#between knowing the future and not knowing everything else

[threegoldfish]

And, again, Marc listens. As harsh and hurtful as Harrow's previusly mentioned want to medicate him had sounded, caused delicate bonds to break a bit at the edges... it does return a bit here, when the other leans forward and offers him words that have dark eyes flick up and back to that doctor, brows furrowing a bit, lips pressing into another, tight line.

A sad gaze it is that lingers within dark irises once more - sad and... touched; Harrow says that it could be that Steven needs something - that it might be the reason why he started to break free like this, takes over the body without Marc's control over the situation. Perhaps even Marc himself needs something - whatever it is, neither him, nor Steven, seem to know.

But if it is the truth, if Steven is needing something and trying to get it this way - if things changed between them because something needs to happen, something that potentially means so much more than just lack of control - Marc knows that they shouldn't ignore it. They can't, anyways; Steven's going to do this again and again in the future, and at some point everything might be getting mixed up too much, causing a disaster to happen---

"I... I want him to be okay." Another admission, now spoken so much more softly, gentle, as if Marc is talking about something incredibly fragile, brittle; He swallows, gaze sinking back onto that bottle between his fingers, almost empty by now. "I've... I've always cared about him. He... ---he saved my life. He saved me, yeah. He was always there, and I was... ---I wasn't alone, y'know? I was never alone..."

More tears, fuck. But these are made of something else - no anger, no hurt, no betrayal. These tears are made of a deep emotion, of that guilt that keeps eating away on him, but also of something that tells how much Steven means to him. Marc sniffles, wipes the fresh liquid away with his thumb again and then sighs, biting his bottom lip, leaning forward so that his forearms come to a rest on his thighs - bottle and hands hovering between his knees.

A swallow, and Marc squeezes that bottle a bit between his hands - squeezes and kneads it, listens to the crackle the plastic creates upon being squished like that. It grounds him a bit, in a way, and so he keeps doing it while breathing - in and out, in and out...

Thoughtful.

"---What if we get along when writing those letters back and forth, with Steven thinking I'm just another guy living inside this psych ward...but when he finds out about me being who I am, about us being... this---" Marc points at himself with the bottle, eyes now flicking back to meet Harrow's. "...He startes to hate me? Resent me? Perhaps hate me even more because I... didn't tell him. Lied to him? I... I don't want him to get hurt. I never... I never want him to be hurt, ever. He is... he's not meant to take the pain, he's meant to take the good things. He needs to be happy..."

Arthur stayed as he was, gentle and present. He was more careful of his body language, of his tone and what he said; it ended with him just sitting there silently. He allowed Marc to open up, allowed him to just cry and get it out - it was good for him to. It was good for him to discuss how he felt, how the past had been - the weight of the truth of it all, even if the knowledge that Steven had been around for ‘decades’ was catastrophic. It practically confirmed what Arthur was terrified of - there was another. A violent one. More, possibly - it was even probable. 

It was a diagnosis that he didn’t want to hold, but it was one that fit far too perfectly. One that he would only hold onto, right now, if only because giving it seemed like the worst option to take. 

“You kept him safe,” Arthur said, his voice low and level, full of the same quiet certainty. “For decades. You did that for him.”

It was a gentle truth, one that Marc likely needed to hold onto; it was terrifying when things like that fell apart. Marc had learned an improper way to cope, of course it would collapse; though this type of tragedy was one that was better avoided. A man was dead - that wasn’t something that could be ignored. 

Arthur leaned forward, just to be more present in the moment. Wanting to balance the amount of intimacy that had been given, knowing the weight of what was being shared. 

“And I believe you, about having it under control. Knowing when to let him forward. That type of balance doesn’t just happen, it takes effort. Patience. A lot of strength.” He didn’t need to say that he was proud of Marc, that it had been a hard thing to do - that was implied. It was more than implied, practically stated. 

Arthur shifted his jaw, wet his lips. “Something did change, I think that’s true. I don’t know what, yet, but I know it wasn’t failure. Steven showing up wasn’t you losing control - it was probably him needing something. And maybe you needing something, too.”

It was easy to assume that there was still more being kept from him; perhaps something that had happened in the marines, perhaps not. But something had triggered the fight - maybe the personality that held the violence had been created during the time in the military. 

He wouldn’t know until he met the man - and the thought of what he’d have to do for that wasn’t anything that Arthur cared to consider, right now. 

“You’re in a safe position, with things,” he continued. “He knows about you. He knows that you’re a patient here, he knows what I told him. You can reply to him, I think he’d like that. You two can talk, you can communicate - and if you ever decide that you want to be done, then that can be it. He’ll never know you as anything more than a patient that he wrote letters to, sometimes. It won’t hurt a thing.” 

It was a safe way to do it, for a dozen reasons. It was sneaky, perhaps; it was a good first step in merging them back together, to have them talking. Breaking down walls, one by one; typically, he would introduce the thought of them sharing a body to both personalities - but it seemed fine to not, for now. Marc needed to open up to the idea that he wasn’t ‘bad’ for Steven - and Steven needed to know of the other man, needed to be aware of his existence. 

It was a tricky thing to do. But at the very least, they appeared to be moving in the right direction. 

[reflectingiridescent]

Okay, I know we're not here trying to over-compare, but since people have started to do it (because like, it's right there), there are a lot of reasons I liked that scene between Sophie and Harry, and one of them was that "one true thing" would not be the way that Nate described Sophie? Because that's categorically not what Sophie was to Nate.

Thank you @sammroo167!

For Nate, Sophie was a master (con) artist and mystery to solve who then became his (and the team's) compass and partner (in crime). At some point, he got comfortable enough with who she chose to be that he let go of trying to figure out who she was. Looking more at the present and future than the past.

Really the only honest thing left over from Nate's old life was Maggie. He lost everything else, and then he completely aligned himself with the Leverage crew philosophy. He lost his son. He'd lost his mother before the show started. He lost his father, who was also a criminal. His only family became the crew.

And Harry...is a person who has lost but has not lost everything? His daughter is alive. His mother is alive. A lot of his situation is not caused by circumstance the way it was for Nate. He came from lawful good roots and yet aligned himself with lawful evil before he tried to change and met the crew. It's less all-or-nothing for him the way it is for the original crew members. And he does get a choice in what he allows to cross that line, in a way that Nate never really did.

For Sophie, the demarcation is very clear (though considering Sophie's history, I'd take what she says with a bag of salt): "real" life on one side, criminal life on the other. 99.99% of her contacts are other criminals, though she has a flair (as Hardison points out) for having complicated emotional relationships with people on the other side of the law.

And for Harry? We watch him try to accept that line for himself in the finale, that he lives on top of that line now as a result of his own decisions, as a result of what he wants for himself - and conclude that he's mostly okay with that, for now.

As long as the only thing allowed to cross that line is Sophie (with her permission, of course).

[gothamhappiness]

Love me like in a dark fairytale (knight!Jason Todd x princess!reader) - Part IV

Jason Todd becomes reader's knight, in a heroic fantasy universe. This series is about their forbidden love turning into something even darker.

Dom!reader x sub!Jason (who falls first and harder) through the whole series.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

I really hope you'll enjoy it <3

Warnings: no proof reading, clingy!Jason, jealous!Jason, possessive!Jason, stupid!Jason, stubborn!reader, angst, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of arranged marriages

Lately Jason could only fall asleep when you were safely snuggled up against him.

With all those noblemen trying to court you, Jason was afraid you would put an end to your relationship, and anxious thoughts prevented him from relaxing if your body wasn’t touching his. 

You tried to appease him and you accepted to sleep with him more often than before, as to show him that he was the one you loved.

The moon was lighting up your room, allowing you to see Jason’s face, despite the darkness surrounding you two. You softly stroked his cheek, happy he was getting some much needed rest.

