#aiming to post it sometime tomorrow!

[fazedlight]

Shadow (post-canon fluff)

“So what can we expect from tomorrow’s gala?” the newscaster asked.

Lena smiled, stopping herself from shifting nervously in the bright lights above her, glancing instead to the news studio’s camera as she spoke. “The gala is a black-tie fundraiser event for the Lena Luthor Foundation’s first project - an outreach program aimed at teaching STEM concepts to inner city children.”

“Fascinating,” the newscaster said, “And how will this education program work?”

“The children will be taught basic computer science concepts, and also have access to learn to code robots to compete in an obstacle course competition,” Lena said, eyes shifting back to the newscaster as she spoke, attempting to look as conversational and relaxed as possible. God, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, she thought to herself. “By giving the children real-world instruction, we hope they will be excited to see what one can really do with engineering and science.”

“And will your new girlfriend be attending the gala?”

As much as Lena had no problem staying composed, she could never quite master keeping the blush out of her cheeks. Not when it came to Kara. “She will be attending as well,” Lena confirmed, “Kara is a strong believer in a science education, having grown up with a strong tradition of scientific exploration on Krypton.”

“I imagine she’s an exception to the black tie rules,” the newscaster said.

“Of course,” Lena grinned, “We think the city is ready to know the real Supergirl.”

“Do you think your brother would be proud?”

The smile stuck to Lena’s face - no one but her closest friends would know that anything was amiss from her expression. But the question was certainly charged. While Earth Prime Lex had been known as a philanthropist, his quest for power had come out during the trial - somehow lauded by the public - only for him to attack the world and disappear into the phantom zone, leaving a confused public behind.

I guess I’ll never really escape him, Lena thought tiredly. In Stryker’s or dead or stuck in the phantom zone - none of it mattered. It seemed that Lex would always linger over her. “My brother’s legacy is complex,” Lena said, somewhat frustrated that she couldn’t be more direct on Earth Prime about who her brother really was. “I hope to honor the Luthor name, whatever that would’ve meant to him.” “Well, some very lucky children are about to have a fantastic summer,” the newscaster said back. “Thank you for joining us today, Lena.” “It was a pleasure,” Lena said.

---

Lying in the cool darkness of her bedroom - the setting sun hardly penetrating the windows anymore - Lena dozed quietly, relieved that the day was done.

Light footsteps padded down the hallway, causing a warm feeling in Lena’s chest. Kara’s home, she thought, and she was greeted only moments later by the kryptonian slipping into bed beside her, hugging around her back. “There’s Belly Burger in the kitchen,” Kara murmured, nuzzling softly into Lena’s hair. 

“Thank you,” Lena said back, “I needed that.”

“Rough day?”

“Not particularly. Just… him.”

Lena could feel Kara’s head on the pillow behind her, the kryptonian holding her quietly, giving Lena the space to think. “I think it’s more exhausting here,” Lena said eventually, “Lex, on this Earth.”

“Because they think he was a hero?”

“They don’t understand how someone who could work so closely with you,” Lena said, slowly rolling over on the bed to look at Kara directly, “Could turn around and try to kill you. At least on Earth 38, his first response to Superman was to build a kryptonite suit. People knew where things stood. I didn’t have to dance around.”

Kara hugged Lena more tightly. “I’m sorry, Lena,” she said.

Lena sighed, planting a small kiss on Kara’s lips. “I’ll be fine. I just wish I could get away from it sometimes.”

Kara’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, as she reached up to caress Lena’s face. Lena could almost see the thoughts dance behind her eyes, before she smiled softly. “What is it?” Lena asked.

“I…” Kara trailed off for a moment. “I was wondering, if you would like to visit Argo soon? Maybe after the gala? They’ve barely heard of Lex up there.”

Lena’s eyes shifted between Kara’s, small relief flowing through her body. “That sounds perfect.”

---

“Why do you think your brother started hating aliens?”

“Ms. Danv- er, Supergirl- what does Cat Grant think of ethics in journalism?”

“Your brother was a great man - what do you think caused him to snap?”

Lena sighed in relief as the dancing began, happy to have an excuse to lead Kara to the dance floor instead of continuing conversation with the various donors and reporters roaming about. At least the flashing cameras were less intrusive.

Kara, for her part, seemed almost curious at the extra attention. “This’ll take some getting used to,” she murmured playfully, lightly twirling Lena in her arms and setting off another flurry of photo flashes.

“They’ll calm down eventually,” Lena said, “There are only so many Super and a Luthor headlines that people will read.”

“Ready for our trip tomorrow?” Kara asked.

“More than ready.”

---

Alura hugged her warmly when they arrived. “It’s nice to get away,” Lena said, following Alura and Kara from J’onn’s ship to the El home.

She was somewhat disbelieving that she was really sitting in a kryptonian kitchen, on the remnants of an alien planet. With Zor-El off on an overnight deployment to oversee routine maintenance to Argo’s shield, the three of them spent Lena’s first night on Argo sipping on hot chocolate that Kara had brought from Earth. 

Lena found Alura was easy to open up to. “It’s just tiring, being in Lex’s shadow,” Lena said. “For once I wish I could be seen on my own terms.”

Lena thought she noticed Alura glance to Kara, but the thought didn’t linger as Alura looked back to Lena again. “Kara and Kal have told me of the feud,” she said sympathetically.

“It’ll be nice getting away from his name for a while,” Lena confessed. “I can just be Lena, instead of Lex’s little sister.”

“We’ll be going to the markets tomorrow,” Kara said, glancing from Lena to Alura. “I want to show Lena the town square.”

“I’m sure she’ll like it,” Alura said, exchanging what Lena was certain was a look with Kara. What’s that about?, she wondered, but Alura quickly moved on. “Is it strange not being a super here?” Alura asked Kara.

Kara smiled. “I’m home again.”

Lena took in Kara’s expression, the ease in her body. They talked about it from time to time - what it meant for Kara to have powers she constantly needed to control. Though she didn’t need to balance two identities anymore, there would always be the physical fatigue of controlling her powers on Earth.

Lena smiled. At least they’d have Argo as a refuge - where Lena wasn’t defined as Lex’s little sister, and Kara wasn’t defined by being a super.

---

Kara seemed oddly nervous that morning as they dressed. Lena was excited - to understand a little more of Kara’s home, to see a new culture - but she couldn’t quite understand her girlfriend’s nerves. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” Lena said curiously. “You don’t need to worry.”

Kara smiled back, reaching out to take Lena’s hand as they exited her parents’ home. The markets took place twice a week, in the large central park that now served as Argo’s main gathering place. But it seemed Kara wasn’t going directly to the center of the large field, instead detouring to the east. “Where are we going?” Lena asked.

“I want to show you Argo’s heroes first.”

Lena tilted her head curiously, following the kryptonian. The expanse around the city was laid out in a series of ringed parks, and they rotated clockwise along the various paths, Kara pointing out different statues that honored the important historical figures of Krypton.

As they passed a playground, heading beyond the fourth ring of trees, Lena found herself looking at another statue ahead, with another bright and cheery view of the city’s skyscrapers in the background.

But what caught Lena’s eye this time as they approached the statue wasn’t the beautiful sights, but instead the familiar face staring back at her - proud and noble, holding glowing purple stone. What is this?, Lena thought.

They approached the statue - a small smile crossing Kara’s lips - and Lena’s eyes darted around it, eventually reading the plaque spelling her own name, with a string of kryptonian beneath. Lena could feel the blush crawling up her cheeks at her own confusion, her heart racing in disbelief. “Me?” Lena said softly. “They think I’m a hero?”

“You gave Argo the harun-el,” Kara said. “Every year, the Luthor Festival celebrates the day my mother returned with the recipe.”

The Luthor festival is about me, Lena thought, placing a hand at the base of the statue, realizing that tears were starting to threaten her vision. But she didn’t care. This… this is about me. What I did.

Kara smiled, squeezing Lena’s other hand, seeming to read her thoughts. “You saved all of them, Lena,” Kara said, as Lena’s heart raced, “To my people, the Luthor name is defined by you.”

Lena smiled widely, tears still threatening to spill as she turned into a waiting Kara’s arms, who squeezed her tightly. Lena’s arms wrapped around Kara in return, as she let out a choked laugh, placing her head on Kara’s shoulder as she melted into her. “Thank you for showing me this,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

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

This headcanon was first mentioned in Echoes of the Forest, but I felt I wanted to write a ficlet for it. Please also check out this beautiful art I commissioned from @heeeygracie!

[komorim]

itoshi sae that takes pictures of his meals routinely after you expressed your worry of him not eating enough. his manager is beyond relieved after he sees that the footballer is now gaining some weight.

itoshi sae who doesn’t mind being affectionate with you in public- who cares if there is a teenage boy gawking at you two while taking a picture for his twitter account that would surely be on headlines tomorrow? not sae.

itoshi sae that gets a bit cranky when you don’t reply to his messages within an hour. itoshi sae that even more cranky when you call off your nightly calls one day (it ended up with all of his teammates getting insults left and right for every minuscule mistake- his manager calls you that afternoon and begs you to not do that again).

itoshi sae who takes screenshots of your messages and saves the pictures you send him. his favourites are the ones during calls: where it is perfectly candid and his screenshots notifies you.

