#dont mention my long absence lol

[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | 1

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🌧️

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

rating. M (18+)

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 9.5k +

warnings. (for this chapter) coarse language, OC being in denial and this is just the beginning LOL , parental negligence / toxic parenting , flashbacks, slight mention injuries (knee scraping) and crying , panic attack :( , oc is kinda.. eh, SOMEONE is introduced 😵‍💫, this is it for the first part, lmk if i missed any other warnings, “english isnt my first language” so can contain grammatical errors, not proof read + the last part omfg

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Some doors, no matter how tightly shut, always find a way to open.

The sun was up after the drizzle, which bathed the town in a subtle golden haze, the kind that made everything feel a little too warm, a little too nostalgic. You walked slowly, almost as if your feet were dragging against the weight of the years you’d left behind. A part of you did not really want to be here, but a greater part of you knew you cannot continue to run away from everything like you always have.

Such a coward.

Your home stood at the end of a narrow lane, tucked away like a secret that had been kept for far too long, to the point you felt like it maybe didn’t exist anymore. The house looked the same, yet different, almost as if it had aged in your absence - funny, because although it looked pretty worn out, nothing really felt off. Or did it? The paint was chipped, the garden overgrown, the lawn and grass both destroyed.

But it was still the place you’d once called home—a place that had witnessed more arguments than apologies, more silence than understanding. You pause, staring at the old, browned door as if it’s a portal to another world— always has been— to a world where you were always second best, always compared, always found wanting, longing, no— yearning for the bare minimum. Your own once called home which always felt like a far distant place for you.

It still does.

The windows stare back at you, blank and lifeless, just like the eyes that used to watch you so closely, judging every move, every breath. You don’t want to go inside, but you know you have to. You cannot keep on running away anymore. You are tired, but you dont exactly know if doing something which has your gut churning with disdain can be exactly considered as rest or relaxation.

You notice that the shabby WELCOME door mat which was once a home for mites is no longer at the front door anymore.

As you drew closer, your eyes involuntarily flickered to the house next door. The garden was well-tended, prettiest of the flowers scattered in the greenery in full bloom, just like how you’d remembered.

As always.

The house stood as if nothing had changed there— as if time had preserved that house and all its memories in a neat little bubble. Always so full of life, always so welcoming. You bite down the bitterness which floats up your chest at the thought. Push down the small voice in the back of your head which insists that you will never be welcomed the way a static house makes you feel.

A part of you, the part you’d tried to bury, kick away— wondered if he still lived there. If his parents still looked out from the same windows, waiting for their golden boy to come home.

Who cares.

You quickly turned your gaze away, focusing on the worn steps leading up to her own front door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob, the cold metal biting into your skin. You’d previously informed your mum through a text message that you will be visiting them, which you didn’t bother or have the energy to check if she’d actually seen.

Your hand on the knob stills, and you purse your lips in thought. You’d decided it’d be a bit courteous to knock instead of just barging in — perhaps some basic decency to spare — although if it was your own home — as if it ever was. You raise your fists to knock— and the door creaked open before you could really.

There she stood.

The same face that had greeted you with tired smiles and even more tired expectations, back in the days when her face was devoid of wrinkles, and full of youthful beauty. The same person who’d cradled you on her bosom and cherished you; the same person who at least tried to make an effort to mend some broken ties, although when she was very well aware it was way too late.

“You’re back,” your mother said, her voice heavy with something that wasn’t quite disappointment but wasn’t quite relief either. She sounded tired— and your mind partially thought if it was because of you. You really felt overwhelmed by emotions, you really did.

You felt the back of your eyes burn with tears — that familiar feeling which you’d remembered was a staple one when you used to live here back in your teenage days. You wanted to engulf her in a hug and just cry, hoping that you could just, for once, forget about whatever had ever happened, and truly be a child once again.

“I’m back,” you reply, deciding to push aside any fleeting emotions which dared to threaten you. You stepped inside as soon as your mom moved aside and let the familiar scent of home—of old furniture — of broken communication — of forgotten dreams —wash over you.

— — —

Inside, the house was just as you’d remembered it. The wallpaper was still peeling in the corners, the furniture still arranged the way it had been since you were a child. It smelled like old wood, dust, the old sandalwood diffuser — and something bitter that lingered in the air, like the remnants of a fight that never really ended.

The walls seem closer than you remember, the space smaller, suffocating. Everything is the same, yet different, distorted by the journey of time and the weight of all that’s been left unsaid. Was any of the furniture ever even moved ever since you’d left? You’re in doubt.

However, the air was thick with unspoken tension, a tension that had always existed— but was now more prominent, more suffocating. You could feel the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, as if she were waiting for her to say something, anything, to break the silence that had settled between them like thick snow.

Although it’s been so long, surprisingly, you didnt really have anything to break the ice with.

Or even if you did, you didn’t want to.

You move through the house on autopilot, your feet carrying you to the living room where you remember the echoes of your parents’ voices being the loudest. You felt disgruntled — upset, at how memories of your parents fighting are the only prominent thing you can remember vividly inside this house. You wanted to laugh ; you can almost see them standing there, locked in yet another battle of wills, their words sharp and cutting, slicing through the air like knives, and you— you ?

Perhaps standing in some corner with your favorite old teddy bear, covering your ears the best you could, trembling with sobs, wondering if this would ever stop. Their words, though, are like a very vague memory to you. Almost as if someone is tingling a metal glass in the back of your head, far away, and the echoes which reach you are the only thing audible.

They were always fighting, always tearing each other apart, and you were always caught in the crossfire, collateral damage in a war that wasn’t even yours to fight.

But it was you who paid the price, every single time.

You hear footsteps, and your throat goes dry. The realization that you recognize the footsteps is beyond disturbing to you, as the fact that you even know who the owner of the footsteps is.

From recognising footsteps to vehicle horns, you grew up, and this would never not be able to turn on a switch in the back of your head. You knew the footsteps, their urgency, or even their tone, may you be called crazy. And you perhaps are delusional to think that maybe these steps are rather relaxed and slow. . .

perks of growing in a strict family, you guess.

Your father emerged from the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes, now very much lacking of the light they used to radiate, widen ever so slightly, but then again, come back to their usual resting form. Almost as if he tried to mask his. . . disappointment?

You weren’t sure, and his expression wasn’t one of happiness, either.

He looked older, more worn, but his eyes held the same disapproval you had seen so many times before. The kind of disapproval that was never voiced but was always felt.

A kind of disapproval you felt in your veins even before you were faced to force it, almost as if it was imprinted deep in your veins, that no matter what you’d do, you’re going to get this stamp of resentment passed onto you.

“Long time,” he muttered, his eyes flicking over yours as if assessing the damage of the years. The silence which has stretched all over these years. You were surprised that he even decided to speak up, remembering the time when you departed.. wasn’t exactly as serene as a teary goodbye sounded like, but that was a memory you refused to unlock.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

You grimace at how dry you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe because it’s partially the fact that you didn't know what to answer, or maybe because..

Well.

You stood there, the three of you, now, in the cramped living room that had never felt like a home to you. You wonder if it did to them too, or was it just the forced idea of it being a home to rest their heads in made them used to the idea that it was a home. Misunderstandings which haunt you, as their child, you sure are to know that they must haunt them too.

You were someone who tried fixing them, who never once tried to do that themselves, right in the place where it all began, pretending it was home, when all it ever felt like was a place they were too tired to leave.

The silence in the room felt heavy, oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall which seemed to drag time over and over.

It once again felt like their eyes pierced your very own soul, trying to burn you with their gaze.

“I’ll get dinner started,” your mother echoed, turning away before anyone could respond. It was easier, you supposed, to keep busy than to confront the reality of your return.

Or her expectations. Who knows.

You nodded, more to yourself than to anyone else, and followed your mother into the kitchen. You weren’t surprised that your father opted to go outside — a habit you’d recall which was so frequent back in the olden days when everything was a frenzied mess. Either he used to be out puffing out nicotine, or simply. . . didn’t return home until he felt like it.

— — —

The kitchen was smaller than you’d remembered, or maybe you’d just grown up. The shelves were no longer as tall as Burj Khalifa to you, and neither were the long random cabinets— who were the same dull brown, the countertops cluttered with the same appliances that had seen better days.

Your breath stuttered at how even the products you’d seen were the same, not a single new thing filled there— from the good ol’ crunchy cereal cornflakes (which was barely even consumed for breakfast,) or the chilli crisp you’d loved to drizzle on top of nearly any dish you’d had.

Truly, nothing really had changed.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” your mother’s voice reached out to you as you nearly flinched, not having expected her to begin a conversation. She was diligent in her chore; her question was like a soft command which demanded an answer, not looking up from where she was peeling potatoes, with that same old lilac handled peeler.

“Yeah,” you repeat, this time truly not knowing what else to say. To say you felt like a dumbass was an understatement; because truly, after so long, you seem to have lost the spark to even think to answer.

However , you didn’t want to explain yourself, didn’t want to justify why you’d stayed away for so long. You didn’t owe them that. You didn’t owe them anything.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It felt better that way.

The silence returned, heavy and uncomfortable. You found yourself staring out the small kitchen window, your gaze drifting to the house next door. You could see the top of the garden wall, the vibrant green of the plants that lined it.

It was strange how one small thing could hold so many memories, how one small thing could make you feel so much. Much more than being inside of your own house ever did, or ever could.

Yet, something about it feels different now, like a memory you’ve revisited too many times, its edges blurred with the weight of all you’ve carried inside you for decades.

You can almost see him there, in the yard, surrounded by laughter that wasn’t just his—it was a magnet, he was like a magnet, pulling everyone into its orbit, everyone except you. You were always on the outside looking in, (and it’s nearly ironic how you are now too,) your heart a silent witness to the joy you could never touch, never reach.

Even when he reached out, trying to pull you into that magnetic circle of warmth, you resisted. Your pride was too wounded, your envy was too sharp. How could you join in when every smile of his was a reminder of everything you could never be?

.....

Fuck.

You quickly look away, focusing on the mundane task of setting the table, very well knowing that your mom is gonna do that again. But the curiosity lingered, like a small fucking bug, a small, nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite shake out of you.

You did not want to think about him. You did not come here all the way to remember someone who has always just,. . . you sigh, gritting your teeth. Here were you again, fretting and sweating. Your mind whirred, not wanting to remember the way his smile had once made you feel both seen and invisible at the same time.

— — —

You decide you could take a walk around to fuck around and.. uh, find out, maybe? (You weren’t sure what exactly, though.)

As you maneuver through the hallway, your gaze drifts to the old family photos hanging on the wall. They seem. . out of place, like relics from a time that never really existed, or more like pieces on . . a museum? A museum where no one cared for its content , and everything was just randomly added to make something out of nothing.

You were always smiling in those pictures, but it was a smile that never reached your eyes—a smile that hid the exhaustion inside you. And there, in the corner of every photo, was him.

Even in those memories, those old photos, he was perfect. The golden boy with the bright eyes and the easy smile. His eyes were so bright and full of a happiness that seemed to come so naturally, would crinkle at the corners when he smiled—an easy, effortless smile that lit up his entire face.

His hair, always a little tousled from running around, caught the sunlight in a way that made it glow, adding to the image of him as the golden boy. You remember the way his front teeth, slightly larger and giving him that bunny-like appearance, would peek out when he grinned, adding a touch of innocence to his already charming features. He’s grinning widely in this picture, his nose crinkled up and his fingers poised in a victory sign, aligned to his face, right above his eyes, a smile so infectious that you feel your lips stretch to a smile even before you know it.

Your heart drops to your ass.

You’re smiling.

You can still hear their voices,though. Dripping with disappointment every time they said his name, their expectations pressing down on you like a weight you could never lift. You were expected to be someone’s walking copy— perfect and what not. You were the one who couldn’t measure up, the one who always fell short, who always came last in the race.

You take a deep breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling shards of glass, each breath painful, deep and cutting. The silence in the house is deafening, only the distant noise of your mother chopping up vegetables with that same dull thud against the chop board audible.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that the absence of your parents’ voices is more suffocating than their arguments ever were. You had always wished for the fighting to stop, but now that it has, you find yourself wishing for the noise, the chaos—anything to drown out the silence that presses in on you from all sides.

Maybe you had finally gone insane.

You had run away from it all. From the piercing noises, comparison, disdain, disappointment, everything. You were so young back then, with no knowledge of the outside world or its secrets.

You’d try to settle in different parts of the world, failing miserably each time because that feeling of something missing in your soul— that deep longing and yearning for anything that wasn’t as quick as getting a quick whiff of dopamine.. never quite left following you.

And now, here you are, back where it all began, and nothing has changed. Except, perhaps, you. You’re not the same girl who left this place. You’ve seen too much, been through too much. The world has carved its mark on you, left you scarred and weary, and you’re not sure if there’s anything left of the girl you used to be.

But as you stand there, looking out at the endless pictures which hang on the old plastered walls where the past that still haunts you, you realize something.

You’re not just angry anymore.

You’re tired.

Tired of carrying this weight, this burden of resentment and hurt. Tired of blaming all the misunderstandings that were woven into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, to someone who perhaps wasn't even slightly related to your pain.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t really him you despised, but the circumstances that had pushed you to see him as the source of your pain, which had settled like dust in the chambers of your heart. The misunderstandings that had tangled themselves into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, weaving him into the narrative of your suffering, were unfair to you both.

