#get stuck in the Void and stand One Single Way

[rin-may-1103]

Badger Day Au (part two)

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"Fourteen?" Aquaman repeats, turning his chair to face Danny. "Fourteen what? Days, weeks, months?"

Flash hissed like he was in pain, "Please don't say it's been fourteen months!"

Danny trailed his eyes away from the ceiling, away from the bothersome crack, and toward the single window in the room. He could just barely make out the Cassiopeia constellation. Its distinct W shape winked and flickered, drawing up a memory from a few loops into this whole mess. Tucker had wanted to comfort him, seeing as Danny had just broken down crying over how frustrated he was with everything.

The Ghost of Cassiopeia. Also known as IC 63, about 550 light years away.

A giant cloud of dust and gas. A nebula. Its ethereal glow reminded people of spirits they would see in haunted houses or fields. So they called it the ghost of Cassiopeia.

But it wasn't a ghost, it's simply hydrogen that's been bombarded with ultraviolet radiation from the nearby star. A blue giant called Gamma Cassiopeiae. It's also known as the center of the constellation. The light from the blue giant makes the majority of the nebula glow a vivid red. The blue around the edges is just light reflected off the dust within.

Tucker had joked that Danny should try and see how far he could get before the loop restarted. See if he could even get past Jupiter. Danny had just snorted and brushed his suggestion off. What was the point when he should be spending his time trying to fix the loop?

About six years in, Danny had given up and tried.

Eight months he had spent flying. He got further and further out into the void, surrounded by darkness and the beautiful stars in the distance to guide him. He never managed to make it past Pluto before he was brought back.

"Years," Danny confessed, his eyes still trained on the faraway stars.

"YEARS!?!" Superman cried, standing up so fast his chair was sent flying into the wall. Danny glanced back up at the crack, watching as it grew just a little larger, plaster dust sprinkling down like freshly fallen snow.

Sighing, Danny sat up and stared at the group. How many times has he had this conversation? How many times was he going to explain what was happening? How many times was he going to wake up in his bed just to restart all over again?

"Years," Danny repeated, "Fourteen years. Like I said, I've tried everything."

They sat in silence for a moment, just digesting his situation. Batman was standing still, his fists clenched tightly. Superman looked faint like he would pass out. Flash looked devastated.

Wonder Woman leaned forward, her brows furled in confusion, "Were you cursed, young one?"

"No, I checked. You checked. Heck, even Zatanna and Constantine have checked. I'm not cursed." Danny grumbled, slumping down to rest his head on the table.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to just curl up and sleep for the next however long. Wanted to hug Jazz and cry about how unfair it all was. Wanted to curl into his mother's side and cling until she made it all better. Hide behind his father until he knew it was safe.

but he couldn't.

Something always happened when he tried. If he stayed home from the very beginning of the day, the league would call him over and over again, convinced he was needed for the case Batman had. They even sent Flash over a few times just to search the city to drag him to the meeting.

(He was happy they hadn't figured out his civilian identity yet, but man was it hard to watch as Flash stuck his face into every nook and cranny around town yelling his name. Danny's lost count of how many times the man got overshadowed.)

If he managed to convince them that he was in a loop, then they found it would be safer for him to stay up on the watchtower. where they could keep an eye on him while searching for a way to break it.

Or, if he managed to convince them he was sick or something and they left him alone, Vlad would start acting up. Jack would call him on the phone to cancel Maddie's meeting with him because Danny was 'sick'. If he convinces Maddie to go and stay home with his dad, then Jack somehow opens the portal long enough for one of his rogues to slip through.

It just never ends. Everything he's tried ends with him having to go ghost and fight. The calmest day he's managed to have ended with Box ghost blasting the portal doors open so he could give him a homemade lunch from his wife, which then led the ghost to find Jack's new weapon box and go ballistic because of his obsession.

after that, he gave up spending time with his parents and focused more on his friends and Jazz. This was equally disastrous.

so, his safest option was to go to the meeting and stay with the league.

Glancing up, Danny watched as the time slowly changed on the clock; six twenty-nine, tick, tick, tick, six thirty.

Sighing, Danny sat up and held his hand out, making eye contact with Batman. He might as well get the day going, no use in wallowing in self-pity. He's done that plenty already.

"I already figured out what the cult wanted to do, we just need to figure out where their next meeting is. I'll fill you guys in on the rest." Danny added, wiggling his fingers in the hope it would make Batman move faster.

Batman sighed and handed him the folder. Once Danny had the folder, Batman sat down to listen to his report intently.

Flipping the file open, Danny grabbed the first page and showed it to the group, ignoring how a copy showed up on the big screen behind Batman. (again, why use paper if he was just going to project it?)

"This is the result of the cult's last meeting, two weeks ago. as you can see, the ground has been scorched and the ritual circle permanently carved into the cement." Tossing the paper and ignoring it as Flash scrambled to catch it, Danny grabbed the next couple of pages.

Holding up the seventy missing person reports, Danny placed them on the table and separated them into four different piles. "After some digging, Batman was able to figure out the pattern between the missing people. This group," Danny pointed to the one on the left, "consists of organ donors who were anemic."

pointing to the pile on the right, Danny continued, "This group is made up of meta-humans who have powers related to the elements. they also all happen to have more than one piercing, though Batman didn't really figure out if that had an impact on whether they were chosen or not..."

Pointing to the northern pile, Danny separated the top seven pages. "while everyone in this pile has some relation to an ancient and powerful witch from the 1500s, these seven are the only ones who still share her 'family' name. I'm not sure exactly how this affects the cult's motives, Batman hadn't shared that with me in all the loops so far."

Danny glared at Batman in annoyance, he didn't care if there was a good reason or not. Without fail, in each loop that Danny's made it through where Batman makes the connection; he would refuse to tell Danny about it.

Rolling his eyes at Batman's unwavering apathy, Danny continued, "The last pile consists of people who have been dead at some point in their lives. whether it be just a few seconds or a few weeks."

passing the reports around, Danny pulled the next page from the file. "Flash and Constantine were able to connect the past locations of the cult gatherings. Constantine figured out there was a specific magic signature that he could follow, so he had Flash drag him around the world to map the locations."

tapping the table, Danny selected the world map. Glancing at the paper he had pulled out, Danny marked the places with a red dot. Then he marked the places Constantine found in blue. Looking up, Danny found the league staring at him.

"What?" Danny huffed, shoving the hologram away from him. Batman grabbed it and started to examine it.

"So, do we need Constantine for this?" Green Lantern asks, scratching his head.

Shrugging, Danny tossed the folder over to Wonder Woman. "You can call him if you want, but he won't get here until noon. He's in the house of mystery dealing with a pixie infestation."

"pixie infestation?" Superman asks, turning to look over to Zatanna. Zatanna reached into her jacket and handed him a pamphlet, not turning away from watching Danny with curious eyes.

"Anyway, like I was saying. the cult's been going around taking all these people and using them in their rituals."

"you said you knew what they were trying to do, what was it?" Batman asked with a noticeable frown.

Sighing, Danny pinched his nose. "they've been trying to summon Pariah Dark."

"The ghost king!?!?" Zatanna squawked, slamming her hands onto the table.

"yeah, that bastard," Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. The cult hadn't been successful for all fourteen years now, so Danny wasn't too worried about it. But still... If something, anything really, changed just the slightest; would they succeed? Would they drag Prariah out of his sarcophagus and let him lose on the living?

Danny's already had to face him once, he didn't know if he could do it again. The Fenton ecto-skeleton suit had been ruined last time, to the point dad hadn't even tried to fix it.

"Bastard?" Aquaman repeated, eyes narrowed, "You speak as if you've met him before."

"I have," Danny admitted, "and I will again if we don't do something about the cult." What if this is the loop the cult succeeded? what if it's the next one, or the one after that? could Danny even do anything to prevent it?

Zatara sat down with a heavy thump, her eyes widening in shock. Danny lifted his brow, wondering what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this any other time? what was different? had he said something he hadn't last time? hmm, something to think about later.

"back to the case," Danny shrugged, turning to gesture at the hologram of the world. "we were able to narrow down the cult's next location to about seven hundred places. I was able to check off about six hundred and thirty these last few loops. That leaves about seventy places they could be."

Danny used a yellow dot to select the seventy places he still needed to check.

"um," Flash started, nervously glancing between Danny and the globe. "you just highlighted the whole grand cannon and all of Alaska... and the Himalayas.... and the-"

"Yep," Danny cut in, "Like I said, I checked off all the others. These are the last seventy I still need to check. I haven't before because it's a lot of ground to cover. I was hoping I'd catch a break and find the cult before I had to check all those places, but nope. The fruitloops just had to make it difficult.

"oh," Flash winced, "do, do you want me to check them out?"

sighing, Danny leaned back in his chair, "I would love to have you check them out, but you need a magic user who knows what they're looking for to go with you. it's why we haven't found them yet, it's taking forever."

"Oh," was the only response he got.

"you know what we are looking for?" Zatara asks, finally getting over whatever had surprised her.

"yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll have to bring you or the others to a previous place and show you."

"hmm, alright. after the meeting, why don't you bring me so that at least one more person can help start looking, until, john is freed up at noon?" she suggests, tilting her head to the side.

"sounds good with me," Danny shrugged. it's not like it'll hurt to have her looking around, heck, they might even get lucky and she'll find them.

Next

[abbotmohann]

closed doors

pairing: jack abbot x attending!reader

summary: you don’t mean to let jack abbot into your heart but when you realise you did, the only logical response is to push him away and pretend like you can go back to being a cold hearted bitch

a/n: i love reading angst idk what that says about me but anyways this was meant to be just a little drabble but it turned out longer than i imagined but the ending is kinda meh. also not proofread, hope you like it!

jack abbot is a widowed former trauma medic amputee not that he let it define him at least not anymore, the man has been through it and even though he occasionally hangs out on the roof he goes to therapy he makes an active effort to work through his ptsd and improve his mental health. so when jack meets you he feels a sense of kinship just as morbid as he was possibly even more so but he enjoys your deadpan humour.

you don’t realise how or when it happened but over the course of the months working together he worms his way into your life, he gets you coffee most nights and half the time when you’re in the doctors lounge trying to take a moment and eat a protein bar he comes in and offers you half his packed lunch which you insist you can’t take but he never takes no for an answer and when he offers rides home you don’t even fight it.

you come to the realisation the first time he’s off in months and you feel the lack of his presence the whole shift, your mind wandering what he was doing - you miss him and you hate it. you’re anxious throughout the next shift you feel tense and awkward around him, trying to process. you try to distance yourself from him but he makes it so goddamn hard, you couldn’t exactly turn down the free coffee so you find other ways like not eating in the doctors lounge, you keep small talk to a minimum where you used to banter with him you don’t - you’re not mean about it at least you don’t think so and when your shift ends you hang back a good 15minutes. eventually he seems to get the picture, he still gets you coffee and searches your eyes every time likely trying to figure what’s changed but you smile and say thanks like normal every single time leaving him confused but that’s really the only that’s stuck, there’s no back and forth anymore it’s strictly professional and you don’t have to hang back anymore, he doesn’t offer you ride anymore. you hate it you miss him, him still buying you a coffee makes it worse sometimes you want to say something spark it all back up again and every once in awhile he sees it and hesitates but you chicken out. eventually even the coffee stops and that really breaks your heart, he never treats you differently on a professional level which at the very least you’re thankful for not that you doubted him but a sick part of you almost wishes he did, there’s an aching void where he used to occupy that you keep trying to ignore - an impossible task when you see him almost daily.

one night you’re running into work early deciding to buy a coffee from the local spot that jack used to get it for the two of you, you make the impulsive decision to also grab one for jack immediately regretting as you’re walking in. you thought about all the ways this was a bad idea so close to throwing it away but just as you were getting to the entrance with both cups in hand so was jack - this was the moment.

“hi jack! i got you coffee”

he furrowed his brows perplexed, she doesn’t speak to him in months but now she brings him a coffee from their spot - she obviously needed a favour he assumed. “thanks” he gave a tight lipped smile as he took the cup and walked away. the rest of the shift went by as normal and there was no favour to be asked so what was that? he wondered, something to discuss with the therapist he figured.

now at the end of your shift there’s a downpour, the kind of torrential rain that soaks you through to the bone. you’re standing at the exit cursing at yourself for not having an umbrella or anything protective dreading getting onto public transport. jack walking out spots you, he sighs his chest tightening nervous for what he’s about to say dreading your reaction.

“i’ll give you a lift”

“oh no jack it’s fine, it’s not too bad”

he rolled his eyes huffing. “it wasn’t a question” you open and close your mouth not knowing how to respond and jack simply pops open his umbrella waiting so you get under it and walk to his car.

the silence is deafening, you feel sick to your stomach. you feel this wave of anger coming off jack you can’t tell if it’s all in your head your if it’s just own guilt projecting. it silent the whole journey and when you reach yours.