“what? it’s not like you’re naked or taking a shit.”

itoshi sae who proudly flaunts his relationship with you while wearing your matching couple necklace during matches. he kisses it to dedicate a score to you, and his teammates can’t help but wonder who you are (and what you have done to itoshi sae).

itoshi sae who isn’t embarrassed of his obvious softness towards you. in fact, he once almost completely murdered the opponent’s goalkeeper for throwing the ball straight at his chest, breaking the necklace.

“you glorified octopus, can’t aim for your life of you huh? even a country bumpkin has the common sense to avoid an opponent’s midfielder you-“

you were informed of the commotion by his manager the day after that (he keeps in contact with you very often, knowing that you do a better job keeping sae in check than him).

you tell sae to just not wear the necklace during matches. to which sae quips back, clearly offended:

“are you on his side? he broke our necklace?? you know, like an idiot???”

itoshi sae who still frowns at the little rust at the end of the necklace, where his manager got a professional to fix for him- vowing to score a goal at the goalkeeper’s face next time. (he now brings up the university’s goalkeeping ability every moment he gets during interviews).

-🐨 (im back againnnn ^^)

i most definitely did not expect more from you, but i can’t exactly say i’m complaining (i love you for this). i hope this means you saw my post and hopefully you also liked my hcs! now…undramatic drumroll…some more from me as well!

‣ itoshi sae hcs ⋮ part one !!

cw // none this time as well

itoshi sae who, because he doesn’t care about the media, ends up in a lot of trouble with his manager regarding how he acts. his manager has a headache he whenever he thinks about how to clean up sae’s messes, and he no doubt is somewhat too intimidated by the football player to confront him about it. so instead, resorts to seeking you out for help.

when you talk to sae about the matter, he isn’t exactly happy about it as he genuinely doesn’t see why people should care about his character when they’re supposed to be focusing on his playing abilities. however, he begrudgingly promises you to act better in public the next time. only because it was you that asked (he can’t find it in himself to say no to you, albeit he regrets agreeing to some dumb shit you ask of him sometimes).

itoshi sae who never gives his interviewers an easy time, almost always failing to cooperate with the questions asked. however, when one host on a talk show asks about you, a small smile tugs on his lips instinctually and he can’t help the shine in his eyes as he talks about you, the love of his life.

itoshi sae who puts you as his top priority, being able to drop almost everything in order to come to your aid. sae is the type to always support you no matter what. the exact definition of “even if the whole world turns against you, i’ll always be by your side.”

itoshi sae who is definitely an actions over words kind of boyfriend who’ll never really give you sweet nothings. he’s probably the type to call you a dumbass for not wearing more on a cold day as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders with a concerned expression (tsundere but doesn’t know it).

itoshi sae whose facial expression is always the same, barely ever changing. however, he doesn’t know it, but the tips of his ears always turn a bit pink and gives him and his feelings away whenever you compliment him. he loves how you’re always so proud of him, especially as your opinion is one that’s greatly important to him.

itoshi sae who saves all the paparazzi photos of the two of you together. even if they get annoying sometimes, following him everywhere, he has to admit that they take really high quality photos of you both.

itoshi sae is the probably type to either pick you up and spin you around or hug you tightly by the waist as he gives you a kiss after a big game. he’s not always this fond of being affectionate in public, but after a tense game, he’s a bit high off the adrenaline and acts before thinking. not that he cares if others see how much he loves you though.

itoshi sae isn’t the type to really get butterflies near you or when the both of you are together. though he does feel warm and loved with you. the emptiness in him that leaving home at a young age caused was filled by you. the lonely feeling that was gained after he and rin broke up was replaced by happiness that was gained from being with you. you gave him a sense of belonging that he hadn’t felt in a while.

itoshi sae is the type to have a slow burn kind of love life. he is the type to develop feelings for you over time. when he finally couldn’t help but admit that he has fallen for you, he determines that you’re the one (but before that he was most likely in denial for the longest time; like come on, just admit that you’re in love, it won’t kill you). he wasn’t going to love another; you already took up so much of his heart that he couldn’t love anyone else even if he tried. not in this life, not in the next, and not in forever.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[cellbitupdates]

May/Future updates (aka what Cellbit discussed at the start of stream today)

Figured I'd do a summary post with some of the stuff he talked about today, particularly schedule changes & length of streams, where he'll be streaming, etc. etc.

Because his contract will be up and he's feeling really stressed with ordem & enigma do medo work (and needs personal time with loved ones), he's going to be doing shorter streams, like he's been saying for a while now. He said he'll be aiming for 4 hours but it'll depend, sometimes it'll be longer, sometimes shorter.

He also plans to take more breaks and will likely take more days off during the week.

Again, since his contract will be up with Twitch, he might stream elsewhere, but he will continue to stream on Twitch, he just might simulcast on YouTube etc. to feel things out.

He's feeling really stressed, like I already said, and doesn't want to get to a point of being completely burnt out or getting upset with his audience. He said he thought about taking a two week break once his contract is over but he decided he probably won't (although if he does take a break sometime in the next couple months or so, I would not be surprised).

He does not want people to baby him over this. He's an adult, he chooses what to put on his own plate, and it's his decision to make his schedule so busy, which is why he's now adjusting things to make everything less stressful. He does not want people telling him off for it or acting like they personally know him and need to be super worried about him. Don't be parasocial.

In terms of other content coming up, he's going to announce something tomorrow (not a new ordem season or anything that big, just something they've been working on for a bit). He also is going to be in a friend's let's play series of some kind of game, and he said it was really fun and he's looking forward to people seeing it. He'll wait to talk about it until they announce it.

He basically did a little Q&A about Enigma do Medo and talked a little about development stuff, I believe it started about 4 hours into the stream.

I think that's all the important things, but if you have any clarifying questions, you can let me know. Tl;dr he's stressed as hell and wants to do less streams for his own health and to lessen the load of everything he has going on.

[athenaistired]

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 //

very nervous to post this ngl my heart is racing for some reason lmao. still not sure on the title of this fic cuz im not 100% certain if i will be writing a part 2, but if you guys will like this random idea that my brain produced on a tuesday evening then be sure to let me know. i can’t promise the timing of the chapters though bcz i have a very busy life, but i will try my best x

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ — ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ. ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴛ, ᴇʏᴇ-ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʏ/ɴ, ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴀɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴀᴡᴇ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴍᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪʟʟ? ᴀʜ, ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ — ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʟᴀᴡʏᴇʀꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ.

art credit & word count: 5365

warning: homelessness, discrimination, growing up poor, violence, knife crime, description of physical wounds, hospitals, ptsd, muteness, psychological trauma, depression

— 𝑨𝑳𝑴𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 !1!

One of the first memories that you can recall back when you were only 4 years old — is your father crouching down in the middle of the street whilst picking up the coins that a rich bastard threw your way to have a good laugh with his friends. Your father was calling out for your name, screaming at you to help him and count all the mora, but you couldn’t move yourself out of the stupor. Your gaze was glued onto the laughing sickos that shamelessly pointed their fingers at your old man like he was a circus animal preforming for their entertainment.

That memory taught you two things. One, money was the access for power to do anything you could ever want. And two, money made people evil.

“Y/N, SNAP OUT OF IT ALREADY AND HELP ME!” You flinched at him as he grabbed your shoulders and shook you like a ragdoll. You quickly nodded, and crouched down by his side to collect the coins with your shaky fingers.

You felt something wet hitting your cheek, and with dread, you realized that it was not a raindrop. One of those assholes had spit right at your head. Right then and there — you wanted to aim a punch at his jaw to wipe off that smug, malicious smirk, but you knew you couldn’t do that. After all, you lived in Fontaine. These rich bastards definitely had the money, fame, and connections to put you behind bars for assault if you were to even try anything.

In the end, you were powerless. Because you didn’t have the money that they did. And because you were afraid to hurt people like they did. You were the two things — that made people weak.

If only you could change that, you would grasp at any chance that’d you get.

-

You stared down at the plate in front of you. It was a sad pile of canned beans, the same meal that you and your father had been eating for 2 weeks now. At least, you weren’t living with 4 roommates anymore how you had done in the past. You had no appetite, but you knew that you had to eat. You couldn’t get sick, and tomorrow you needed to have the energy to study and work around the house. Somehow, your father had actually managed to get the job working as the cleaner at the opera house, but it didn’t pay well.

Affording rent, food, supplies, and hygiene products sometimes felt impossible. Thankfully, you two fell in the lower range of income, meaning that there was no need to pay any taxes. And yet, your situation was not bad enough for the government to supply you with any financial aid. You two couldn’t even apply for bankruptcy, because then your father could potentially either lose the studio or his guardianship over you.

“Y/N, is there something on your mind?” Your father had asked, noticing that you were playing with your food.

“Daddy.. How do people become rich?” Your question made him pause, but he wasn’t surprised by its nature. After all, the only thing the two of you were thinking was money, money, money..

Money.

