was kind of cute though.

As per your usual routine, after classes the following day you ran to the student lounge and got a snack before heading to the library to finish your work in your quiet corner. Only when you got to your quiet corner, it wasn't so quiet.

You heard someone burst out laughing, a large group began laughing as well and you tensed... It couldn't be. Your eye twitched as you saw not 1 but 9 desks in your quiet corner and seated in 8 of the 9, was Hyunjin and his friends. You turned to leave only to be stopped by the sound of the first laughing boy's voice.

"Hyunjin." Han Jisung's voice made you cringe.

You looked back, you really shouldn't have.

Hyunjin was in a spinning desk, he turned in the direction Jisung had motioned to, which just so happened to be at you.

"Hey Shorty." He smiled, his charmingly full lips curving up. "Where're you going?"

You turned to face the group. "You took my spot, I'm going to find a new one."

"Your spot?" Jisung looked shocked before smiling. "Never saw your name on it."

You bristled.

"I didn't know spot belonged to anyone." Bang Chan said, "Did you know Yongbok?"

"Nope." Yongbok shrugged.

You exhaled slowly. "It's fine." You turned to leave.

"There's another desk." Jeongin smiled. "Join us."

You sucked in a breath. "I prefer quiet."

"We can be quiet." Seungmin said.

Chan covered his face with his hands. "No you can't..."

Lee Minho elbowed him. "We promise we can be quiet. We can even kick out Changbin if you need."

Changbin's mouth fell open in shock and you resisted the urge to giggle.

"I'm alright." You glanced at Hyunjin, who clenched his fist slightly. "I'll go now."

Chan smiled at you. "Bye bye."

You gave a group a small smile that quickly became a wince as you walked away, Hwang Hyunjin... I'm gonna kill you. You fumed as you left the library.

"I think you made her mad Hyunjin." Jisung looked at his friend.

"I agree." Chan shook his head. "You're really bad at this."

"You think she's cute just tell her." Jeongin sighed.

"'Where're you going, Shorty?'" Minho mimicked. "REAL smooth."

Hyunjin covered his face. "I wasn't thinking, thanks."

"When do you ever?" Seungmin said looking at his phone.

Hyunjin flung a folder at him. Seungmin stood to throw the folder back.

Chan looked at the two, "Sit down before I smack you both."

"Anyway." Seungmin sat fixing his shirt. "I was going to say why not appeal to stuff she likes. If I were you, I'd ask her to read that book with you." He motioned to the book in front of Hyunjin, he was only about 4 chapters in anyway.

"Have you read it before?" Hyunjin asked.

"Mhm. Real sad, heart throb, I highly recommend." Seungmin said looking at his phone again.

Hyunjin hummed, "Alright."

You tried to eat your lunch quickly that Monday to avoid the group of boys that got all the girls in the lunchroom squealing. But of course, you ended up at the end of the line and resigned yourself to sitting with your two friends, f/n and s/f/n for the rest of the lunch period. The gym doors opened across the field, you could see through the large glass windows on the right side of the lunchroom, as students filed in through the glass doors the squeals started as Chan and Changbin walked by.

You rolled your eyes as your friend shook you at the sight of Han Jisung. You continued reading "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" for the 6th time, your other friend grabbed your face and made you look up whispering in your ear. "Hyunjin is looking at you."

You made a face and kept reading.

f/n pointed at herself while looking at someone in Hyunjin's direction, you tensed, please no. She stood and walked over to the group an you hesitantly looked up from your book, Hyunjin and Jisung were talking to her.

s/f/n shook you in surprise, "What if Hyunjin was looking at f/n AND NOT YOU!!??"

You squeezed your book, it didn't bother you... it didn't make you jealous, how old were you? five? You bit your lip. "Good for her."

f/n rejoined you at the table and s/f/n grabbed her. "What did Hyunjin ask you?!"

f/n opened her mouth but looked at Hyunjin and closed it.

"What?" You looked at her before looking at Hyunjin, who quickly turned away.

You rolled your eyes and continued with the rest of your day, after school you noticed no one was in your little corner, so they'd taken a hint. You sat at your desk, starting to read again, when 5pm came around you decided to leave, as you walked around the campus you noticed the art room door was left ajar.

You peeked in and saw Hyunjin, his hair pulled back, paintbrush in hand, he bit his lip as if deep in thought then stroked the canvas gently. You stared at him and felt your facing getting hot. Why were you even staring? It's nothing you hadn't seen before, Hyunjin looking hot. Simple... You turned to leave and your elbow bumped the door. Shit...

Hyunjin looked up his eyes met yours and for a brief moment you saw panic in his eyes before turning away, "What are you doing here?"

"I was... passing by..." You said slowly.

He set the paint brush down and stood.

"AH!" You shouted making him freeze. "Stay over there." You said quietly, still facing away from the door so he wouldn't see your face.

"Shorty-"

"Don't call me that." you hissed.

"Why shouldn't I?" You heard him walking to you and tensed.