You couldn’t sleep. Even if you didn’t want to say anything to your knight, you were also getting worried about the future.

You had always dread the idea of getting married, but now it was definitely worse as you had fallen in love with your knight. What was just a game became something very serious for the two of you. And soon, it would be over. 

You couldn’t do anything about it. Jason either. And you both knew it all too well.

It had been a year now that Jason was your knight; he was the only man you wanted and you were his goddess, like the first time he saw you. Actually, the more he learnt about you, the more certain you were not just born to rule over his being, but over the world. Nothing was too good for you.

Unfortunately, despite all the power you held over his life, you were pretty powerless at preventing your father and mother from speaking more and more often about marrying you. And you were going to be even more powerless in preventing a wedding to eventually happen. 

It always ended in Jason possessively pleasuring you out of your mind the following night, begging you to tell him that you were his, that you loved him and only him, that you knew he loved you and only you, that he would do anything for you. 

Your knight knew he would never be your husband, and it was driving him insane. The idea that at some point another man would touch you like he was currently allowed to do, was making him violent and desperate. He was glad he could take out some of his frustration onto his friends under the pretext of training. 

He wasn’t angry at you, he knew you didn’t want to be married to anyone else but him.

He hated to not be worthy of you.

He hated that you had to promise him that nothing would change between the two of you once you would get married to a noble man.

He hated that he was certain that in the end, he was bound to lose you and your love.

It was making him even more protective of you. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how long you would still be his, so for the remaining time, he needed to make sure you were alright and safe by his side.

His eyes fluttered open and he noticed you were wide awake, looking at the moon with a sad expression written upon your face. His hand gently cupped your chin; you leaned into his warm touch and kissed his skin before looking down at him.

“Not sleeping, my love?” he whispered to you, concern lacing his voice

“Jason… A delegation from the kingdom across the sea will come tomorrow, you shall have heard about it” you started

“I did hear about it” Jason nodded

“During your training this morning, my father told me that if everything was going according to plan, I am going to marry the crown prince” you finally said

“You do deserve to marry a prince, worthy of your status” Jason replied, his voice void of any emotion because all he wanted to do was scream

“I do not have the choice” you softly reminded him, knowing your knight was feeling as awful as you were

“I know, my princess” Jason tried to smile at you

“I will do my best to keep you by my side” you promised him “Except if… you do not wish to follow me after my wedding” you added, tears in the eyes

“Your absence and seeing you as someone else’s wife are both punishments. However, your absence would eventually kill me, and I would like to be allowed to keep an eye on you, making sure your… husband take a good care of you” Jason replied and you were relieved he chose to stay by your side

“I thank you” you kissed the corner of his lips

“You were worried I would not follow?” Jason tightly hugged you against his strong chest

“I would have understood if the sight of me with another man would have been too painful for you” you nodded

“It is. Nevertheless, I am forever yours.” he kissed the top of your head.

You spent the morning hiding away your sadness. You even started to hope that something would happen to the prince you were supposed to marry. And you know that your knight was thinking the same. Jason would have killed the man if you had asked him to. But you couldn’t do that, not when the future of your people was at sake. The alliance between your two kingdoms was important, more important than Jason, more important than yourself.

Especially, when a war was looming. 

After your attack by an assassin a year ago, things didn’t get better with the group of occultists serving the dark goddess. They were getting more and more powerful and troubling the peace. However no army from the Kent kingdom seemed strong enough to put an end to them. With an alliance, there was hope; the Luthor Kingdom had magicians your royal family didn’t have.

The dark group probably heard about a possible alliance between your two families, as right before the delegation could arrive, they attacked your palace. Monsters appeared at the gate and started to throw fireballs and rock the size of a cauldron. Chaos quickly took over and the knights rushed to protect the palace. 

In the confusion of the moment, you didn’t realise that Jason was guiding you back to your room. 

“Stay here” he ordered you and you disliked he was talking to you that way

“No, I cannot. The delegation… I need to help and… my father… I have to find him” you were panicking a little

“No, you are safe here, my princess. I will come back for you” your knight promised before quickly closing the door and… locking it.

You stayed stupid for a few minutes, not understanding what just happened, until anger rose inside of you. You tried to open the door, before banging at it and screaming for someone to open it. With the madness currently taking place inside the palace and at the gate, no one heard you.

You were so mad at Jason.

Who did he think he was to keep you locked up inside your room like a child? Like a prisoner?

You knew he was hoping to keep you away from the danger, but most importantly away from the delegation. He wasn’t worried about the monsters; he was aware the royal knights were going to easily kill them. After all, they were known as the best fighters among several kingdoms existing across the planet. 

He was simply desperate that you were going to fall in love with the prince, and the way you were concerned about the delegation was only making him even more afraid. If he could find something to fuck up your relationship from the beginning with the prince, he would do so.

Of course, in his fear, he didn’t realise how angry and disappointed you were going to be with him.

In your rage, adrenaline made you forget about dangers, you escalated your window. You preferred to be found dead, on the ground far below from you, than being late when the delegation would arrive.

That was how you found yourself greeting the king Alexander and his son Smith as they arrived at the gate. The monsters had just finished being killed, and you were politely asking if they were alright, and asked for the healers to be fetched so they could be looked after, as well as their warriors.

Soon enough, your family and the delegation were sitting in the grand room, talking with one another. No one had been harmed, but the servants were busy cleaning up the mess and the dead monster bodies, with the help of the knights and warriors.

If you had promised yourself to not directly talk to the prince in front of Jason, you forgot about it. Actually, you made sure that once your knight silently came back to your side, he saw you were being very nice to your soon to be fiancé. 

You didn’t spare Jason a glance for the rest of the day, pretending to be busy with the guests, which was true. You had always been good at diplomacy, and you enjoyed learning more about a country you had never seen before… a country that was supposed to become yours one day.

You chatted for a long time with the prince and his father, and Smith was definitely under your charm, happy you were going to be his wife. Your own parents were very proud of you; Jonathan and Martha had worried you would have been more shy or had tried to get away from this arrangement.

It was late, and you were truly exhausted, after the emotions of the day, when you were finally heading toward your room. You hadn’t spoken to Jason, who was fully aware he had badly messed up, but he had no idea what to do. 

When you arrived at your door, you finally turned toward him.

“Unlock the door” you ordered him, your voice was cold

“I beg your pardon, my lady?” Jason frowned

“You locked it earlier, so unlock it” you told him, losing patience already

“I… My lady, I am so deeply sorry about my previous actions…” Jason started but you cut him off

“Open. The. Door” you growled

Jason obeyed. He had been certain you had found another key to leave your room, so he was quite surprised you were asking him to unlock the door.

“May I ask how you left your bedroom earlier today, my lady?” he asked as he let you come into your room

“By the window. Good night, knight” you replied before closing the door right into his face.

Guilt instantly washed over Jason. He had put you into grave danger. You could have killed yourself. He should have known that you were stubborn and crazy enough to try anything to leave your room. You weren’t a damsel in distress; after all you even insisted for him to teach you how to use a sword.

Deep down, Jason found you very attractive, wife material even. If he wasn’t feeling so terrible, he would have done his best to seduce you in his bed. You were the most incredible woman he ever knew, you were truly a divinity.

A divinity who had enjoyed the prince.

Jason hated himself for making you so angry at him, the same day you were meeting the man you were supposed to marry. Jason didn’t want to make things easier for you, he didn’t want for you to realise so simply that he wasn’t good enough for you.

He didn’t sleep that night.