It felt easier to blame him than to confront the truth—that your pain had roots far deeper than just one boy with a bright smile and kind heart.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let go.

The thought surprises you, shakes you to your core. Where the fuck did that come from?

The thought not only surprises you, but mostly, scares you. You take a cautious step back. It comes with a dozen questions which you fear that you don’t know the answers to, or are way too confused to even think about them.

You’ve held onto this anger for so long, let it define you, shape you. Who will you be without it? Can you really let go of something that has been a part of you for so long?

Did it really take you this long to realise this, all that, too in the place where you desperately ran away from?

You don’t have the answers, not yet. But standing here, in this place where it all began, you think that maybe you’re ready to start looking for them.

And that scares you more than anything else.

You find yourself staring at a sketchbook, after dinner, which was all just . . . once again, all silence. You remember how you realised that the food tasted bland, despite having a home cooked meal after nearly a decade. You tried adding salt till it was way too salty, and you had to gulp down each morsel because it became too bitter for your taste. The suffocating silence was broken when the bubbling hot stew burnt your tongue, as you yelped in pain. The only relief you got was gulping down a whole bottle of iced water from the fridge.

Your tongue feels numb now. Great.

Your eyes roam over the sketchbook again, its once pristine pages now yellowed with age. It was a relic from your childhood, buried deep in the attic with dust for years until your return home unearthed it. As you trace the lines of the drawing on the first page, you remember the day you made it—a simple scene of a house on a hill, surrounded by trees and bathed in the warm glow of a sunset, and those huge “V” shaped birds marked randomly near the sun.

You remember that you were so proud of that drawing, each line and color carefully chosen by your younger self, an attempt to capture a world that felt safe and beautiful.

An imaginary place where you’d even thought of making stick figures to show you and your parents, a world where they lived happily, but the vague pencil traces underneath the pastel scribbling show that you’d decided it was better without it.

But the memory of showing it to your parents is what lingers most. You remember how your excitement had bubbled over as you presented the drawing to your parents, your young heart brimming with pride. You’d spent hours on that piece, the house on the hill, the yellow-ish hues of the sunset, the trees swaying gently in the imaginary breeze. You thought it was the best thing you’d ever created.

But when you placed the sketchbook in front of them, eager for their approval, their reactions were far from what you had hoped.

Your mother’s eyes had flickered over the page, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything at first, just handed the sketchbook over to your father, who barely glanced at it before returning to his newspaper. It was your mother who finally broke the silence, her voice flat and dismissive. “It’s… fine,” she’d said, and that single word was like a bucket of cold water on your excitement, your hard work.

You remember vividly, how your heart sank, how the colours of your drawing seemed to dull right before your eyes. How hours of scribbling felt like it’d all been to waste. The pride you’d felt moments before quickly evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You were too young to understand why her words stung so much, but old enough to know they did.

But then your mother’s tone shifted, a hint of something sharper creeping into her voice. Her eyes, dark and clear, were on you. “You know,” she’d continued, “Jungkook showed us a drawing he did just last week. It was a landscape too, but he added so much detail. The way he captured the mountains and the way the light reflected on the water… It was really impressive. His technique is really improving.”

Your father chimed in, not even looking up. “Yes, he’s always had a good eye for these things, hah. Natural talent, I suppose.”

You’d just stood there in the corner, your limbs feeling way too weak and shaky to hold you up.

You’d tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to swallow the hollow pain in your chest, but it was no use. The resentment boiled inside you, twisting something in your chest until all you could feel was the unfairness of it all. You had wanted to create something beautiful, to show them what you were capable of, that you could do better, but instead, your drawing had become just another reminder of how you didn’t measure up.

The sting of their words burned hot behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were blurring your vision. You didn’t want to cry in front of them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. So you bolted from the yard, the sound of their conversation fading behind you as you ran, feeling even hurt that none of your parents bothered to ask about where you were going.

But your vision was too clouded by tears, and as you reached the stairs, you’d feel your foot catch on the edge of a step. You stumbled forward, eyes widening, your arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but it was too late. You’d fallen, hard, the impact of your knee against the hardwood sending a sharp jolt of pain through your leg.

You remember the way your mother had smiled when she talked about Jungkook’s drawing, a soft, admiring smile that she rarely directed at you. It wasn’t just the critique of your work that hurt—it was the realization that, in their eyes, Jungkook would always outshine you. No matter how hard you tried, how much effort you put in, he was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, while you were just… there.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, partly from the pain, but mostly from the overwhelming sense of rejection and inadequacy. You sat there on the stairs, your knee scraped and bleeding, the ache in your chest even worse than the one on your knee. The drawing that had once filled you with pride now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of how you would always fall short, no matter how hard you tried.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, angry at them for making you feel this way, and angry at Jungkook for being the perfect son they never had. The resentment grew deeper, and with it, so did the belief that you were never going to be good enough for them, no matter what you did.

— — —

The moon is full overhead when you finally change into some comfortable PJs and finally feel sleep knock on the back of your eyelids and exhaustion making its way to move gradually along your body. Today wasn’t exactly eventful, but rather a concoction of memories which tickled and stung you like a thousand bees over and over.

You’ve decided to keep the windows open, . . .for tonight, atleast, because you do not dare sleep without feeling suffocated here. It sounds silly, but having nice ventilation feels. . . fresh, or more so.

You were around fourteen, you think, as you remember sitting on the edge of the playground, kicking at the dirt with the toes of your worn sneakers. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field, and you could hear the other kids shouting and playing, their voices mingling with the distant hum of traffic.

You weren’t interested in joining them. Your eyes were fixed on a figure in the distance, one you knew all too well.

Jungkook.

He was standing by the swings, laughing with a group of boys who seemed to hang on his every word. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he pushed it back, and his smile—God, that smile—was so bright, so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at. You hated that smile. You hated how perfect he seemed, how effortless everything was for him. And you hated how, no matter what you did, you could never seem to escape his shadow. No wonder the girls were so hung up on him, even the class president— it was ridiculous.

That day had started like any other, with your parents reminding you how you should be more like Jungkook. They praised his grades, his athletic abilities, and his charm. Either a direct implication of “Why can’t you be more like him?” or something like “You know, Jungkook— blah blah blah, all that bullshit about how he was better than you in every aspect. Even if it was the topic of increasing acne on your face, not realising—or maybe not caring—how their words cut you down. You knew they meant well, or maybe not, but each comparison felt like a knife to your heart, a reminder that you would never be good enough.

That you’ll never be him.

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt a presence beside you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Why are you sitting here alone?” His voice was always so soft. So gentle.

You hated his voice. Why did he sound so. . . sweet ? so smooth, almost with a slight undertone of a rasp. Why did it make you want to surrender and break down into the frustration which was pent up inside you since ages?

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest heavy. You wanted to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because as much as you resented him, wanted him away from you, you somehow wanted him near you, a feeling which was hugely perplexing to you. It was a twisted, painful contradiction that you didn’t fully understand, nor you’d ever wanted to.

Jungkook sat down beside you, right on the dusty ground, his knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt, a feeling of fleeting emotions through you, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Of course he’s gonna be concerned.

And that was the thing about Jungkook—he was always so kind, so considerate, even when you didn’t want him to be. It only made you feel worse. It only made you feel like utter shit, like you were not meant for anything, not even basic human compassion.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t seem convinced. He shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. He smelled like baby powder mixed with sweat. Irritating. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s bothering you.”

You almost laughed at the irony. How could you talk to him when he was the source of so much of your pain? When everyday you had to just, suffer because of him? How could you tell him that every time you looked at him, you felt like you were drowning in your own inadequacy? That every time he succeeded, it felt like another reminder of your failures? While he was always praised, always encouraged, while you were left to wonder why your efforts never seemed to measure up?

But instead of saying any of that, you just nodded, giving him the answer he wanted. Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you as weak, as vulnerable. You couldn’t let him know how deeply he had affected you.

There was a long silence between you, the kind that felt like it was stretching out forever. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in your chest building with every passing second. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Jungkook spoke again.

“You know, you’re really talented,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, a habit you hate to have noticed when he gets excited about something. “I just saw your abstract sketches the other day. Holy shit dude, they’re amazing!”

You didn’t know if your heart hammering in your chest sounded more or the silence after his praise did. He, however, didn’t stop there.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to twist the knife deeper. Because at that moment, you realised that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. To him, everything came so easily—success, praise, admiration. But for you, it was a constant struggle, a battle you fought every day just to keep your head above water.

You turned to look at him then, really look at him, not caring if your eyes are brimming with unshed tears or if your nose is runny with snot and tears.

And for the first time, you saw the boy behind the perfect image. There was a softness in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart ache. And for a fleeting moment, you wanted to believe him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than the sum of your insecurities.

But then reality came crashing back, and the bitterness you had tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice flat, on the verge of cracking, devoid of the warmth you knew he was expecting. “But I don’t need your pity.”

Jungkook blinked, his doe eyes widening, taken aback by your sudden harshness. “It’s not—”

“Just leave me alone,” you’d hissed, standing up abruptly. You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest, your blood rushing onto your face. You could feel his eyes on your back, but you didn’t dare look back. Because if you did, you knew you would see the hurt in his expression, and you couldn’t handle that. Not when you were already so close to breaking.

And so you ran. Ran so fast, so hard, that you felt your chest constrict and gulp for air— the static breeze feeling like wind on your face as you ran, ran, ran. Ran till your limbs gave away and your head hurt, till you feel your insides eat you up with a strange mix of emotions—anger, regret, sadness.

But most of all, you felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, even if you felt like you did the right thing. Because in pushing Jungkook away, you had also pushed away the one person who might have understood, who might have been able to help you. . . only if you hadn’t pushed him away.

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

But as you stare at the sketchbook now, under the glowing moonlight, running your fingers over the faded lines of the drawing, the sketches you’d made again — you see it with different eyes—eyes that can appreciate the innocence in those lines, the earnestness of a child who only wanted to create something beautiful. The proportions might not be perfect, almost nothing in those sketches were — but there’s a charm in their simplicity, a warmth in the colors that you hadn’t noticed before. They were all good drawings, you think, not because of their technical skill, but because they were a reflection of who you were back then—hopeful, imaginative, and full of dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been a little too hard on yourself all those years ago.

You hadn’t even planned to be here.

The moment your father casually mentioned that the Jeons still lived next door, you felt that familiar, uncomfortable pressure building in your chest. You didn’t absolutely know why that information passed on, especially when after a heavy restless night of feeling like crap, your muscles aching from exhaustion , your brain unable to process every thought which you’d thought, you were finally up to join your parents for an early evening tea.

His voice was cheerful, like he had no idea the gravity of what he was suggesting, but you felt it immediately. Every time the conversation veered toward your neighbors, it dredged up feelings you weren’t ready to confront. The Jeons—his parents—meant one thing, and ultimately, one thing only: Jungkook.

The mention of their name was enough to send your mind into overdrive, painting images of polite conversation and awkward laughter, images that twisted into something far more unbearable—seeing him. You could already hear the follow-up conversation in your mother’s saccharine sweet voice, “Why don’t you come over and say hello? Catch up with the Jeons?” And worst of all, they’d ask about you. You felt despondent to even think of the conversation, if it ever took place.

You weren’t used to the warmth which Mr. and Mrs. Jeon had shown you throughout the years, which only made you doubt if they ever knew the thick wall of ash between their son and you. They were so copacetically well humored, it almost hurt to be in a conversation with them.

Almost as if you never were used to this form of decency, that it shocked you to your core.

Jungkook’s parents would definitely ask, and you'd be expected to stand there and smile like you hadn't left everything behind. You know they definitely wouldn’t mean anything hurtful, but you do not believe your mind.

Not yet, atleast.

Before your parents could suggest anything more, before they could casually lead you down that path of small talk and forced interactions, you’d mumbled a vague excuse. Something about needing to stretch your legs, or needing some air.

You really did, though.

You’d slipped out the front door like you were running away, and you shook away the bitterness forming in your throat. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that it had to be away from that conversation, away from the chance of seeing him.

As your feet carried you through the familiar streets, your mind raced faster than your heart. The narrow, winding streets were the same, the faded signs on shop windows were the same, but the memories that clung to the air—they were suffocating.

You’d always thought coming back would be simple. Walk down memory lane, see familiar faces, and pretend you were someone new. But the weight of those memories hung over you, each one sharper than the last. With every corner you turned, you felt the tug of your past, a pull you couldn’t quite shake away, no matter how hard you’d tried to shrug it off.

— — —

You found yourself slipping into a small café you hadn’t noticed before, just off the main road, desperate for a reprieve.

What’s the name— 134340? Quite strange, you think, but shrug it off once again. People are creative with their business requirements, even if that means that you probably make out nothing from eyeing the café from outside. except the fact that. . . it’s possibly space themed?

Now that is strange for a coffee shop.

You think that it’s quite new. Or, who even knows. It stands out from the dull shops lit nearby, and there’s quite a buzz which attracts you here, although you’d prefer a quiet café over a bustling one any day.

Well, fuck it.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeted you as you stepped inside, the hum of quiet conversation and the soft clink of mugs providing a much-needed escape. It’s surprisingly cozy, something you’d never guessed from the odd name and the theme previously. The café is small, actually smaller than most you’ve been to. Though, it’s nice, there are fewer people here, and you quite find yourself at peace already. You chose a table near the back, away from the windows, trying to create some distance from the life outside.