“That’s.. A difficult question, bunny.” He sighed, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking a sip of his water, “Some people are born into wealthy families, some people start get expensive supplies and sell them for massive goods, and some.. Are very educated, and they acquire successful jobs that pay well.” The look in his gaze grew heavy. He was only in his late 30s, but his wrinkles and eye-bags made him look older by at least 10 more years, “I’m sorry, bunny..

..Daddy is so sorry for not giving you a good life.”

Your father didn’t speak much of his past, but somehow you knew anyway. Your mother died during birth. When you were born your father was only half-way through his education, but had to abandon it in order to take care of you. He took two years off work, and both of you lived through his extra savings, until they had eventually ran dry. Your grandparents wanted nothing to do with your father. He was the last son out of 5, and they saw him as a leech trying to suck out their expenses.

And here you were.

Nothing to your name. Absolutely nothing. You didn’t even have friends, because children would always make fun of your clothes, and would always rub it in your face that you couldn’t afford to have toys like they did (from the fancy stores). Your dad many times crafted toys for you himself, but after one bully had broken a skillfully sculptured wooden doll of a horse that your father had spent hours perfecting — your toys became more than just mere “toys” — they were your little treasures. You didn’t want anyone to hurt them, as they were pieces of your father’s heart and love.

“Don’t say such silly things, daddy.” You got up from your chair and wrapped your hands around his neck; hugging him close. His form was shaking — he was holding back from crying as much as he could, “I am the happiest child in the whole of Fontaine.”

“Are you really?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Of course I am.”

You both knew that you were lying.

-

The older you got — the more you grew hungrier for knowledge. Your father on your 16th birthday gifted you new clothes, so you finally had something normal-looking to wear into the city. Most of your time you’ve spent in the library, studying everything that your eyes would land on. It seemed that you were a natural — you were meant for great things.

Subjects didn’t come easy to you, but you had the greatest motivation of them all — to be powerful. To have money. To built the life for yourself that was an opposite of the one which you had right now. You didn’t care if you had to be a doctor, a professor, or a lawyer. Anything would do, as long as you could actually eat warm food. Have nice clothes. Afford jewelry.

“Latin?” The librarian with curiosity picked up one of the books that laid by your side, “History, Biology, Anatomy, Herbology, Law, Politics, Sociology.. What subject are you actually trying to study?”

“Everything.” You answered with confidence evident in your voice, “I want to get a scholarship to the University of Fontaine.. My father can’t afford to pay for my tuition, so I have to be the best of the best.”

“You’re a star, Y/N. I bet one day I will be telling people that I used to see you everyday at this old, dusty library.” The woman petted your head in encouragement, and you blushed at her compliments and shyly looked away, “I am sure that no matter what you’ll pursue — you’ll excel at it. You’re clearly a born genius.”

“Y-you flatter m-me..” You played with the lock of your hair. It wasn’t everyday that you were showered in praise and encouragement, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, child.” The old lady then went back to the front desk where a few people were already waiting for her to either borrow or return a book.

-

“Daddy, I’m home.” You walked into your’s and your father’s new apartment.

From a studio, the two of you were now managing to afford a one-bedroom flat. Many times you begged your father to sleep on the bed, and that you would take the couch, but the stubborn man never budged. He wanted for his child to have all the best in life that he could manage to give. You always had bigger meals than him, better clothes, freshly washed sheets every week, a clean room, and a lot of hand-built furniture and toys. Of course you didn’t play with the toys anymore, but you were proud to display them on the highest shelf of the armoire.

“Welcome back, bunny.” You heard his voice from the kitchen. He was doing the dishes which have been rotting around in the sink for the past 3 days now. However, he didn’t blame you — he knew that you were getting ready for the exams, “How are your studies going?”

“They’re going well, daddy.” You reassured him, and quickly left to another room to change into a homey t-shirt, “Let me help you with the dishes.” You insisted, to which the old man scoffed.

“Nonsense.”

“Your hands are all roughed up and tired from the day! Please, dad.” You begged him, and the two of you exchanged a long stare, until he gave in and left to plop down on the couch.

“Have you decided who you want to be yet?” He asked you, and you ignored his question. This line always made your stomach turn and twist in anxiety, “I am not trying to put any pressure on you, bunny. It’s just.. It’ll be easier to prepare for an exam if you knew which direction you’d like to take.”

“I know, dad..” You answered back to him, finally turning off the tap and reaching for the tea towel, “I know.”

-

You were 19 now, growing older and wiser. You eventually learned to make clothes by yourself, so now you were able to not stand out from the crowd of aristocrats living in the heart of Fontaine, yet save money with the wardrobe treasures. Somehow, you managed to make friends. They were all home-schooled kids, and with a small twinkle about your background, you managed to find a way to fit in. Life was slowly building its stairs towards your ultimate success.

And then, the day of epiphany came.

“Dad! Dad! I got in, I got in!”

You jumped from happiest like an excited bunny — very fitting to the nickname that you’ve had your whole life. Your father proudly looked at the acceptance letter for the law course that you chose in the end. They accepted you on a scholarship, so you didn’t even have to pay for education.

“That’s my bunny! Look how smart you are!” He hugged you tight and you squeaked from happiness, “We must celebrate! I might even get us a bottle of wine! We’ll drink to thank the Archon for my smart Y/N!”

“Dad, stop! No way you’ll actually spend the savings on wine!” You laughed, still not believing your ears. Your father had never ever bought alcohol, and now he was willing to get a whole bottle for your sake? Felt like your birthday!

“Not all savings, but we have more than enough to enjoy a bottle of good wine!” You watched your dad walk up towards the bookshelf and move around a few of your books, to finally reach a small leather bag with some mora in it. Should be just enough for a nice dinner with a bottle of wine, “We are going to a restaurant — the best in town!”

“Really?!” You gasped in shock. You were both ecstatic, yet anxious. Wasn’t this all a bit too much? Shouldn’t this money be saved for something else?

“You’ve been working so hard — you deserve a day of celebration before you go off into the world to stand on your own feet. Let daddy treat you to a meal one last time, bunny.”

You felt touched to the bottom of your heart. It felt like you were about to burst into tears. All your life you’ve been waiting for this moment — to become someone. Someone whose name will be remembered and respected. You wanted to be someone who had money and power. You wanted to buy your father a house by the sea, so he could always enjoy the beautiful sights of Fontaine. You wanted freedom to do what’s desired — and you worked harder than anyone to reach such milestone in life.

“I will make you proud to be my father.. I promise.” You said through tears.

“Oh, bunny. I have always been so proud of you.” He breathed out a laugh, “Forever and always.”

-

Years passed by in a flash, and you just celebrated your 29th birthday in your office, with a box of cupcakes by your side made by your good friend Charlotte. You now had a bachelor’s degree, finished law school as one of the top students, and passed the bar exam with flying colors. On the side, you even managed to secure yourself a phD in Criminal Justice. You had a few years of practice at a pretty successful firm, and had connections all the way to the Chief of Justice. You never met him yourself, but you obviously had seen him before. He had your interest, that’s for sure, but you were far too busy with your own goals to pay attention to anything else. Your clients were loyal to you, and had blind trust in your capabilities. Your name was passed from one rich bastard to another, and soon you were amongst the top.

The little Y/N was probably looking up at you in complete awe and jealousy. You were exactly what they wanted to be back then. Professional, intelligent, and powerful. But as you stared at yourself in the mirror — your eyes were still empty, your heart was still unfulfilled, and your stomach was still rumbling from hunger.

You were just getting started.

Perhaps, one day you’ll be the right hand of the Chief of Justice. Or maybe you’ll take over his position as a whole. You were limitless. You were meant for greatness. You were meant for leadership.

“Y/N, a client is calling. He’s requesting a meeting today, and he is saying that it is urgent.” One of your assistants came up to you with a worried look on his face. You were already getting dressed to leave the office, but paused. You checked the watch, and shook your head.

“It is 7pm, and I finish working at 6pm. I already stayed overtime. Tell him to come back tomorrow, I think I have a free slot at 4pm if I am not mistaken.” You tried to pass by your assistant, but he followed after you like a clingy puppy.

“B-but.. Y/N!” He begged, because he hated when he had to deal with your stubborn clients. Especially, considering your reputation, majority of the people who contacted you were scary criminals, because they knew that you’d get their ass out of trouble no matter the crime.

“No buts, today I will be seeing my father. I haven’t seen him for 3 years, and my father will always take priority.” You decided to exit through the back door, so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the mess which was about to go down.

“B-but, Y/N, please!” You shut the door in his face and sighed. You really did feel bad for Achille from time to time, but he got very good overtime tips from you, so you knew that at the end of the day he will definitely have an extra bonus for a good bottle of whiskey.

-

“Now, where was I..”

Fontaine was a prestigious place, but that wasn’t an equivalence to safety. From time to time, you would hear pleasured gasps from the darkened alleys or pained moans of drug addicts shivering in the cold. But the sound which had especially caught your attention were footsteps that have been following you for some time now.

You took a turn.

The person took a turn with you.

You crossed the road.

They followed.

You could smell the malicious intent from the dark figure. You didn’t want to turn around, because then the person would know that you knew. You were panicking inside, but didn’t let it swallow you as you forced yourself to think. It was late, most places were closed by now. You couldn’t be alone right now. Some bars had to be open.