“thanks for the ride”

“here take the umbrella”

“thanks but i can survive a few feet”

you unbuckle your seat but you can’t move, you feel the overwhelming urge to fix this now but unsure of how to approach this you say probably the most ridiculous thing you could.

“i know you live far so if you want you can wait at mines for the rain to calm down” you lived a 15 minute drive away from the hospital but tonight he had taken 30 minutes and you knew he lived a 45 minute drive away. you were being logical in a situation that was incredibly illogical. “please for my sake”

he’s thrown off, irritated at the offer. he wants to be mad at you but your voice soft and shaky just makes him want to grab you into his arms and comfort you, you were maddening he thought.

when he walks into your apartment he’s struck by how clinical it feels, you have the barebones it seems there’s no warmth like it’s not lived in. “do you want something to drink like a cup of tea or coffee?” at ease now in your own domain the guilt temporarily forgotten.

“uh, a coffee would be nice” he stands there awkwardly not sure what to do watching you fuss about around your studio flat seemingly switching the heating on opening the curtain halfway (what was that about?).

“you can go ahead and sit on the sofa jack” and so he does, he mind swirling with a million questions, he decided this was it this was the best time to get his answers once and for all.

you come to sit beside him with two cups of coffee, the awkward tension stronger than ever you know you should say something or else what was the point of inviting him to your place at the very least for the sake of being a good host.

“it was lucky you brought an umbrella i don’t remember seeing it as going rain when i check the weather”

“seriously!? you wanna talk about the weather? not about how you’ve been treating me the past couple months?”

“i haven’t been rude”

“seriously!?”

“what!?” you running your fingers through your hair frustrated this isn’t going how you wanted, not that you had a plan but anything is better than this.

“you’re too smart to be playing dumb right now, you’ve been avoiding me” his voice is harsh now, exasperated with you and you’re inability to be honest. he knew you had walls, he knew you weren’t an open book if anything you reminded him a little bit of him and he liked it cos he understood it.

“no i haven’t” you know it’s stilly to so balantly lie but you’re still too scared to be real.

“you’re never in the doctors lounge, you never wanna speak about anything that isn’t medical anymore and don’t think i don’t know you purposely hang in the locker room so i can’t offer you ride home. i thought you were going through something personal and pushing everyone away but then i soon realised you had no problem with any of our coworkers just me, so if ive done something to hurt you just tell me how i can fix it?”

“jack, i’m sorry i wasn’t clear but our relationship was becoming unprofessional you’re my senior, i was just trying to establish boundaries again and keep it strictly professional”

“you think it’s professional to invite me into your home?” he rolls his eyes, he feels defeated now maybe tonight wouldn’t be the night this would be fixed.

“i’m not a total monster, i can’t have you getting into an accident on my conscious”

jack sighs and you both sit there silent for a beat, jack bumping his legs against yours willing you to look at him and you do.

“god you drive me insane” he lets out a chuckle rubbing his face.

you’re pouting now. “do you hate me now?”

“no! i wouldn’t be here trying to fix this, asking my therapist for advice”

“there’s nothing to fix” it’s out before you even think, wincing at the harshness but you don’t let jack speak. “wait i’m sorry that was mean”

he rolls his eyes “normally i like that about you so i’ll it slide” you chew on your lips at his casual confession, like in what way is the first thought and the second thought is ‘you’re insane’

“you spoke about me to your therapist?” a giggle escapes, it seemed absurd that you’d be brought up, that you had any significant meaning to his life. “i’m sorry it’s not funny, i’m just surprised”

“i know i said this already but god you’re drive me insane, what’s so surprising about that?”

“idk the fact that there’s anything significant about me or us to discuss”

“maybe throwing away our friendship was easy for you but it meant a lot to me, you mean a lot to me. i can’t stop caring about you even if i wanted to and if you really did think the professional lines were blurring and it was making you uncomfortable you could’ve just said so, i don’t wanna ever make you feel uncomfortable.”

“i’m sorry” you look down at your fidgeting hands breaking the eye contact.

“stop apologising”

“i don’t actually care about professional boundaries, i know you wouldn’t let any personal beef getting into the way of work. i just you’re better off without me”

“what’s that supposed to mean? you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

“jack i’m incredibly fucked up and i don’t go to therapy even though i probably should, i don’t let people into my life but all of a sudden you weaseled your way into my heart and so i pushed you away for my sake and yours. i didn’t wanna go through the mortifying experience of you realising my feelings and rejecting them but here we are”.

“please look at me when i say this.” you oblige considering it’s the least you could do. “did i bring anyone else coffee? did i share my food with anyone else? am i giving rides out to everyone? you think you didn’t weasel your way into my heart? you’re the only thing i look forward to coming into work even when it hurt”

he strokes your cheek as he brushes a few unruly pieces away, “i’ve wanted to do this for so long” he pulls you in to a passionate kiss and you oblige melting into his touch, he’s soon pulling you into his lap the kiss frantic and desperate.

he pulls away to catch ch his breath and remark on the facts. “you know we could’ve been doing this for months instead”

pressing soft kisses along his neck, you let out a frustrated sigh “i know i’m an idiot, i’m sorry”

“what did i say about apologising, you can you make it up to me instead” he winked

“oh i’m not sorry then” you smirk running your hands through his salt and pepper curls.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” his lips are back on you again in a frantic mess, your arms wrapped around him tightly rolling your hips deciding this morning was going to end with both of you naked.

[hamiltonforwdc]

You'll be the love of my life

pairing - oliver bearman x driver!reader

theme - angst

warnings -

summary - all the time chasing him was just a waste…until a certain night.

a/n - first fic is an ollie fic...what a crazy crazy surprise

YN couldn’t really recall life before Oliver, and honestly, she wasn’t dying to. It’s not that her memory sucked—more like, everything pre-Ollie was just this fuzzy, silent void. Like bad radio static before you find the right station. He’d just always been around, you know? Seven years old, tearing up the karting tracks. Getting forced by their parents to do homework on pit boxes between heats. Sitting next to her on some random Italian curb after she lost her first championship by a single, soul-crushing point—helmet clutched in both hands, plotting to launch it into the sun. He’d pried it away, gentle as ever, told her she was still the best. And she believed him. Because—well, duh. He was Oliver.

Maybe that was the issue. She always believed him.

There was this long phase where they were basically a two-for-one deal. Everyone knew it—officials, greasy mechanics, random fans with way too many opinions. “YNandOliver,” one word, mashed together because, to be real, they just made sense that way. The prodigy twins. The next big thing. Then, boom. They grew up. Life flipped the script.

She didn’t notice at first. Not when F3 happened and suddenly their teams acted like rival mafia bosses. Not when media duties split them into different trailers, or he got bumped up while she got stuck waiting. It crept up, this slow, icy drift—like frost inching across a window. Pretty, sure, but impossible to stop.

The last time she actually saw him—like, really saw him—was Monaco. Two freakin’ years ago. Her palms could still feel the cold steel railing, the salty breeze, the way his laugh kinda snagged in his chest when she half-joked she wasn’t cut out for this world anymore.

“You’re wrong,” he’d shot back, all serious for once. “You’re going to be one of the greats.”

“I’m already behind,” she muttered. Didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but it snuck in anyway. “I’m watching you win everything, Ollie. And I’m still stuck down here.”

He looked at her with this—ugh, this look she couldn’t even name. “You’re not stuck,” he said, all soft. “You’re just not done yet.”

She’d wanted to kiss him. Like, actually, for real. Came so close, too. But then someone shouted his name—trainer, engineer, the usual—and poof, moment gone, like always.

So now she’s here, two years older, standing in a paddock that reeked of burned rubber and bittersweet nostalgia, staring at him from across the lot. He’s laughing, golden in the sun, helmet dangling from one hand, looking like a damn highlight reel from her own memory. Her chest twisted up. She hadn’t seen him since he landed the F1 seat. No real messages, just some lazy Instagram likes and a recycled story post. Silence disguised as “keeping in touch.”

She turned away before he could spot her.

Later, she’s just wandering the track solo, sun dripping gold everywhere. Engineer insisted she clear her head, and honestly, he had a point. Rookie season was a disaster—pressure, screwups, everyone whispering. She was faster on the sim than the real thing, and people noticed. Media was sharpening their teeth. “Maybe not ready,” they murmured. “Maybe not the star we hyped.”

She kicked a pebble off the curb. It scuttled into the grass. Her stomach twisted.

“You always walk circuits at sunset?”

His voice. Still him. Maybe a bit deeper, but definitely Oliver. Still soft, especially when it mattered.

She didn’t turn. “You always sneak up on people?”

“I saw you from across the pit lane. Figured you were avoiding me.”

She half-laughed. “What gave it away?”

He stepped up beside her. Close enough to feel, but not touching. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to talk.”

She glanced up, actually met his eyes. He looked almost the same—same eyes, tired but real smile. Like the idiot who used to swipe her fries and beg her not to snitch.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she said.

“I disappeared.”

“You did.”

He nodded, looked away. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did it anyway.”

Silence. Heavy, awkward.

He finally exhaled. “I didn’t know how to stay close without hurting you. You were struggling. I was getting everything we both wanted. It felt…I don’t know, wrong.”

“That wasn’t your call,” she shot back, voice small.

“I know.”

They stood there, the track looping ahead, all endless and familiar and weirdly sad. She shut her eyes.

“Sometimes I wish we never started racing,” she blurted.

He whipped his head over, startled. “You don’t mean that.”

She sighed. “No. But sometimes I wonder if we’d still be friends if all this crap hadn’t happened.”

His jaw flexed. “We were more than friends.”

Past tense. Ouch.

She didn’t answer.

“I still think about Silverstone,” he said, voice quiet. “2019. You came second, cried in the tent because you thought you let everyone down. I sat with you forever.”

“I remember.”

“I promised I’d never leave.”

“You did.”

“I broke it.”

“You did.”

He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair, and let out a long sigh. “I think about you all the time, YN. I really do.”

She looked away, throat tight. “You’ve sure got a odd way of showing it.”

“I wanted to come back.”

“Yeah, well. You didn’t even try.”

He edged closer. “I’m here now.”

Honestly, that stung more. If he could show up now, it meant he could’ve showed up before. All those months. Years. Whatever.

She couldn’t find anything worth saying. So she just walked, straight ahead, skirting the pit wall, her feet tracing out that old familiar line. He trailed after her, because of course he did.

“You know I watched every race of yours this year?” His voice had dropped, softer, almost like he was afraid to scare her off. “Every qualifying. Every lap I could get my hands on.”

She didn’t even glance back.

“You’re better than you think.”

“Yeah, right. Nope.”

“You are. Always were.”

That did it. She spun around, sharp, like she’d been stung. “Then why’d you leave, huh? If you knew I was falling apart, why’d you let me do it by myself?”

He looked like she’d smacked him. “Because I was a coward.”

That was… Okay, she hadn’t expected that. No excuses. Just bare. Kind of wrecked.

“I told myself it was to protect you,” he said, voice wobbling. “But, really? It was about me. Not wanting to see you look at me the way you are right now.”

She had to swallow, hard.

“I wanted to call,” he said. “Like, a thousand times. When you crashed in Jeddah, when they swapped out your engineer, when the press started talking crap about you not being championship material. I wanted to lose my mind, fix everything. But I figured I’d lost the right.”

“You didn’t.”

He blinked, slow.

Her breath shook. “You didn’t lose it. You just threw it away.”

Silence. The kind that sits between your ribs and aches.

“I was in love with you,” he said. Not quiet, not loud. Just… there.

Her chest twisted, tight.

“I think I still am.”

She looked at him—really looked. The kid she grew up with, the teenager who never let go of her hand, the guy who ghosted right when she needed him, and now, this version, all battered edges and regret. Was it too late? Hell if she knew.

She stepped closer, just a bit. Her voice sounded like it might break. “You broke my heart.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah. I know.”

“I used to replay Monaco, like, every damn night. What I should have said. If I’d just kissed you, maybe you would’ve stayed.”

Something flickered across his face—pain, guilt, regret, the whole messy cocktail.

“I would’ve,” he said.

She didn’t move.

“I would’ve stayed.”

“But I didn’t,” she whispered. “And you didn’t.”

He shook his head. “No.”

Wind picked up, tossing leaves past the barriers. Somewhere, way off, an engine revved. Life went on.

He reached out, slow as if he was scared she’d vanish. His fingers brushed hers. “Do you hate me?”

She didn’t answer for ages.

“I tried,” she said finally. “But I can’t.”

She glanced down at their hands. “But I think I stopped waiting.”