You hadn’t planned to stay long, but the peaceful atmosphere lulled you into a false sense of security. You let out a long breath, allowing the tension to ease from your shoulders as you sipped your coffee. Ha, thisfelt nice. For a few blissful moments, you felt like you could breathe again. Almost like. . . maybe you could handle this return to your hometown after all.

And then, the door chimes.

You barely looked up at first—just another customer, maybe a loner like you, someone else in this quiet café. But then the barista’s voice cut through the room, clear and distinct.

“Macchiato for Jungkook!”

Huh?

Your hand froze halfway to your cup. The familiar sound of his name hit you like a punch to the gut, making your breath hitch.

No fucking way.

Your gaze shot up, almost instinctively, and that’s when you saw him. There, standing by the counter, picking up his drink like it was the most casual thing in the world. Him.

Your heart seemed to lurch into your throat. It couldn’t be him—it couldn’t. And yet, there he was, right in front of you, a few inches away.

The room seemed to shrink around you, your pulse quickening as your eyes locked onto him. You felt yourself gasping for air, your peace long broken. Your body felt suddenly too warm, your chest tightening painfully as every nerve in your body screamed for you to look away.

But you just couldn’t.

He had changed.

The boy you left behind had grown into someone you barely recognized. His back was visible to you— his frame was broader, more solid than you remembered, and his shoulders— God, what the fuck? they seemed to stretch forever beneath the dark jacket he wore. His hair, slightly tousled, deep raven — as you’d remembered— framed his face in that familiar, careless way, but it was sharper now. Defined. There was no mistaking the confidence in the way he carried himself, something he hadn't fully grown into back then.

But what stood out most—what nearly knocked the breath from your lungs—were those— were those. . . tattoos peeking underneath his jacket?

Jungkook's arm, the one that used to be bare, now carried intricate black ink that snaked from his wrist to his elbow, disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket. The lines were bold, winding and curling, and you felt your jaw drop, even if he was standing at a distance. The tattoos seemed to catch the light as he reached for his drink, each motion of his arm drawing your attention like a magnet.

You couldn’t stop staring. The boy you remembered—the one who had always been so kind, so open—had become someone else entirely.

One who stood in stark contrast to the memories you had clung to.

And he was alone.

Jungkook had always been surrounded by people. He was known to be the crowd attractor, always having his admirers petting him by his neck. He was never the type to go anywhere without friends trailing behind him, their laughter filling the spaces around him. But here, now, in this café—he was by himself. There was a stillness about him that you didn’t remember, something quiet and self-assured.

Now, it almost felt like he didn’t need anyone around him to validate his presence. He was comfortable in his own skin, by himself.

That realisation hit you harder than you expected. He had changed in ways you hadn’t anticipated, ways that made your chest tighten with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name.

And then, just as you thought your heart might explode from your chest, Jungkook turned slightly, his eyes sweeping across the café—casually, as if he were taking in his surroundings—and your stomach dropped.

Fuck, fuck. The coffee was so strong, you feel it lurching up your stomach now.

You flinched, ducking your head quickly, heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it across the room. Did he see you? Could he have recognized you after all these years? Your breath was shallow, uneven, panic rising in your throat as you wrestled with the urge to bolt from your seat.

You weren’t ready for this.

You weren’t ready to face him. Not here, not now. Not when you were still so caught up in your own thoughts, still trying to piece together the fragments of what your brain showed you. You’d come here for a cup of coffee— some peace— and seeing him again, after all this time, felt too much, and too little at once. It was like a bomb, or a bucket of ice cold water thrown directly at you.

It was overwhelming.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your bag, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. Your heart was racing, and every instinct in your body was telling you to run. But you hesitated, torn between the undeniable urge to leave and the part of you that wanted to look at him just once more. Just to see if he had really changed as much as you thought. Just to see if he, unlike this town, your home, had changed.

But you knew better. You couldn’t stay. Not with your emotions so close to the surface, threatening to spill over. If he saw you, if he recognized you—if he spoke to you— you didn’t know if you could handle that.

Because you know you can’t.

The café, once so peaceful, now felt stifling, the walls closing in on you as your breath quickened. You couldn’t breathe. You needed to get out of here, needed to escape before everything came crashing down.

With one final glance at his figure, standing there by the counter, you pushed your chair back, the screeching sound drawing more attention than you would have liked. But you didn’t care. You grabbed your things and bolted for the door, your pulse pounding in your ears, your steps quick and uneven.

You’d nearly made it. The door was just a few steps away, and all you had to do was keep your head down and walk.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the anxiety twisting your insides as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook hadn’t seen you—or at least you hoped he hadn’t. You prayed to heavens and hells that he hadn’t. But just as you reached for the door, you saw him lean against the counter, much closer now. Far closer than you had anticipated.

Fuck. Fuck!

The café’s single door was right beside where he stood, and there was no way out without passing directly by him.

Oh no.

You shouldn’t have chosen this café. Was there no other cafés for you to try? Did HE necessarily have to be in the same café as you?

Your stomach churned, your pulse thudding in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was right there. Right there. And you could feel the heat radiating off him even from where you stood. Panic crawled up your spine, making your movements sluggish and jerky. You just needed to keep your head down and walk—walk past him without glancing his way, without catching his eye. But he was so close, and as you stepped forward, trying to make yourself as small as possible, you caught it—his scent.

That familiar scent, one that had changed just as much as he had. He no longer smelled like baby powder. It was manly now, deeper, some sort of an expensive cologne, which was strong on its own— yet soft, almost comforting in a way that made your chest constrict painfully. The scent wrapped around you, making your knees feel weak, and for a second, you nearly lost your footing. You fought the instinct to look at him—to take one glance and confirm that yes, this is the Jungkook you left behind, the one who had grown into a man. But you couldn’t. If you looked at him, you’d be done.

You were beyond cooked.

Your legs carried you forward, faster than they should have, your mind racing with every step. You felt your arm brush something—him, the edge of his jacket maybe, or his hand on the counter—and your pulse spiked violently.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

You shoved the door open, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you stumbled outside, the cool air hitting your face like a hard slap back to reality.

You were outside. You’d made it. But the world around you was spinning, the street and the sky blurring together as your heart continued to pound in your chest. You leaned against the wall just outside the café, your hand pressed to your chest, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

Your palms felt uncomfortably clammy and you felt a sweat head run down your temple. Your thoughts were a mess—disjointed. Everything was hitting you at once; you had run away again. You had seen him, been close enough to touch him, and you had run. Just like before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the ache in your chest spreading as you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid. So stupid. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid ! You were an adult now, one with full responsibilities for your actions, and yet here you were, fleeing like a scared child.

You took a deep breath, forcing the air into your lungs. Maybe you could handle this. Yeah, you needed to clear your head. It’s just the coffee messing with you. Maybe you could—

“Excuse me?”

Your entire body froze at the voice directed at you.

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Rich. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, catching you off guard, wrapping itself around you like a tether, pulling you back toward the very thing you were trying to escape.

It wasn’t the voice you remembered—but it also very much was— heavier, weighted with a kind of maturity that made your breath catch. The boy you once knew had never sounded like this. This voice was deeper, more assured, like it had weathered years of life since you last heard it. The softness which his voice held in your memory still was back somewhere, but you couldn’t find it. And that hit you hard. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. The boy who used to tease you, who laughed with that bright, carefree chuckle—he was gone.

And now, that very voice was speaking to you.

You slowly turned to face him, your heart thudding violently in your chest as your eyes locked onto his face.

Yeah, this was your end.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungkook.

He was right there, just a few feet away. And this close, you could see everything.

The sharpness of his jawline hit you first, carved out and more defined than you ever remembered. It was strong, angular, like someone had taken the softness he once had and sculpted it into something more. . . commanding. His lips, parted slightly as he waited for you to respond, were full and soft, but even they held a sense of control, like every movement was deliberate. Fuck, was that a piercing at the corner ? His nose—perfectly straight, leading up to those eyes.

Those eyes.

Dark, deep, and searching. They hadn’t changed much in shape, but the way they looked at you was different now—more intense, more aware. His gaze wasn’t filled with youthful curiosity or mischief anymore. It was deeper. Grounded. Like he saw more, understood more.

He was a man now.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you had to force yourself to breathe.

Your gaze traveled up, noting the way his thick brows framed his face, darker and more defined than you remembered. They furrowed slightly as he watched you, as if trying to figure out why you were staring, why you hadn’t taken the phone from his hand yet. The small furrow in his brows only made his expression more serious, more focused. He was looking at you—not just glancing, but looking.

His dark, inky black hair brushed just above his brows, a few strands falling forward in that effortless, tousled way. It was longer now, framing his face, giving him an edge that made your chest tighten.

But it wasn’t just his face. Your eyes flickered down for just a second, barely able to handle it. His neck—strong and sinewy, leading to broad shoulders that seemed even broader now in the fitted jacket he wore. He’d filled out—a lot. His arms were no longer just lean muscle from teenage years of sports. Now, they were thicker, more muscular, straining against the fabric of his sleeve. Oh my God.

Your mind raced, every detail crashing into you at once, overwhelming your senses. Your chest felt tight, and you felt like your hands were shaking by your sides.

The more you looked, the more you realized how much had changed. How much you had missed. How much you had run away from?

It felt like the world was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the flood of memories, the weight of time lost, the realization that Jungkook had grown into someone you barely recognized—yet you knew it was still him.

He was still him.

You were losing yourself in it, in all of it, your thoughts spiraling out of control, unable to process the fact that he was standing here, holding something that belonged to you, waiting for you to take it from him.

Your eyes flickered back to his face, your heart clenching painfully. He was watching you, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. And yet, as much as he was looking at you, he didn’t know you. Didn’t recognize you. Not yet, anyway.

That hit you harder than you could’ve expected. How could he not know who you were? How could he not see it in your face, in the way you were trembling, in the panic written all over you?

But then again, why would he?

You were no longer the same girl he once knew.

And as his eyes narrowed in mild confusion, his brow furrowing just a little deeper, it became clear—he didn’t see you as the person who had disappeared from his life. Not yet.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice sending a tremor down your spine. You couldn’t miss the concern in his tone, the slight edge of worry that made your throat tighten even more.

Fuck. Of course he’d be concerned.

You blinked, the world rushing back into focus, feeling like your pupils zoomed like crazy— and suddenly, you realized you had been standing there for far too long, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Standing there like a damn weirdo.

Your phone. He is holding your phone.

For a split second, your eyes met his, and time seemed to freeze.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for the briefest of moments, something flickered there—something like recognition. You feel your eyes widening, bells ringing at the back of your head. His eyes softened, just slightly, as if he was searching your face for something familiar, something from the past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same polite curiosity.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Your eyes flickered between his face and the phone in his hand, your chest tightening with each passing second. What should you do? He was right there, right in front of you. He was close enough for yoh to reach out and take back what was yours.

But you couldn’t.

Your hand now actually trembled at your side, your body frozen in place. The air felt too thick for you to gulp in, and your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, trying to make your body move. But you couldn’t.

You just couldn’t.

He tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face as he waited for you to take the phone. Why is he so concerned!? But you just stood there, rooted to the spot, like your feet had been glued to the ground. You felt the panic rising inside you again, the walls closing in as your chest tightened painfully, slowly.

“I—” you tried again, but your throat was too tight, and the word came out as nothing more than a strangled sound, like a muffled voice.

He took a step closer, and that was it. That was it.

Your body went into overdrive. Without thinking, without even trying to reason with yourself, you turned on your heel and bolted down the street, not caring if people stopped to look at you, thinking if you possibly were either a lunatic or someone who just won a lottery.

You didn’t care. You ran, ran, feeling your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you ran. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you darted around the corner, as far away from him as possible.

You couldn’t do this.

Your heart was hammering so violently you thought it might burst right out of your chest, and all you could think about was getting away. Far, far away.

You ran till you feel your chest burn, you ran till you felt like your limbs would give up. You ran till you feel like nothing again, you ran till your mind was empty.

When you finally slowed, your breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, and your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were there. You collapsed onto a bench, your whole body trembling violently as the weight of everything crashed down on you.

You had run away.

Again.

And this time, you didn’t even have an excuse.

a/n : phew.. 😵‍💫 if you’ve made this far, thank you for reading 💜 what do we think? i’d be very glad if you let me know your thoughts 🫶🏾 if you want, there’s an anonymous feedback box where you can drop your thoughts anonymously 💌

[mamadarama]

Off topic from previous ask but you ever look at how ridiculour Madara's stats are? You telling me this guy is born and he's just physically gifted strong? Tall? Buff? Okay whatever... Next you know he can play multiple instruments and it's the least you expect of him. Him playing a cello??? Violin??? Okay he can't get any more ridiculous right— he's fluent in multiple languages, English only being one of them. You're telling me this guy likely knows my mother tongue because our language is just somewhat up there in the list of languages japanese people learn. You're telling me he'll take me anywhere and boom he goes "yeah I speak the local language I can read this Chinese menu for you. Italian? Piece of cake. Norwegian? Ahh a little hard but (speaks fluently)". And then you learn about his multiple seacraft and aircraft licenses like my man can drive a MILITARY HELICOPTER?.??????? A BOAT???? YOU'RE 20 WHEN DID YOU HAVE THE TIME TO DO THIS???? (Then again I haven't been able to access his older stories so there might be a mention where he was just taught to as a kid of the Yakuza whatever. And you remember this man, out of all things, is an IDOL. He's a solo one too and a fairly decent one at that, enough to hate being compared to because he's skilled. HOW DOES HE HAVE THE TIME FOR THIS. YOU'RE NOT EVEN 20. Okay he might be barely 20 now BUT STILL.??? HE'S RIDICULOUS. DONT GET ME STARTED ON BEING A SUCCESSOR OF ONE OF THE 5 ECCENTRICS REI MOTHERFUCKING SAKUMA... He's... An explosive...