--

Part 5

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

@randomnamedmira

@winterhi09

@murkyponds

@qardasngan

Taglist for this series <3

@classicsimpforaaronwarner

@fernwehraarta

@stormz369 

@theendofthematerialgworld

@616ioi

@imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo

[brklynbxby]

Azriel lingered just around the corner from Harmony’s apartment block, leaning in the shadows against a crumbling brick wall and beneath a half dead tree. He’d only been here once, long enough to see her slip inside the building after work. They’d followed her home, a slight attempt at intimidation and more of an attempt at learning her whereabouts in case he needed it in future. And good job they had done. He didn’t know the exact apartment, but he’d paid attention. The floor. The window. The light. Now he needed her. A woman in gym gear came walking up the path, earbuds in, keying in the door code with muscle memory. Azriel waited until she stepped inside, then flicked a black plastic bottle cap forward. It skidded across the pavement, perfectly timed, wedging in the door before it clicked shut. He waited. Thirty seconds. Then walked up calm as anything, retrieved the bottle cap, and stepped inside. Azriel moved through the corridor, eyes flicking to the elevator. He pressed the button and rolled his shoulders, trying to keep the tension out of them. This wasn’t a job. Not exactly. But it felt like one. She’d made a deal with him—he could use the strip club to launder, host deals, storage so long as he kept her name off everything. Hidden from Niko. The very guy that was heading over there now.

The elevator gave a dull ding. He stepped out, pausing in the corridor to think. Third window in. He remembered the light, low and warm. That one. But a different girl answered. Young, messy bun, tank top and probably her boyfriends boxers, smelling faintly of weed and vanilla. Her brows lifted. “Well, damn. You’re definitely not my Uber Eats.” Azriel let a crooked smile play at the corner of his mouth, eyes skating over her just once. “Depends what you ordered.” That made her laugh—a low, lazy sound but he didn't let it linger too long. “I’m looking for someone,” he said smoothly, hands in his leather jacket pockets. “Harmony.” The girl cocked her head, lips tugging into a smirk. “Harmony, huh?” She bit her bottom lip slightly, like she was weighing whether to be helpful or difficult. “Next one over,” she said finally, almost reluctantly. “But I wouldn’t mind if you came knocking here again.” He held her gaze for a beat too long, the air between them thick with something that could’ve easily veered left if he wanted it to. But then the reason he was there in the first place dawned on him. Azriel dipped his head, that same half-smile lingering. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And then he turned, just enough swagger in his walk to let her wonder what might’ve happened if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.

The next door. A warm glow under the frame. He knocked, this time not soft, not playful. Just enough weight to say it wasn’t a game. And waited. He wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here to tell her to stay the hell away from the club because Niko had turned up, excited to use the club for one of his deals, surrounded by hot women.

The door clicked shut behind him, his footsteps still echoing in her chest long after they’d faded from the room. That sharp, suffocating emptiness he left in his wake—it wasn’t silence. It was him. Still there, everywhere. On her skin. In her lungs. Beneath her goddamn ribs. Harmony stared at the bin for a moment, fingers clenched around the last crumpled tissue like it might anchor her to something solid. It didn’t. “Ruined properly,” she muttered under her breath, lips curling into something between a scoff and a shiver. She dragged her eyes to the mirror propped against the wall. Her reflection looked wrecked—flushed, marked, wild-eyed. She tilted her head, took in the bruises already blooming on her jaw, the redness on her hips, the places he’d held her like she was something to claim. Her pulse kicked up again just remembering the way he said it—if you want to be ruined properly. She let out a quiet laugh. No real humor in it. Just heat. Frustration. Maybe a little thrill. “Next time,” she whispered to the empty room, voice low, steady, laced with promise, “try ruining someone who doesn’t beg for more.” And with that, Harmony straightened, wiped the last of him off her thighs, and turned toward the door—still aching, still burning, but already planning how she’d make him wish he’d looked back.

Harmony stepped out of the dim private room, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. The neon haze of the strip club hit her like a wave—laughter too loud, bass thrumming through the floor, smoke curling through the air like it knew too many secrets. And then there were eyes on her. Monica stood near the bar, leaning against a pole like she hadn’t been watching the door this whole time. Her expression shifted the second Harmony appeared—lips parting slightly, concern etched between her brows. The blonde pushed off the pole and crossed the room, her heels clicking against the floor. She didn’t speak at first. Just looked Harmony up and down—past the slightly smudged makeup, the tousled hair, the barely disguised ache in the way she walked. Monica’s voice was soft, but pointed. “This thing… whatever this is between you two—it’s not healthy.” Harmony blinked, jaw tightening, but Monica kept going. “I know you’re trying to protect us. Maybe even protect yourself. But this—him—it’s going to hurt you.” Harmony shook her head, cutting her off before she could spiral further. Her voice was low, strained, almost like she was trying to convince herself as much as Monica. “I know. I know, Mo… Call me crazy, but… I don’t know. I trust him.” A pause. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I feel safe around him.” Monica recoiled like she’d been slapped, her lips parting into a shocked frown. Her eyes searched Harmony’s face, desperately trying to find the version of her friend she understood—one who remembered the blood, the fire, the betrayal. “Safe?” she repeated, almost breathless. “Harmony, he’s from them. From the same gang that took everything from you. You—do you even hear yourself right now?” Harmony looked away. She couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t put into words how Azriel’s darkness felt like something she understood. How his hands, rough as they were, never made her feel small. How his silence held more safety than any promise someone else had ever given her.

Maybe he had broken her. Or maybe… he was the only one who saw the pieces and didn’t flinch. “I’m not asking you to get it,” she said finally, voice quiet but firm. “I just… I needed you to hear me.” Monica was silent. Hurt written all over her face. But she didn’t push again. Not yet. Instead, she said softly, “Just don’t lose yourself in him, Harm. You’ve already lost enough.”

[aliza-sophie]

Still her home court

hiii

this is my first published story!

i know its not fantastic but bare with meee!

anyways feel free to ask for a part 2! :)

wordcount: 2.4k

Setting: Elize and Paiges shared apartment in Dallas

Warnings: not really anything just a little fluff

This is no hate to any of the Wings players. this is just for fun:)

(its in Elizes POV) Enjoy:3

I heard the front door before I saw her.

Not slammed, but definitely not gentle — the kind of frustrated “I’m barely holding it together” sound that I’d come to recognize over the last few months.

Paige had been home for all of fifteen seconds, and already the room felt heavier.

I stayed curled on the couch, pretending to read but really just waiting for her to drop her bag and exhale the way she always did after practice. And then I saw her. Dallas Wings hoodie soaked at the collar. Shoulders tight, jaw locked. Hair still pulled back, sweat-damp and frizzy at the edges.

She looked… worn.

“Hey, babe,” I offered gently, setting my book down. “How was practice?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just kept walking, slow and zombie-like, until she dropped onto the other end of the couch and let her head fall into her hands.

That was my answer.

“They don’t listen,” she muttered, voice muffled by her palms. “I’m talking on defense, calling switches, rotating, and they’re just… lost. Still.”

I shifted closer, pulling my knees up under me so I could face her. “Rough day?”

She let out a bitter laugh — short, sharp. “Every day’s a rough day lately. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I feel like I’m trying to glue a broken vase with chapstick.”

That made me smile, even if she didn’t mean it to be funny. “That’s a new one.”

She lifted her head slightly, eyes glassy and frustrated. “Elize, I’m not used to this. I went from UConn — where everything clicked, where we moved as one — to this... chaos. There’s no rhythm. No identity. The vets are checked out, and the rookies are lost. And I’m stuck in the middle.”

My heart tugged at the sight of her — this woman who used to radiate confidence, who used to float out of games like her feet barely touched the floor. Now she looked like she was dragging bricks behind her.

I scooted closer and reached for her hand, curling my fingers around hers. She didn’t pull away. Her thumb brushed mine absently, but her eyes were fixed on the dark TV screen like it might have answers.