Right.

A bar.

You should go to the bar — now!

However, luck was not on your side, you couldn’t see a single bar in the area. You saw food shops, clothes shops, a local clinic, a library, a few cafés, however, not a single bar. The one that did catch your eye had been closed for 2 months now after someone got accidentally poisoned with the Primordial Seawater which accidentally made its way into their beer.

Strangely, this didn’t seem like a spontaneous ambush. The location had been carefully selected, and your escape options have been limited ahead. With a curse under your breath, you also remembered that today was one of the bank holidays. You were working today only because you never miss an extra pay day, but nobody else seemed to be as crazed for a paycheck as you.

Many people who got sent to jail by your work would always promise to hunt you down when they would be let out. However, you never thought about it happening because you haven’t been in the field for long enough for some of your foes to be freed. So, who was this? Who was stalking you?

You reached into your bag, and pulled out a small mirror in hopes of catching a glimpse in their reflection. Your palms were sweating, and you were shaking without realizing it. The next thing you knew — you cursed under your breath — as the thing fell out of your hands and shattered against the road.

The sudden noise, set everything into action. You sprinted off the spot into a run, and the stalker chased after you without hesitation. Now, your adrenaline was pumping your veins, and it felt like the intensity of it would make your heart stop from overdrive. You were never much of an athletic person, but you were running like never before. The sound of your shoes clacking against the embedded stones echoed across the ghostly streets. The stalker’s steps reminded you of the sound that the boots of a hunter made against the ground whilst chasing their prey. Silent, careful, and concenrated at their target.

You felt like a bunny being chased down by its predator — a wolf. You had all the power you wanted at your work, but when it came down to it — you were just as weak as you always have been.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, you had a stabbing pain in the side of your ribs, and you were now beginning to get an agonic heartburn — however — your legs didn’t stop moving. Your knees were starting to ache, your feet were getting sore at the back, your mouth and throat were turning dry as a desert with each passing second, but you knew that you had to keep running.

The moment you will stop — you will die.

You had no thoughts in the moment, just pure survival instincts have completely taken over control of your movements and body. You couldn’t focus on anything or come up with a clear plan — you were terrified for the first time in a while. Even when you and your father had lived on the streets, you were always allowed to wander off due to the safety. Where were the guards? Where were Fontainians? Why was it this empty around?

And then it felt like the time had paused.

The present had slowed down, and you could see everything happening in third perspective.

Your shoe platform broke against the slippery surface, and you lost your balance as you found yourself dropping down the stairs. You gasped; your ankle twisted in an unnatural way sending a jolting zap of pain throughout your whole body. But before you could even process what just happened — your body didn’t stop falling. You had nothing to grab onto, no one to help you, and so you kept falling.

You’re falling!

You’re falling!

There was a dull thud at the back of your head as you had finally reached the bottom of the staors. You barely felt it, and you thought that you could get up just fine, but your body felt too heavy. It protested against any of your attempts, and betrayed you at the worst moment. Your vision was darkening against your will. Your mind was still sound and clear, but your body had began to shut down from the pain shock and potential concussion.

Now, the speed of your thoughts began to fade as well. There was a sharp sensation at the lower base of your spine, and your knee felt like it was locked in an unusual position.

You fought for your eyes to stay open, and felt everything come to a stop as Death itself stared back at your pathetic little form laying in the middle of the street. No, it wasn’t Death, it was the stalker leaning down and crouching next to your chest. The stranger rose his palm in front of your lips, and you held in your breath.

Something at the back of your mind told you to play dead, and so you did.

5 seconds..

10 seconds..

15 seconds..

20 seconds..

25 seconds..

You could barely hold your face muscles from twitching, and your lungs were beginning to ache. The bastard was playing with you. You could almost imagine his maniacal grin burning holes right through you, waiting for you to hiccup a breath.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was getting too much.

You had to take a breath.

You had to.

You were about to do it—

And so you did.

With a gasp, you instantly opened your eyes and rolled yourself to the side just on time as the stranger smashed his pocket knife to where a second ago was your head. Adrenaline was back all over again, as now you knew that this wasn’t just a desperate creep — this man was here for your life.

However, something seemed strange. You were certain that some of your limbs were twisted in a wrong direction and a few of your bones were broken. If he really wanted to kill you — he would have done it already. No, he wasn’t after your life. He wanted to see the terror, the agony, the horror, and consume it like a delicious meal. This was sick, and personal. Personal didn’t mean that he knew you, but it could indicate that he got off to this expression of violence for selfish and distorted reasons.

“You coward!” You gritted through your teeth; your eyes flaring with hatred. You didn’t want to die like this. You didn’t fight for your whole life just for this sicko to take it all away from you, “HOW. FUCKING. DARE YOUUUU!!!”

The freak laughed at your scream, and sat down on top of your broken and twisted body with a blade shining up in the air. His grip was tight — you were terrified. So, so afraid. You were shaking, it was cold, and you wanted to cry. You were a strong person, but such an unfair Death shook you to the core.

The knife plunged down fast and unexpectedly, but your instincts were faster — it never reached your chest. You managed to grab the blade with your bare palms, and held it on tight. The pain was agonizing, and you screamed like a howling animal. Your bright red blood was streaming down your wrist onto your shirt, your face, and neck. The freak couldn’t stop laughing, as he tried to put all force into lowering the weapon slower, and slower.

You were beginning to lose hope.

In that moment you remembered that your other knee was perfectly fine. As soon as you gathered enough strength, you sent a massive kick with your leg straight into his groin. Thankfully, he was caught by a surprise, and you managed to then send you final blow — with your forehead — you smashed straight into his nose, and finally he was the one screaming in pain. For some reason, you felt much more powerful than usual. It felt like you would move a mountain if that was needed, as long as you could stay alive tonight.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

You heard sounds, people’s voices and commotion. Your screams were not for nothing, someone finally managed to hear you. There was a group of Fontanians rushing towards your aid. At their sight, the freak grabbed his knife and quickly ran away. You reached your palm towards his disappearing silhouette, however, before anyone could catch at least one sight of him — he was already gone.

Without even realizing it, you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

-

You woke up in the hospital all alone. There were no nurses around you, no doctors, no friends nor your father. The memories quickly came back to you, but you felt still. Your heart was racing all over again, but you had no energy to fight or run anymore. The logical part of your brain had already determined that you were saved, and hospital was probably the best place for you to be at the moment.

You thought about your father who never saw you in the end that evening, you thought about how long you were unconscious, and whether your clients have managed to find someone to replace their defense. You had a tendency to always think about others, but never about yourself.

“Y/N is awake!” You didn’t even notice Achille coming into the room. The poor boy had almost dropped the coffee which he was holding as he desperately called for the doctor.

“Ah, Y/N, finally awake!” Another male came in with a huge comforting smile on his face. He was an older and wiser doctor; you could tell by his composed walk and worn-off glasses. The grey hairs and wrinkles reminded you of your father, but you would think about that later, “How are you feeling?”

A simple question.

Why couldn’t you answer?

You opened your mouth just like always to speak with the voice which had never betrayed you before — but nothing came out. With confusion, you gently grabbed at your own throat as if hoping that the warmth of your palms would fix it. Achille stared at you in shock, and quickly reached for a glass of water to give to you, which you gobbled down in an instant, but your voice refused to come back. A dry, weak cough came out which burned and itched your vocal cords.

Completely stunned and puzzled, you stared at the doctor in desperation for answers. What was happening with you?

“That’s quite an unpleasant surprise..” The older male mumbled to himself, “Could you please excuse me?” And at that he left, leaving you in internal silence which felt like it could swallow you whole. Eventually, he came back 20 minutes later with another 2 doctors by his side. They looked younger, but all had a cloned serious look in their eyes, “Y/N, these are my colleagues. This is Dr. Laurent, he is our head psychiatrist, and this is Dr. Allard, who is our neurologist. We are not sure what is happening here, but before we continue further evaluations, I will give you a rundown of your physical injuries thus far.”

The man pulled a small chair to sit on and picked up a file with your name on it. This must have been the report from other doctors and nurses who have been taking care of you.

“You have a twisted ankle, a broken kneecap, a torn meniscus, you’ve suffered a blunt injury to the back of your head and a concussion, and to top it all you had very severe injuries inflicted onto your palms with a sharp object which we suspect to have been a pocket knife. You have been in the hospital for 2 days, however, we have already performed a few surgeries to lower the risk of infection or the worsening of your condition.” You nodded your head to urge him to continue, “We have stitched up your meniscus, and treated the wounds on your hands. We have also applied a cast on your kneecap to help it heal. You were actually lucky — the kneecap will heal quicker than expected with majority of patients, however, the rehabilitation for the torn meniscus should take up to 4 weeks.”

You could already feel a headache hovering over your thoughts. You didn’t have time for this bullshit. You had work, you had father to take care of, you had clients to help, and money to make. How could this have happened? Why did this happen to you? You were hoping for that attack to have been a cursed nightmare, but the reality was too depressing to accept.

“Now, since there was no damage to your throat or vocal cords upon initial examination, we would like for the neurologist to ensure that your muteness is not a physical symptom.” The first doctor welcomed Dr. Allard to begin his job.