- Madara yume anon 🍀

OK SO HERES THE THING WITH THAT. obviously hes a swiss army knife of a man, jack of all trades, etc that much is clear. but its fully his choice to be this way. some stuff is coincidental of course, like his body type is just like that (although he does still work out) and some of his skills he learned as a necessity of being kanatas caretaker/bodyguard (martial arts probably, smuggling magazines for kanata to read), and traveling alone as much as he does, being fluent in multiple languages is not optional. but then theres stuff like operating heavy machinery.... and fighting with weapons... and basically everything else. why would he need any of that? well thing is, he hates himself. his self worth is entirely reliant on his ability to be useful to other people .

when you have a long term relationship with someone, especially if it spans a part of both your childhoods, you grow into each other like a skin graft. if one person is cut away from the other because theyre unable to be there for some reason, the place they occupied will eventually heal over.... and when they come back, there will no longer be a place for them. theyre replaced by new skin, or something like that. like, when madara was exiled and forced away from kanata, he eventually met chiaki, who filled every role madara used to fill (including the one in his family— i believe chiaki and madaras mother are on good terms but dont quote me on that i dont remember where i got it from) and when he managed to get back to japan, he was superfluous, which is a fate worse than death to him. so he learns how to do anything and everything, hoping that at some point one of his skills will be useful to someone and hell have a reason to live again.

tldr; madara knows how to do so much on purpose because the more things he can do, the more opportunities there are for being able to help people. and the more obscure skills he knows, the more irreplaceable he becomes, safeguarding him from becoming unneeded in his friends lives despite his constant absence .

as for the successor thing we still dont really know what rei means by that, cuz according to ritsu madara has been coming over their house for "successor business" for years, even before the war (i think) so it very well could have absolutely nothing to do with idol stuff . maybe its just an excuse to have crazy gay sex idk lol

[marsbotz]

hello I keep seeing u talk ab loving skybound but I'm curious as to why u love it, and would LOVE to read a super in-depth explanation bc im kinda a skybound notliker and ik uve changed my mind on certain thigns ab this show b4, and I was hoping u cld do it again !!! :DDD /gen

YEAH. OKAY !!! sorry this is super long and rambly i already had to rewrite it once cus tumblr ate it lol... and also sorry its all basically abt jay (running away embarrassed)

first of all let me say i do think skybound is a BAD season. having the characters suddenly all be sexist out of nowhere to drive plot is stupidddd and so is having a retcon ending that makes it all redundant except for Jaya Canon Now. i think thats mostly what makes the fandom not like it. BUT. i think its sooo interesting for like so many reasons also

i think s8 is considered the darkest season which is fair. but skybound also has a crazyyy amount of dark and DEEPLY interesting things it touches on. the ninja disappearing one by one. jays birth father being his favourite actor. jay torture. jaya actually being interesting!! lets talk abt these.

having the ninja slowly be cut out of the season is GREAT for not only building tension but also being able to more deeply build upon jay and nyas characters (and their relationship). the 22 min format means that some characters (like wu and kai) are gone for AGES. which is sad for kai fans but greatttt for the season. it rlly makes u feel their absence, and some of their disappearances are scary!! zane trying to outsmart nadakhan but realising too late hes been tricked... AHH!!!

if you compare this to how they did it in s12 its a lot more impactful as theres more time for the characters to... be gone. and the videogame nature rlly does take away a lot of the tension IMO. if jays mothers had been in prime empire like planned.... it would have been a GREAT parallel i think but as it is its just kind of odd. thats another convo tho lol (altho there issss the mention of jay being adopted at the end. very interesting [it goes nowhere])

i literally think abt jay adoption arc every god damn day of my life. ill try to explain this without getting too deep into my personal sicko hcs lol. first you get a rlly nice callback to s1 w jay being ashamed of his parents and living in a junkyard only to realise how litte he cares once theyre threatened. thennn you have the whole situation at cliffs house. jay finds out the man who abandoned him at birth (possibly? we dont know details) is the actor for fritz donnegan. the same character who jay imitated and aspired to be like. and then he realises his father felt the same admiration towards jay!! and they both never knew!!!

i think this twist is what makes a lot of jays behaviour in s6.... not excusable... but understandable. jay is shown to be insecure and have weird fucking ways of coping with this (lying. lying lying all the time) and so it kinda feels natural that his way of coping with this information would be to 1. hide the fact he made wishes 2. try to imitate his father through his book and 3. Never Speak Of This Again.

speaking of that lets talk about jay being tortured. can we talk about that?? they FUCKED him up. but the most important part out of allll of it is a character trait i rarely see ppl attribute to jay even though its like... pretty consistent for him. is his willpower!! hes able to endure days of torture to the point where he can barely walk and talk at the end of it just to stop nadakhan from gaining more power

nadakhan also directly points out jays insecurities and how they make him lie to his friends... and jays able to show some of his smarts thru trying to get flintlocke to stage a mutiny! honestly the whole episode is so damn interesting it makes me SEETHE its not more talked abt LOL

i wont get into my insanely complex jaya opinions rn but i will say s6 has one of the most interesting depictions of the ship to me. nya being reluctant to date jay due to being seen simply as his girlfriend is soooo interesting and fits well w her arc of not wanting to give up her own deal w sam x to become a ninja. its just a shame they had to retroactively make everyone misogynistic to do so lolol... and the ending w jays wish Potentially forcing them together is soooo odd and kinda goes what the rest of the season was setting up for them. THIS IS MAINLY why i think ppl hate this season. cus it sets up SOOO much cool stuff and then drops it all last second

i think the things that could have saved skybound from being so hated would be

1. do the same plotpoints w nya but dont drag the ninja AND DARETH into it ..... make them supportive of her!

2. makes jays final wish have some FUCKING consequence! you could do a LOT with how he worded it to twist it badly (im a nadakhan return truther for life)

3. not dropping every single intersting character trait ever. and also not dropping the GOD DAMN ADOPTION ARCCCCCC and also not revealing jay to be so crushingly insecure he physically cannot stop himself from lying to ppl and putting on a happy mask and then turn him into a one note comic relief character. [becoming a soulless husk]

LOL i realise this sounds now like i hate skybound I DONT i just think its very flawed. BUT thats whyyyy i love it... because its so interesting! its flawed in a way like "there is soooo much i cld do w this" and not like "i dont care about any of this its so bad". w ninjago my fav parts have always been the weird icky edgy parts that are almost too much for what it is... which is a childrens lego show. ik they cld never have done most of the interesting stuff i imagine coming out of skybound and thats ok! bc i get to think abt it evilly.

heres some assorted things i love and think are fun in skybound

kai and zane banter at the repo yard

ronin capturing the ninja!! specifically him shutting down zane from the inside is super scary and cool

NINJA IN PRISON!!!!! i almost threw up when they went to jail in crystallised its so fuckign fun. SKYBOUND 2!!!

zane playing chess against nadakahn. another scary zane moment

jay trusting only cole w the truth abt his wishes (HELL YES BROTHER)

clanceeeeee <3 him being like one sided friends w jay and standing up to nadakhan at the end of it all... wahhh

NINJA REPLACEMENTS. so fucking funny i love jay and his assortment of old guys And Skylor

everytime i watch it i cant stop thinking of this ytp and it makes me cry. its not even that funny i just have watched it like 50 times

its dungeon media. this is smth i made up and only i know abt . dont worry abt it but its true

ok my brain is mush HOPE THIS MAKES. some sort of sense . bascially trying to condense 6 years of Thoughts into coherent analysis is impossible for me LOL

[ludinusdaleth]

I think I'll go for 4, 5 and 24—dealer's choice as to which of Artagan, Ludinus or Ira (or any npc, really. They don't get enough love.)

oh you have no idea the can of warms you've opened, lol.... i will happily do all 3!

this got so long i actually had to put a read more:

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

artagan - it isnt media per say but i really want to set him loose in our own reality and see what he'd do (there have been some hints i think, if half-jokingly said, that hes been here - boy do i think about that often.)

ira - we really should just let him star in his own horror movie. you could put him in a guillermo del toro film, and no one would bat an eye.

ludinus - i want to see how lud would react to faerun. a world so close to his own, but where the weave of magic is directly controlled by a god. there is an odd dichotomy in that faerun is more controlled than exandria and yet breaking that universe's laws are infinitely easier, and i think he would fall into obsession with that.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

so.... im gonna (un)ashamedly plug my playlists for them here.... please ignore that they can go as long as twelve fucking hours.... ill try to narrow down specific songs that REALLY hit about them, though.

artagan - "within you" by david bowie, from labyrinth, is a perfect fit. not only is arti based on jareth but the song's meaning directly ties into him & jester. jareth is terrified of being nothing more than a lost concept, a lost celebrity crush made fae king, as sarah is metaphorically maturing. "how you turn my world, you precious thing/You starve and near exhaust me/Everything I've done, I've done for you/I move the stars for no one..." i mean, c'mon. "family of me" by ben folds, "celebrity status" by mariana's trench, "lapis lazuli" by the oh hellos, and "due west" by kelsey lu also really hit as arti songs for me.

ira - "mad iqs" by i dont know how but they found me is a really good song for ira's hatred of ludinus. "a mask of my own face" by lemon demon is self explanatory and far too specific, due to his fascination with ashton's mask of him, with the song mentioning "dancing with all the bells". he would go wild for and try to emulate "thriller" by michael jackson or "i cant decide" by the scissor sisters.

ludinus - if i did a speedpaint of lud, id set it to "science fiction" by church of the cosmic skull. "and all the people, they stood on their chairs, and they stared, at the man with the silver hair/taken the findings of the science man/raising his hands to the air!/so he's making the minds up of the millions, and they'd never deny that he's right/cause he's taken a prize of many a size/if ever he dies he'll have a tombstone of a very high height". "brutus" by the buttress is ABSOLUTELY a ruby vanguard trio song and i even used it in my art of them before. "all history is vengeance" by brad derrick from the eso soundtrack is what goes through my head at the malleus key. "blood upon the snow" by hozier & "never look away" by vienna teng also really work for him. i think "survivors guilt" by emily axford (yeah, prism) also has lyrics FAR too tailored to him - "i see you in my dreams/young, and brave, and pre-calamity/i will tell you a story/i will be the voice you lost too soon/because even in your absence, even in your death/im still your moon".

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

(i wouldnt say im in the fandoms for all of these, but)

artagan - i think it somewhat obvious he's based off of jareth in labyrinth - his voice is basically david bowie's singing voice. to a lesser but still strong degree he's very much marvel's loki, down to the voice - if, honestly, an infinitely better take on the trickster god. as a past extreme loki fan the pipeline is there for sure.

ira - ashley said she & matt based fearne's story off a guillermo del toro film and i can see that in many fae this go-round, especially ira. he is basically a doug jones character. it's very easy to compare him to creepypastas like the russian sleep experiment or slenderman, too.

ludinus - he has some heavy similarities to emperor belos of owl house, vyrthur of tes, prince nuada from hellboy, and other characters who fit the archetype of a white-haired, ancient, pale elven (or elven passing) man, from a different time, who murders & (in some cases) colonizes to exact vengeance on gods, humans, or similar entities he feels have destroyed those around him. characters clearly in the wrong but who do bring up important topics of the endless cycle of brutality they were caught in, mixed with their privelege in every other circumstance. he also reminds me of mannimarco of tes. they look exactly alike and both shadow run an empire, somewhat in cahoots and yet at odds with a balding white haired pale human man within that same empire. oh! and fëanor from the silmarillion.

thanks for asking! sorry this is so long, floodgates are opened when i discuss men i wish were my fictional partners, lol.

[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Imperfectly Perfect

requested by @tomoriinterlude

Summary:

In, out, in, in, in, out. Fear pattered the pinkette's heart. she would never be safe. nobody cared for her. She was scared, she just wanted someone to notice her and love her for more than her body. She barely noticed the yellow sunshine that kneeled down in front of her.

-

Quick note before you read, this is mostly based on my experience with things I was told growing up. If there is anything here that seems to be treated improperly, please let me know and I'll try to change it to make you more comfortable!

there will be notes at the end too

also in case you dont understand, Kizuna was on the phone with Minako, who told her the mean things

Tw for panic attacks, bodyshaming, and IDK what else to TW. uh for the end notes tws for talk about what i dont like about my body n whatever IDK. and me making jokes about me mental health.

The sound of a phone hitting the ground is barely recognizable in most cases, but Kizuna knew it all too well.

“Too chubby”, “too skinny”, both things she had been told by her mother. Kizuna knew nothing but such hurtful words from her mother, she had no memories of being told she was perfect the way she was, or that no matter what, people would love her. 