"Didn't I say 'Stay over there'?" You tried to walk away but he obviously had longer strides than you and you squeaked as he draped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head, if noy for your backpack he would've been so much closer.

"I can only follow one thing you say at a time, y/n." He held the book, "We Were Liars" in front of you. "It's this or I call you Shorty, your pick, though, if you add another instruction I can do both anyway."

"What type of logic is tha-" You scanned the title of the book and grabbed for it.

He held it up and out of your reach and you turned, nearly chest to chest with him reaching for the book. "No. It's mine." he smirked down at you.

"Give it." You said through grit teeth.

He smiled and brought the book to your reach, you grabbed it and gasped as he patted your head. "Shorty."

"Don't call m-" You started.

He grabbed the book again.

"Hwang Hyunj-"

"Pick one." He said looking down at you.

You pursed your lips and grabbed the book. "Bully." You muttered.

"I was hoping you could read it with me." He said, looking away.

You blushed slightly as you saw the tips of his ears going red. "You've had it for three days-"

"I'm only on Chapter 4, catch up Shorty. I'll see you in your book hut tomorrow?" He went back into the art room and grabbed his bag.

"Uh... Yeah." You hugged the book.

Hyunjin smiled at you as he left the art room and you turned to watch him go. When you sat in your bed to read the book, you opened to the first page and on a sticky note was a doodle of a very tall stick figure and a very short one, written beneath it, was a phone number.

When Hyunjin rounded the corner out of the arts hall he pursed his lips at the sight of his friends.

Changbin was wrapped in Minho's arms making his voice high and squeaky. "Give it!"

Minho handed him an imaginary book and smiled patting his head, "Shorty."

Chan smiled. "Real smooth."

Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

You and Hyunjin began talking more often, even after you finished the book, you would sit reading in the art room while he doodled or painted, you even went out with him and his friends occasionally.

After you read the entirety of "The School for Good and Evil", Hyunjin made his intentions clearer than before. Buying the snacks you liked and leaving little drawings on sticky notes on your desk in the library if he didn't go to see you.

Your friends were constantly telling you he had to be into you.

Thing 1(f/n) 06:56pm There is NO WAY you don't think he likes you

Thing 2(s/f/n) 06:56pm HE LEFT A DRAWING OF A FLOWER FOR YOU YOU IDIOT HE LOVES YOU

You 06:57pm NUH UH

Thing 1 06:57pm YUH HUH

Thing 2 06:57pm oh lord... 😭

You rolled your eyes and put your phone down picking up "The False Prince", your eyes flicked to your phone as it buzzed, Hyunjin had texted you.

Hyunjinnie👹 06:58pm Hey, are you home rn?

You 06:58pm Yeah why?

Hyunjinnie👹 06:58pm Come outside rq.

You muttered to yourself and grabbed your jacket, heading outside. Hyunjin smiled at you as you came out, "I wanted to..." He cleared his throat and held out a gift.

You tilted your head. "For me?"

He nodded, his ears pink. "I thought you would really like it, considering its history."

You opened the wrapping and smiled fondly at a copy of "We Were Liars", "Hyunjin you shouldn't have."

"I wanted to." He smiled, glancing at a car.

You looked at the car seeing someone who looked very similar to Changbin ducking under the window. You looked up at Hyunjin, "Really?"

He smiled sheepishly, "Back up and emotional support."

"Emotional support?" You raised a brow.

"I don't think you will..." He said softly, "But just in case you say no."

"No to what?" You asked.

"I like you." Hyunjin whispered. "I like you a lot, Shorty."

You stared up at him.

"I would like it a lot.. if you went out with me. So will you?" His ears were a deep red color.

You giggled and jumped on him hugging him tightly. "Yes Hyunjin."

The following Monday, you and your friends were studying in the library.

"Why are you so bubbly?" f/n asked you.

"Yeah, you seem so upbeat." s/f/n said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, I-" You started.

You looked up as f/n's mouth flopped open. Hyunjin walked into your little corner in the library and set down a snack for you before kissing you on the cheek. He smiled at the book on your desk. "Looks interesting. You should read it with me."

Jisung and Jeongin poked their heads into the book corner, they smiled and waved at you before grabbing Hyunjin and leaving.

s/f/n looked at you. "You've got some explaining to do."

[ser3nityst4r]

Vil’s Backstory

The scent of lavender and chamomile hung in the air, a sharp contrast to the bitter taste of disappointment that settled in Vil's throat. He slumped against the worn velvet curtains, the stage lights casting long shadows on his face. He had done it again. Another audition, another villain role. Vil, the boy who dreamt of standing under the spotlight for longer than anyone else, was perpetually confined to the shadows.

His father, a man of gentle wisdom and calm demeanor, had always reassured him. "Vil," he'd said, "a villain is a special role that requires a particular kind of brilliance. It takes a certain je ne sais quoi to embody the darkness." But even his father's words couldn't assuage the sting of rejection.