His whole body slumped in defeat, like a little kid got told no by his mom when he wanted ice cream. “I deserve that.”

She nodded. “Yeah. You do.”

“But I don’t want to leave again.”

She looked him dead in the eye and mumbled. “I don’t know if I can do this, Ollie.”

“We don’t have to. Not fast, anyway.”

She hesitated, chewing her lip. Then, almost too quiet: “I’m scared.”

His laugh was shaky. “Me too.”

And for a second, it wasn’t about racing or headlines or any of that other junk. Just two people on a track, older, a bit busted, standing in the ruins of whatever they used to be.

“I miss when it was easy,” she said.

“Same.”

She leaned in, barely. His forehead pressed against hers, gentle.

“We can try,” he whispered.

She didn’t know if she was ready, or if trying would just hurt all over again. But his hand was warm, the sky overhead bleeding into something softer, almost hopeful.

So she let him hold her hand.

And, for once, she didn’t feel so damn alone.

[soobnny]

talk tomorrow — lee heeseung. best friends to lovers. drunken confessions. fluff. (1.1k words)

It takes a single message from Jay reading “Heeseung drunk. Please help” for you to leave the comfort of your bed in favor of picking up your best friend.

He’d told you the night prior that he’d be drinking out with his friends, even asked you to come with him. However, you were a prisoner to your 10-page essay due at midnight so you’d opted out of his invitation – despite his accompanying doe-eyes, pout, and whining. He had taken everything out of his books of “How To Get (Name) To Say Yes” for you to reconsider, but you’d kept a firm stand on wanting to pass your subject.

Though, at 2am, with your essay—not proofread— passed and sent into the void for you to never look at ever again, you had no choice but to get the boy before he makes stupid decisions that’d have him be subject to his friends’ teasing the next day. If Jay’s one text message hadn’t convinced you, Jake’s drunk phone call with Heeseung mumbling your name over and over again would’ve done the trick.

So, clad in pajamas you had every intent on sleeping in, you’re left walking a few minutes away from his destination until you could smell the familiar scent of hard liquor. It doesn’t take a minute of you announcing you’d arrived before Heeseung barges out of the club doors to stumble his way to you and take you in his arms, just like in the movies, back slouched and head draped on your shoulder.

Though, the movies never described how foul alcohol would smell like on a boy’s sweaty body. It made you freak out, along with the thought of the connotations of a drunken boy who could pull whoever he wanted. Had he met a pretty girl?

Had it been Jake, you wouldn’t have minded. You’d even go as far as saying you’d help him, but Heeseung is a different case. Different in that you’re madly in love with him, and you could only ever see Jake as a brother figure.

“(Name)? Is it actually you?” His words come out in a slur, but you don’t miss the tilt of sudden giddiness in the way that he speaks to you.

“He’s been whining about you all night.” Jay’s voice follows from right behind him, peeling the drunk boy away from you who instantly makes grabby hands and lunges right back when Jay lets go. You could hear Heeseung mumbling, “don’t tell her”, against your shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what?” You try to support Heeseung’s wait on you, looking from him to Jay who simply shrugs his shoulders in response. Jake is a compliant drunk at the back with his eyes curtained and hands behind his back so Jay doesn’t scold him.

“That I like you.” He murmurs, low rasp in his voice and arms tightening around you as if to prepare you for the words you had never expected to hear from the boy. You would’ve stumbled in your step had Heeseung not depended most of his weight on you.

Jake’s mouth drops.

“Oh my god. He actually said it.” You could hear Jake’s harsh whispers that Jay desperately tries to shut down, dragging his friend back into the building despite his attempts at trying to see the scene unfold before him.

The door closes, and it’s just you, Heeseung, and the faint music playing from the club.

“Do you actually mean that?” You ask more to yourself, sudden bomb dropped. Apparently, it does not take seconds to comprehend that the boy you’d been in love with since middle school bears the same feelings for you. So, you stand there looking like an idiot with Heeseung stuck to you like his life depends on it.

“Of course I do.” His head perks up, defensive almost, peeling away from you. “Have you not— have you not noticed the way I look at you? How I have all your favorite books memorized, how I know everything about you by heart? I like you so much, (Name). I like you so much that sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe because what is my heart for if not to love you?”

“Hee—”

“How could anyone not love you? You walk into a room, and everyone is captivated by you. Magic is everywhere with you, and I just want to be able to have even just a fraction of who you are. But I could never tell you that. I’m just… I’m just your best friend, right? How could I be anything more?”

His eyes are glossy, and fixated on your lips before he curses himself. “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“Hee, of course I’m not mad at you. But, can we talk about this tomorrow? I don’t want you to say things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean everything, baby. And I’ll—” Hiccup. “I’ll say everything again tomorrow, anything you want for you to believe me.”

“Come on, let’s go home. We’ll talk more about this in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna have a really bad headache tomorrow.”

“Hmm… I heard kisses are a good remedy.”

“Really, now?”

“Mhm.”

His hand dives after yours, walking with you to your apartment minutes away. Your heart flutters in the space between your intertwined fingers. He holds onto you like he knows nothing else. It only makes you smile more.

He’ll settle for handholding tonight.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Mmm, couldn’t stop thinking about you though. It’s always more fun with you.” Heeseung doesn’t even think of what he’s saying anymore, spewing unfiltered words he’d normally keep hidden until he was sure you felt the same. Maybe it’s because his mind is too busy reeling what it’d be like to be with you, and how your lips could possibly feel like on his.

“Hee.” You warn light-heartedly.

“Okay, tomorrow, tomorrow. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He repeats like a mantra before sighing out. “Want time to hurry. Wanna know if you feel the same way.”

Heeseung looks lost in his own body when you arrive back into your apartment, but he still has everything memorized—where to take his shoes off, where to sit as you hand him a glass of water to drink, where his spare clothes are.

Your chest feels warm the whole time you help him wash his face. He simply sits there, compliant and behaved which is not how he’s like on a day to day basis, as you run your hands through his face, even after you dry him off with a towel. Heeseung is only a boy with a mind thinking if his everydays could look like this.

He falls asleep after 15 minutes, but his hand never leaves yours, and there’s a little note on your bedtime with lines you could barely recognize as Heeseung’s handwriting.

I meant everything. Talk tomorrow.

[eclecticwhiz]

To the ones navigating visible or invisible storms…

To those whose minds flicker like signal towers — misunderstood, mislabeled, misfired…

To those who are stuck in between; who have been through countless of rites of passage…

To those who can’t fill the void within; who restlessly yearn for a place to call home…

To every BPD survivor and artist who’s been called too much, too broken, or too dramatic — when in truth, you were carrying too many timelines in a single heart. And you were being taken down by the ones who were simply too little.

To the glitching geniuses — the neurodivergent who kept transmitting authenticity and enchantment while the world tried to static you out.

To those who’ve screamed into the void, only to make the void echo back in art.

This… is for you.

BPD and neurodivergent people are often brilliant. Deeply artistic. Incredibly intelligent.

No, it’s not about romanticization. It’s about reclaiming and embracing ourselves. Restoring self-regard. Nurturing the inner-child deeply as they always deserved. Reclaiming the essential parts we neglected just to adapt and survive.

Yes, it includes what they try to pathologize — how they reduce us to stereotypes, and shove us all into one dusty box of convenience. We should get untangled from the shallow perspectives and unfair narratives.

We’re not denying the struggle, the pain, or the altered life quality. Yet we do deserve to lay emphasis on what’s shiny about us too.

We dare to look zoomed in or out; to bring more feeling or sense to things. And sometimes we are, and we do, things that can’t even get squeezed into labels. And the list could go on for pages, really…

Most people who don’t live this reality can’t even begin to imagine the dimensionality, the depth, or the creative voltage we hold.

We’re a neon glitch that will always stand out, and be proud to be doing so.

We are more… much more than our survival.

And I dedicate this album to you my fellow void-bound gifted wrecklings 🖤🤍🩶

🔳 We shall never forget the power of the void.

Time to assimilate and re-integrate:

(my first album)

A cosmic audiovisual project I directed and edited using multiple tools including AI — now live and streaming on all music platforms.

Music, visuals, sound design, and personal messages all woven together to create a full sensory experience.

I created this over the course of two intense months through blood, sweat, and serious health challenges.

(As a side note: the brand’s initial foundation for art and blogging, Eclectic Ways, and the broader concept behind this project have been taking shape since 2020.)

This is a deeply personal release, and I’d truly appreciate your honest impressions and kind support.

🎧Main genres: Electronic • Art Rock

⛓️Sync with my pulse on:

⌇🧤

⌇🍎

🎥 The music videos for Abduct US! & Into The Pull is now on

⌇🕹️

✨More Eclectic Whizzed visuals are on the way!

🌀Also streaming on more platforms.

[mt-oe]

Hey girl I’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not but I’m feeling a lil toxic so I’d like to request something in which the reader was stuck in a situationship with Mizu but ended it, much to Mizu’s (toxic ass) surprise but maybe Mizu does miss her and reach out and tells her she wants to give a relationship a chance? Can be nsfw if you’re comfortable with that. Should you accept this request thank you and yay 🩷 and if not then that’s okay and I hope you have an amazing day 🫶

𝐈𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬—modern mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting this! I love this idea so much, so much so that I truly hope I actually cooked.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, smut (mdni!), sub mizu, masturbation, oral, angst, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: I'm not trying to antagonize the characters, by the way except for mikio fuck that bitch

"‘𝐻𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑎’ 𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 ‘𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠: 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑦: 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑠’. 𝑆𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠."

Life was many things. It could be the sudden burst of energy you got after a single cup of coffee, the feeling of being approached by the stray cat you've always tried to pet, and maybe even the feeling of finally getting yourself a sweet little treat. It could be the feeling of finding something you actually like after feeling empty, numb, and directionless for most of your life, or maybe even the feeling finally resting from being useful for most of your life.

However, it isn't always the wonderful feeling of fulfillment. Sometimes, you spiral down into a empty void filled, desperately trying to claw yourself out. It gnaws at you, devours your hopelessness and spits you into the cruel world.

One moment, you can't feel your face. Another moment, god, you can't fucking feel your face.

Life was a coin.

A head and a tail.

An unturned card.

A switch.

But to you, like the hopeless fool you are, it was the woman standing inside the gymnasium, laughing at whatever her—err...senior? Was this dude even a student? Whatever the fuck he was—was saying. You knew the look she was giving him, eyelashes fluttering and the small smile she gave when she was giving her full attention. Your life was interested in him. She was interested in him.

Fuck.

"It's fine. She's probably just having a friendly conversation," you muttered quietly to yourself, a desperate prayer to try and calm yourself down. She hasn't said anything yet anyway. Who were you to be jealous?

Sure, you kissed a few times, with and without tongue, but that didn't mean anything yet, right?

Okaaaaay. Maybe you went further than kissing, like y'know, holding hands and shit like that.

Speaking of her hands, you fucking love her hands.

How rough and calloused it was, how long it was. Every time she touched you, fluttering was an understatement to what the butterflies in your stomach were doing. You love her hands so much, you memorized every callous, every scar, every mole. The rough feel already engraved in your body's memory. How it felt in your hand, on your shoulder, on your cheeks, on your hips, in your pussy. You memorized it down to its length.

But that didn't mean anything, right?

Gathering the courage, you slowly approached her. Each step felt heavier than the last, the echo of your heartbeat ringing in your ears every time your feet made contact with the floor. The lump forming in your throat wouldn't go away no matter how many times you swallowed. Your mind was spinning, like the world was shrinking and it was just you...her and whoever the fuck this man was.

It wasn't like he was that great, right? I mean, come on, he looks old enough to be your dad or uncle or something. Surely, Mizu wouldn't like someone so geriatric-looking, right? And that look of interest she's giving, it's probably just because she doesn't want to seem uninterested. They're probably just having a friendly conversation about sword practice...right?

You weren't crazy. There was no way you were. Not over someone who wasn't yours. It wasn't your fault your heart skipped a beat when she was around. No, you weren't crazy.

You lost count of the amount of prayers you recited in your mind, praying to every deity for this to be some sort of sick joke.

'Please...'

Time slowed down as her hands made its way to the man's cheek. Her eyes were warm and loving, contrasting her cool blue irises. Contrasting the cold stare she gave when she looked at you.

'...whoever is out there..'

Her eyes making contact with yours for a brief moment, the cold stare returning before melting as her focus flickered back to his. Mizu tilted her head slightly, leaning closer to the man, lips slightly parted. Disgust ran through your throat, piling up like bile wanting to shoot up your esophagus, as he wrapped his arms around her. Fuck get away from her please. I beg you..

'...please.'