“They made me run point all practice,” she said after a moment. “Not even letting me work off-ball. I can’t run the offense and score if no one knows where to be. It’s like babysitting. Except the babies are six-foot athletes who don’t talk.”

I laughed — just enough to soften the edge of it — and leaned in to kiss her temple. “You ever think maybe they don’t know what to do because they’re looking to you?”

She didn’t respond, but her jaw clenched. I knew that face. She didn’t want to be anyone’s savior. Not again.

“You came into this league with all the hype in the world, Paige. Number one pick, college legend, face of the future. That’s a lot to carry.”

She looked at me then, really looked — like the mask dropped for just a second.

“I don’t care about the hype,” she whispered. “I just wanted to play basketball. The way I love it. The way it used to feel.”

I tightened my hold on her hand. “Then come back to that. Not for the team. Not for the fans. For you.”

She leaned her head back on the couch, letting her eyes close. “I miss loving it.”

I let the silence stretch between us for a beat, then gently stood and tugged at her arm. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Bedroom. Now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re being weirdly bossy.”

“Trust me.” I tugged again. “You need this.”

Reluctantly, she stood, stretching her arms up with a soft groan. She followed me down the short hall to our room, where I pulled her hoodie off and tossed it into the laundry basket. Her sports bra underneath clung to her like a second skin, soaked with effort and frustration.

“Sit,” I said, patting the edge of the bed.

She did, watching me cautiously, like she was waiting for me to make some grand speech.

Instead, I dropped to my knees in front of her, placed both hands on her thighs, and rested my head against her knee.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Just breathing. Quiet. Intimacy without pressure.

After a while, she ran a hand through my hair. “You always do this.”

I looked up at her. “Do what?”

“Catch me. When I’m falling apart. Like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” I said. “But you’re not falling apart. You’re carrying more than you should. Let me carry some, too.”

Her eyes softened. She reached down and tugged me up onto the bed with her, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my neck. We lay there for a while, her weight half on top of me, her breath slowly steadying.

“I love you,” she murmured, voice muffled against my collarbone.

“I love you more,” I replied, running a hand up and down her back. “Even when you’re sweaty and grumpy.”

She chuckled, and it warmed my chest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be like this,” she said. “Pro ball. I thought I’d be lighting it up. Making ESPN every week.”

“You will,” I said, kissing the side of her head. “But even if you don’t, I’ll still be here. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

She looked up at me, her blue eyes soft now. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who I am without winning.”

I cupped her face in my hands. “You’re Paige. The girl who smiles mid-crossover. The girl who plays like the court is hers, not because someone gave it to her — but because she claimed it. You’re still that girl. Even when the scoreboard says otherwise.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. Just leaned in and kissed me — slow, deep, the kind of kiss that says thank you and I need you and please don’t stop all at once.

And I didn’t stop.

I kissed her until the world outside our bedroom didn’t exist. Until she forgot about broken systems and missed rotations. Until all that mattered was the quiet rhythm of our bodies pressed together and the breath we shared between kisses.

Later, when she lay with her head on my chest, one leg tangled over mine and her fingers drawing lazy circles on my hip, she whispered:

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out,” I said, stroking her back.

She sighed. “Think I should keep pushing? Keep trying to fix it?”

I smiled. “I think the game needs you. Even like this. Maybe especially like this.”

There was a long pause.

Then she said, “You’re my home court now, you know that?”

I felt my throat tighten, but I didn’t cry. Just smiled into her hair and held her a little tighter.

“I know,” I whispered. “And I’ll always be here. Win or lose.”

And in that quiet, messy, beautiful moment — Paige Bueckers wasn’t a star, a rookie, or a savior.

She was just mine.

[dljcem]

daniel larusso fluff alphabet? <33

— ❀⋆˙ JUNA

daniel larusso x gn!reader

tags: fluff alphabet, not proofread, written with karate kid 1 daniel in mind

“i don’t have to think; with you, there’s no pretending.”

a- admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

he loves how you can stand up for yourself. he’s more than happy to step in when needed—show off a few of his trusty karate moves—but it’s always captivating to see you hold your own. the fire in your eyes is enough to make him melt.

b- body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

he likes your eyes—how they soften with concern after his rougher practices, how they light up with excitement when he shows up unannounced. he could stare into them all day and never get tired. but he’s still a teenage boy at heart, so… he thinks your thighs are pretty nice, too.

c - cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

his preference is holding you from behind—wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head in the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. there’s something so intimate about it—it makes him feel soft and a little mushy inside. he’s not opposed to being held, either.

d - domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he hasn’t given the future much thought—life in the present keeps him plenty busy—but he’s always known he wants to settle down someday. get married, have a kid or two, maybe a dog just because. it’s one of those certainties he’s carried with him for as long as he can remember. and when he meets you, something shifts. suddenly, it’s not just a distant dream—it’s a real, tangible future.

he’s not exactly skilled in the kitchen or all that handy with chores, but he’s more than willing to try. even if it ends with the floor soaked or eggs somehow stuck to the ceiling.

e - ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he wouldn’t take it lightly. even if he’s not in love with you anymore, he still respects you more than anyone else. he’s not the type to ghost or pull away quietly—he’d want to talk, even if his voice shakes the whole way through.

f - fiancee (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he’s all for commitment. when it comes to relationships, he’s headstrong—and when he knows you’re the one, he’s all in. no hesitation, no second-guessing. as for timing, he’d probably pop the question not long after you both turn eighteen. he doesn’t see the point in waiting around. he’s certain about you, and he’s not afraid to show it.

g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’s usually playful, full of teasing grins and comments—but when it matters, he can be gentle. physically, he’s always careful with you; not because he doubts your strength, but because he loves you. and he wants to treat you with the utmost respect, always.

h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he absolutely adores hugs. they become something of a tradition between the two of you—a wordless hello, goodbye, i love you, and everything in between. on ordinary days, his hugs are light—a quick wrap of his arms around your waist. but in the moments that matter, he holds on tighter, buries his face in your shoulder, and lets himself sink into the warmth of your skin.

i - i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

as soon as he knows, he says it. no second thoughts, no hesitation—it just slips out, unplanned but entirely genuine.

j - jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he’s driven more by his heart than his head, so jealousy comes easily to him. it’s usually fleeting—just a heat-of-the-moment reaction—but it happens more often than he’d like to admit. when it does, he tends to get a little clingy: hugging you from behind, slipping a hand into your back pocket, anything to keep you close.

k - kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

kisses turn into a habit between the two of you. soft ones in greeting, deeper ones as good luck charms before his tournaments. he’s a simple guy—he prefers kissing you on the lips, though your cheek is a close second. as for him, he’s not picky. kiss him anywhere, and he’ll melt. having your lips on him feels like a blessing, no matter what.

l - little ones (how are they around children?)

he’s great at entertaining them—cracking jokes, making silly faces, playing games. but when it comes to calming them down or scolding them? yeah… that part doesn’t come as naturally.

m - morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

mornings with him are slow and lazy. he loves his sleep, so getting out of bed is always a struggle. most days he’ll wrap his arms around you and plead for just a few more minutes. on busy mornings, the two of you move through your routine together—brushing your teeth in the same mirror, sharing breakfast, maybe even squeezing in a shower before heading out.

n - night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights with him are nothing short of comforting. he’s usually worn out by the end of the day, so his playful energy softens into something gentler. he’ll pull you close, half-listen to you talk with sleepy eyes, or run his fingers through your hair while telling you about his own day. it’s his favorite way to unwind—just the two of you, warm and safe.

o - open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he doesn’t always mean to, but he’s an open book the second he realizes how safe he feels around you. it doesn’t come out all at once, though—he shares things gradually, in passing comments and deep conversations.