Vil had dedicated his entire life to perfection - a perfection that was defined by beauty. From the tender age of five, he had endured grueling training regimens, enduring painful treatments to achieve the ideal appearance. He had sacrificed his childhood, his carefree days spent honing his skills, chasing the illusion of a flawless visage.

But despite his relentless efforts, he was always relegated to the antagonists. He had been a bullying prince, a jealous witch, a manipulative mastermind. Each time, he had poured his heart and soul into his performance, capturing the essence of the villain with such chilling realism that even children on the streets recognized him.

"Look over there! That guy was the bully in the drama I watched yesterday!" a young boy had pointed at him, fear in his wide eyes. Another child had shouted, "He must have a really bad personality if he can make it look that convincing!"

There was a strange irony in it all. Vil, the boy who yearned for acceptance, was perceived only in the distorted lens of his villainous portrayals. He was admired for his ability to convey darkness, his chilling demeanor, but never for himself, for the vulnerable heart that beat beneath the perfectly sculpted exterior.

One day, after another grueling audition, Vil found himself the target of a group of children who had mistaken him for the villain he had played in a recent movie. "He doesn’t look pretty strong," one whispered, "Let’s get revenge for the hero!" Just as the group began to advance, a boy with wild, unruly hair burst through the crowd.

"HEEEEYYY!!! Stop ganging up on one kid, you idiots!!!" The boy, Jack, stood in front of Vil, his stance unwavering despite being outnumbered. The children scattered, leaving Vil and Jack alone.

"You recently moved in around here, right? Are you okay?" Jack asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"I am quite skilled in boxing and fencing," Vil responded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I could have made it home safely even without your help."

"I-is that so? Sorry for doing something so unnecessary," Jack stammered, his face flushed.

"It’s nothing to apologize for. Thank you," Vil said, his gaze softening for the first time that day. "I find it hard to believe that those children couldn’t separate fiction from reality… They must be quite daft."

"I don’t really watch TV a lot, so I don’t understand what they’re going on about…" Jack confessed. "But doesn’t this mean that your acting was super realistic?"

"Maybe so," Vil chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I promise to play the main character’s role next time. I’ll make them cry their hearts out."

As he walked away, Vil couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that his pursuit of perfection had somehow led him astray. He had become a prisoner of his own creation, trapped in a cycle of playing villains, his dreams of being a protagonist fading further with each passing day.

He wished he could escape the shadows, to step into the light, to be seen for who he truly was, not just the reflection of his dramatic roles. But as the weight of his ambition pressed down on him, he couldn't help but wonder: Was the hero's journey truly meant for him? Or was he destined to be forever the villain, the one who watched the happy endings from the sidelines?

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Why do I love Jimin? Let me count the reasons:

He is extremely hardworking and dedicated. Even now, when he has everything, he pushes himself to near breaking to deliver what he considers is the best. Without any excuses.

He is kind. To everyone. All the time. I don’t think I need to elaborate on this. Namjoon once said he is selfless.

He is considerate. Of others. Especially of his members. Again, I don’t need to elaborate on this.

He is humble. It reminds me of that one concert where he calls out each of the others individually and says that they held him. He does not have much to offer when we all know that he was the je ne sais quoi. BTS needed Jimin.

He is decisive and goal oriented. He knows what he wants and he works towards it. The persistence with which he works towards his goals is quite admirable.

He does not shy away from his femininity but is also very masculine. A number of members have said that he is not to be messed with. Remember that show where he barely contained his anger at the brother who bullied his sister? And then you have his fancams going viral for looking like a fairy and members saying he is the cutest lil bean?!

He is an artist. A performer par excellence. And he is intelligent, smart and thoughtful about his art. All of it. His photofolio, lie, filter, Face. Everything has been thought out carefully.

He embodies art and I am not sure if he fully knows it. If he does, he deliberately doesn’t lean into it because he will kill us all. Kitty gang Jimin was only a trailer.

He is loving. Have you seen him with animals? With JK? With Tae? On live? He is so darned loving.

But he also is assertive with his boundaries. For the longest time we didn’t know who his friends were, where he lived. He decides to let us in and show us what he wants. I like a man who respects himself and his boundaries fiercely.

He is a sneaky little thing too. The Run BTS episode with him selling Hobi out for ‘ha ha ha’, the other episode where he says it’s so sad that the team makes them suspect members all the time, and then plot twist - he says he loves it! How he is sharp and witty - check his banter with Yoongi?

There are more reasons why. But I will stop here.

***

Thank you for the lovely list on some of the things we love about Jimin, @zeeswords

This bit stood out to me: "He embodies art and I am not sure if he fully knows it. If he does, he deliberately doesn’t lean into it because he will kill us all."

I think he knows it. I think he knows he has a flair for the theatrical and dramatic, and leans into it in his art, but you're right that it's not so much that he kills us all.

We see it in Lie and in Set Me Free Pt 2. And using those two songs as examples, it's as though the older Jimin becomes, the more audacious he gets in expressing that aspect in his art.

And it makes me so excited about what we'll get next from him.