The moment their lips made contact, you stopped walking. Your world stopped spinning for a moment. An indescribable feeling of emptiness clawed its way inside you, settling there like a black hole. You just stood there, watching them as they pulled each other closer, hands on each other. The hands you love so much on someone else.

Was this still a friendly conversation?

"𝐻𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑠٫ 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡٫ 𝑓𝑜𝑙���𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠٫ 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝘩𝑎𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡٫ 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡. 𝐼𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑦٫ 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑜٫ 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑝𝑎𝑛-𝑝𝑖𝑝𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑٫ 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠. 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒٫ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑠’-𝑤𝑎𝑥 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑒٫ 𝑎𝑛𝑑٫ 𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚٫ 𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑥𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑎𝑐𝘩 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑒٫ 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑’𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠."

Mikio.

Not long after, you found out that the man's name was Mikio. He was Mizu's senior, held back a year after getting in trouble with the department head. They both met thanks to her mother but coincidentally had been members of the same team.

She didn't like him at first. However, as days passed by, he slowly grew on her. Her heart started warming up to him, beating for him.

While yours was beating for her.

Everyday.

While you were still talking, kissing, fucking, they had been sharing affectionate glances at each other, genuine affection like ones you always wished for. They were probably acting all lovey-dovey while you remained there...hoping and oblivious. A gullible stupid piece of shit.

Did she feel the same butterflies as you did when he walked in the same room as her? Did she memorize his hands the same way you memorized hers? Could she read his expressions the same way you read her one-hundred-and-one glares?

The same one she was giving you right now.

You stood frozen in your spot, hand gripping your phone, her 'it wasn't that serious' message flashed on the screen. What the hell were you thinking? Coming here to confront her and all that. What did you think was going to happen? That she'll magically lose interest in him?

No, that wasn't going to happen.

Not when she was so head over heels for him.

Your eyes stared as the person of your affection stood at the other end of the hall. God she was still so beautiful—tall, well-built, and so fucking pretty. Even when her sharp eyes were glaring at you, she was still the prettiest person on this earth.

Her new lover couldn't even amount to how majestic she looked, and yet, he somehow beat you to her heart.

Resignation weighed down on you like the ten ton truck, running you over, going 120 miles per hour. Your throat tightened up as tears threatened to form at the corner of your eyes. The courage you had built up, thinking you would be able to at least talk to her, was now burned down.

Before she could even turn to face you, your feet were already carrying you down the hall. A coward, that's what you are. You could barely even face her, what made you think you could do this?

'Fuck. That was so embarrassing,' your bitter thoughts told you, hot tears dripping down from your eyes. You continued down the hall, looking for the emptiest comfort room available to sob like a pathetic fucking loser. A part of you still refused to believe that all of this was true, but another part of you could feel itself dying. The least you could do for yourself is to save face and move on.

Fuck. That was so embarrassing.

"𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛٫ 𝐼𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑢𝑠٫ 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑚٫ 𝑎𝑛𝑑٫ 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑖𝑚٫ 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒٫ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑠’-𝑤𝑎𝑥 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑢𝑚𝑏٫ 𝑎𝑛𝑑٫ 𝑖𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦٫ 𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘."

It had already been a few months since you've stopped talking with Mizu. Time had already passed and the intense longing for her soon dissipated into a dull ache residing in the corners of your heart. You were okay for the most part, except for the fantasies of you and her together coming back when you saw shades of blue resembling her eyes.

Though honestly, that happened a bit too often to let you forget about her.

The 'what if's in your mind had stopped running its course. Even your imagination had stopped visualizing you and her together. It was as if she was just a little side quest, the bizarre news you said you'd never forget but you never remembered enough of anyway, a fond memory if fond memories had teeth and could tear your insides out. A silly little laugh you'd tell whoever loved you enough in the future to stay with you, if anyone loved you long enough to stay with you.

Life was no longer the woman standing in front your door with her eyebrows knitted together, eyes narrowed at you, and lips parted slightly as warm puffs of air came out in a soft pant. You no longer cared for the way her clothes and hair clung to her, how she was soaked to the bone with water still dripping onto your cute little welcome mat, how her jaw tensed up from the cold. No. You were over her, you said to yourself.

...

...

"Can I come in?"

"Sure. Come on in."

Are you sure you were over her?

The ticking noises made by the clock was muffled slightly by the sound of the pouring rain outside your window. Rain drops pitter-pattered on the roof loudly, mimicking the pounding of your heart. There you laid on the sofa, eyes glued to the ceiling as the woman of your dreams laid on your chest, arms wrapped around you tightly as if she loved you.

Her beautiful blue eyes were closed shut as she savored the warmth of your body against hers, seemingly loving the way you wrapped your arms around her as if she was a porcelain doll, careful yet warm. Her ear pressed against the left side of your chest, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby exclusively for her.

You don't really understand how it happened. The universe just really had some odd and cruel ways of giving you heaven. Such as seeing Mizu soaked to the bone in front of your doorsteps, giving you a heart too weak to send her off, compassion too big to leave her shivering in her wet clothes, and a love too great to move on.

After taking a warm shower and changing her clothes, she remained silent, expression solemn as she ordered you to lay on the sofa which brings you to your current situation.

"Care to explain now?" you said, voice dripping with concern despite how nonchalant you tried to sound. A grunt reverberated from her throat before she shifted on her spot. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around her tighter, hand moving to the back of her head to stroke her damp hair.

A long moment of silence later, she finally spoke, heaviness unmatched. "They sabotaged my match." Your arms tightened their hold on her in surprise, blood running cold.

You knew how important her tournaments were for her. Sword fighting was Mizu's life, something that made her feel alive. It meant more than anyone or anything in this world to her. She spent years upon years training endlessly. Anyone who would get in the way was asking for hell. "Sabotage? Who in their right mind—?"

"Who else?" she answered, voice heavy and snapping with hatred. Thoughts raced through your mind, listing down every possible suspect, from her known enemies to her friends, thinking of who could have been so cruel to her. A name popped in your mind, but..it couldn't be? Right?

You bit the inside of your cheek, giving the soft flesh a slight nibble before stating your guess. "Was it...Mikio?" you asked hesitantly.

Your guess was confirmed to be true upon feeling her body tense up at the mention of the man's name. Rage seething out from her system, so thick you could almost physically feel it. "What? But he loves y—"

"—That's what I thought too," she cut you off, hand moving to grip the side of your shirt. Her heart beating so loudly in her chest it was practically pounding. "That...that bastard bribed the judges," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Him and my own mother."

The little demon in your conscience was hollering, shouting that she totally deserved it for ditching you after stealing your heart. A part of you wanted to rub salt against her wounds, make her feel the heartbreak you felt. However, the small crack in her voice had somehow pierced its way in and made your heartache. The genuine pain coating it haunted you. It made you want to rip your heart out and offer it to her, tell her to use it to mend the rips in hers.

"That's...I'm so sorry," you sighed out, hand moving to her cheek, stroking it like she was the most fragile thing on the planet. Only the sound of her breathing could be heard before the sound of her ragged sniffling hit your ears. Warm tears soaked through your shirt as she cried silently, hiding her face on your chest. Each sniffle weighing your heart down. It tore you apart to see her like this.

Minutes felt like hours, each tic of the clock in tempo with the gradually increasing heaviness you felt in your chest. After what felt like forever, her sniffles died down to slow and deep breaths before she finally looked up at you and spoke, "You won't...go anywhere, right?"

You could only smile at the question and nod, hand on her head pausing their movements. Her blue orbs stared at you, blinking slowly as she took your answer in. "You're really stupid, you know that?" she breathed out, closing her eyes. "Are you sure you won't go anywhere?" her voice could be heard, doubt making your heart ache.

"As sure as your heartbeat on top of mine." Don't doubt my love for you.

"𝐻𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙٫ 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 ‘𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢٫ 𝐼𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑢𝑠٫ 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦٫ 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠٫ 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑤٫ 𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝘩𝑖𝑔𝘩٫ 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑚. 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠."

For a moment in your life, you thought everything was going well. She was finally spending time with you again. Though it could be your imagination, her actions seemed more affectionate than usual. The way she squeezed your hand a tad tighter, her eyes lingered on you when she smiled, and her 'goodnight's and 'have you eaten's felt a lot more caring.

It finally felt like you had a chance now.

During her club activities, she had met a few more friends. You were relieved for her, happy that she wouldn't be lonely and that she'd have people to spend time with. Sometimes, you'd even join them when they ate or watched them when they trained.

Along with you was a girl named Akemi, who would sit and watch them as well. If pretty was a person, she'd look just like her. Akemi grew up in a rich and well off family. She was polite, graceful, well-spoken, and intelligent. A dream girl.

And you weren't the only person who noticed it too. As time passed by, you watched as Mizu was once again swept off her feet away from you. She was captivated beyond imagination.

At first, you were fine with it. What wasn't there to love about Akemi? Even you couldn't help but enjoy her company. What seemed like platonic hangouts and accidental glances during training were the moments the woman you love was falling in love with someone else, all happening in front of you.

You felt so stupid not realizing it earlier. The way she went to her instead of you after training, staying late after lectures just to hangout with her, and the enchantment in her eyes when she looked her way.

It was only when she admitted it to you, on a sunny day in a small quiet cafe did you finally understand. "I like her," she told you in a soft voice, filled with happiness and affection, squeezing your heart in a way that you couldn't even describe. Her eyes, usually so cold and emotionless, were shining with every thought of her. "She's...so beautiful. I can't help it."

Fuck. That shit hurted.

The once healed stitches in your heart tore open once again, bleeding out at her words. You wished you could rip it out of your chest and step on it as she stepped on yours. Weight settled in your lungs, throat tightening, and head dizzying.

How much more of this did you have to endure?

"Hey..." Your hand reached out, wanting to hold hers before hesitating and placing it on her shoulder instead. The lump in your throat becoming more and more difficult to swallow with every second that passed by.

You wanted to scream at her, to tell her that you were here first, to tell her that you loved her more than she could ever like anyone else, to ask her why couldn't she just fall in love with you instead after all the times you shared together.

But you couldn't. She was so happy.

If Mizu was water, Akemi was the moon. Even if you were the sun, burning brightly to see yourself in her, she'd reach and crash tirelessly just to reach her moon.

Her heart was big, you knew it. Her heart would fall in love again, but it fell in love with everyone. Everyone except you.

You exhaled softly, steadying your breath before smiling warmly at her. "I'm glad you're choosing someone attractive this time," you joked at her, laughing at how she narrowed her eyes and rolled at you. The slight smile on her face tearing at you. "Oh shut up," she groaned, laughing a bit with you.

"But I'm really happy for you this time," you whispered, finger curling around the handle of your mug, lifting it to take a nice long sip. The circumference of the mug hiding your face from her as you lifted it a bit higher, keeping it between your lips for a moment, pausing the sips just to breathe a bit and keep yourself together.

"Tell me if you need help" you told her reassuringly once you had placed the mug down on the coaster once again. "I'll always be here for you, okay?" Collecting dust and waiting for you.

"𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑥 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝘩𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑥 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑: 𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠٫ 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑎𝑟-𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠٫ 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑟." -𝙾𝚟𝚒𝚍 𝙱𝚔 𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸:𝟷𝟾𝟹-𝟸𝟹𝟻

With the number of times you've seen her adoring stares and the amount of aches you endured, time finally passed. Your heart was separate from the world, and in here, the seasons have passed and flowers have bloomed and wilted several times. The music finally stopped. Your soul has collected dust. The immense pain finally turned into a dull ache—a numb sensation.

Time really did heal all wounds, but maybe this was all the healing you could do. Indifference to the love she gave her.

What seemed like another ring of hell to others was the quiet calm you always wished to feel. The serenity of not wanting to rip your own throat out whenever you saw them together. The ability to dissociate from your person when her name came out of Akemi's mouth. The apathy to allow you to be happy.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

You could finally live without her as your life. The gears in your heart finally stopped.

Now all you saw in her was a friend. Even as she stood in front of you, forlorn smile on her face. Love finally turned to loved. Like a broken television, only static could be heard in your once restless mind.

"Can I come in?" she asked, lifting a plastic bag she held in her hands. A hand on your hip, you looked at her, skeptical of what was inside. She opened the plastic to show you the content, beer and a bottle of gin. "Why do you come to me whenever you have problems?" you sighed at her, opening the door further anyways.

She chuckled and walked in, removing her shoes. "I couldn't think of anyone else," she answered, bitter smile on her face. With a small huff, you took the plastic bag from her and readied the alcohol on the coffee table. "Fine, I'll order some chicken."

"Thanks."

...

A couple of drinks turned into a whole mess. At first you thought she was just here to unwind, eat chicken paired with some beer, and tell you her problems. However, as the cans piled up and the shots lost their taste, you soon found Mizu kneeling in front of you, cheeks flushed as she pressed her lips along the softness of your legs. Her eyes desperate, burning with affection for you. The same affection that you had yearned for, now meaningless to you.