Being raised by Minako, it was always “Men only care for appearance, they could care less how you act as long as you’re attractive. If you’re hurt, it means you’re not pretty enough.” Sometimes, it was “Be a good girl and keep your mouth shut, it makes you a lot prettier.”

The pinkette shouldn’t be having a panic attack, she shouldn’t be curled into a ball on the floor and gagging and hyperventilating. She felt sick, she felt lightheaded, she felt pathetic. She was a mess.

“Kizuna?” She barely heard her name being called, her breathing was unsteady. In, out, out, out, in. 

“Kizuna!” Kizuna flinched away when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Out, out, out, out, in, in, out. 

“Kizuna, look at me, please.” someone waved in front of her face. In her blur of tears, the pinkette looked up and could barely recognize her yellow sunshine. 

Her dandelion, her star. Kiyoka. 

The blonde simply stared at her partner with love, spreading her arms and letting Kizuna crawl into them and cling to her tightly whilst sobbing into her shoulder. “I love you, Kizuna…” She whispered, placing one hand on the back of the pinkette’s head. “I love you, so, so, so, much…”

Kizuna could only weep, her salty tears soaking her girlfriend’s white shirt. “I’m sorry!” Her words were chopped, cut with sharp inhales and whimpers and loud outhales. “I’m not good enough!”

Kiyoka shushed her near immediately, lifting Kizuna’s head off her shoulder so she could look the other in the eyes. “You are good enough, Kizuna… I love you so much…” She whispered as she kissed away the other’s tears. “No matter what anyone else tells you, I will never stop loving you…”

She continued to whisper sweet nothings to her emotional lover, cradling her and kissing her and promising it would get better. Not even asking what caused it, as to not make her girlfriend think of the cause of her panic. 

“You’re perfect for me, Kizu… Oh, I love you… I want to be here for you always…” The blonde murmured, kissing the cheerleader’s forehead afterwards and smiling as she heard a near-silent giggle come from her girlfriend.

It took a bit for Kizuna to breathe properly, but as soon as she could, she spoke. “Thank you, Kiyoka… I… I love you too,” She whispered as she stared at her girlfriend with hopeful and affectionate eyes. 

The sniper only smiled in return, pressing her forehead to Kizuna’s and smiling.

-----

end notes:

Guess who's back, back again.

yeah sorry for the absence i've been mentally ill. and burnt out as shitttttt lmaooooo i'm weak as shit lol. And I am working on the next part of paddedcell mikako!

not mentioned in the summary is that I am AFAB and have constantly been told my body is a blessing each time i've shown disdain for my chest. I love that I'm somewhat chubby, it makes me happy. Because it means any future partner could use my stomach as a pillow n shit. but my chest? ohh boy i want that gone. i could go on a rant on all the little details i hate about my body and NONE of it is that I am somewhat chubby.

Growing up, though? I was told that "oh your chest is a blessing! But you need to lose weight." which is not fun.

[steelycunt]

wait wait how do u usually picture remus' scars ? ik its widely accepted in the fandom that he had them all over his face+body and most of them were nasty but i just saw someone point out that in the books its actually never mentioned he had them on his face ( not that jk r*wlings words mean anything!!!) bc from harry's pov he always pointed out if someone had something out of the ordinary about their appearance + thats why no one was able to figure out he was a werewolf until his absences 👀

hi! i definitely picture him having scars. i have always known theres a canon contradiction there but i elected to not care xx the thing is i struggle to see how it makes sense for him to not have scars lol. in fic ive seen the explanation for this (which i believe is fanon rather than canon) often being that his lycanthropy has some function of self-preservation that means his wounds heal themselves (to some extent) or that magical medicine has the capacity to erase them but. firstly i dont choose to write lycanthropy like that and secondly i dont choose to write magical medicine like that because i think (and this is in general. the major flaw in jkrs poor writing and poor worldbuilding when it comes to how magic works/what the capacities of magic are) it removes all sense of risk/tension and dramatically lowers the stakes in every situation. like how can you write about the toll the moon takes/how grave someone's injuries are if magic is so ridiculously overpowerful that it can fix what should be life threatening injuries in mere minutes. its impossible to create a situation of high emotional stakes using that framework imo so i generally choose to ignore it--another common idea (think its also fanon?) is that r's lycanthropy and the magical nature of his wounds actually make them more difficult to heal and i tend to prefer that direction. i do however also agree that him having scars undermines the idea that people during his school years/when he was teaching did not figure out he was a werewolf, but i guess that depends on the how you choose to write the extent of his scarring. mainly i also think it just gives him an interesting distinctive feature (and also probably. causes him more misery) to give him physical scars and he is after all my special little princess. so to sum up a disgustingly long answer to a criminally simple question: yes i do picture him having scars!!

[the-whispers-of-death]

having many-a thoughts about criminal!stone who landed into the universe of civilian!reader (not sure if civilian is the right word but its the first thing that came to mind cuz i didnt wanna call this "average!reader" lol)

like. maybe he's already gained civilian!reader's trust. its probably a lot easier to gain than with mafia!reader. it probably still took him weeks, with reader thinking this man was batshit insane. like no i *dont* know you??

maybe stone is visibly stressed, so maybe they compromise. no, he cant stay the night at reader's, but theres a cheap and relatively fine hotel nearby and he directs stone to there instead. only for us to find him on our couch when getting water at like 2am.

something something "cant sleep without you close" and "needed to make sure youre safe"

maybe this goes on for a few weeks. walking on eggshells around each other, sure.

i like to think the reader always has the same distinct traits about them, no matter the universe. maybe they only smoke a specific brand of cigs, maybe they all sit and stand the same way, maybe they wear the same brand of cologne. maybe they like their tea a certain way. little things like that

and maybe stone finally wins them over using the things he already knew from mafia!reader. criminal!stone: "hey, i know you like [x thing]. i got this for you" civilian!reader, who has never even mentioned said thing: "how the fuck-"

maybe small tiny things like that eventually convince reader to let him in. maybe he does the dishes and cleans the house while reader's at work. maybe he insists on renting a car for the foreseeable future so reader doesnt spend an hour on public transit just to *get* to work. househusband acquired? (sign me the fuck up)

its a very hesitant and delicate relationship between these 2, i assume. but like. what happens afterwards. when criminal!stone gets rescued and makes it back to mafia!reader. would he have been involved in the discussion with serial killer!stone to help out. or would he just wake up one day with an empty couch that just has a neatly folded blanket on it. maybe a note, maybe not even that. maybe the rental car is now fully paid off and sitting all shiny in the driveway with the keys on the cubby in the hall as a silent thank you.

or maybe its been returned and nothing changes in readers life. it goes back to normal. just like the day before stone found him.

how does one recover from that. i imagine this wouldve been a process upwards to a year. just for idk plot convenience idk how the universe travel really works here. like criminal!stone gets major separation anxiety with mafia!reader after this, but i cant help but think of civilian!reader too. hm.

i dunno. i have a stray cat whos been very insistent on staying around my home recently and it reminded me of stone a lot and this sorta happened. we gave him food and he refuses to leave now

~ rusty

I feel like Serial Killer!Stone managed to have both Criminal!Stone and Civilian!Reader believe that their time together was just a dream because Criminal!Stone woke up in his own universe with no time passing by during his "absence" and Civilian!Reader's universe just went backwards in time to the point before Criminal!Stone had accidentally hopped universes so that Civilian!Reader believed it was just a dream because surely if it was real, then he'd have evidence of the week(s) passing by but instead he's back in the original time stream (if that makes sense).

Now, I don't necessarily think this was Serial Killer!Stone's doing. Like I don't think he knew that by taking Criminal!Stone back to his original universe, that he was setting this all into motion. I think that was just the universe's way of righting everything once Criminal!Stone was back in his own universe. Serial Killer!Stone was just how Criminal!Stone came home, he didn't then go and change it all so the respective universes weren't affected long-term by this accidental dimension-traveling.

[crabbunch]

secret life thoughts (long post underneath cut)

gem:

-there's a cherry forest !!!

-impulse? can we find pearl for the soup group?

-ok gem and the two scotts is very funny as well.

-love gem just. repeatedly fulfilling the challenge. just to make sure she's got it.

-maaaan the cherry biome is just so pretty though. man.

-"lets hold hands as we jump"- joel as he lets jimmy jump without him. incredible

scar:

-joel's name is not smallishbeans last time i checked. scar. you are ove-complicating this

-oh well he's cringefailed it up beyond belief !!

-wait i wish they had just let him fail.... why are people nice i want them to fight to death for my entertainment.

-d. desert duo

-scab??? scab???

grian:

-why are you trying to tell bad jokes to mumbo, chronic giggler. dont tell bad jokes to your friends. they'll be funny anyways

-intrigued by whatever bigb is doing. gaslight i guess.

-no wait actually what is bigb doing. my guy

-of course etho would be the one not to laugh at the jokes

bigb:

-i was going to watch etho because he finally uploaded but actually i have to go find out what this guys secret was

-i understand nothing

-ok so is he. just like that?? just doing that?? i mean i. you know what. if i dont see about ten million billion people waxing poetic about the allure of a hole im going to blow this whole website up. this is the funniest thing ive ever seen and i want to write about bigb being. the absence of things now.

-THE DOOR MAZE????

etho:

-"joel you already own my heart" awwwwwwwww

-the way he just lingers around bdubs

-cletho? cletho? cletho? cletho?

-CLETHO!!!!!!!

-the way he just. never mentions the merch. keep on doing what you do king <3

joel:

-the editing. when he's promoting the merch.

-he's dying so much faster than anyone else lmao

-heavy rock timelapse music as he struggles to place a fence

-oh he's going to be the first to red again isnt he. my guy.

-just resolving not to sleep for etho... boat bois crumbs 🥰🥰🥰

-impulse my man carrying the good word of the cherry wood to everyone. thank you good sir

cleo:

-a lot of murderous music going on. and some very interesting pronunciations of fish. joe hills has had a profound influence on them

-unequal exchange <3 its ok he'll just owe her

-"it's ok it day one alliance!!! those statistically have no meaning!!!" wow that says a lot about traffic cleo. heuh.

-the shadowrot is real

-promotion of merch is an acceptable bribe <3

-just. steal moss off of the rock thing. yes good idea

-ideal roomate dynamic is throwing fish down through the hole that your roomate made as thanks??? this is so ethubs meat shower

-"dont talk about my shield hole like that"

-"we could be called the axis :D" "well maybe you shouldnt"

-the way. bdubs just knows that they're referring to etho. hello i know this has been clipped but its so bizarre to see lol

-AND pearl cleo secret alliance?? with dogs? man cleo's dynamics with everyone this season. they're all just so good

-heart foundation. ok. on love island.

-clebert

lizzie:

-cherry blossoms!!!! wahoo best wood!!!

-bdubs acting all offended about killing a horse for leather vs his season 8 horse murder stats

-every season they get a little bit better at not immediately killing all the wildlife

-every season they also get a little big better at gay marriage. this time they've even got yuri!

-lizzie: "lets take this baby down the river.. and find some sugarcane!" cleo in the distance: "hey, i've got sugarcane!"

-jimmy comes running. from nothing. average jimmy behavior

-lesbian marridge AND lesbian divorce. fantastic

overall thoughts: i think that the povs im going to keep watching in the future barring Interesting Events will be etho (i am legally obligated) cleo (daily dose of sarcasm) bigb (hole guy) and joel (his bloodthirsty swag has charmed me once again)

i think that the mechanic is interesting but also if they do a lore thing with it i WILL start killing. sorry.

i like the groups that've been established so far but i sort of think that they're a little sparcer than usual??? gem and her two scotts is a VERY fun dynamic but unfortunately i hate the way all of them edit their videos :pensive: i love the mounders and their stupid houses from what ive seen of them from other people's videos and cletho???? cletho???!?!?!? love island is also very good.

anyways. very fun. much fun. im making an effort to tag spoilers this time if you want to filter this stuff its sl spoilers 👍

[asterkiss]

Read from beginning here.

- CLAIMED Pt. V 

When Mabel awoke, she found herself laying in an extravagant four poster canopy bed with sheer curtains. Confused and disorientated, she sat up and looked down to find herself dressed differently than she recalled. Last she’d checked, she’d been wearing her favourite bunny pajamas.

Now she was wearing a pink nightgown which was—was that silk? Mabel felt some of the material between her finger and thumb, frowning.

It was then that the curtains surrounding the perimeter of the bed were thrown back to reveal a young woman with blue hair. Mabel snapped her head up and their eyes met. Almost instantly, the woman drew back in surprise, eyes widening. ‘O-Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were still sleeping!’

She lurched away, the curtains dropping back into place just as Mabel leaned forward and reached out. ‘Wait, don’t go—!’

There was a pause and then, almost tentatively, the curtains parted just enough to reveal a sliver of the woman’s face, her gaze averted down. ‘Y-Yes? What is it?’

Mabel blinked at her timid demeanour. She was a pretty lady however Mabel got the feeling she wasn’t human considering the blue hair and stark-white skin. Mabel squinted. Were those pointed things poking out between her hair meant to be her ears…?

‘Um…’

Mabel snapped her attention back to the woman’s face who looked clearly uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny. ‘Oh, right, um. Haha, so this may sound like a random question buuuut… where am I and how did I get here?’ 