-

In the end — they have concluded for your muteness to be a PTSD response to the event. They told you to stay in the hospital until full recovery. This wasn’t just for health reasons, but also a safety precaution. It was obvious that you were brutally attacked by a psycho, it would be beyond insane to just let you go back home completely broken down, vulnerable, and mute.

You fell at the rock bottom once again. It has been a while since depression had visited you like this. It felt like an old friend who would come and go, but only appear when life would throw its most tough battles at you. You’ve clenched your fists at the thought of how vulnerable you were right now.

“Y/N is not well! They can’t answer your questions right now — have some respect!” You heard the commotion right outside your door which peaked your interest. However, you quickly put the pieces together as to who were the uninvited guests trying to force their way through to you.

“It won’t even take a minute, we promise!” The doctors were pushed out their way, and the door into your private resting room was burst open. You winced at the loudness of their voices, “Sorry for the.. Unprofessional entrance.”

Before you stood Navia, Aether and Paimon. You have known those 3 for a while now — after Traveler had helped save Fontaine a few months ago from the punishment of Celestia, you made sure to show personal thanks and gratitude in the name of your Nation. However, you haven’t spoken to the blond boy and his fairy since. Navia on the other hand often exchanged her investigation reports and crime theories with you, but the dynamic was still too frail to be called friendship. Perhaps, you just didn’t let anyone get close enough to actually become your friend.

“Y/N.. I am so sorry for what had happened to you..” Navia started with his soap opera phrases. You didn’t want that right now. You hated being pitied, “We will do everything in our power to find the one who did this to you and to your father — it is my promise to you, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at her in absolute horror. You felt your blood run ice-cold as sudden lightheadedness took over your consciousness. You thought that you would throw up right then and there.

Your father?

What happened to your father?

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DAD?!

The doctors quickly rushed in as the machines hooked to your body suddenly went off with a loud alarm — which startled you further. Your body was shaking, your mouth was open in a scream with no sound coming out. You grabbed at your head feeling like chaos had completely taken over your life.

“LEAVE — NOW!”

The doctor screamed at Navia and Traveler who stood frozen in place from shock at how quickly they fucked up. Things seemed to have escalated out of nowhere.

“They are going into a shock — quickly — or they might suffer another seizure!” Doctors were talking to one another as they took care of you to bring you back to them.

You couldn’t cope with this terrible reality.

[campbyler]

hiii everyone! just wanted to preemptively update you all that chapter 5 will probably be a couple of days late 😔✌️ i’m moving out of my current place next weekend so packing + the woes of a 40 hour work week and commute + a shorter than usual turnaround period between chapters 4 and 5 have made it a bit slower going than i would’ve liked and i would hate for you guys to wait all day tomorrow just for it to not be posted at all :( i’m currently aiming for it to be out sometime this weekend but i’m hesitant to give an exact day because 1. i hateeee rushing my writing and would always rather take a little extra time to make sure i post something i’m happy with and proud of and 2. life happens so on and so forth etc etc etc and you never really know! it will be out Soon though. i Promise. thank you for your patience! you all were rockstars with the ch4 wait and i hope i can deliver when ch5 does come out 🤸🫡

[oceanlipgloss]

HALLMARK

ANDREALPHUS.

+ warnings: angst, mentions of blood.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

Spoils of war are of endless incarnations. So much violence, so many forms. Like white feathers soaked in crimson, for instance.

Some wounds always throbbed, bled and wept—raw forever, impossible to forget. Plasters or bandages aren't the only way to silence them for a minute. Sometimes, a kind hand makes for a proper disinfectant. Light and temporary, yet ever so tangible.

Old scars and white feathers, fresh blood and a soiled halo—those are his hallmark. They are the souvenirs of pain and death. They are the vengeance that holds his destiny and drips with the weight of tragedy, red and ugly. They are the invisible photographs of a black past.

It is said that change leaves no existence untouched; it caresses the sun, the moon, the stars; it strokes the brain, the soul, the heart. It aims for the universe and paints the sky.

A truth, or a lie?

Lie.

Lie.

Lie.

What a cruel lie. How could it ever be perfectly true when some things never change—never different, eternally the same?

Like his sorrow, like his pain.

Love is not a healer. Care is not an ointment. They may make things better, but never for forever.

Right, or wrong?

Right.

Right.

Right.

If change has such a generous touch that reaches all, however, could it not let delicate hands alter his hallmark, just for now, just this once?

Burgundy smeared the halo in her hand. Haloes are a craft of paradise, but where was the heaven in all this sorrow? The halo itself was dainty, but it was burdensome to hold, massive with the weight of the past as it was. Heavy.

His body was warm and his lap was soft, but there was something cold and hard in his heart.

Devils don't have white wings, but the symbol of angelic flight burdened his back.

Blood dyed the feathers between her fingers. One after one she removed them, one by one they fell off his hair and sunk to the floor. Marred wings dropped to the ground like lifeless souls.

New beginnings might be real, but they may as well also be a myth. They depend on one's heart. They take time to come true. Grand things begin very small—tiny step after the next.

New beginnings might not last, but that may very well be alright. Perfection isn't summoned by the first try.

Soft waves was his hair under her fingertips. The braid was broken now. She was weaving it anew.

A little change.

There was nothing to see either way, so he closed his eyes. Serenity ghosted its palm over his lids for the first time in a very long while.

A few seconds of peace, foreign and quaint.

Why did she touch him like he was made of glass? She was the fragile one.

But...perhaps he was, too, sometimes. On the inside. His wounds were still fresh with hot blood and oozing pain.

He felt an unfamiliar rubber band constrict his braid.

Maybe, just maybe, he could cherish the tranquility of this night—but it doesn't really matter if the trophies of revenge lay on the ground at the moment.

After all, the past never once only took the form of defiled hearts, crimson feathers and dripping haloes. A dead angel's glowing scythe can't rip apart the bodies of despair and bloodlust.

And so, tomorrow the past will seal his heart again. It will turn him into a vicious hunter again. Because...some wounds are never meant to heal; they are fated to forever throb, bleed and weep.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[aviatrix-ash]

Back to scanning a digital archive of the Complete Allspark Almanac! Unfortunately the scanning technique I'm using isn't perfect, but it's better than smooshing this thing onto a flatbed scanner. I'll be posting most of it here over time, and probably sometime late tomorrow I'm aiming to have all of the scans cleaned up & posted in a zip or something

Anyhow here's some Omega Sentinels of various flavors from Longarm's spying on Autobot top secret files! A crime we never got a TFA Omega Supreme figure, I would have loved one </3

[spotsupstuff]

can i have a summary of your AU? it seems like something different and ORIGINAL for once, focusing on the benefactors and not demonizing them to hell and back like everybody else does

Philosophy Sessions gets its name from an idea for a comic of Moon (while Survivor is still visiting) addressing her relationship with the Anemons (the "Ancients"' species name here) and her own faults like tolerating harm for too long. By herself, she comes to the conclusion that though the relationship/s she had with them were once good, they eventually became rotten and bad for her. She has a session philosophising about it all.

The AU's happenings keep the theme.

The main things happen in a different Iterator group (The Children of Eo/group Epsilon) from the one in-game (Wish for Tomorrow/group Tau, though sometimes it'll be nice for them to pop up and I'm not against making something for them from time to time either), during the time the Anemons still lived. Through characters, I aim to explore the spiritual/religious, philosophical, psychological and sociological aspects of their world.

It's meant to be more of a think-piece than a story, tool for exploration the complexities of anger, sex, attachment, relationship with being alive at all and coping with being terribly hurt.

Currently I mainly work on the worldbuilding through info posts so I have a solid ground to put these softer things on, along with some goofing off with the characters since knowing them is vital for these themes.

If served in a story format, I divide it into four "books": • The Polar War • Biography of a Sparrow • The Ending Chime • Transfiguration

The Polar War is about a war confict between group Epsilon and a group north from them, Rho/Frost's Promise.

It revolves around a "society" vs "society", the reason for the conflict is unclear, the main questions are ,,Why and how can a society preaching these spiritual values get into a war? How far are they willing to go?" with secondary questions of ,,How would the Iterators do in a large violent situation? How would a war conflict work for this world where death is... not really a thing?"

Biography of a Sparrow is about a low karma Anemon in the golden age, from the low castes, Three Sparrows on a Wire. This is the oldest part conceptualized, most developed, with Sparrows being my first Anemon character.

She lands herself a spot in a school for Iterator mechanics, an incredibly demanding job that ends up misplacing her into the high caste. She's also very bad at the spiritual things, the job puts a strain on her relationships with family and her priorities, her Iterator charge falls in love with her complicating things tremendously and her past lives are rather dark, loud in her dreams.

The goal is exploration of the Anemons' social structures and the spiritual concepts as she eventually begins confronting her faults and learning better.

The Ending Chime has a 16 year old high karma Anemon boy, real name secret for now and nicknamed Preacher, for protagonist.