"Fuck...I need you," she whispered, voice low and heavy as her kisses traveled up your leg, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands placed themselves at the back of her head, fingers entangling themselves within the locks of her hair. "Mizu," you breathed out, head leaning against the cushions. "What about Akemi?"

Her movement paused for a moment, eyes turning into a slight glare before she grunted and placed her lips back on your skin. "She has a boyfriend now," she muttered against your skin, teeth nipping at it lightly. "Some rich man her father arranged her marriage with."

The rough hands you used to hold with much endearment pushed against your thighs, lifting herself up and leaning closer. "Besides, I realized something..." The sofa squeaked under both your weights as she continued to lean closer. Blue hypnotizing you as your eyes met. Her pupils dilated, looking up at you in an almost pleasing manner. With the gin working its magic, she lost most control over her inhibitions, and in a breath said...

"I love you."

Your eyes, despite the wooziness from the alcohol, widened at her whispered confession. Throat shutting close, making it difficult for you to breath. All you could manage was to narrow your eyes at her and stare.

You couldn't believe it. It felt like some weird illusion to you. It was like none of this was real. The words you've dreamt of hearing were now directed towards you, finally towards you and yet, it felt like a sick joke.

At your silence, she leaned closer until your foreheads were touching. Her gaze soft, affectionate, and pleading. Slowly, her warm lips captured yours in a hungry and passionate kiss. Her hands cupping your cheeks tenderly, pulling you closer.

You used to imagine yourself in this situation, thoughts drifting to dreamland in the middle of the day, hopelessly praying for it to come true. Your thoughts would run wild like a lovestruck teenager, heart going a thousand miles per hour. But now that you were living what you once dreamed of, all you felt was numb.

Fuck the universe, you thought, putting a hand on her nape to pull her in as you kissed back with mirrored passion. Lips parting slightly to let your tongues dance together in a heated match. Small groans and ragged breaths echoing through the walls of your apartment as your tongues caressed each other's languidly.

One hand traveled under your shirt, touch roaming the warmth and expanse of your skin, savoring how soft you felt. Each finger pressing softly, feeling each rib until her rough palm landed on your breast. She smiles ever so slightly as you moan into the kiss, returning it with a groan of her own upon squeezing and feeling how soft the mound of flesh was in her hand.

Her other hand hurriedly undid the knot on the drawstring of your shorts, pulling the clothing down your thighs, leaving you in your t-shirt and panties. You could feel her gliding her hand across your thighs, giving it a little squeeze, heat further rushing through her system at how soft you felt. Traveling up, her hand reached the thin fabric of your underwear, feeling how wet you were becoming.

A thin line of saliva connected your lips together as both of you pulled away, the burning feeling from the lack of oxygen frustratingly getting in the way. Mizu panted audibly, her cheeks to the tip of her ears flushed from the alcohol running in her blood and the amount of desire she had for you.

You watched as she readjusted her position, moving until she was face-to-face with your clothed sex. "I...I love you," she repeated, still panting. Suddenly, she pressed her nose against your panties, causing both of you to groan softly, her senses going overdrive at the feel and smell of sex. "Fuck. I can feel you throbbing."

Her own hands hurriedly unbuttoning her pants, pulling it down while she pressed her nose against your panties, rubbing against your clit. Your soft mewls sounded so cute to her. You were an angel. You always have been to her. Wanting to hear more, she pressed her lips against the damp spot on your underwear, feeling how slippery it was underneath. The smell becoming more intense and addicting like a drug meant for her.

Unable to resist, she kicked her pants off, one hand traveling to her own panties. But before she could even press a finger against the wetness seeping through her underwear, the soft plush of your thighs squeezed each side of her face, trapping her head between them. Your foot nudged her hand away, depriving her of the chance to pleasure herself, causing her to look up.

"Who said you could touch yourself?" you asked her, looking down at her with a dark stare. She narrowed her drunken eyes at you in confusion and disbelief. Stubbornly, she tried to touch herself again, only for your foot to nudge her hand away even harsher. The loss of control dawned on her, sending shivers down her spine. "Touching yourself when you haven't even pleased me. I thought you love me?"

Mizu opened her mouth to answer back, but the overwhelming need to please you swept the words from her mouth. Swallowing thickly, hands once again moving to your underwear. Opening your legs slightly, you allowed her to pull the flimsy piece of fabric down, exposing yourself to her. It wasn't the first time she's seen your cunt, but this time it felt different.

Different to her at least.

She looked up at you only to be met with your impatient stare, making her shrink in her place. Maybe it was just her, but this time you felt...cold. An inexplainable shake choking her throat, hoping that it was only the alcohol; but undeniably and embarrassingly, it was turning her on. Slowly, she spread your folds with the index finger and thumb of her left hand, tongue darting out to give you a slow lick.

"That's it..." you moaned at her, spreading one thigh outward to give her better access. A groan left her lips as your fingers entangled themselves within her locks. You moved your foot, running it across her panties, eliciting a whimper from her lips. With the small reward, Mizu began eagerly moving her tongue across your folds. Her own moans matching yours as you moved your foot in rhythm with her tongue.

Just as she was about to move up to your clit, you stopped her again, hand pulling on her hair. "Show me," you breathed out, panting softly. Mizu looked confused until she felt your foot tug on the elastic of her underwear. Obediently, she pulled her own panties down and slowly started touching herself, moaning loudly as she encircled her clit with her fingers.

It was embarrassing, beyond embarrassing, to be in such a lewd and vulnerable position. But god, she was so wet.

You pushed her head close to your pussy, her tongue immediately darting out and licked at your clit, one hand spreading your folds while the other pleased herself. Your moans mixed together like a chorus of pleasure. Her fingers slowly pushed themselves into the warmth of her cunt, causing her moans to grow louder.

More and more, the world around her started getting hazy as she got drunk from the taste of your pussy. The intensity of her desire making her mind swirl and her heart swell. She looked up, admiring your appearance, eyes half-lidded and glossed over, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen.

It could be the alcohol, but were you always this pretty when she ate you out?

"I...I..love you," she moaned out, movements growing more desperate and erratic as she moved her fingers faster. Mizu could feel her own climax coming close, her breath growing more ragged with every thrust. "...need you so fucking bad.."

Her tongue moving hungrily, wanting to taste you more, as if you were the best thing she's ever had. Like a starved sinner, you were the touch of cold water on the tip of her tongue.

You could feel your orgasm drawing closer, waves of pleasure causing the coil of your climax to tighten. "A-ah..Mizu...'m gonna fucking cum," you moaned, fingers tightening their grip around her hair. Her tongue picked up its pace, desperately wanting to drive you to the edge. There was no helping herself. She was too drunk on you.

With a bitten back moan, orgasm washed over you, body twitching, pussy throbbing against her tongue. The wet appendage made its way inside your entrance, thrusting itself in and out, letting you ride down the euphoria of your orgasm on her. Her own orgasm taking over her, making her moan loudly against your cunt. Wet squelching sounds could be heard as she continued to fuck herself on her fingers, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her high.

Pulling her tongue and finger out, she collapsed against your thigh exhaustedly, the leftover drunkenness from the gin and beer still making her woozy. She wrapped her arms around your hips as your body relaxed as well, snuggling against you subtly.

"I love you. I was a fool not realizing it before," she mumbled against your skin, the sound of genuine guilt and affection mixing into her regularly gruff voice. "Please. Just...give me a chance," her voice croaked out. The few octaves raised would have tugged at your heartstrings before, but genuinely, you felt nothing now.

Your hands gently combed through her hair, looking at her with what she could only hope to be affection, before sighing. A smile tugged up your lips, making her breath hitch. Slowly and with fond gentleness, your hands traced the features of her face, moving to run your thumb across her bottom lip.

"I love you too," you said affectionately, words lacking meaning.

The lie brought a smile to her face, her still-wet hand holding on to yours. Hope and love running through her oblivious self.

There was no more Mikio, Akemi, or whoever else had captured her heart. Only you.

They were the moon, the object of the sea's affection. You longed so long to be like them.

But you were the sun

and Mizu was just Icarus.

[someinstant]

Since we're getting three more tomorrow, I figure I best go back and do my write-up of ANDOR season two, episode three: "Harvest."

Nothing like slowly drifting through space in a tiny little ball with wings to remind me how much I am NOT suited for space travel. This is my nightmare, sincerely. If I were Cassian I would be curled up into a fetal position on the floor and having a panic attack because the void is, like, EVERYWHERE and I am tiny and stuck in a little bubble that could burst at any moment. But clearly Cassian is made of stronger stuff than I am, because he manages to ignore the crushing weight of the universe’s cold indifference.

I love that Cassian’s method of Learning How this TIE Advanced Works is to just… take wires and cross them and see what happens. Or do we think that he was trying to set up comms to Kleya when it sets off the boosters?

Back on Planet Monoculture, B2EMO is precious. “Th-th-they’ll never ca-catch us n- n- now!” he says, motoring away from a little girl gleefully chasing after him. And—can’t you just see him, playing with a younger Cassian? Oh, my heart.

The farmhands and mechanics and the rest of the community gather at a long table, and we’re establishing that, whatever else is going on in the galaxy, Bix and Wil and Brasso have found people who they care about, and who care about them. Brasso’s clearly the member of the Ferrix crew who has built the strongest connections—with Talia and Kellen, the farmer.

And on Chandrila—it’s time for child marriage! Oh, shit. Leida’s dress really is lovely, but—oh, god, this scene. Leida hates Mon, doesn’t understand her. And Mon is so guilty because of what she’s done, the choices she’s made, and how they’ve forced Leida into a position that she doesn’t even understand as a sacrifice—but Mon loves her daughter but doesn’t know how to reach her. And so she desperately tries to offer what she wishes her mother would have offered: a way out. “It will be remembered as an act of great bravery,” Mon says—pleads, and gently suggests that it might not be time for marriage. And Leida looks at her with such revulsion. “I wish you were drunk,” she says, and—I think that’s it. I think Mon has lost her, and knows now she’s lost her—and in that loss there is going to be a terrible, lonely freedom.

That single, imperious, “Wait,” as Genieve O’Reilly finishes doing up her veil and Leida starts to move towards the door to the wedding. “You’re to stand behind me,” Mon says, wipes a trailing tear from her face as she puts on her mask. God, how is the acting in this show so good?? It’s just—Mon is so heartbroken and sick and hurt, and there is such strength in her voice, and her face goes from pained to placid in the space of one gesture. God damn.

I DO NOT LIKE THE KNIFE SYMBOLISM. NOPE.

Okay, so going from the deeply ritualistic Chandrilan marriage ceremony with the whole, “here’s a knife, do whatever you like to my daughter” vibe to the Coruscant apartment of the Fascist Power Couple preparing to meet Eedy Karn for lunch is just—immaculate.

ALSO. ALSO. Okay. So we go from this deeply patriarchal hand off of a young girl to her husband (who is also a CHILD, but—still patriarchy), with this highly ritualized ceremony that hints at a history in which, yeah, sometimes the maiden got married in this ceremony—and sometimes she might have been murdered by her husband. Because she was now his to do with as he would. ANYWAY. We go from THAT, to a scene in which DEDRA LAYS DOWN THE LAW regarding custody of Syril with Syril’s mom. Syril and Leida = young child brides, is I guess what I’m saying.

If there is one thing I love more than anything else about the character of Cassian Andor, it is how deeply bitchy he can be. “This is not the ship I was trained to fly. Did you know that? Did anyone know that?”

Cass has got to be so fucking hungry and thirsty, right? He was on the Planet of the Dipshits for, what, a day or two, and then “upside down for two days” as he tries to figure out the fucking ship after his ill-advised wire experiment—and then he’s going to go be heroic on Mina-Rau, and then he’ll swoop down, pick up Bix and Wilmon, and have no time to take on food or water—and presumably no idea where to head that’s safe.

I really have no excuse, but when Cass demanded that Kleya find him somewhere “safe. And dry,” I just about died. Cassian, baby, you’re going to be so upset when they send you back to that jungle planet, aren’t you.

Kleya just needs everyone to have fewer emotions so she can get the Rebellion under fucking control.

Look, this whole AMERICAN PSYCHO-slash-LOOK WHO’S COMING TO DINNER mashup is hilarious, but Dedra and Syril are so fucking awful and I hate them and I cannot look away. I don’t want them to touch each other. I cannot imagine it. It does not compute. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. But it's so damn compelling.