The woman blinked. ‘I, um… I don’t know. I’m just here to bring you these.’ She poked her hands through the curtains to reveal a pile of clothes within her grasp. Mabel stared at them. She had a whole lot of questions right now—most important being was she in danger?

‘If I put those on, will someone answer my questions?’

The woman nodded. ‘Y-Yes, I’ve been instructed to take you to the King after you put these on.’

‘Oh okay, makes sense— wait, what!? The King?’ Mabel yelled, causing the woman to flinch at her volume but Mabel was too alarmed to notice. ‘What King? Am I in some other country? How is that possible, I don’t even have my passport on me!’ Had she been smuggled? Was this some teenager abduction ring!?

The woman gave a shake of her head. ‘Ah, no… I meant our Erlking. The King of the Fairies.

You’re in the Fairy World, Miss.’

.

- CLAIMED Pt. VI

Okay, so she had been whisked away to the Fairy World through a magical portal in a lake and was now being taken for an audience with their King.

That was fine. No biggie. Totally cool.

—except holy shit she was freaking out!!

Mabel couldn’t help tugging at the dress they’d made her put on. It was a green gown that fell down to her ankles, belted at the waist with a silver sash that matched the trimming on the square neckline.

It was pretty but it was more like some sort of medieval cosplay gown she’d expect to see at those nerdy fairs Dipper went to.  

Mabel missed her sweaters.

Elaine—which was the name the blue-haired woman had introduced herself as—had insisted on braiding Mabel’s hair for presentation and although she’d tried to refuse initially, the woman had looked so crestfallen at her denial that she’d felt guilty and agreed to it in the end. Dammit. The woman had better puppy-dog eyes than her—and that was saying something!

(She was thankful McGucket had been able to give her a hair tonic to regrow her hair out after making her deal with Bill).

‘Here we are, Miss.’ Elaine came to a stop in front of two large ornate doors. Elaine had lead her out of the room she’d been sleeping where Mabel had found herself stood on a platform suspended high in the trees upon which the small hut was built upon. Various canopy walkways connected the woodland trees and platforms and the entire forest seemed to glow in the darkness from the treetop settlement.

It was beautiful.

They’d descended to the forest floor and made their way to an incredibly giant tree with two doors at its base, built into the wood. Even when Mabel titled her head all the way back she couldn’t see the top of the tree. It seemed to go on endlessly as if it could pierce the clouds themselves.

Elaine bowed her head and stepped to the side and Mabel couldn’t help looking to her. ‘Wait, you’re not coming in with me?’

The woman shook her head frantically. ‘Ah, no no, I’m not permitted!’

Oh. Mabel felt slightly disappointed. So far, Elaine was the only person—or, uh, whatever she was—she’d spoken to. And while she was overly timid, she didn’t seem so bad.

‘Okay then, guess… I’ll go in?’ Sucking in a deep breath of air, Mabel squared her shoulders and pushed at the doors. They gave way beneath her with ease, opening wide and allowing her to step forward.

Time to meet the Fairy King.

The interior was plunged into dim candle-lit darkness and as she entered the hall she felt as if several pairs of eyes from within it were peering out at her. Her attention however was captured by the throne waiting for her ahead. It was elevated, with a path of steps leading up toward it. The teenager could hear the sound of quiet chittering and whispers from either side of the pathway, dark eyes blinking at her from behind the lines of trees.

It was unnerving.

But not as unnerving as the King seated within the throne. He was everything she’d expect of a Fairy King. Well-dressed in a form-fitting robe and long platinum hair that fell down the expanse of his shoulders in waves.

God, he was attractive.

He regarded her with green eyes, lips twitched into a smile. ‘Mabel Pines, it’s been a long time.’

She blinked. ‘Uh… has it?’ She forced an awkward laugh, rubbing one of her arms. ‘Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.’ She would certainly recall having met someone as pretty as him before.

The King blinked at that. ‘Oh, but we have. Of course you were just a child then.’

‘I…. huh?’ Mabel frowned, tilting her head. ‘What are you talking about?’

The King chuckled. ‘One thing at a time, first let us bring out the prisoner.’

‘Prisoner?’ Mabel repeated, feeling unnerved and even more confused. The sound of shuffling came from behind and when Mabel looked back over her shoulder, the doors were pulled aside to give way to—

‘Gnomes?’ Mabel cried. She half-expected to see Jeff or Shmebulock but the group of four gnomes weren’t any she recognised. They were carrying a small cage and as they came closer, a voice became clearer.

‘…are you hearing me? I am speaking here, you little rodents!! I was destroying dimensions before you were born!’

The cage was dropped between her and the throne and crouching down, Mabel glanced inside it to see—

‘Bill!?’

The triangular demon span around within his container, meeting her gaze. When he did, his form turned red, gaze full of fury. ‘YOU—!’

Mabel flinched back at the anger in his voice but before she could speak, the King cut in.

‘Now then, let’s begin, shall we?’

Mabel raised her attention back toward the King. ‘Begin… what?’

The fae ignored her, regarding the cage at the foot of his throne with narrowed eyes. ‘Now then Bill Cipher, you are charged with unlawfully staking claim on a soul that was already marked as ours. How do you plead?’

[keiruvieg]

req:hello ! i wanted to say that i really like your writing, keep going you’re awesome!

I was also wondering if you could write some fluff with Choso? I think he’s so underrated and he’s totally husband/boyfriend material !

Thanks for your time ✨❤️

a/n: tysm!!!! im sorry it took too long i barely had the energy to do schoolworks so yeah. SORRY IT WAS LATE WHEN I REALIZED U WANTED A FLUFF SCENARIO ILL PROB DO A SEPARATE ONE FOR THAT UNTIL THEN PLS WAIT. I ALREADY DID THE HCS AND I CANT JUST PUT IT OUT AJHDAJDHAJHDAKD

here’s my previous hc if yall are curious

WARNINGS: lol i barely edited this so yeah if yall have pet peeves for grammatical error please scroll down immediately

word count:1426

the cutest human bean in this world

HE POUTS HAVE YALL SEEN THAT

this man will cling into you on the mornings no matter what the cost

HE KNOWS HOW TO COOK(idk if i mentioned it already in my previous hc buT HE KNOWS HOW TO COOK, EVEN THOUGH ITS WEIRD SOMETIMES BUT THE TASTE IT THERE)

yall watched the “the way of househusband”? there’s a part there where Tatsu just buy the mosssssssstttt randomest things

choso will do that

he’ll buy a mixer

he’ll buy a hoola hoop

heck he’ll prob even buy you a flower crown

HE LOOKS VRY INTIMIDATING BUT HE IS SO SWEET

i love you every now and then cause why not

prob say it out loud to know that youre still there

you’re prob on the bathroom and he’ll shout i love you

pls dont say mean things to him while you’re mad he’ll overthink abt it all through out

like geto on my other ask,,,,he prob has otherwordly instinct

lol he’ll know when you’ll do smthn crazayyyyy

holding hands with him are a must

prob hold ur hand at the most randomest time

will cry if u have to go somewhere far

hE WANTS TO LEARN FROM YOU

lol just dress up with a blouse and thigh highs with a pencil skirt and messy bun with glasses

he’ll just stare at u the whole time

asking why u dressed like tht

pls he wants you to teach him everything he doesnt know

he’ll buy you hair clips too you cant change my mind with that

COFFEE DATES? COFFEE DATES.

choso aint tht kind of rich person he’ll rather stay home than go to a fancy restaurant

but choso in a suit seems fine asf-

lol he’ll walk around the house with just a sweatpants and bread with his hands

YALL KNOW THE NECKLACE WHERE U PUT BLOOD IN A BOTTLE

YEAH THE BOTH OF U MUST DO THT

u’ll see him pout if u dont

if he accidentally used it in an attack or protect himself man will be so disappointed

but he will not talk abt it tho,,,he’ll prob be so quiet abt it because he dont wanna bother you.

play chess with him and you’ll lose

you’ll prob put your half portion in his lap while you guys are on a couch and man will just rub you

he sleeps alot in his stomach

he’ll plop down the bed

LOL HE’S SO FLEXIBLE TOO

wait wait lemme just put it out with how he came up with his feelings for you

man will not do anything bout it cause he thought it was normal

he was like “no, it prob it isnt that special”

unTIL HE KEEPS FINDING UR PRESENCE

though- he wont think much abt it too

he’ll just think that ur always there thats why your absence seems different

and it kept on going too

and now he just have to ask someone where you are

unTIL SOMEONE ASKED HIM WITH

“do u like her or smthn”

man was shock

man was offended

wht was “like” anyways

someone explained it to him-

man kept thinking bout it

until he ask you abt it

like “do u like someone?”

and if u said yes-

man’s heart will throb

man knows something was up now-

he’ll prob keep it to himself the whole time

pls just ask him abt it if u notice something cause man was a lil obvious

he was getting shy when u asked him-

he’ll just confess right there and then

he’ll respect any opinions you’ll give him tho

say yes-who wouldnt want choso

and now you’re stuck with him not like you’re complaining

i know yall are thirsty(cause i am too) but i dont see choso as to someone who’s always horny

tho he’ll prob ask you something abt that foreign feeling

like i said in my previous hc- mans will use petnames on u

he’s sooooooooooooooooo caring

you sick

let him take care of everything

thats where your teaching comes in

he’ll remember anything

man got good brains

overall would 100 percent recommend this man cause why tf not he’s hot,he’s sweet,he’s caring, EVERYTHING IS IN HIM ALREADY JUST PLEASE DONT DIE 

[h2bakugou]

breakfast in bed with bakugo and shouto? them surprising their s/o in them morning. headcanons are alright i dont rlly mind anything. this has just been a thought inside my mind for a while lol

a/n: omg yes this is so wholesome, i decided to do a pro hero au cuz i think it would be super sweet <3 

pro hero au!! all characters are aged up 18+ !!

headcanon: them surprising their s/o with breakfast in bed

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

We all know how much this boy loves to cook, and just by guessing, his food has got to be hella good so- you’re in for a treat

It’s a surprise for sure.

You’re used to the missing heat from beside you in the mornings, it’s usually him leaving to go patrol or head into the agency. But he didn’t tell you about today

Today he had the day off, and he wanted to spend it with you. Sure maybe a day off for himself wasn’t so bad, he could relax, take a nice long bath and not worry about having to put on all his heavy gear and let his body really rest for a day.

But what he wanted more than that, yes really more than his own selfish needs, was you.

Was to see that warm smile that you wore when you were just barely awake and kissing him goodbye the few mornings you woke up when he did, even more so, he wanted to see your beautiful face full of surprise when he handed you a tray full of a yummy breakfast he’d cooked up just for you.

And he might’ve slept in just a little bit, more than usual, but he still woke up fairly early to start cooking. You missed his body heat severely and clung to the body pillow you had laying on the opposite side of where Bakugou would lay.

Tucked cutely under the blankets, Bakugou took a few seconds to admire you as you peacefully slept, taking in all your features.

Your (h/c) was strung about, a little messy from sleeping on it, but it was a cute messy, the kind of messy that proved sleep was good.

Or the way your lips were pursed ever so slightly, a leg strewn over the body pillow you wished was Bakugou.

Getting to work, he fixed something grand, a hearty breakfast of all your favorite foods, a little bit of everything just for with your favorite breakfast drink, and even something a little sweet.

And when it was all finished, he began to set up the tray he would bring to you. Slipping your favorite flower into a vase that he’d purchased for you on his way home last night, the tray was complete and he began to bring it to your shared room.

Setting the tray down on your dresser, he then leaned down onto the bed and began to nudge you awake.

“Hey...wake up.” Bakugou kissed behind your ear sweetly, startling you. You rubbed your eyes and turned to see him clad in his sleepwear, a pair of loose sweats, and a tank top.

“’Suki- I thought you had-”

“I had today off, so I wanted to surprise you.” Bakugou trailed over to the dressed and presented you with the breakfast. You could feel your face heat up as you tried to wake yourself up more.

Sitting up, you allowed Bakugou to place the tray down over your lap.

“Katsu’, thank you.” You gushed, smiling at him as he sat down beside you, a small smile on his lips. 

“Eat it before I do.” Katsuki smirked, reaching for a piece of toast. You laughed and dug in, relishing in the flavor that everything had.

Feeding Bakugou a few bites here and there, you were amazed and still feeling warm and fuzzy from just being blessed with breakfast in bed.

When the tray had been cleared and all that sat on it were dirty dishes alongside the vase, you sat full and happy.

“Thank you, it was delicious.” You thanked Katsuki for the meal again and ushered your arms for a hug.

Bakugou leaned in and began to head right for your lips. You quickly covered your mouth and yelped.

“Morning breath no! You can’t kiss me!” You pushed him back playfully.

“I cook a delicious meal for you and I can’t even kiss you after?” Bakugou pouts, rolling his eyes as he moves the tray to rest on the floor beside your bed.

“I don’t care about stupid morning breath, kiss me, you idiot.” Bakugou pulls you down on top of him, smashing his lips to yours.

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Todoroki had told you that he had the day off, and you were excited. Being able to snuggle up with your boyfriend while the cool air outside tried to sneak in under your warm covers was such a pleasant feeling.

That being said, Todoroki enjoyed being able to sleep in and hold you in his arms for much longer than he usually got to do on days when he did work.