p - patience (how easily angered are they?)

his emotions tend to get the best of him, so he can get frustrated pretty easily. but after a few early arguments, he learns to rein it in—when to bite his tongue, when to walk away, and when to simply listen. all because he cares about you that much.

q - quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers all the little things his brain latches onto—your coffee order, your favorite color, the way you fidget when you’re nervous. but birthdays and anniversaries? total blank sometimes. it’s like his brain forgets how to function when it actually counts.

r - remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

your first date means the world to him. it was the night everything shifted—the night he realized how much better he was when he was with you. you went to an arcade. laughed until your stomachs hurt, took goofy photo booth pictures, shared a giant bottle of lemonade, and kissed—giggled into each other’s mouths with the taste of sugar and citrus on your lips.

s - security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s extremely protective. if someone even looks at you wrong, his body’s already on high alert—jaw tight, eyes sharp, muscles tensed like he’s ready to step in. he’d argue for you without hesitation, and if it came to it, he’d fight for you too.

being protected isn’t his favorite—it bruises his pride more than he’ll admit—but when you cheer him on or take his side in a fight, it makes his heart flutter.

t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts minimal effort into the everyday. over time, dates become part of your routine—grocery runs, sunrise bike rides, walks where you don’t really go anywhere but still end up holding hands. but for birthdays and anniversaries? he goes all out. decorations, plans, handwritten notes, the whole thing. he wants those memories to stick.

u - ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

his communication sucks at first. when he’s upset, he shuts down completely—goes quiet, pulls away, avoids you entirely like it’ll somehow fix things. he means well; he just doesn’t know how to talk about things without feeling overwhelmed or guilty. it takes time, and a lot of patience, but he slowly gets better.

v - vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he keeps himself clean and his hair in check, but beyond that, he doesn’t stress. says he’s “effortlessly charming” with a grin that both annoys and endears you. and honestly? he kind of is.

w - whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

completely. you’re not just his partner—you’re part of his rhythm, his daily routine. he kisses you before class, eats lunch with you when he can, calls you before bed. when you’re not there, everything feels a little off. like he’s going through the motions without the part that makes them matter.

x - xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

even though he’s soft with you most of the time, he loves sparring. something about the fire in your eyes when you’re trying to win makes his heart race. he never really minds losing either—because losing means you pinning him down, grinning with that victorious glint in your eye.

y - yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he can’t stand people who play games with feelings. loyalty matters a lot to him—he gives it fully and expects the same in return. if someone’s flaky, noncommittal, or treats love like it’s disposable, he’s out. no second chances.

z - zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

he sleeps like a starfish—and somehow, you’re always the surface he lands on. one leg slung over your stomach, an arm across your chest, his face tucked into your shoulder. it’s sweet until you wake up sore and stiff and he just blinks at you like he has no clue in the whole wide world.

[miainbetween]

( 💡 👜 🏛 🍨 ) for the ask game <3

AHHH okay this might be a hard one because I haven’t been scripting enough for some of these but I’ll try my best. (Actually it was super easy… how knew?) {the ask game}

I’ll be answering for liverpool/better cr.

💡 : what was your first dr and what is currently your main dr? How and why have you made this switch?

I just wanna say: don’t judge me. I know that we’ve all had hogwarts phases because of dracotok and shifttok back in the day aka 2020 but my case I feel like is worse because my first dr was crossover between Hogwarts and the vampire diaries where I was a Michaelson and Klaus was my dad… 🦗🦗 HAHAH, yeah, so I was a tribrid or something. My CR family was some magician family that I think were supposed to help Caroline, who was my mother, to get pregnant with me… I don’t even know anymore. it was all so confusing and so complicated and so unnecessary and I don’t even remember who was my significant other. It might’ve been either Draco or Mattheo. And I remember that I had scripted the abandoned house from the Greatest Showman movie. I still think that was a cool idea though. Actually, now that I think about it, I think I was friends with the malfoys. I honestly don’t remember anymore. It was a very interesting one but it was so complicated and it felt like just a story or like a fantasy in my head and that’s why I chose to not shift there for the first time. Maybe I will in the future but when I have shifted where I wanted to, first.

With Liverpool i’ve tried to be more intuitive with scripting. I haven’t really scripted that much which has kept it within reach? I feel like the only thing that is keeping me a little bit anxious is that I haven’t exactly figured out when to shift first as in how much would our relationship have progressed at the time? But I feel like the trick is to just imagine the moment when I’ll wake up without thinking about the backstory and my subconsciousness will figure everything else out. 

👜 : what’s your house look like? Do you have any roommates or people who live with you? What’s your favorite aspect of your house and why?

Okay, so I don’t know if I should answer this for my own apartment or for max’s because I spent most of my time at his apartment, but I’ll probably answer for both.

For my apartment it’s pretty small one. In a Victorian terrace kind of building. It has a bedroom, living room, kitchen and a bathroom. Everything is very small and sweet almost like inside a doll house but it’s so functional and comfortable. I think that my favourite part of that apartment might be the TV section in the living room because it has a lot of shelves and I have a lot of pictures there and plans, books and other things and it just feels like it holds all of my personality in one place.

For a max apartment I don’t even know where to start. his apartment is this industrial style with a lot of plants (thanks to me) and a lot of natural light. It’s mostly brick, white and grey with some little black accents and maybe dark wood but I don’t know. It just feels so nice and homey there. I think my favourite thing about his apartment is—there are a lot but—the natural light, the authentic artistic feel (he’s a music producer) with the plants as well. And also if we have to talk room-wise it’s probably the bedroom. For no other reason besides the slow mornings, the pillow talk at night and also the breakfast in bed. Now that I think about it.. I probably spend a lot of time in his bed. 

🏛️ : what do you do in your free time? Who are you with? Where do you go?

In my free time when I’m not studying and am not all over max, I am probably reading, exploring a park or a bookstore or a coffee shop or I’m trying to think of new ways to annoy or tease max. I also would be writing or rearranging flowers and plants and watering them.

Sometimes I would go out with my friend Kalina. She is my best friend who is also studying in Liverpool. She’s there for the first time and (the story is long, but I went on the exchange to Liverpool so that she wouldn’t be alone and it was also extra points for me because I’ve always wanted to go abroad) she’s going to stay there but I am on an exchange for only a year and I don’t know how this exchange thing will go because I probably won’t want to go back because doing long distance would kill me but it is what it is. I’ll figure it out later.

🍨 : what are your socials like in your dr? Followers? Username? What do you post?

Honestly, I am not big on socials. I don’t think I would have over 1000 followers. My username is probably the same one that I have here: maria with the initials of my middle and family name. Though I may grow more active or try to be, i’ll probably post just some scenery sometimes. maybe selfies. sometimes maybe Max‘s feet. capturing moments. that kind of stuff. and my little sister would probably slide into my dms and be like “why the fuck did you post that???” but that’s just part of the charm!

this was so fun!!💕

[thebrokengate]

I really just want to know what happened from the time between Arthur being kidnapped by the O'Driscolls and him escaping back to camp because it's just so... odd.

And you gotta imagine Colm too the moment he realizes what happened and that Arthur had to drag his half-dead ass all the way back to Dutch and still decided to ride with Dutch after all that, and just how funny it is to be him looking at this from the outside. Like Colm's whole plan was to use Arthur as bait to lure Dutch onto his turf so he could hand him and everyone else in, and yet however fucking long of a time that was passed and Arthur was the one who had to escape to safety instead of Dutch coming to save one of the people he supposedly cared about the most in this world. You just gotta imagine Colm putting all this together in his mind how much he overestimated Dutch's love for his fellow gang members and just sitting there like

And though I do have my own takes personally on what happened here, that it was less of an elaborate setup and more improvisation on Micah's part as this whole meet up was originally Pearson's idea when he ran into some O'Driscoll boys in town and heard they wanted peace, either way you slice it, even though nothing went right for any of the parties involved, it was an intelligent play on Micah's part to work the whole situation out in the way he did.