Question for you: why do we think Luthen went after Sculden and got him set on the Chandi Merle? Do we think it was just a way to drain him of cash (like, Luthen already knew where it was, and so dragged out the “search” for a long time to rack up the bills), or was there another reason? Did he just want an in with Sculden so he could keep an eye on him? Did he want to shore up the antiquities dealer persona? I’m so fascinated by this—I need to know all of Luthen’s backstory, and I really don’t think we’re going to get it. I think we’re going to get just a touch, and then Luthen’s going to die. Because he’s definitely not making it to Yavin IV when it’s a base.

Also, that would be KOTOR reference number two from Luthen. First kyber, “sky stone,” to celebrate throwing off the Rakatan invaders—and now, this! Hmm.

TAY. Tay you are making terrible choices. And terrible friends. And you’ve blackmailed Mon. And made yourself too unreliable. As Gilroy said in a podcast, you’re “Fredo-ing out.”

Wil and his hormones are gonna get everyone in trouble, dammit.

The way the tension builds in the last half of the episode is fantastic. Just—the cuts as Wil runs through the rye, Brasso jumps on the speeder, and Mon talks tensely with Luthen. We can feel everything start to spin faster and faster, and it’s all coming to a head.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” lies Mon, because she knows exactly what Luthen is suggesting. She just doesn’t want to know. “How nice for you,” says Luthen, because he’s already burned his decency. And in the background, the club Niamos remix starts playing.

I cannot tell you how much I love that the call sign the Ferrix folks use is “Stone and Sky.”

This fucking guy. It’s not a new story, but that doesn’t make it unimportant. He’s an asshole with too much power and too few checks, and the people he can use his power on are vulnerable and unlikely report abuses. “I know you’re illegal,” he says, and takes off his hat. He comments on Bix’s strong hands, stands too close. Suggests that there might be a way to solve the problem. It’s such an old, ugly story.

Okay. And I’ve seen SO MANY PEOPLE suggest that Kellen sold the Ferrix crew out, but that’s not my read? Brasso’s clearly creating a story, right? Just like he did for Cassian when we first met him. He’s covering for Kellen, because Kellen is kind and has a family and can’t help them any more than he has. So Brasso yells about being sold out, and, when forced to the ground by the troopers, glances over at Kellen and gives him a small, barely-there nod and smile.

Because Brasso is always—always—the best.

One thing about the rape scene—you know the mirror that we see Dr. Gorst in during Bix’s nightmare in episode one? The Lieutenant looks at himself in it in episode three. No one else ever uses that mirror. Only the nightmares.

Anyway. I’m glad Bix fucking kills him and I’m glad she calls it rape onscreen. It’s brutal and it’s horrifying because rape IS both of those things. And it’s a function of oppressive state power, so yeah—actually, talking about this stuff is appropriate if we’re talking about an empire.

Wil needs to take some sharpshooting lessons from Cassian when he gets a chance.

Back on Chandrila, Mon is at least three shots in a dissociating on the dance floor while her oldest friend, who she brought onboard to handing the Rebellion’s finances, gets into his space Cadillac. Which is being chauffeured by none other than Cinta, which absolutely means he’s a dead man.

And Vel sees this all go down—her girlfriend (?) is going to assassinate Vel’s cousin’s friend (who she might also have had some feelings for at some point), and Vel’s just going to have to live with that knowledge. And also the knowledge that, yeah, if Cinta wanted to see her, she knew exactly where to find her. Ergo.

And then Cass comes swooping in in the TIE, and he blows up the transport, and kills a bunch of troopers, and Brasso hops on the speeder to try to get away--

And I knew we were going to have to say goodbye to Brasso, but I wasn’t ready. It’s worse every time I watch, somehow.

And then we’re back at the wedding, and Mon’s drunk and dancing, Perrin peering anxiously through the circling dancers, the Niamos dance remix playing—and we see Vel sitting despondent in a hallway, alone; Brasso’s body half under a speeder in a rye field, alone; Tay and Cinta in the speeder heading off into the unknown; and then Cassian in the pilot’s chair of the TIE, with Bix and Wil in the jump seats behind—all three in the shot, all three looking exhausted and grief-stricken, and all, in their way, alone. And then back to Mon, in a crowd, arms flailing, hair undone—alone, alone, alone.

And the music plays on and on—and then stops like a knife to the throat.

[footballffbarbiex]

BJ's and Break-ups

player: Rúben Dias words: 1317 warnings: kinda public bjs. request: Ruben Dias - smut - up to 1000 words - Given Ruben's apparent dislike for wearing shirts, you're surprised when seeing him all bundled up in a big sweater and scarf with fluffy hair turns you on; he's letting you lead him around shopping for Christmas presents,  but seeing him try things on and look for your approval gets to you; you make him try on a sweater, he tells you he'll try anything for you, and that makes you want to "try" something fun with him in the dressing room--insert blow job/other smut here.

The cold northern weather has so far failed to thicken Rúben’s skin after five years. Just mere hours earlier, Rúben had sauntered around the home in loose fitting jogger shorts…nothing but the loose fitting jogger shorts. He had been warm to touch, not a single goosebump had erupted his skin and a happy smile had been seemingly stuck on his face. 

Now, this Rúben was not the same one from this morning. Strands of his hair poke out from under a warm beanie with obnoxiously large pom-pom on top. A scarf covers his jaw as well as his neck and the thickest turtleneck sweater he could find is visible from the top of his coat. He’s one more shiver away from reaching into his pocket and pulling out the thick thermal gloves.

The streets are filled with people mixing festive shoppers with regular ones, not to mention the way retail workers hurry past either to start their shift with a look of dread etched upon their faces or get back from their break with the same expression. December brought out the best and worst in people you found and no two shopping experiences were alike. A store one day could be calm but slightly busy and upon the next visit, it would be manic.

In the late afternoon light, street lamps are starting to flicker to life and the store's lights and overhead light decorations stand out against the darkening skies. Pinks and oranges streak across the dark voids, giving off the perfect contrast. It was enough to make you pause momentarily to pull out your phone and snap a quick shot. You feel Rúben’s chest cover your back and his hand slips into your pocket, fingers lacing with yours as you feel the prickle against your scalp as he presses and holds a kiss to the back of your head. 

“Are you cold, baby?” you ask, not moving from this stance as you enjoy both the feel of him against you and the backdrop before you. People move around you, some shaking their heads disapprovingly as you both refuse to budge out of their way. 

“Very. Can we find somewhere to go inside now please?” 

“But the sky!”

“Yes, very lovely sky. Let’s go.” he mutters, using his other arm to herd you into the nearest building. Your feet shuffle in time with his and soon, the feeling of heat blasts you in the face as you push open the doors. 

“And we just so happened to find ourselves in one of your favourite stores? How convenient.” 

You’re not mad, not one bit; especially as he’s loaded up like a pack horse with the current purchases, it’s the least you can do by giving him some time to browse for himself too. This time, you let him lead you around as you nod and make the appropriate noises to the items of clothing that he looks over until he leaves you outside the changing room doors with the current bags. He occasionally comes to the curtain and you make him twirl while ooooh’ing and aaaaah’ing. 

It’s not until he’s standing in front of you now with a self conscious expression upon his face as he thumbs the material and scrunches his lips up as he debates the fit and colour. It’s a sweater that you picked out, thinking that the softness of the material would make him touchable and the deep colour of it would bring out his colouring in the most perfect way. You’d softened when he sought out your approval for what he wore, his willingness when he tells you that he’d try anything because he trusts your judgement and the thought that he hadn’t immediately pulled it back off after having doubts made your stomach flutter. 

“What’s making you doubt it?” you ask him, bouncing the foot of the leg which is resting over your knee. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m doubting it,” he says slowly, eyebrows still knitting themselves into one. 

“Go back in,” you shoo him away with your hands as you get to your feet and ensure that the bags are moved into the cubicle with you. Only after drawing the curtain do you turn to look at him properly. “Step back, I can’t see you properly.” you say and give him a push which is maybe a little too hard while pretending to be taking him in visually. 

The way his eyes widen and flash with something as his back hits the cubicle wall does not go unnoticed by you and if anything, it spurs you on.

“The fabric is soft,” you say, making a point to take it between your fingers, rubbing it together ever so carefully and keep going as you pull them over the front until they land at the hem of it and you absentmindedly brush the rest of your fingers against the front of his trousers in what you hope is a casual way. 

“Very soft.” he agrees and in your peripheral you notice the way he swallows hard. 

“But it’s firm enough,” your words landing how you hoped, “to trap in heat. Does it feel too stuffy?” you ask him innocently like you’re not trying to arouse him. 

“No it feels perfect.” he confirms and you watch his throat bob as your hand strokes over him again and it takes everything within you to keep your expression neutral as you feel him swell against the side of your hand. 

“The last thing I’d want is for you to go out in something you’re not comfortable with," your eyes finally lock with his and as he tenses his jaw, you make another movement with your hand and it’s now no coincidence. Something you’re not comfortable with is absolutely not just about the sweater and is 100% about the way your hand is now twisting to palm him through his trousers. 

“I’m just…wondering if the fit is right. It could be too small in here. I mean in this-” he coughs, “in this sweater.”

“That’s why these dressing rooms are so important.”

“It’s very important.” He barely whispers the sentence to you as his own fingers begin to unbuckle his belt and expertly pops the button open. You need no encouragement in unzipping him, and as you begin to sink to your knees, Rúben pushes his trousers down far enough to enable you to pull his swelling cock free. As you get comfortable, you turn the two of you slightly so that he has the perfect view to either stare down between your bodies and watch as you suck his cock directly, or turn his face to the side and watch via the mirror. Something about that feels even naughtier and as you take his semi hard cock between your lips and begin to bob your head up and down until he’s at full hardness. 

One hand wraps around the base of his cock while the other fills with his balls. You focus on the first few inches, taking enough of his dick into your mouth to make him bite on two fingers to stop those in the next cubicles from hearing his whimpers. Frustration at wanting to hear those sounds and now being denied those beautiful sounds has you taking more into your mouth than he was prepared for. Rúben’s eyes roll into the back of his eyes, his hips buck and instead of his finger he clamps down on, he turns his teeth to the back of his hand. 

“Come on Rúben, let me hear you.” you almost purr at him before swirling your tongue around the soft head and flicking it over the thin string of skin that finally draws an audible groan. 

“I hate you,” he hisses.

“Oh baby, if you hate me now then I’m going to suck your cock so good, you’re going to want to break up with me.”

[jadedresearcher]

what was the training team's sburb session like? was there anyone else in there besides the five?

They never played SBURB, besides in that one AU where everyone did. (even the eye killer)

Thinking about the AU... I mean, by definition there's thousands upon thousands of versions of it (one for each Universe), but I think the version I find most compelling is their session being a clusterfuck where each LCorp team THINKS they have a stand alone session that's just them until they reach their, I dunno, 5th gate or something and then suddenly they have to deal with the next team down. I like the idea of Training breaking into Info's 'session' only to find them both incredibly hostile AND already grimdark/working to end the session (because they learned the wrong things from the furthest ring and have decided nothing good can come from anyone learning more) Meanwhile I think its objectively funny that the lower level's FEEL like a void session (unbeatable, what's the point of anything anymore) but they LITERALLY are the only ones with a Time (LeeHunter) AND Space (River) player in order to finish things. I get the feeling that sharing an aspect made LeeHunter's dream selves merge, and when they had to god tier they got fused in some way. Neither are happy about this. And of course River gets her dream self stuck into a sprite that is glitched to hell and back so she can no longer even perceive time unless LeeHunter are around and actively using their powers. Hoon, of course, is attempting to kill every single underling one by one, not for really any PURPOSE but because SOMEONE has to dispense justice around here and her sprite (prototyped with a Radio) won't stop telling her who needs to die... Given how cheerfully Training tends to settle into wherever they are I think they got *really* into the derse/prospit politics and Witherby is currently running a con on both sides while Devona/Neville/Ria are making an objectively beautiful conspiracy wall of all the different political factions in it. Camille of course, is doing a boss rush and collecting all the grist they'll need/staring at any secret consorts she finds. (Neville is Not Thinking about how he keeps finding corpses of Devona everywhere. They aren't real. Time clones or something. It's fine. Don't think about it.) Devona hits gnosis 4 basically instantly and has been doing everything in her power to avoid that Light player spotlight. She knows too much to think its a good idea to be the main character of this shitty game. (Or to tell anyone else that she's found out reality is a simulation... Ria would crack like an egg). Parker meanwhile is just... There. Watching everyone. From some ruined session (not directly related) he is Not Thinking about. Maybe Gun-Tan is a first guardian equivalent, making him their Jackish kinda thing to deal with? And of course, the Eyedol Games crew are the players who created THEIR universe, with all the trolling that will entail.

[orange-artblog]

Hallo!!!!! I gotta ask for the WIPs.... (heheheh) can u give some tidbits about 2, 3, 5, and 7? Take ur time!!!!