The story takes place during the last months of the Anemons' existence. Preacher is faithful to the spirituality, but despises the religion that has gone corrupt. He was sold to the religious command of the community as a toddler in exchange for his parents being pardoned for having sex with a resulting accidental child. The caretakers, with an actual preacher as a sort of leader, have mistreated him and other given up children. The broken tooth and lip scar he has are from a bad slap from the preacher for questioning the religion when he was 10. That kind of stuff.

During one night of doubt and resentment on the kid's part, Théta, the highest yet forgotten god, contacts him and supports his decision to run away to join a rebelion against all of this. During his journeys we get to know how the society has changed since Sparrows, we get to see spiritual creatures, old corrupt gods and echoes of the past, while also getting to meet more Iterators and getting some lessons from them.

We all already know that Preacher won't get to win, though.

Transfiguration is about Théta stepping down into physical existence as the Saint to free the Iterators from their suffering, specifically about those in group Epsilon. Here, he is joined by the Iterator Biting Notos who lives more as an overseer at this point than the whole bio-computer thing.

They travel together, discussing the ages past, Notos' regrets and conflictions about helping the Saint do its quest and listening to the dying Iterators' last thoughts, last philosophy sessions.

[danganronpa96]

who is your most favorite and least favorite character in dr 69 and dr 96 and why? And when we will see deadly life for ch. 5?

I'm going to answer this one now for the time-sensitive question becoming completely null and void very soon. Chapter 5 Deadly life will be posted tomorrow! If you want time specifics, we aim to have it out around 9PM GMT (that went for the daily, and hopefully will go for the trial as well).

Now, for the first question. I'd say my favourite character in DR69 has to be Miku, but Teto comes a close second to the point both are basically on the same pedestal lol. Look I'm a big vocaloid head, and I'm still very not so normal for MM!Miku sometimes

My least favourite, which is probably obvious to some, is Peter. I don't like le Family Man, and while I can appreciate his character in the early seasons, there's not much else positive I can say about that fella (still it was fun writing some of his jokes in the fic)

For DR96, my favourite is Hayasaka. Why? Maybe this image will help you:

But apply this to almost 3 years because that pathetic silly rabbit soaking wet cat of a man hasn't left my head and I hate it (affectionate)

Least favourite, however? Now that's a little hard since I do like everyone in this cast. Still, I guess I'll have to go for Walter? As in, I like everyone a little more than I do him. He's still funne though. But also he's a fucked up bastard in BreBa and no he isn't a sigma he's literally just some guy (who built a meth empire)

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tags @carlos-tk @thisbuildinghasfeelings @inflarescent @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @sanjuwrites @heartstringsduet @whatsintheboxmh @herefortarlos 🩷

Something from Flashback Fic (which I'll start posting on Sunday!) It's 2021, the day TK and Carlos break up. Carlos is drawn back to the honky-tonk...

Smiling politely but tearfully at the barman, Carlos orders a tequila slammer.

The barman blinks. “Excuse me?”

“One tequila slammer, please,” Carlos repeats, “Actually make that two!” He’s only ever had a tequila slammer during Austin Pride, at a pop-up bar with rainbow awning called Mermen on the Rocks. The silver tequila was mixed with red food dye to become pink.

The barman raises an eyebrow. He’s an older guy – a gray-bearded biker type in a leather waistcoat. His arms are covered in aged, greening tattoos of snakes curling around daggers, thorny roses growing around crucifixes. “How about one shot for the road, and then you get a taxi home and drink lots of water, son?”

“No, no, no!” Carlos appeals with flare. “I can’t go home. I have to stay right here.” He spirals a finger and then bounces it against the bar. “Right here.”

“Why can’t you go home?”

“I don’t have one. I mean I do. I’m a homeowner.”

“Okay.”

“But I was staying with my…my…” Carlos keeps swirling his finger in the air, like he’s aiming to land on words visible only to him. “But! You know. Sometimes.”

“Ah. Yeah,” The barman smiles. He has a gold tooth. Shiny. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

“Thank you. You’re the only one who does.” He’s also the only person Carlos has talked to since TK fled from him at 2 p.m. this afternoon.

“Women trouble,” the barman says definitively.

“Something like that.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“I haven’t.”

“No?”

“I mean. I have. Literally with a woman.”

“Uh huh.” The barman surreptitiously fills a glass with water and pushes it towards Carlos slowly.

“But this is different. TK’s different.”

“Flowers. Chocolates. A groveling apology. It’s all we’ve got.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The barman stifles a laugh. “You almost certainly did.”

“All I did was buy an apartment for us. Without mentioning it. But like…it was meant to be a happy thing. A nice surprise. It was meant to be, like…hey I got you a piece of forever, and this piece of forever has great light, and it’s near clubs and that really good bakery. You know?”

“Sounds like a good forever to me.”

“I thought so.”

“Have a little water, son.”

Carlos seizes his glass of water in both his large hands, like he has the dexterity of a three-year-old. He sips from it gently. “This is good,” he says, as if the barman has given him something new and delicious. “My partner is totally sober. My ex, I mean.” His voice cracks as he cries. “I haven’t been drunk like this in a long time.”

“That does not surprise me.” The barman sighs and hunches, leans his folded arms on the bar to create a little privacy with his shadow. He lets the strange man cry in his presence, as many have done before.

“We had our first dance here. First kiss. First–”

“Son, look at me and listen,” the barman says firmly. Carlos does. He looks into friendly blue eyes surrounded by crinkled skin. “Tomorrow is a new day. You sober up yourself, and then you take that pretty girl the biggest box of chocolates your money can buy, and the biggest motherfucking bunch of roses too. You get down on your knees and tell her you love her with your whole dumbass heart. I’ve got no other advice for you, than to try.”

Tags below + open tag!

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @inkweedandlizards @redshirt2 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @jesuisici33 @three-drink-amy @orchidscript @basilsunrise @mikibwrites @fitzherbertssmolder @ambiguouspenny @wandering-night19 @catanisspicy @sugdenlovesdingle @noxsoulmate @theghostofashton @paperstorm @reyesstrand @goodways @bonheur-cafe @freneticfloetry @rosedavid @chicgeekgirl89 @spaghett-onaplate @liminalmemories21 @never-blooms @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @ladytessa74 @lightningboltreader

❤️ 🩷 🧡 💛 💚 💙 🩵 💜

[katherinecrighton]

Nuts and Bolts: Thoughts on Plotting

(Reposting a 2013 post from the Anna Katherine co-tumblr)

Here, have some really straightforward, practical thoughts about plots and plotting. Of which I have way too many, btw.

(Previous nuts and bolts caveats apply, naturally. Assume I have so many thoughts about this stuff because I’ve fucked it up pretty often.)

::::

1. A short story is a single idea, examined or played out. (Movies are also short stories. This is why turning books into movies leads to tears.) Figure out what your “idea” is – or the goal of your story, or the point you’re trying to make, whichever terminology floats your boat – and aim toward that without wavering.

2. Your plot and your characters go hand in hand. They inform each other – if you have one, you have the other. It’s one of the ways that storytelling is the least like real life. The entire plot might as well be a metaphor for whatever issues are going on in the characters lives – but once you realize that, you can use that fact to reverse-engineer your characters or your plot if you’re stuck without one or the other.

3. Frequently problems with plots are just problems with structure. Go find your favorite book (or rather, your favorite book that is most like the kind of book that you’re trying to write) and break it down, section by section, until you’ve got something really basic like “meet-cute” and “things go bad” and shit like that. Then see if you can’t just drape your plot right on over that structure like a brand new Sunday suit.

4. It’s okay to borrow structures. It’s okay to borrow stories, for that matter. Plots can come from a lot of places. “Write what you know” clearly meant “steal every anecdote in England” to Chaucer, and he became the father of English literature, so. 

5. Middle sections of books are terrible. They just are. Everyone wants to give up. This is the number one reason to have an outline or at least a game plan, oh my god. You want to see some hope of a way out, because the middle of a book lasts twice as long as the end of infinity.

6. To that end, once I’ve got some characters and a vague idea of what I want to do with them, I like to put together a list of “adventures”. It’s just stuff I’d like them to do during the course of the story. Sex scenes, car chases, dress fittings, amusing adventures with food, anything like that. Just stuff that I think would be fun to write, and that I know I will need to fill the endless fucking wasteland of the middle of the book.

7. (Those adventures? Should reflect the issues of the characters. Because characters and plots are the same thing. See point 2.)

8. For short stories, have an end point to aim toward, along with a general emotional zone to wallow in. I had a short story whose working title was literally “and then somehow, making out,” which was indeed the end point I was aiming at. The emotional zone I wanted to stay in was fairly light with some emotional dips into heavy stuff for contrast. But mostly what it said on the tin.

9. For books, writing the last scene right at the start of your process is sometimes nice, because it gives you a sort of mark to aim for. (You can always rewrite it later.)

10. Try to capture some really vivid mental pictures of strong scenes. Add those to your “adventure” list, or, better, just write them down. It doesn’t have to be perfect – if you want, just bro it out like you’re describing your favorite badass robot move from Pacific Rim to someone who’s never seen it. At that point there are barely any characters, there’s just the broad sweeps of movement across the page.

+1. Remember: You are the god-king of the book. If worse comes to worst, have a plague of shrews suddenly appear and make your characters deal with it. You can do anything! If you don’t know what to do, do anything. It’s better than doing nothing, and frankly, if it doesn’t work, at least you’ll have written something. You can always delete it tomorrow.