Putting Arthur in the position of sniper lulls him into a sense of security being on the outside of the meet up where he could protect them from above in case something did go wrong. This makes Arthur to go along with the plan a little more easily because it gives him some sense of control over everything that's happening.

Despite Micah's talk later in camp interactions that he thought the O'Driscolls would shoot him first, it's actually way more likely that they would go after the sniper first if they know there is one (we also see this later at Colm's hanging where he had someone positioned on a roof to shoot the rope and we take that person out first)... which they did as they saw Arthur coming in alongside Micah and Dutch from their vantage point on top of the hill, and then mysteriously not being there on the ground with them when Micah and Dutch arrived at the meeting spot. It's also likely that Colm and his boys realized Dutch would be suspicious of a peace talk and would set someone up to protect him from above, and luckily for Colm, that person just happened to be Arthur who they could easily jump given that he was alone. The work he would've had to do to get Arthur alone was diminished, but he did also probably realize how often Arthur gets ordered to stay behind or decides to stay behind on his own after a mission so he could've grabbed him then. Micah just made his job a little easier.

Regardless of the way things worked out, having Arthur as the sniper was in Micah's best interest. One, because if the O'Driscolls attacked, Arthur would most likely be toast first given that they realized they had a sniper on them. And two, because Arthur would be quickly able to remove the immediate danger in front of him and Dutch before anything would happen to him so having Arthur as their trusty sniper would save their asses. Even if things went right, they'd still have him as their extra layer of protection.

Micah putting himself in a position next to Dutch also subtly puts himself in the position of eventually becoming his right hand man. If the plan worked out, if Dutch saw that he was right, he would immediately be inclined to look to Micah for plans again and it would erase how wrong things went in Blackwater and it would give Dutch reason to more readily trust Micah's future ideas.

Regardless of his intentions and whether Micah just got lucky that Arthur was taken... if you call it luck for anyone involved because Colm didn't get what he wanted, nor did Micah get Arthur out of the picture, nor did Dutch participate in anything other than a complete waste of time, and poor Arthur went through hell and back... Micah did have some solid points before the meeting went down. The gang was so far in the shit at that point already with not just the O'Driscolls, but the Pinkertons, the Lemoyne Raiders, Cornwall's army, and the feud between the Grays and Braithwaites that at any point could turn against them, they really couldn't afford to be fighting on all those fronts. If we consider the peace talks between the VDL gang and O'Driscolls to not just be about Micah trying to remove Arthur from the equation, two strong gangs teaming up against everyone else would give them more of a chance of surviving than everyone against one gang. It's classic war strategies, having allies to help take down your enemies because nobody is safe going at it alone. There's power in numbers, especially with a gang like the O'Driscolls that was big and strong enough to take over most of Big Valley, which Micah knows about as he tells us this in the mission An American Pastoral Scene. It just would've been a smart move at the time, but much like the Grays and the Braithwaites, neither Dutch nor Colm could truly see past their feud enough to team up for protection, and this in part leads them to the eventual downfall of both of their gangs.

...

I was originally going to leave these all in the tags but now I'm not since it still pertains to this post, so:

#and yes I totally agree with you that Micah wanted Arthur's role in the gang as an enforcer #I could write a whole essay about that too but I've rambled on long enough lmao #the gist of it though is it gives him a chance not only to keep his boot on the neck of people he doesn't like #but it also gives him better arrangements with the position and gave him Dutch's ear to do just about anything he wanted #Micah also mentions once to Arthur that he wanted a friend and drops lines about what his perfect gang would be #small but productive and powerful #and right at the end he ALMOST gets it #he has Dutch. he has this smaller gang of himself and Dutch and Bill and Javier and Cleet and Joe #I believe that was his real reason for ratting out to the Pinkertons because they were already coming after everyone at that point #so they would weed out the weakest people for him while he kept the strongest ones and ran #he leaves the Pinkertons to Arthur and John in the final fight and outright states that's what he's doing as he encourages Dutch to- #follow him out safely. he was starting to believe Dutch was now as ruthless as him and that he'd convinced him to be but we see it at- #Arthur's final words that Dutch couldn't be as he couldn't kill Arthur nor even Micah at the time and he walks away. in all this- #planning Micah unfortunately underestimated the value of loyalty to Dutch - desperately trying to convince him he never told the- #Pinkertons anything and/or that he wasn't going to sell Dutch out in multiple versions of the ending. and he also falsely believes Dutch- #could turn his back completely on his emotions and couldn't realize everything he did wrong and give up because of it #it's really tragic. anyway I basically just wrote the whole essay lmao but I have more reasons I believe this that I'll post another time

Going through RDR2 a second time and there's a few things I wanna point out about the Parlay Mission.

Notice how Arthur is ALREADY not trusting how this sounds? He's a guy who follows his gut I noticed and his face says it all. He don't like how this sounds and it sounds suspicious.(he was right)

Even Hosea confirming Arthur's suspicions out loud here.

Then Micah dismissing it casually. (Personally think it was a set up with Micah being a rat)

While Dutch in the end was the one who made the final call Micah still egged it on. Being a boot licker per say. Ignoring the advice from his best friend Hosea and his metoforical son Arthur.

Fact that Dutch and Micah say some stuff even in my first playthrough sounded kinda iffy, after playing it again I KNOW it's bullshit and the fact that Arthur argues against the shit they're sayin' claiming it's horseshit, Dutch claims it's disloyalty and not having faith. Part of being loyal is questioning folks and keeping people honest. That's Arthur for ya.

And despite the goal of grabbing Arthur I again feel was a set up possibility with Micah involved to get Arthur out of the picture.

But from how much time passed they'd be there by how to save Arthur. But they didn't. Dutch never showed up. If he noticed he was gone by my guess from how long Arthur has been out, a couple of days longer than normal (out of missions they are weirded out if you're gone longer than a day and a half, used to seeing drop offs then gone) then its kinda odd.

The then reaction from Dutch to me seems off. That he says that they just vanished and shrugged off leaving the fork road.

You would think this would make him suspicious but he didn't bother questioning it. Especially since the O'Driscolls were involved

This is foreshadowing to what he does later in the game.

Dutch didn't leave Arthur once. He didn't leave him twice.

HE LEFT HIM 3 TIMES.

And this is BEFORE his brain injury.

No matter how much Dutch apologized he still left Arthur.

And let's not forget to mention that Micah encouraged and coaxed this. Furthur leaning into my theory that Micah wanted ARTHUR'S position as gang enforcer. Which he later does get in a sense.

[batlleonafc]

I’m so late, but I translated the interview where Gabby and Marine speak of their future. I think it’s funny. They are so different and yet you can feel that they have a strong connection. Hope the translation makes sense.

Yohann: In 20 years what will you guys do?

Marine: I would like to stay in the basketball world, as I was saying at the beginning, to help grow basketball. I won’t say that I have seen everything cause I haven’t, but having spent 3 seasons in the WNBA, I have been able to discover a new culture, see the differences between the US and France. Both aren’t perfect, but there’s stuff that can be taken.

Yohann: In what role would you be doing that then?

Marine: Originally, I was thinking of something related to management. I also considered agent because I like discovering players, finding talents. For management, because I like associating players with one another, the creation of a team is something that I find interesting.

Yohann: so in management, it would be like a general manager or a director of a sports team?

Marine: Yes

Yohann: Gabby?

Gabby: so in 20 years, I’ll be 47 and I’ll be in holidays.