Wait, am i allowed to only ask for one at a time? Uhhhh, oops?

awawa... sure!! xp (it's alright i'll let it slide for you this once.. >:3c XD)

2: This is actually for a game I wanted to work on for forever now (I have all the ideas but no time/motivation to program) so perhaps the title is misleading lmao

" You turn your chair towards the vast darkness in front of you. Your pen clicks twice and you straighten your clothes before putting the papers in front of you. A single, purple-ish eyelight gleams at you, dangerous, inviting. [...]

"Where is..." The voice of a young child calls out, afraid, and the end of the sentence is followed by a short beep before he continues, space shifting to accommodate. "The golden one." a deeper voice says, tone angry, and you do wonder how he shifts so easily. "

3: read a crackfic and thought "I can make this serious instead"

" This particular spot reminded Dream of the void; endless and dark but somehow bright at the same time. Empty, and the two were left floating in this self-made space.

"Sometimes, I'll be stuck in a place like this. "But usually-" There was a soft clicking somewhere far back, and the scenery changed. Green, filled with life. "It's this." "

5: this is smth i wrote for limbus company way back XD never finished it but I still like it :)

" Sinclair's body already wasn't very adept for dealing with this. That is likely why he had taken an early break from the whole escapade they were on; excusing himself, shortly and quickly apologizing to his manager Dante, and then walking - not running, that would have made the sweat stains worse - back to his quarters.

Incredibly quickly had he ridden himself of his clothing and dipped into the nearby bathroom to cool off in a bath.

They could not always shower or bathe. Usually the bus would not set out these spots as it was running and focusing on other things, sentient as it was. But today, the air was sweltering, and the bus had not moved an inch either, except to get into some more shade whenever the sun moved. "

7: also really old (still proud)... heavily inspired by Halsey's song Castle (+gacha) actually!

" This was it! Dream was in this castle entirely too long! He didn't even know where his brother was! He just wanted to go back home to his mama and papa, into their castle! He knew this one was the same as his own, but he just wanted to go back, he missed home, his mama's words, his papa's embrace, Nighty's everything…! It was also why he was currently stalking "Eclipse", a guard, robot, whatever-he-was because that guy was so mysterious and weird. Eclipse had been the one assigned to kidnap him that time ago, and while he was.. well, kind to him, he still wanted to go home! He held the knife in hand a bit tighter. He didn't want to do this, but he had to… He knew nothing good awaited him if he were to ask kindly for anything. This 'future world' was so confusing, anyway! But he was more disturbed by the fact that Eclipse was just… Standing there. Not even menacingly, just standing there, silently, waiting. But for what? "

[spiderh0rse]

Notes on Yötön Yö. Long post, so the notes proper are under the cut. May add my own speculation in a reblog later :)

Opening text is the lyrics to the Sankarin Tango.

"Alex Casey as Aleksi Kesä" interests me. It does seem to be an direct transliteration, and in doing so, much of the meaning of either name is lost. Fairly usual for translations.

"Baba Jakala as the writer's widow" aside from obvious similarities to "Baba Yaga," this is more of a parallel to Barbara Jagger, and not Alice, as one might expect. "Widow" implies a marriage. Interestingly, "widow" also refers to a single word in a line. In professional writing, this is avoided.

The first bits of footage appear to be the final parts of the film!

Bright light signifies a transition between scenes, but it does exist diagetically for Kesä.

A figure in a deer mask opens the spiral door for Kesä, then disappears. They flicker onscreen in a similar way to Zane, in his scenes in the game.

Kesä entering the room prompts Alén to begin reading. Likely his own manuscript, possibly as he types. Most of what is said describes Kesä's experiences throughout the film. Most notable are mentions of a "lost fortune," Kesä arriving at his hometown on Midsummer's Eve, and a blurring of the lines between waking and sleep. Might explain how jumpy the film is.

There is a person, bloodied, mostly undressed, and twitching behind Alén's desk. It's hard to make out who he is in this scene, but a later one shows him more clearly. I believe this is Kesä, both on the floor and standing in front of the desk.

Alén partially emerges from the shadows he's been in. (Typing in the dark? He has a lamp, but it's been off.) All we see of him here is his face. Slightly bloody.

Kesä's windshield is thick with pollen in every place the wipers can't hit. The midsummer sea forecast is on the radio, but his signal seems to be poor. Adjusting it helps. The sign he passes reads "Kattilajärvi," which is a lake in Finland.

He also reacts to the scene transition light by lowering his sun visor. Reacting to it, but not thinking anything of it.

We briefly see Kesä in a dark void, holding what seems to be a suit jacket over one arm. Deer-masked figures approach him.

Ahti continues to have posters of himself on doors he's behind. Janitor's closets. This one is very slightly off-center. Kesä makes no verbal note of the poster, but looks confused by it for a moment. He does recognize Ahti.

Ahti also quotes one of Zane's poems, this one directed at Kesä. "Beyond the shadow you settle for, there is a miracle, illuminated."

Kesä left his hometown at least in part due to Alén and Jakala getting together.

Jakala agrees to join Kesä when he's done visiting and leaves again, but won't until morning, at least.

The dance is interrupted by multiple people in deer masks closing around Kesä. We can see flashes of later in the film, during the murder.

We arrive in the woods, in front of a group of six men. Five are dressed very similarly, with the remaining member of the group being Ilmari Huotari, whom is wearing a Kalevala Knights leather jacket.

Ilmari is telling a story to his companions about killing his brother. His group is enthused, but the mood sours at Kesä's arrival. Ilmari believes Kesä has done something that would want forgiveness.

Jaakoppi's death was meant to serve Ilmari's "master," whom we can safely assume to be Alén, but it failed in some way. Kesä is declared the "chosen one" for that purpose, instead. Ilmari doesn't know why.

At least two of the group takes a drink from a flask at roughly the same time. Given the one Jakala later gives to Kesä, this may have some significance. Hard to say.

"The knives are out" with a rattle? The last thing you'll hear? Likely a coincidence that this line coincides with the lyrics to the song Yötön Yö.

Another scene with Ahti. Drinking coffee, both him and Kesä. Ahti asks why Kesä came back, and he claims he didn't mean to, he just found himself there. He seems aware of being stuck in a story, here.

Ahti believes Kesä to be employed at the Federal Bureau of Control. This is not presently true. Kesä was fired from a different Bureau, I suspect the National Bureau of Investigation.

The master of the farm that Ahti works at "vanished into the night years ago," not long after Kesä left.

Ahti drinks his coffee på bit. That is the Swedish term. I'm unsure if there's a Finnish version of the phrase.

Jakala offers Kesä a flask with a clear liquid within. She seems to need him to drink the entirety of the contents, but whatever effect it has is nearly instant once he's drank it.

The chant this cult uses is "This is the ritual to lead you on. He returns and you in turn are locked in the room." when translated to English.

Scene cuts to the Writer's Room again. Alén has the angel lamp. We can see him a bit better with this light. He dresses less formally than Alan, but more than Zane. The only thing I find otherwise notable about his outfit is that his shirt is partially unbuttoned, exposing a bit of his chest, over his heart.

There's a scene transition without a bright light! Leads us to another scene with Ahti. He exposits about how Alén was lost in the darkness. "Reached too far."

Kesä admits he was afraid of Jakala when he left.

The next scene has Kesä driving Jakala around. Sankarin Tango plays on the radio.

A figure in a deer mask appears in the back seat of the car. Jakala doesn't seem to notice or care, even as Kesä reacts poorly.

The figure's necklace seems very cleanly made.

Kesä, crawling through the woods, throws up. There is a noticable chunk in his vomit, but it's hard to tell what it is, if it's important at all.

bisexual lighting turns on here <3

This seems to be not long after Kesä drank the liquid Jakala gave him, as he is still leaving afterimages when he moves.

Multiple figures in deer masks shove Kesä to the ground. Jakala and Ilmari unmask and begin stabbing him. Flashes of grey (smoke? clouds? Not dissimilar from the ones interspersing Scratch's jumpscares.) appear between their attacks. We are briefly able to see Kesä's body as it was closer to the start of the film, in the Writer's Room.

Alén is among the figures stabbing Kesä thrice, very briefly.

Alén seems to be compared to the Christian God very briefly (the cultists call "In the beginning, there was the word,") and then rises from a well, shirtless.

The "At last." "Thank you, my love." exchange is the same as one performed by Alan and Alice in AW2.

Kesä is in two places at once, both dying and at the edge of the clearing, unharmed and fully dressed, staring at the scene. He turns (to leave?) and is instead in the Writer's Room.

The thought of his situation being part of a spiral, not a loop, distresses him. It's not the hopeful revelation it is for Alan.

We see a final bright light, and very briefly, Kesä's body in the woods. Then the credits roll.

[addicsvt]

reflections of the cursed

pairing - ghost jun x reader? genre - horror, a bit of romance? word count - 578 warnings - nothing atm (pls tell me if theres something) synopsis - you fell into jun's trap, what now? a/n - i genuinely SUCK at writing horror and this is probably horrible so please don't bash me haha okay pls enjoy 😭

You knew something was wrong when you entered this haunted house. It was creepy. Not in the conventional way, but something wasn't right. It all started with your friends practically begging you to go with them to experience an exotic haunted house with 5-star reviews (according to Google). So you reluctantly went, but as soon as you set foot in the house, you felt a strange aura. Indescribable.

As you walked past the first room, you noticed a mirror in the corner. A small mirror resting on a stool. You walked closer, drawn. Something was luring you in. Your palm eventually made contact with the mirror feeling a jolt of freezing cold shock as the sensation ran through your palm. What was that...?

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your friends long gone, you whisked them away telling them that you’d just stay in this room and they could come back once they were done with the whole house. Your reflection in the mirror flickered until it wasn’t your reflection anymore. It was someone else's. A man’s.

You stared in shock, the man was beautiful. He had almond moon-shaped eyes, orbs luring you in, daring you to take a chance. His pitch black hair framing his angular face, contributing to his already perfect-like appearance. You suddenly felt breathless, you wanted to reach further. 

Suddenly, the glass did not feel like glass anymore. Your hand felt a sense of lightness, you felt confused. What was this? Why could you reach further? The boundary of the glass long gone. Everything felt more personal.The room around you began to blur, colours melting into darkness as the mirror’s surface pulled you closer. You saw the man further behind, if you went fully through the glass you would be able to get closer to him. It felt like the man was ushering you in, into the dark depths. Into the side where there would be no way out, no way to scream for help. 

As you pushed further, a sensation spread through your body, an odd lightness replaced by a sinking feeling in your stomach. Here you now stood, surrounded by darkness. The room of the haunted house is gone. You were inside the mirror now. No way to call for help, trapped into this seemingly infinite void. The man was gone. The man was never there. You were fooled. Lured and fooled. Now you resided here, screaming knowing that no one will ever hear you, banging on the infinite walls. 

Curled up in the fetal position you give up. You’ve fallen victim to the trap. You were now to be here, be here till you died. Stuck in a void of emptiness, surrounded by blackness. You don’t bother opening your eyes anymore, there would be nothing to see.You should’ve never crossed the other side. You should’ve never tested the waters of another realm. You should’ve stayed curious. You should’ve never fallen into your desires. What did it cost you? Your soul. 

Now you would stand here, luring bystanders into this sick trap, drawing them to the other side and erasing their presence from the world. This was your role now, to lead them into oblivion. Every single memory of you wiped clean, leaving no trace behind. No one would know your name; you would become no one. The silence would consume you, and in that void, your existence would fade, leaving only the echo of what once was.

ADDICSVT 2024

[a-boros-named-seamus]

As the Citadel fell around him, Shepard thought about the Normandy. About every member of his crew. About Kaidan.

🎵 “It started out as a feeling,”

He remembered meeting the man, just before Eden Prime. Fighting aside him and Ash, with him on that last desperate sprint to the Conduit.

🎵 “Just because everything's changing, doesn't mean it's never been this way before.”

And then there was Alchera. Promising Kaidan he would be fine just as soon as he got joker to a pod. Struggling to breathe as his suit vented into the void.

🎵 “Now we're back to the beginning,”

And then there was Horizon. That terrible day. Kaidan looking at him like a traitor, a puppet dancing to the Illusive Man's tune, had broken something in his heart that he hadn't known was there. He thought of Kaidan when he destroyed the Collector Base

🎵 “But just because they can't feel it too, doesn't mean that you have to forget.”

Mars had been... hard. He had desperately wanted Kaidan to trust him again, had tried so hard to convince him, but there was little time for talking, and he wasn't comfortable baring his heart in front of Liara and her obvious, unwelcomed, crush on him.

Nevertheless the pain in his heart drove him to try. And it had been working, step by step.

🎵 “Pick a star on the dark horizon and follow the light.”