+2. No, seriously, I was writing a book and I could tell there needed to be some kind of big turn in the narrative (because of structure!), and I couldn’t think of what, so I literally wrote down a list of random shit I could make happen to the characters. Just because I could. That list included:

set house on fire airplane explosion hunting accident heatstroke

I was willing to set a house on fire, possibly by having a plane explode on it, just to get my characters doing something for another twenty pages. And the best part was: All I had to do was write the consequences, and add some foreshadowing, and I’d get away scot-free. The perfect crime. GOD-KING, Y'ALL.

[sonicasura]

Man or MAG: Main Route

Here is the MAG section of our species swap with everyone's favorite himbo! This is the main route as Mina's path will have her own post. Kafka ain't gonna have fun either way that's for sure. Warning this does get a bit dark with mentions to inhuman experimentation and PTSD. Let's get started.

Kafka is 24 years old when he fails his latest attempt at the Entrance Exams. The day has already been terrible for him personally. He didn't make it through the first part, the company van gotten wrecked so he had to walk, and it was raining like hell.

Kafka was about to walk home when a mysterious man approaches him. The guy explains that he's with a side branch for the Defense Force who focus on dropouts. He heard about Kafka's recent failure and offered him another shot through a special program.

A deal that honestly sounded too good to be true. Yet, the last promise Kafka had made to his childhood friend would do him in. He takes the offer and meets the man at an agreed upon location tomorrow. This was the last day Kafka would be seen by anyone.

In reality his 'provider' actually worked in a shadowy organization with links to the black market. Due to the rise in kaiju attacks, high paying officials wanted special 'guards' to protect their assets. Individuals with the kind of power only seen by the Defense Force.

Thus they delved into experimentation involving kaiju DNA in what would be known as Project MAGNUS. Super soldiers with increased size, enhanced strength, heightened aggression but also made to follow orders by their select 'handlers.' Kafka had become their latest test subject and they aimed to break all of him.

He would undergo grueling experiments as his genetic code is shattered n stitched together like clockwork. These high stressed tests were made with the purpose of triggering the kaiju DNA inside Kafka to activate. Only then would he be ready for 'reprogramming'. It took 6 months for the man's kaiju side to activate.

Kafka would skyrocket to 15'6 in size with his muscle density doubling in the process, dark grey scales swiftly covered his arms/legs/sides of his face/torso sides, teeth growing into fangs so large they overtook his cheeks to form a massive mouth(like his kaiju), a large black scaled tail came out his lower back, twin white long horns burst from his forehead and eyes became blood red slits.

The newly made MAG would go on a vicious rampage. Kakfa brutally kills everyone inside the building he been imprisoned within as all were guilty. He is soon found by Toku, his fellow Monster Sweeper, within an alley. (There was a corpse cleanup nearby where the MAG ran off to afterwards.)

The man quickly recognizes his missing coworker and decides to help Kafka. You can say the Sweepers become very protective of their transformed coworker. Everyone pitched in to find Kafka a safe, comfortable place to call home and help him feel like a person than just survive.

Sometimes the MAG's aggressive nature would come to the surface so his sweepers find kaiju for him to fight. If the Defense Force get too close, then they send a signal out for Kafka to run. There have been a few sightings of the MAG but not enough for him to land on the DF's radar fully.

It would remain like that for years until Reno joins the Sweepers. The young man immediately felt something was off when he was assigned to this particular crew. Like something is watching him with sheer curiosity. It didn't help that his coworkers would ignore sudden discrepancies on the corpses they work on. (Power tools don't leave behind bite marks.)

He uncovers the truth when Kafka is forced to save Reno from the spider Yoju. Things only escalate further as the MAG would find his nest been invaded by a particular tiny Kaiju. One that triggers a panic within him upon the words 'Found You' before shoving itself down his throat.

Kafka reacted much more violently with this forced transformation due to PTSD wrought from the experiments. The new No.8 stands around 23'4 in size, his lower arms/lower legs/jagged back spikes/horn tips now a blood red, has an extra pair of smaller arms underneath his main pair, four horns with a smaller pair in front of the main, mouth reached half way down his neck, and large obsidian batlike wings bearing torn red membrane. Reno immediately called the Sweepers as he seriously needs help to look for the now runaway Kafka.

They would find the upgraded MAG getting soothed by Ami(the little girl) and her concerned mother(Futaba). Interestingly, Kafka's red highlights had turned a soft blueish green as both recounted how he not only saved them from the Spider Yoju but healed the mom with his scales. Whatever had altered his form somehow stabilize the man's unstable DNA.

This becoming more apparent as Kafka suddenly shrinks to a more humanlike state. (He's around 6'8 but still have some monstrous features like small horns, short tail, faded scale 'patterns', and sharp claws.) Kafka will now change forms depending on his mood with content/relaxed leading to his smaller humanoid version.

The kaiju inside him seems to be responding to the MAG's innate desire to keep his humanity. Maybe it could turn Kafka back to the way he was before. Or at least make this monstrous side more manageable.

Although the Monster Sweepers will have to be careful. Kafka has fully landed himself in the Defense Force's radar but more unstable sources shall make themselves known. Whether he can be a man or become a monster only gotten a lot harder than just dangerous.

That's all I have at the moment. For now, enjoy a song that came to mind involving our himbo in general: Monster by Fight The Fade.

[matan4il]

So, I saw a post about the ICJ report that said it was a win for SA because even though it didn’t say stop the war, the provisions it handed down pretty much mean that any further fighting will violate them, which lables Israel a rouge state.

They had part of the documentation and highlighted the provisions, and even though I trust your breakdown more, did sound like anything that hurts Palestinians will be in violation of their ruling. So, I was just wondering if the provisions that say stuff along the lines that "no one from this group can be hurt physically or mentally" is more like "no one from this group can be hurt/targeted purposely" so unfortunate casualties aren't a strike against Israel?

Hi Nonnie!

I mean... Israel is in a defensive war, that it did not start, against a terrorist organization. NO WAR, no matter what the circumstances are, can guarantee zero civilians casualties. Certainly not an urban war, and even less so an urabn war against a terrorist organization that deliberately uses human shields (which is a war crime in itself).

Basically, if the provisional measures meant, "no one from this group can be hurt" instead of "no one from this group can be hurt pureposefully," that would mean that they're basically outlawing wars, including defensive ones, including after a major invasion and massacre as part of a terrorist attack, against a terrorist organization that explicitly stated its goal is the destruction of a state (which obviously means A LOT of people getting hurt).

NO COUNTRY, not even the countries that hate Israel, because of their own embedded antisemitism, can actually afford that for themselves. What happens if tomorrow they experience a major invasion and massacre as part of a terrorist attack? What if they have to deal with a terrorist organization dedicated to destroying them? No country, not even the ones that hate Israel, is suicidal. And the judges at the ICJ, at the end of the day, sometimes directly represent their countries' interest, or they get that such an outlawing would be against the self defense right of every country out there, which is NOT a good thing. What can be done by law to Israel, sets a legal precedent that can then be used against other countries. And they don't want that. So even the judges from countries that hate Israel, will not take such a stance, that would hurt their own people. Those judges will look for ways they can hurt Israel, but they won't commit (legally speaking) suicidal acts in order to achieve this.

Which means there is no rational way for the provisional measures to be understood as anything other than being against purposefully hurting civilians.

So in the overall lawsuit, the burden of proof should be on South Africa, that Israel's actions are meant to purposely hurt Gazans, but the provisional measures mean that in the short term, Israel will have the burden of proof that it does not have this intent, and any harm caused to civilians in the course of the war is not a result of purposeful targeting of this population on our part. Israel's report to the ICJ regarding the provisional measures aims to prove this point. But a biased court can ignore even a mountain of evidence. IMO, the fact that the ICJ didn't throw this lawsuit out, when it was obvious that SA is abusing the claim of "having a conflict" with Israel in order to file it, is an indication that the court is indeed biased. How biased is it? I guess the ICJ's reaction to Israel's report will answer that.

Because I'm struggling to remember other armies delivering hundreds of aid trucks daily to the civilian population of their enemies in other wars, or spreading millions of warning fliers, and making millions of warning phone calls (all of which costs tons of money, something Israel has a lot less of now, thanks to the financial crisis that the war Hamas chose to start caused) in order to evacuate the civilians out of the war zones. Any fair judgment should find that Israel's explicit intention is to fight the terrorists, but not the civilians.

I hope this helps? Take care! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[natsury-kazuki]

Valentine Card 2023

Hey, like every year there are Valentine's Day cards, this post will be updated as I find the cards, feel free to send me the missing cards! Enjoy - 06.11.23

HEARTSLABYUL

My dear friend─

Riddle Rosehearts : Not found yet

-

Hello friend ─

Trey Clover : Not found yet

-

Eyyy, friend!

Sweets aren't normally my jam, but the ones you

picked out were PERF─and they looked great

too! You must've put in some WORK picking

them out.

So, thanks! I'll make sure to do the same for you!

Cater Diamond

-

My good friend─

Thanks for the amazing gift! You got me those

mega-popular sweets we just talked about, right?