Marine: the whole year? (Laughs)

Gabby: yes, and that’s the goal. Period

Yohann: So there’s no project?

Gabby: no, there’s no project. It’s not that I want to run away from basketball, but basketball is really a tool for me, a means to an end. I might do something else after, but not in basket.

Yohann: What about the world of tattoos?

Gabby: Maybe. In the world of art, music, something related to my cat, I don’t know

Yohann: Gabby’s an artist

Marine: yep. Also you should say that you like being a dj, and that you would like to be one

Gabby: oh yes. If someone needs a dj…

Marine: …for a sunday night party (Laughs)

Gabby: i’ll be free. Call me.

Marine: at 06 32…

Thank you so much for translating this :)

[yume4evere]

Why I Believe Yuki Will Return

I want to talk about my thoughts and why I truly believe Yuki will return. This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and it’s not based on anyone else’s opinion. just my personal interpretation and feelings that have grown over the years. Everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and beliefs, and I simply want to share mine.

It started with the first chapter when I saw Yuki dreaming of Kaname holding their child. At first, I didn’t pay much attention at first . I thought it was just a dream. But some fans believed it was a vision of the future, especially since there was a precedent.. Kaname saw Yuki ten thousand years ago in another timeline. That scene wasn’t just a memory, it was the beginning of everything the origin of his deep desire to meet her again. They were separated, but that longing and the memory remained, hinting strongly that they would meet again, no matter the time or place.

Then, I saw Kaname’s strong desire to bring Yuki back, especially the scene where he wanted to extract her from himself, to revive her. This was one of the biggest hints of her possible return.

In chapter 14.5, Kaname said that Yuki gave him her heart, even though no one told him that directly. this made me believe that Yuki would return Not physically at first, but spiritually. Since she once awakened her soul to stop him, I believed she might do the same again.

At the time, hope felt scattered and faint. But as the final chapters were released, that hope started to grow. I even began looking In the previous description, the wording used was that "Yuki gave Kaname her heart", but later, before the final two volumes, the description changed.to "yuki gave her life" instead of her heart. Hino doesn't change details like that without a reason. That change gave me strong hope that Yuki still exists somewhere physically.

Here was said with "HER Life Here was said " HER HEART"

There are small details that I did pay attention to, they are also hints. Ai and Rin didn't say anything to Kaname that Yuki is dead, that she won't come back and motivate him to move on. Nothing. Even Ai says confusing things and it's a small hint. When she said how she would face her mother if Kaname died somewhere, I thought how she would face her if she was dead.

Then I realized that this was another hint when the chapters came out. Yuki's scene when she said that she doesn't want Kaname to see her like that, since now the dust stuck to her now, this means that she knows that she will still exist physically, and this is another hint. It doesn't make sense, Throughout these years I've come to understand that Hino always writes something that has another meaning, a hint.

I also saw how he wanted to remember her, to knowe more about her, and to shorten the distance and time between them, no matter how trivial the reason is .

My belief grew stronger when chapter 48 was released. The cover made me think Yuki might be frozen/asleep somewhere, because now it's Kaname who's outside the ice, and everything hinted toward his desire to see her again. His thoughts, his motivations, everything pointed toward her. to come back.

to motivation him to meet her, and Kaname's displeasure with what she did made their daughter sad. This is all related to her return.

Then came Now that line: 伝説の終幕――狂おしい愛を救いに

The End of the Legend — To Save This Maddening Love

That was the biggest hint of all a signal of a happy ending.

Kaname never loved anyone other than Yuki. Even that woman he didn't love her like he loved Yuk.

Hino never showed Kaname emotionally connecting with any other woman, not even as a human. His every thought, every wish, was about Yuki. It wouldn’t make sense for a single chapter to suddenly introduce a new love interest for him, to move on and forget everything they had, and to let go of their story and of the fans who supported their love all these years.

That’s why I truly believe Yuki will return.

There was an idea that she might be reborn or reincarnated, but doing that would require more than just one chapter it would need new volume, and Hino clearly wants to give this story a meaningful and complete ending.

So, I believe in a reunion, in their love, and in their destiny.

I hope I was able to make you understand what I am saying, but your faith is the way you read and saw their love.

I really don't know what spell she cast on Kaname. All I understand from it is that she ordered him to "wake up"

[bassboosted-moon-chao]

Recurse into nothing, forsaken temponaut. Reject assimilation, return to fate.

Quint, the concept, the fate worse than death yet the death of one and only.

YEAH so I felt like drawing Quint, infuriated by the lack of art for my favourite doomed recursive sonboy. did this in 1 hour 34 minutes! originally it was just him taking a leap, and then I started drawing ribbons under/around him, and then they turned into the Time Stream, so I suppose he's jumping out of the flow of time like he's about to travel!

Poor boy is such a paradox. dead and alive, out of time and alone in another. I think the most fucked up thing about him is that room where you encounter Quint, and it's full of cloned Quint corpses. all inactive and in stasis. we don't know if these are Quints that died before and were replaced by the endless looping fate, or if Wily built multiple. but any explanation is deeply horrifying.

[shadowcrowncd]

Sofia couldn't believe her own thoughts at the moment while they were spinning into one, decisive direction. Betrayal, to sin, to actually go after that high Derya must've uncovered with her powers, unbeknownst to Sofia. Instead, she simply considered the possibility of having uncovered something of the past, long hidden, that now tethered them together, made her want him in ways she would've never expected. All this secrecy bled into her decisions. From the secret room, to the nightly visit, the trusted lady-in-waiting standing guard while Sofia herself hid with the king's. Of course she'd heard about the rumors at court, that some were against her as Queen or others preferred her to rise above all else. Her future, however, wasn't as important right now. Coming to terms with her, possible, new responsibilities and position, being married, just wasn't on her mind for the past days, weeks. Not while other rumors spread about the first seal breaking, possibly releasing the four horsemen. "You'll be compensated for your troubles, I promise." Maybe that would be a better incentive than being heard, surely.

Sitting uncomfortably, anxiously, Sofia's eyes remained fixed on him as her focus point, ignoring everything else in the room. The fact that nobody but him, apparently, knew more, just didn't sit right with Sofia. Like a stranger in her own skin, the Saint desired to know about what happened, why his mere existence caused her to react like this. This wasn't just her wanting to push her own boundaries, but more or less another part of her struggling to stay away, quite literally. Fully consumed by the past, Sofia softly smiled at Joel in an attempt not to scare him off. Luckily, he stayed, pushing past the boundaries set in place before, grabbing her hand. Sofia froze. Trying to rationalize her own behavior. "Pain?" she chocked on that word. "I feel content," she whispered back, "like in a state of bliss. A dream. Utopia." Clear as night -- this wasn't her anymore, but her past self, the sinful past, remembering the tiniest pieces of memory that had been ingrained into her brain. Sof. Her name, whispered in the night, between them, broke through the carefully placed barrier, cracking it enough to reveal information of her past self next to her emotions.

With his head tilted downward, their hands on top of one another, Sofia eventually followed through, silently taking in what he saw and his reaction to it. Instead, Sofia's breathing intensified, breasts raising and lowering in her dress while her fingers moved underneath his arm, turning them around to let her fingertips glide alongside his skin. Electrifying, exciting, Sofia let out a shaky breath of complete bliss, with herself moving closer, lower and away from the couch, appraising him from a lower level. "I just know you meant the world to me," she breathed heavily, exclaiming a stifled giggle, almost as if she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be amazed at that fact, "I feel..," there wasn't a word fit to describe her own state of mind. Ecstatic, perhaps, in awe of a world beyond reality. She placed his hand against her chest, hoping he'd feel her heartbeat rapidly drumming against her rib cage. Sinful, she ached for his hands to relearn every curve of her body. Instead of saying anything, Sofia observed him longingly, her fingers tingling due to the sensation of touching him. The tension remained palpable as thunder clashed outside and rain hit the windows nearby. "Whatever we were, please don't let it be just a dream." Sofia got closer then, her breath hitched as she now held her breath, her heart racing while her free hand pressed his hand deeper against her chest, "Let's not pretend this is just a dream we're both afraid to wake from."