But he wanted to spoil you, really surprise you. He wanted to spend the day with you, perhaps watch a movie, maybe sneak out and go have a nice dinner later, but he was going to start the day off by making you a nice breakfast.

Slinking away, you were sound asleep and didn’t notice. He’d carefully heated his side of the bed to keep you preoccupied so you wouldn’t notice his absence.

Admiring your sleeping form for a few minutes while he pulled on a shirt over his naked chest, he smiled to himself as your soft snores provided evidence you were still sound asleep.

You were snuggling his pillow like you did most nights, your only excuse being that it smelled like him. You wore one of his shirts and it hung loosely over your frame as your arms laid outside of the blanket, clinging around his pillow.

Your lashes rested on the tops of your cheeks, your chest rising and falling with every breath.

You looked peaceful and innocent, sleeping soundly in your shared bed. Fighting the urge to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, he left the room and headed toward the kitchen to make you breakfast.

He whipped up all your favorite breakfast foods, having made a mental note of all of the foods you enjoyed. It seemed like a bit much, but he snuck a few bites of all the finished products. Plating it all up nicely and adding a few fresh flowers from your shared garden,  a hobby the two of you picked up and worked together on, he placed the beautiful flowers in a vase and set everything neatly on the tray.

Carrying it to your room, he sat down on the bed and held onto the tray carefully as he nudged you awake.

“Rise and shine, beautiful.” Shoto’s voice was soft and kind, his palm cupping your cheek, his thumb rubbing your face delicately as your eyes fluttered open.

“Mmm smells good.” You comment, sitting up, your hair a bit of a mess. Shoto chuckles and kisses your forehead, brushing a few strands away as he paces the tray over your lap.

“You didn’t have to do all this on your day off.” You smile at him, your heart beating faster, feeling like you were back at U.A. when he had asked you out for the first. Your tummy was filled with butterflies at the kind and thoughtful gesture.

“Today is meant for the both of us, eat up, love.” Shoto sat beside you, making small talk while you ate, offering him small bites here and there.

He brushed up on some plans he had for the day, even mentioning possibly going to a couple’s massage.

Clearing the tray of all its contents, leaving only the vase and your dirty dishes which you promised to wash later, Todoroki carried it off to the kitchen and returned to give you a kiss.

“I have morning breath, spare yourself!” You covered your mouth and laughed.

“It’s alright, one kiss won’t hurt.” Todoroki sunk down onto the bed and pulled you into a soft kiss, smiling at the start of his much needed day off.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[basketballandtextbooks]

OK SO IM STILL ALIVE

heeeeeyyy guyssss, im sorry that i vanished for.... uhhhhhh... months? i think its been months, idek, im too tired rn to check the timestamp on my last post lmao

ANYWAY my irl got intense in a great deal of ways (that im not gonna go into) and i kinda just fell out of fandom in general lol. been preoccupied with handling my real life (i know, boring as fuckkkkk)

but i do still love sp and all of you and ive been meaning to check in and tell ya’ll that im ok but i just kept putting it off

(sidenote but I REALLY WANTED TO SHOUTOUT HOW COOL BEAVERS ART IS i realized after i made that blog appreciation post forevveeerrr ago that i forgot to put beaver in there WHICH IS A CRIMINAL OFFENSE, I KNOW and id been meaning to say how awesome beaver is but it kind of fell to the wayside with all my irl stuff and i figured i’d shove it in this post cuz like.... gotta mention it somewhere?!??)

ANYYYWWAAAYYYY idk when i’ll be back to doing my fandom crap or if it’ll be anytime soon but i really love you guys and i hope y’all are doing well and none of you have caught the pestilence and everyones happy

ahhhhhhhhh its awk as fuck to come back after such a long absence omg oh uh if you pm’d me or sent me a message i swear i’ll get to replying to you, it’s just that im kinda buried in messages from ppl rn (cuz i vanished lmfao) and i still dont have a fuckton of free time atm

(also i seem to have gained a bunch of followers while i was gone which is just ????????????????? WHY ARE YOU HERE but also hi lol)

[chikkou]

I'd ask this on your Lisa sideblog but you don't have anon on and I'm shy lol, but do you have any headcanons relating to Lisa the First? Like Lisa's views on religion, her relationship with her mother, if any of the various worlds we see mean anything?

hoh man i didnt even know anon wasnt on LMAO... ill turn it on after i post this!

also fuck YEAH i do holy shit i fucking LOVE lisa the first!! i know its sort of the black sheep of the lisa series, since it is a completely different type of game and was clearly austins first game, but i fucking ADORE it dude. the music - which he made ENTIRELY IN THE FREE TRIAL OF FL STUDIO BY THE WAY - is FANTASTIC, the art direction is actually pretty fucking incredible for an rpgmaker game that uses a good deal of basic assets, and the gameplay.... ok yeah that part is a bit lacking but its a yume nikki-style game be nice it was his first time LMAO

ANYWAY back to ur question. first and foremost, i think this is not even a headcanon so much as straight up canon, but lisa DESPISES christianity. marty is christian, probably catholic given the golden crosses everywhere, and he is a fucking scumbag hypocrite. lisa likely associates all of christianity with this line of thinking, as there is one room in the bile area where the melted martys (although i suppose we can just call them joy mutants now LMAO) simply stand in a circle surrounding one big cross. the role of the melted martys is up for interpretation of course, as is everything, but after playing the painful and seeing them described as “mindless sheep,” i think this is how lisa viewed them. so they likely represent other people that, to lisa, are probably just as sick and disgusting as marty

lisas relationship with her mother... i go back and forth on this one a lot. i can never decide if i prefer the headcanon that lisas mom died in childbirth, and so lisa never met her, or if i prefer that lisas mom was around for a very short time and then either left or died. the fact that she says “i didnt want to leave” at the end of the first leads me to believe that she most likely died. in either case, the memory of her mother was clearly important to lisa, as she wears her pendant through the entire game and its explicitly noted as being a gift from her. in either case, i think that the death/absence of the mother is heavily implied to be the primary cause behind martys descent into alcoholism and lisas abuse, since the white room strongly implies that marty did at one time sincerely love and care for her as a father properly should 

as for the meaning of each of the rooms, i think most of them are fairly self explanatory, but some of them are a bit more vague, so ill break it down in terms of how i see it (and ill put them under the cut because its long as hell):

martys house - this is the most literal one. pretty self-explanatory. the dark, yet vibrant colors and the ear-bleedingly loud tv are pure sensory overload, something lisa probably deals with on a regular basis. when lisa goes outside and it turns into a sky of marty faces, i think this is the transition into the psychological part of the game

the lobby - this is honestly just pure yume nikki ripoff LMAO... but if i had to ascribe a symbolic meaning to it, i think its probably a quiet and safe area for lisa to retreat to in her mind when she needs it, but even that eventually gets sullied as tricky rick makes his way there, too (and tells her hes “just waiting” when she talks to him). the majority of gameplay is lisa searching for items with which to kill tricky rick, who always abuses and disparages her whenever she talks to him, telling her she’ll never forget. as for the reason why... well, take one look at him and its pretty clear whats going on there. (the name is also a reference to richard nixon, whose nickname was... well, you can figure it out!)

the town - the bar area is 100% my favorite from this world; lisa clearly hates alcohol and anyone who drinks it, associating them all with marty, and that music... all i can say is YUCK. the entire section also consists of lisa having to give up something in exchange for what she needs to move on, and usually getting the raw end of the deal out of it (she gives one marty a banana, he gives her a banana peel in return). she does all that while avoiding a marty following her outside who repeatedly tells her “you cant escape,” and upon reaching tricky rick (who is atop a narrow, columnar, PINK mountain), it becomes pretty clear whats happening to her. 

the sea room - fucking marty spiders man. im assuming they represent the sickly feeling of crawling skin she gets when she looks at him or is anywhere near him, but holy GOD they are annoying to deal with. she kills tricky rick with pills here - we dont know what kind of pills these are, but i interpret them as sleeping pills, and given the rumbling music and the rapid cycling marty background, i wonder if he forced her to take these. marty is everywhere here, but the only one she can speak to is seen chilling on a raft of some kind. marty likely spent much of his time recreationally, i.e. drinking, so it makes sense why this would be here

the rope room - theres no symbolism here this is just pure comedy (LMAO). if i HAD to assign some meaning to this area, it would be that lisa likely is so despondent at this point that putting in effort to do anything feels utterly pointless, much like climbing this long-ass rope was

the white room - as i mentioned earlier, i personally believe that this area depicts the previous relationship between marty and lisa (and also has one of my favorite songs in the game). he is shown doing traditional fatherly things - he is no longer wearing sunglasses and is wearing a suit, meaning he was likely employed, and is actually smiling. he also spends time with her in a completely platonic, familial way. when she interacts with him, there is a little heart over his head. after lisa walks through the golden statues (which will reappear later), the entire world becomes filled with bile, and martys appearance returns to that of the other martys, but with an extremely warped, grotesque face. the item she needs in this area to kill tricky rick is found between two golden crosses.

notice that all of the items she kills tricky rick with - a razor, pills, and now a plastic bag - are things that a child could plausibly get their hands on; none of them are explicitly weapons. i think this shows both her age and how often she must have considered using those things against him. 

the bile room - probably my favorite area in the game, and also features what i consider the quintessential lisa song. this area really drives home lisas disgust with marty and with christianity as a whole - it almost certainly has the highest concentration of crosses, and it is also quite literally covered in wall-to-wall bile, dirty water, and disgusting houses. a lot of the most graphic sights, like the melting martys and the pond martys (no idea what to call them LMAO) are here, so i think this is pretty much the lowest circle of hell for lisa. marty gives lisa a freshly cut finger in exchange for a napkin here; im not necessarily sure what that represents, but i think the napkin was used by marty to masturbate (as he says “i needed that” after he takes it), so perhaps the finger is martys?

lisa kills tricky rick here in a cave that is not-so-subtly shaped like a penis, and gets a vhs tape in which he pretty explicitly states what is going on in the game; he even pretends like he doesnt know who lisa is at first, which somehow makes it even more disgusting. the fact that vhs tapes play a role here sort of makes me wonder if marty really WAS filming some of what he was doing, and given that lisa the joyful confirms that brad was forced to somehow participate in lisas abuse, that is.... horrific to think about, honestly

the marty tape - this tape just has the player (as marty) walk up to lisa and suited marty, who are having a tea party with a plastic tea set. they both get hearts over their heads if you talk to them. i think this drives home that he and lisa did once have a normal relationship, and perhaps theres some part of marty who misses that? theres a LOT of ways you can interpret this; having the player become marty really calls a lot into question.

the mansion - the room leading here has a marty staring directly at the player who informs lisa that she needs a sword to progress. unsubtly, the sword must be placed into the crotch of a womans statue. the mansion inside is beautiful and ornate, and easily the most gorgeous area in the game - and it all leads to what appears to be a proto-joy mutant marty, sort of looking like jabba the hutt. i dont doubt that this is intentional, given that jabba the hutt is associated with slave leia, and its not at all a far leap to call lisa martys slave. the golden statues of women, as well as many golden crosses, are everywhere in this area. its actually quite a large space with a lot of thought put into it, so im really upset that i cant figure out more of what it represents LMAO

the final area - lisa seems to go back to her actual house, but upon leaving her room and entering whether the living room would be, the whole area changes. she encounters herself in a blood red room, but when she talks to the other lisa, she turns into marty. i think this represents a clear question - who is lisa without him? IS she anyone? or is she just a vessel for him to do with what he pleases? she encounters a naked marty telling her to give up shortly after, and flees from him, but is followed by voices repeatedly telling her that she must accept her fate. i think this clearly show the mental state of lisas last days. she was tormented, eternally. she truly felt there was no escape from marty. even the background becomes nothing but martys face, over and over again, as the end screen flashes.

at the end text, she finds a video tape, and in the tape sees someone who is ostensibly her mother from behind. she apologizes for not being there for her, but when that figure turns out, its martys face that she sees. the sky turns into marty. the music becomes corrupted and overrun with pretty fucked up laughter. she tries to run, but marty is already everywhere. theres nowhere for her to run. and then the game is over.

note that the video tape comes AFTER the games end screen, which stops not long after the appearance of the naked marty. so i personally believe that the “game over” represents her deciding to take her own life, rather than just give up and accept her fate. by running from him into the blackness, she got away from marty the only way she could have. it is sad and horrible, but that is honestly the best ending that she could have gotten in this game.

the first is definitely not as good as the painful in terms of gameplay, that much i can agree on, but i really think people miss out on a lot by not playing it. i think its really crucial to see lisas life from her own perspective before you can see it from brads - after all, brad may have known more than anyone else about what was going on, but he did not experience it like lisa did. for brad, lisa is a symbol of his own regrets and failures, but lisa was a PERSON (well, in-universe anyway LMAO). she suffered on her own, with pretty much no one to help her, and then she suffered so much that she couldnt take another second of it. 

[ifandomalot]

Something with getalt not letting the reader join him on hunts and making up something about be proposed to and he gets all mad and possessive😍

An: sorry if this sucks i had no idea where to go with this lol 😣

It was a long month, Geralt hunting down some monster for a man who offered a large amount of coin, of course Y/N offered for Jaskier to stay with her in his absence, but he annoyingly said. "How can I write the best ballads in the world without seeing them?"