They were so good! It's kind of a shame I ate them

all.

Have you had any? I guess it'd be weird if I gifted

you the same thing, but come shopping with me

sometime and we can pick out some sweets for you.

Deuce Spade

-

Heya, pal─

I kinda freaked when I saw you left a present at

my door─in a good way! You actually sent me

sweets! You could've just given them to me in

person, you know.

I haven't had any yet, but I'm sure they'll be

great! We should share them at lunch tomorrow.

Ace Trappola

-

SAVANACLAW

Hey─

You gev me SWEETS? I swear, sometimes I

don't know what goes through that noggin of

yours.

I'll be nice and say I appreciate the

sentiment...this time. But don't expect any

glowing food reviews.

Leona Kingscholar

-

Welp─

Ruggie Bucchi : Not found yet

-

Hi.

Jack Howl : Not found yet

-

OCTANIVELLE

My boon, companion─

Thank you for the heartfelt gift. I suppose I owe

it to you to partake of these sweets. Don't worry.

Once I've analyzed the flavor, I'll gift you

something equally delicious.

After all, fair's fair.

Azul Ashengrotto

-

My good friend─

You've outdone yourself. Sweets that pair well

with black tea? My deepest thanks. I'm flattered

that you thought of me so when selecting them.

You've inspired me. I'm going to spend my

mountain hhikes pondering just the right tea

blend to suit your palate.

I do hope you'll enjoy it.

Jade Leech

-

Dear little shrimpy─

I saw your present. You got me candy?

That rules! I saw JUST in the mood for

something sweet. I might not be tomorrow

though, so I think I'll polish them off today.

Thanks.

Floyd Leech

-

SCARABIA

To my dear friend─

Thanks for the present! What colorful and

sparkly sweets. They look delicious!

I just had an idea! How about we eat them

together after school? Gifts like this taste better

when shared, after all.

I'll pick out a good tea to go with them. Can't

wait to see you later!

Kalim Al-Asim

-

Hello─

I was suprised to see you gifted me sweets.

At first I wondered if you were hinting for me to

make you something similiar... But when I pulled

the gift out of the bag, I saw all the details you put

into it, right down to the ribbon. It's clear this was

a heartfelt gesture.

I'll treasure these treats as I eat them. Thank you.

Jamil Viper

-

POMEFIORE

Dearest friend─

Thank you for the gift. The sweets were dazzling

and most attractive.

Did you try to imagine what I'd like when

picking the out?

If so, you made an apt choice.

I'll have something for you later in return.

Vil Schoenheit

-

Bonjour, and merci beaucoup!

What a lovely batch of confections!

They're so darling that I'm tempted to stow

them away in a brilliant bejeweld box.

Ah, but I jest. I'll enjoy every morsel of this gift

you've so thoughtfully bestowed upon me.

Rook Hunt

-

Dear classmate─

Epel Felmier : Not found yet

-

IGHIHYDE

@YOU 

huh? What the wha?

im low-key scared here

why would u give me sweets???

ig that sometimes i run low on sugar when ive been

gaming too long and my aim becomes trash...

ok sure, if this is ur way of looking out for me,

ill take it

Idia Shroud 

-

Hello, Perfect─

Ortho Shroud : Not found yet

-

DIASOMNIA

To my dear friend ─

Thank you. Never did I envision someone

presenting me with the gift of sweet treat.

It would be a shame for me to eat them all by

myself. Ithink I'll share them with you.

Would you be willing to provide the tea to go

with them ?

Malleus Draconia

-

Greetings!

Your present was delightful.

The treats had a sublte sweeteness that was

perfect for a slightly mature fae like myself.

I'll be making you a lovely treat in return,

I hope you'll enjoy it.

Lilia Vanrouge

-

Salutations─

Thanks for the gift. I read once that suger can

boost your concentration.

Did you gave me these to snack on when

I'm about to nod off during my studies?

That was very considerate of you.

I think I'll try them out today.

Silver

-

Human─

Sebeck Zigvolt : Not found yet

-

NRC STAFF

Dear esteemed student─

Dire Crowley : Not found yet

-

Dear juvenile─

Mozus Trein : Not found yet

-

Dear pup-

Is this gift for the staff? Excellent. Now that I

have some treats to sweeten my breaks, I'll be able

to grade your exams with a much more critical eye.

I can see the grimace on your face now.

Relax, it was a joke.

It's usually frowned upon for dogs to be the ones

buying gifts, but since you're suche a loyal pup,

I'll let you off. I'm generous trainer, after all.

Divus Crewel

-

Dear student─

Ashton Vargas : Not found yet

-

Yo, little imp!

What is UP? Thanks so much for the gift!

You've got a real eye for quality.

I'll make sure to stock up on goods that'll pique

your interest, so swing by the shop soon!

Sam

-

OTHER

Dear hench-human─

Mraaah! Is this ALL for me?!

I've never seen such sparkly, yummy-lookin'

candy before! I feel like a king!

But I'd feel bad leavin' you out of this sugar

extravaganza, so I GUESS you can have a small

piece. I'm lookin' forward to more gifts, partner!

Grim

[neuroticboyfriend]

i may not be sober but i succeeded at harm reduction last night! im so proud of myself. i was so focused on the progression of my alcoholism (and sedative addiction) that i forgot it existed. last night, i was aiming for a) not dying and b) not vomiting. and here i am, alive another morning. my cat very affectionate today and i can give him love and attention! and i did not vomit at all! the nausea wasn't bad! my stomach hurts but i think that's cause i'm very hungry lol.

i also didn't completely incapacitate myself as i usually do (still passed the fuck out). i could still walk and type and think and speak. which uh, is more an ode to my alcohol tolerance (BAC estimated 0.22% at peak) than the fact i started with 4 shots down in seconds and had the next 4 over the course of 3? hours. but the slow down after the first binge really did help.

it was a worlds different from friday night. i drank so much so fast, that there was no euphoria, no nothing. just complete and utter sickness and incapacitation. i thought i was going to die and blacked out completely immobilized, unable to see, in my bed. this time, last night, i got to experience euphoria again. for the first time in a while. it was fleeting and not as strong but, it was there.

sorry for such a long post i'm just. really proud of myself. for being here. for not drinking and drugging myself sick. passing out from what i did once it did start to incapacitate me still is a massive risk - i can never know what the drugs will do once i fall asleep. but. i'm here. i'm aware of my problem. i'm seeking support. that's all i can do.

recovery is never a straight line, and for those not shooting for recovery, the path to survival isn't either. sometimes we fuck up or don't do the best thing for our survival. that's natural; no human has ever survived such dire situations perfectly. all we can do is our best to make it to tomorrow.

[woneuntonzz]

hypothesis || smau — c.s, j.wy

➤ chapter 30-C (back to chapters)

highschool senior!san x highschool senior!reader x highschool senior!wooyoung

contains: humor, fluff, angst, cursing, highschool au, reader is named & afab

» Wooyoung is back in the scene people, move your ass.

⛦ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ!

more under the cut .ᐟ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A few days later…

Even with the attempts of distracting yourself away from the thoughts that arose in your mind a few days prior, it was just so hard when you kept seeing Ashe in your X feed after being mutual with her in the app. She was flawless almost, sometimes even posting about the little things like a new book purchase and her café order. You just couldn’t help but think how damn good her book choice was and how you have the same book in your wishlist and how the matcha latte and raspberry tart she posted was your favorite, and go-to order. 

You couldn’t get it off your head. Every time you talk to San, you can’t help but wonder if he talked the same way to Ashe, or if Ashe responded the same way you did. 

You wouldn’t notice it, but San observed some changes in your behavior. Somehow he sees you being a little less open nowadays, which was the complete opposite of what he was aiming for. When he’d ask you what the problem was, there was always an excuse for you to keep that info away from him. He was worried, but didn’t wanna push you either. 

Today, you sat with San in the library, waiting for Wooyoung to arrive. You guys were finally about to finish your thesis paper. 

“Excited for your birthday tomorrow?” you averted your eyes from your laptop screen and brought your attention to San.

A soft chuckle escaped your mouth when you saw San’s smiley face. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited. Mom’s really thrilled to have you guys.” 

San couldn’t help but chuckle as well, bringing his arm around your shoulder. “I’m thrilled to meet your family.”

San waited for you to say anything, or react more, but when he saw the faint smile on your face, his thoughts ran like a bullet train. And God knows what he was thinking, but it was for sure not about meeting your family.

“I wonder where Wooyoung is. He’s twenty minutes late.” your silent mumble pulled San out of his thoughts. 

“He’ll be here soon. I think he’s with Jia right now.” he responded. 

“Oh, yeah. Let me message him then.”

San couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought that you and Wooyoung were back at being BFFs, and he watched you as you messaged Wooyoung. He was relieved that you were smiling the whole time as you messaged him, though, he was brought back to the bullet train of thoughts he was having earlier. And dang it, it was getting difficult for him to not think about the dozens of implications being reflected by your actions. He wished he could ride the train to your thoughts as well.

...

\\

later that day...

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⁀➴ @davinashifts333 @wrotebyrini @wooyoungyeo