You practically are, he wants to say. Bitterly, too. The kingdom plastered it directly in his face, often, showing how the King and her were a united front. Invincible together. But he just brushes it off for now. Content to let her say whatever she wants on the situation, even if he doesn’t believe her. Instead he simply shrugs in a form of acceptance. Not agreement. “Yeah, I’m sure he will… Believe you.” It wouldn’t matter much what he said in the end. He wasn’t substantial to the king. He didn’t hold weight. She did. “He only needs to believe one of us. And I’m just the bodyguard to him. Just the one who drove and watched over you. What I say won’t matter nearly as much.” Joel would just give more minuscule detail. Leave the heftier recount to her. The less he said, the better. Honestly. 

He swallows at her next shameless admission. One bold as brass. And if it were brighter in here, he swears the involuntary blush that creeps up his neck would be on display for anyone with eyes. It’s been so long since someone has said that to him. That someone couldn’t get him out of their thoughts. Couldn’t stay away from him. It felt like a lifetime. Like it couldn’t be possible because the world had only been him, and his hidden wants for so long. His urges were buried down so far they had bled into resentment and avoidance. But here it was again. Creeping up. Zipping up his spine as he forcibly straightened, cleared his throat, and looked towards the floor as she continued confessing until she invited him to sit with her. That wasn’t a good idea. He knew it down to his bones. If he sat there while she was in this state… Nothing good would come of it. And yet — 

When she talks about crossing the line, he can’t help but find his own traitorous feet crossing the lines on their own accord. Having him sit opposite her while she fidgets with her sleeve. “Sof,” her name. Shortened. An old familiarity. It feels wrong to say it now, but also… right. He clears his throat, again. “Sofia,” he tries again. More confident and contained — careful to not let any feelings continue to slip through. “You should keep hating it. My nearness. I do. Because …” and he slowly let his hand find hers. Stopping her fidgeting by wrapping his hand around her wrist and carefully tugging it down to her lap. “This,” he whispers, his hand lowering to cover the top of hers now. His fingertips just barely grazed her thigh, where his hand continued and her smaller one ended. “This never ended well.” Staring down at their hands, he can only smile for the briefest of seconds before he flinches. Gazing back at the floor but keeping his hand on hers as fiery tingles electrocuted up his arm. “There was too much pain. And there shouldn’t be pain.”

[publicbroadcastingservice]

"i don't want to know" is so quintessentially frank and julie to me. not only is it a song about two people loving each other in nonreciprocal ways, it's also about being stuck together by something much greater than the two of you.

for reference, the song is from the rumors album by fleetwood mac- an album infamous for its sordid love songs by certain band members to other band members. idwtk in particular was written by stevie nicks well before the conceptualization of the album, though its production was largely masterminded by her bandmate and subject of the song, lindsey buckingham. not only were nicks and buckingham friends and lovers, but they were also creative and business partners. despite their on-again-off-again relationship, there was something bigger than both of them keeping them together: their music. (see "the chain" for more on that.)

isn't that just reminiscent of the themes of welcome home in general? being trapped by something greater than yourself? something you were made to do but ultimately have no control over? is it passion or is it just habit? where do you start and i begin?

but i think it's especially relevant when it comes to frank and julie's relationship. because while the entire cast is trapped in the neighborhood, frank and julie are specifically stuck together. another idea that connects them to "the chain" (ik this post is about idwtk, stay with me) is the idea of traditional heterosexual marriage as a "ball and chain," a phrase originating in the 20th-century, referring the manacles worn by prisoners around their ankles, typically linked to a weight to limit their mobility. it's been a common english idiom ever since, representing the restrictive and ultimately burdensome nature of traditional marriage. coincidentally (or not), the "chain around the ankle" is the same imagery fleetwood mac were pulling from when they wrote the song!

furthermore, i think the song basically foreshadows where i think frank and julie's relationship is going to go in future updates. the line that sticks out to me the most is:

I don't want to stand between you and love, honey

even though the singer of the song loves the person they're singing too, they also respect their right to love, even if it isn't with themselves. however, there is a difference between wanting the subject of the song to find love somewhere else and actually being able to let them go. for better or worse, the singer is an unwitting obstacle in their lover's way.

similarly, i think julie knows she and frank aren't compatible in that way (whether or not she knows he's gay, i'm not sure), and yet, she still jumps at the bit to play his love interest / partner at almost every turn. for her, the uncertainty of honesty is much scarier than the captivity of convention- by which i mean, julie is the kind of person who'd rather stay in her uncomfortable little box then dare to venture outside of it and potentially lose everything. i'm not saying this to shame her (on a personal level, trust me, i get it), but it's important to understand when you look at the potential conflicts in her relationship with frank. if julie found herself in a position where she had to play house with a man she doesn't love or go their separate ways and try to find true happiness for themselves, would she let frank go? honestly, i don't think she would.

and that's not to say the onus of this problem is solely on julie's end. if frank was in a position where he could guarantee him and julie's safety at the cost of their own happiness or cut her loose and potentially doom them both, which would he choose? at this point, we don't know! but it's exactly that kind of uncertainty julie has to live in.

all this to say, the song is ultimately about a relationship's crossroads. the one where you like someone, but you don't love them. where you love them, but resent them. where you resent them, but you still desire their companionship.

powerful stuff, man! powerful stuff...

oh the frank and julie of it all... powerful powerful...

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[yume4evere]

40p!!!!??? What could happen in 40 pages!!!? Yuki's return, their conversation about what happened, their feelings, their acceptance of each other again, their love, their lives as humans, a lot... I don't think the author is capable of doing that. It's a bad ending.

How will it end in 40p?

I understand what you're thinking and honestly, I'm confused too about how everything will unfold. With only 40 pages left, it feels like the final chapter may end up being rushed and burdened by everything it has to resolve.

I’m not expecting a fully satisfying or extraordinary ending for Yuki and Kaname. More than anything, it feels like this is simply the closing of a story that began long ago, a natural extension of the original series' ending.

I'm not sure if Kaname will regain his memories, but perhaps some memories of moments with Yuki will return when she returns.

The chapter will probably begin, from pages 1 to 10/11, with Kaname going to Yuki. Waking up and the moments of longing and embrace between them.

Then, from pages 12 to 20, there will be a deep and honest discussion between them. Not just emotional, but mature, and sad.

Yuki will show her change and reveal the pain and happiness she's experienced, and perhaps even untold secrets, feelings.

After an internal struggle, they begin to accept each other gradually, not all at once.

Then, from pages 21 to 30, there will be quiet moments, small moments that reflect the longing, trust, and happiness that has returned between them.

They might share something they had in the past, like a place or the gift he gave Yuki.

It becomes clear that their love hasn't died, but has grow more, making it possible for them to get back together.

Then, from pages 31 to 38, scenes from the near future are shown.. how they live together, their special moments, their aspirations, and their journey forward, visits to family Kiryu Cemetery and friends.

They might talk about having children, traveling, working together at the coffee shop Kaname opened, or farming...

A very special but powerful moment that shows how they've Loved each other and matured more.

Then, the last two pages are about the end telling about how they suffered, moved on, and got back together, and now it ends with them dying as happy human beings after fighting their cruel fate.

That's my prediction. I don't know what else the author could write, but something like this. We'll see. There isn't much left.

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?