The small house was tucked away from town, a little divot in the woods but not to far out that any danger would come, most didn't even know it existed. It was older, her parents passed it down before their death, shingles blown from the roof leaving little bare spots that Geralt swore he would get to soon, the door creaked loudly with wind but it was still perfect, mostly because it where she was.

The difference between then and now was the spot was no longer bare, actually the roof was alined with all new shingles, these of high quaility. A new door, made from strong wood, it wouldn't even move if a grown man tried kicking it down. Geralt suddenly felt annoyed as Jaskier mentioned it, a small stack of hay was lazily thrown in the front yard. Food for the small amount of animals she housed.

The sweet sound of her laughter filled his ears, they moved towards the sounds, but chest tightened at the sight. Despite the hay stack being almost as large as herself, she carried it lowly, but the man next to her easily carrying two on each shoulder.

"Uh ohh." Jaskier mumbles when seeing the twist of anger and annoyance on Geralt's face, he jumps from Roach as his beloved drops the hay, noticing him.

"Geralt!" Her face lights up instantly as she jumps to wrap her arms around him, kissing his cheek sweetly and then moving to Jaskier, hugging her bestfriend from cheek to cheek.

"I missed you guys." Geralt clears his throat, annoyance clear. He didn't like seeing her after weeks, a little over a month with another man at her house, laughing with him and he had no doubt in his mind the new repairs came from his hand.

"We missed you." Jaskier answered for him, pushing on Geralt's back harshly, telling him not to be so broody.

Geralt rolls his eyes as his large hand cups her cheek. A small kiss against her lips is all she allows, the other man's doing no doubt. Even though the last time they left it wasn't with good parting, it was arguing, tears and meaningless words. She wanted nothing more in the world to escape this town for a little, join them on her first ever adventure but Geralt wouldn't allow it, claiming it wasn't safe, he can't afford to watch two useless bodies.

"I started dinner, it should be done soon." She pauses, pressing her hand against the dark haired man's should, rubbing it soothingly. Anger blots the Witcher's chest and neck red. "This is Harold, I have hired him right after you left. He stumbled into town looking for a place to stay for work so here we are."

"He's been staying here bunny?" Geralt's throat felt tight, his chest stopping. He uses the nickname, mostly to show his ability too... his ownership.

"Yes, don't be silly Geralt. This is Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier the bard." No bunny back? No love? Jaskier could feel the tension between the two growing as she invited them inside. Geralt went to take his normal spot on the small chair but Harold beats him to it, he bites his cheek so hard he tastes blood.

"Why don't you tell him of our adventures Jaskier." Geralt says, mostly wanting a few uninterrupted moments with his beloved. She stands in the kitchen, stirring a large pot of stew. The delicious smell making his stomach grumble loudly.

"Bunny." His voice is soft, but insecure. The voices of doubt mumbling his worst fears, she doesn't love you anymore. He comes behind her, trapping her between his large arms as his hands lay flat against the counter.

"Yes bunny?" The nickname making his heart inflame once again, igniting the warmness of his skin as she turns to face him. Beautiful as ever, soft hair, beautiful eyes, a sweet smile and lips that look as kissable as ever.

"Who is this man?" She scoffs, pushing against his chest but he doesn't move. He forces her to face him, his cheek rubbing against hers. Taking away the scent of that man, the vile, bile rising smell replaced by his own. "Answer me." It's soft, a whisper against her ear.

"He is my farm help." She growls, "A man who needed help, so I helped him."

"Why is he staying here?" Geralt could smell his scent almost everywhere, on the couch, kitchen, the bath. It made him sick as the ugly scent collided with the sweet one, tainting this house.

"He needed some help." Her tone is harsh, as if she was being accused of something and soon is.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"You are out of your fucking mind witcher!" Her voice raises loudly, she pushes against his chest again. This time her strength catches him of guard, just enough to sneak past him. "You leave me for months at a time forcing me to stay here alone, not knowing if you are dead or alive and want to get in my business."

Geralt is about to comment back but she beats him to it. "No, but he has asked me to marry him. Settle down, because he says a woman like me shouldn't be waiting around for any man."

Geralt snarls, as if he hasn't already known this. A woman like her deserved everything beautiful in this world, everything good. "You wait for me because it is too dangerous out there. And I am your business. I'm giving you one chance, tell him to leave before I kick his sorry ass."

"Don't be ridiculous Geralt! You heard me, he would marry me in a heart beat, you dont even love me enough to let me come with you."

Geralt had enough of these lies, his large hand cupping her jaw with stern eyes, lips meeting hers with rush. His lips rough and harsh: jealous and protective. He was claiming what was his, reminding her with every movement of his tongue to hers. Her large hands lifting her to the table, opening her legs to wrap around his waist as his lips pressed against her neck and jaw with sucks of possessiveness, purple marks in their wake. "I don't let you come with me because I do love you."

"I lied." She sucks in a sharp breath, "He didn't purpose. I got mad you accused me of being unfaithful to you."

A large 'mmm' grumbles inside his chest as his hands cup her cheeks once ahain. "I'm sorry bunny, I felt a moment of.." he taped his lips, looki ng for words. "Insecurity."

"No need." She pauses, "His type is more you or Jaskier."

[hollowtreesinhollowwoods]

An Invitation

CW: mentions of depression, some mild language like... once, but just so you know uwu

It had been a while since anyone had seen B. They hadn’t come to anything in the past two weeks. Not to lunches, not to parties, not to walks, not video calls--or heck, even just phone calls. They were “busy”, they said. 

But A didn’t believe it.

B was a people person. They’d always been a people person. If they had homework to do, they’d arrange a study session with C. C had to reassure A several times that they hadn’t done anything like that in the past two weeks. B’s work life was practically flourishing. They had a huge following and art prints on sale that were sure to sustain them for a while, though they made new ones even still. The latest were even more complicated and beautiful than the ones before, which prompted A to wonder if they’d just become more passionate about their work, but... No matter how many excuses A came up with in their head, something about this didn’t feel right. B had always been a people person.

What had changed?

Staring down at a single message on their phone’s lock screen, A frowned. 

B: sorry still busy cant call rn 

So they’d been so busy they didn’t have time to talk, taken time to see the phone call, opened up messages and sent that? What if B was just in the bathroom? A’s thoughts argued. What if they’re piled with so much work they’re drowning in it and you’re here begging for the precious time they have free?

A opened up messages, typing and deleting and re-typing messages. This wasn’t like B. They finally settled on something.

A: Still busy?

B: yes sorry

        A shifted uncomfortably, wondering how to articulate... then deciding.

A: Can you call me?

A: Even for like five minutes? You’re really worrying me.

B: sorry I really wish I could

A: Fine then. I’ll come over.

B: what? no its okay

B is typing...

B: really lol tbh it’s kept me from getting bored

A is typing...

A: We haven’t seen you in two weeks. I’m gonna bring over food, kay? How about sushi?

B: seriously dont I’ll feel bad A >:P

A’s frown deepened. B had a seriously hard time turning down their favorite food.

A: That settles it.

B is typing...

They powered off their phone, slipping it into their pocket, and grabbing their car keys as they slipped out the door. A was prepared for whatever welcoming they’d receive when they got there. Maybe an annoyed but overly grateful B piled high with commissions or homework or a home project that A had misinterpreted. They doubted that was what they would find, but their mind had no clear picture of what they really thought was going on, other than that it was bad.

They sighed, sitting down in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

----------

“B?” A walked in through the garage door. They’d become good enough friends that they knew each other’s combinations, so they’d often come to visit out of the blue... at least, before this.

A didn’t receive any response as they walked in, though. They advanced. “B? You alright? I brought the sushi--” they walked into the kitchen to set it down for a minute, but stopped short in shock. The dishes were nearly overflowing both sides of the sink. Empty cereal boxes and chip bags were stuffed forcefully into the garbage, which itself was in need of emptying. Soggy towels were scattered throughout the area.

In short, the place was a mess.

A turned uneasily towards the hall. On one side was the bathroom, and on the other was their room. A heard a strange noise, and it took them a minute to recognize it as a sniffle. A set the food carefully down beside the door and hurried in.

They nearly tripped over a pile of laundry as they did so. Stumbling to regain their balance, A sniffed, wrinkling their nose. The room smelled musty, like the door had hardly been opened. Laundry piled high in the room, paper plates and plastic utensils sat at the end of their desk, soda cans sat between books and pencils, a single plate of half-eaten pie sat beside their laptop, and B sat in the middle of it all. For a second, their puffy, red, tear-stained face drifted over to look at A’s, but they turned away, silent.

“B, what’s wrong?” A came forward, bewildered. Why didn’t I come sooner? Why didn’t I realize something was up?

B didn’t answer, only turned further away from them, but not before A could see their eyes brim with tears. They took a careful breath through their mouth.

A turned their chair around, taking their shoulders. “B, what the hell happened?”

B couldn’t look them in the eyes. Tears were rolling down their face, their mouth pressed shut, and an involuntary whimper slipped out. They sniffled again, blinking rapidly.

“Please? Please tell me, B... If there’s anything I can do to help...” A felt their own eyes sting, their heart aching from the hurt that B hadn’t told them about this before. Were they a bad friend?

“But it’s stupid,” B rubbed their eyes, shaking their head as their voice trembled. “It’s such a stupid thing... It doesn’t even matter but I’m--”

“B,” A got down on their knees. “It matters to me.”

B sniffled again, grabbing some tissues and wiping their eyes as a sob slipped out. “I just... my dog... yesterday...”

“X? Did he get lost?” A asked. “I can help you--”

“They had to put him down.”

A paused. They thought for a moment. It wasn’t a silly thing, but it definitely wasn’t what they’d expected. B had gotten X a long time ago to help with depression. A hadn’t noticed the absence, but now that B pointed it out, their heart fell. A had never owned any pets, so they had no way of knowing, but...

“I told you it was stupid... I... it’s just he... I’ve had X so long I forgot what it was like being so... like not having... having...” they let out another sob, wiping their eyes feebly with a tissue. “It’s like... losing your best friend... and then you wish you didn’t take the-them for granted and-and you-ou feel so--”

Alone. A knew what that felt like.

B was interrupted as A pulled them up into a hug, wrapping them up tightly and stroking their back with one arm. For a second, B just stood there, but then they crumbled, sobbing into A’s shoulder. When they finally pulled away, A led them out of their room, picking up the food and handing it to B.

“You sit and eat that,” B said, leading them to the couch. “I got the dragon roll... hope that’s still your favorite,” they said, wiping their own tears away and taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna tidy up.”

“A, you don’t have to do my chores--”

“B, I want to help. And you need it. Now you sit and eat and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll make you some tea, too. You want some tea?”

B sniffled, but offered a small nod after a moment.

“Alright,” A said, smiling and nodding back.

----------

“B, you know I’d move mountains if it meant it would make you feel better?” A said, pulling them closer. They wiped a tear from their face with their thumb. The sound of the dish washer and the laundry machine formed a rhythm, and the room was chilly from the windows A had opened to get fresh air flowing.

B didn’t respond at first, merely sipping their raspberry tea and sniffling again.

A lightly squeezed B’s shoulder, and they looked up. After a minute, they responded reluctantly, their eyes looking down at the floor. “...mhm...”

“Like... I don’t know, just seeing you every day or getting to see you smile just makes me happy. It makes me so happy when I help you. So please don’t feel guilty for it. You deserve attention and help, too,” A said.

After a long moment, B uttered in a small voice, “...Okay.”

B set their tea down on the table, sighing and resting their head on A’s shoulder. Then, within minutes, they’d slipped off. A laid B’s head carefully on their lap and sighed, stroking their hair and fixing their blanket, dabbing their face gently with a tissue to wipe off the tear tracks.

A listened to their gentle breaths, which occasionally shuddered, then leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on their forehead.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

so u may notice - the absence - of a moon in this foto  - itz foggy k - and i wuz thinking  ( u duz nose imma how u say uh delusional maybe a little sometimes ) that since my fone shows a full moon almost only even a demi - with no visible i might get a half or at least a teacup  (or 13 check out her blog if u aint ) or a spoonful like a howlin wolf 

like a circle - no imma not gonna post that donovan again dont worry imma hearing hooker n heat cuz sometimes all u wanna do is boogie chillen - but t its awmost midnite u should - lol - i shood wat - da fuck - gawd help me i hafta play an actual gig - it could happen - as long as i can nap 1st - actually i didnt today - cramps bearable and improving maybe - hope so - prolly shoodnt go more than 1 more day wo copd med - oh i feel good hooker sing - actually - consider every thang - i do feel pretty good - back hurts lol but -hey -like a vacuum shout  holding that tambourine like a boss 

but like i sed it getting late ish - dishes u know imma do them - even wo a moongaze i like doin it soothing - and useful 

mos haz another show later in the month - dont know details - kidz theze daze - actually - i wuz bizzy playin guitar and fruitful and it cold and unpoet needed me home when she wuz and cancelled a meeting w liam - he outta town a couple and i maybe in davis 1 day weekend  - i prolly got not much to offer cept encouragement and $ - he knows my priority right now is recording and he cant b part of  - that train gone from the station 1 way ticket goin nowhere - recording only 20% over budget so far lol - no i aint gonna tell u $  - vita also publishing a small book - maybe i mention - will have info when its available

oh yes the kitty a good one she - is always 

only fed a few crows today 

laterz

love