And then Eva Core had tried to collapse Kaidan's skull. He'd barely been able to tear him away from Kaidan's bedside, let alone sleep. And when he had slept, his dreams had been full of the words of the dead. The Vista of the Citadel's wards arcing out if the Widow Nebula had been as beautiful as ever, but it had been hard to think about anything but the paramedics EDI had called to meet them in the docking bay. Watching them take Kaidan away had filled him with a profound sense of dread.

🎵 “It's just a feeling and no one knows yet,”

"Maybe some things get better with age"

"Or maybe you have"

Kaidan chuckled. "Are you flirting with me, Commander? Wait, wait! Don't tell me. Let me live in the illusion"

Shepard's heart had skipped a beat there. He'd been going out on a limb and kaidan had been happy. Had encouraged him.

There was still an ache deep within his heart, but it was closing.

🎵 “You'll come back when it's over,”

Kaidan lowering his gun there on that Citadel had healed that secret hurt that he'd been nursing since Horizon. Their conversations on Mars and in Huerta had helped, but this one absolute moment of trust closed it forever, leaving naught but a memory.

🎵 “And then that word grew louder and louder 'til it was a battle cry,”

That date, that 'sanity check' at Apollo's Cafe. It had been... oh god it had been perfect. They'd both danced around the subject, just a bit, but in the end they'd come together and stuck that way.

And later, at the car lot, when he'd been running from CAT-6 and relying on his barriers and wits. He'd walked through a door to find Kaidan standing there in his armor and toying with mercs, and his relief, adrenaline, fear, and love had all mixed together to make that tableau the single hottest thing he had ever seen.

🎵 “All you can do is try to know who your friends are as you head off to the war,”

His thoughts went to that last party on the Citadel. All of his living crewmates had been there sharing moments both raucous and quiet. It had done his soul good. The cracks that had started with abandoning Ashley had finally begun to close. His favorite part had been the morning after. He'd woken up next to Kaidan and gone on to find his crew enjoying the morning quiet.

🎵 “Let your memories grow stronger and stronger ‘til they're before your eyes,”

The last memory was that of Kaidan coming up to his quarters just before the assault on Cerberus. Good drinks, a good talk, and even better sex. It had been the perfect night, even as death's specter loomed.

And then, he returned to present.

🎵 “Which then grew into a hope, which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word,”

Just breathe. He repeated it to himself over and over, his cybernetics straining to keep him alive beneath the rubble. He could see teams searching the wreckage, but couldnt call out, because he had to focus on breathing.

He'd managed to tap into every eezo nodule in his body, pushing his biotincs to their limit on order to break his fall and keep himself from being utterly crushed, and it had still been just barely enough. But there was hope for him yet

As he started to slip away, he heard rescuers drawing close.

"Call the Normandy. We found him alive"

🎵 “No need to say goodbye,”

He awoke to several familiar sensations. The rubbing of soft sheets. The scent of flowers. Warm sunlight on his skin. A monitor beeping in time with his heart.

"Shepard?"

Kaidan was there next to him, holding some sort of report and looking dreadful. He also looked beautiful. Like the dawn after a long, cold night.

They spent a few quiet moments of relief together until EDI, who had of course hacked the hospital to keep an eye on his heart monitor, ushered everyone in. Or, well. All of them that could fit in a private hospital room.

The rains had passed, a beautiful new day had dawned, and they were all here to see it.

[atomicdaydream]

Dead End

A FLUX Alternate AU Short (Or is it?)

The hard edge of the bricks, that lined the outer edge of the roof, cut into the fur on the backs of my thighs as I stared down at the busy New York street below. It had been more than six months and I hadn’t heard a word from him.

Not one single breath.

And I'd give ANYTHING to hear Leo and Raph fight! Crazy as that may seem.

I'd give anything to hear them scream. To hear them cuss one another out.

At least they'd be here.

My mind seems to be chasing more than a few ghosts these days. Because just a moment ago I could have sworn I heard him and his brothers shouting somewhere behind me. 

I laid my ears back, closing my eyes as a tear escaped, rolling down to disappear in the fur on my cheek. Where did we go wrong? Where did I go wrong? This reality? It’s not the same without him. This world has lost its magic. 

I.

Have.

Lost.

My.

Magic.

I don’t know how to get home. Not without my powers. Not without Donnie. Not. Without. Them. 

I’m trapped. Stuck in my fox form. Forced to hide from this world as he and his brothers do.

But I’m on the other side of the glass.

I don’t know who to turn to.

I don’t know where to go for help. 

There’s no Shredder here.

No April.

No Casey.

I’ve looked.

It’s all different.

This reality is entirely void of anything related to them. Everything is much more bitter here. No one seems to be kind. 

A cold breeze blows through my hair making me shiver. I pull Leo’s jacket tight around me, pressing my lips together. I remembered when he put it around my shoulders, his warmth making me smile. OH god! I miss him so much! And Raph…. 

I stretch out my legs, looking down at my fur clad feet. Winter was fast approaching. I had yet to secure a proper hideout and I worried that I might not be able to in time.

Sure, I was hiding out in the sewers where….

Ugh! 

Exactly where their lair was supposed to be! But it was completely bare when I got there! Utterly void of their existence! 

“I don’t know what to do.” I whispered to myself. Cause who else would I be talking to? 

“How about ya stand up and give me a hug for starters?” 

My stomach tightened, my eyes widening.  No way. I slowly turned my head, my eyes landing on the mountain of muscle that was literally one of my soulmates. His arms were outstretched, his green eyes sparkling.

“Did ya really think that we’d stop lookin for ya?” He smirked. 

“Raph?” I said, disbelief fizzling away as I stood. “I can’t believe it!” I shouted, bolting for him. The second I made contact with him, every fiber of my being came to life, sparking up my power deep inside me. 

Faintly, in the distance I heard Donnie shouting that Raph had found me. I immediately recognized the tone of the voice that followed.

Leo.

In all the fabric of space and time, I'd never forget that voice.

I peeked up over Raph’s shoulder as he lifted me up in his arms, holding me tight against him.

There he was. His blue eyes locked on mine. “Leo.” I whispered. 

After a few quick pecks on the lips, Raph set me back down, chuckling, and I sprinted around him, practically leaping into Leo’s arms as he kneeled down, arms wide. “I thought I’d lost all of you!” I cried, nuzzling my nose into his neck. 

“Never.” He slowly stood, pulling me up with him, then picking me up bridal style. “You’ll never lose us.” He smirked. “I’d slice through every universe. Implode a million suns. Before I ever stopped looking for you.” 

My heart raced as I turned my head to see Mikey and Donnie standing near what appeared to be some sort of capsule. Before I could ask what it was, Donnie cleared his throat, then smiled. “Heya, Star. We had a hell of a time finding you, but I was finally able to use the bond you have with Raph and Leo to find you.” 

I looked back at Raph, holding my hand out to him. He smirked, then gently took my hand. “And now I’m just ready to go home.” I laid my head on Leo’s shoulder, a sigh escaping my lips as my power returned to full strength. “The usual way.”

“Hell yeah! Cause that capsule is wayyy too small!” Mikey laughed as I raised my hands, creating a portal directly behind him. 

Author's Note:

I always have alternate versions of FLUX floating around in my head. This is just one of them. The love between Leo, Raph and Star gives me sheer joy. They would never stop trying to find her and she would always go to any length to find them. There's just no seperating them. EVER. I know it may seem cheesy and a over used trope, but thinking about them gives me a place to just quietly be.

@thelaundrybitch @wynndigogh

[someone-with-guitar]

GlowTale

Chapter 1, part 1.

I understand nothing.

What's happening?

Where am I?

Where did I get to?

My soul is pounding loudly in my ears.

The emptiness blinds the eyes.

There is absolutely nothing around. Not a single shadow.

It's so cold.

I took a step, and tears sprang from my eyes. My family, my friends... I can feel their warmth. Where are they now?

And... how did I end up here? What the hell am I doing here? And why I don't remember anything... and no one?....

It's like "tip-of-the-tongue state", when you can't remember a familiar word, it's hovering somewhere nearby, but when you try to catch it, it laughs and slips away at the last second.

I lay down on the ground, if I can call it ground, and began to look at where, presumably, the sky should be.

I only remember my name.

My name is Sans.

I do not know how long I lay there crying. A decent puddle of tears formed around me. It was getting bigger and bigger, when suddenly my head seemed to pass through it, through the surface on which I was lying, as if there were an ice hole.

I really found myself completely in terribly cold water. It's even pleasant to some extent. I looked up and there was a thick layer of ice. Somewhere in the distance, a kind of ice hole appeared, and I slowly began to swim there.

It's good that I can dive.

Too bad I don't remember how I learned.

I cautiously surfaced. A voice came from behind.

— Hey, bro, what are you doing there? Get out quickly!

I turned around. Am I staring at... another me?

— Bro... Why do you look so much like me?

— Hello... Sans! I... uh... — Think, think, stupid head... — I'm your, uh, cousin... Yes, I'm your cousin! N-Nice to meet you!

— Do I have a cousin?... — He thought about it and looked at me again. — Why are you still in the water? It's deep in there, get out quickly! How did you get there in the first place?

— I... I fell.

Come on, think, you don't have a brain, but no one forbade you to think!

This is a Waterfall. I don't know why, but that's the word that popped into my head.

And I'm standing in the water.

And I'm standing in front of me.

And I called myself my own cousin.

What the hell is going on here?

Well, at least it's not a void, and thanks for that.

— Give me your hand quickly! You probably can't catch a cold, but you are soaked to the bone!

— Wait a second, I... I lost something in the water. I'll be right...

And I dived back in. Plain water. It's warm. I touched the bottom with my hand. The usual hard bottom. No portals between worlds or anything like that. So it turns out that I'm stuck here with no way out?

No, not that I want to leave, but still... What is this place?

— Well, did you find it?

— Na-ah. Bro, um... how would you like me to spend the night at your house? Do you have... A sofa, for example?

— Yes, no problem! — Another me smiled broadly at me and held out my hand. I got out of the water and took off my wet jacket. — Let's go, I know a shortcut!

Painfully. That's my phrase. I don't remember it, but for some reason I know.

[worldhell]

[ death ] sender just died is considered dead, receiver finds out @naitfall / x.

IT'S THE FEELING OF THE WORLD FALLING SILENT AROUND HIM (...) the tumultuous aftermath of a single battle in the mountainous war all but stands still. A ringing in his ears that drowns out occupying noise, people untroubled by the news carry on in a blur, forgotten, unimportant - words the girl, Ackerman, speaks are no longer audible / can't tell if she still was, barely assess Kirschtein's subdued bearings as the boys own thoughts are clouded, he's somewhere else entirely. Her words are foreign in sound, as if such a term didn't exist. Because for Farlan they didn't.

'Commander Hange and Captain Levi ...' DEAD.

The ground falls from his feet but still he stands, unmovable. “ What did you ... just say? ” Did those words ever leave his lips? Did the girl, who's eyes remained voided and shattered, ever response? In this moment of their lives, perhaps they were the same. Both losing everything to them.

Levi. It's sickening the way his body reacts. Frozen in place as pieces within shattered all at once. Questions raced in the back of his mind, but none ever made it through. The why, how, who (...) the speculations ran wild, but he couldn't focus on that. Levi. Why was it that of all times, he thought back to the underground. Why was it that memories began to take over and spiral with his distress. Why did his mind go back to that first meeting, one that used to humiliate and embarrass him when he spoke of it. When they first made contact, when their eyes had first met - why was it that image that stuck in his mind.

The days he spent in the underground were vile, full of torment, he only wished to leave that hellhole and never look back. It was cruel, and ironic, how those years in that house of theirs together (...) became fond memories at the end. Before reality sets back in. The world continues. Now, he feels the pain. The grip it has on him is a familiar agony, and yet, so new. The way his expression trembles, tensing, jaw tightening as anger, grief, sadness, all come crashing ahead. He was never ready for this. He couldn't be. He knows what happened (...) he knows.

He shouldn't have entertained the idea / there's an obsession in that final promise (...) Farlan should of just killed the Beast Titan while he was sleeping. That's what his gut had told him, that's what his intuition advised. He knows Levi, that loyalty and anger, the need to be the one to kill Zeke himself, even to the detriment of himself, as if that was his only worth. That damn Commander. Even dead, he was still causing Farlan trouble.

╼╼╼ HE NEVER CARED ABOUT THE OUTSIDE. All he had wanted to do was get out of the underground. Live above the rundown city. Venturing outside the walls (...) he never imagined of it. Levi. He might have been the one to express those desires of leaving that horrible place, to give them a dream to live off, but it was Levi who took them further. Those wings on his back couldn't be caged. After that first expedition, Farlan came to understand that. He saw the sight for what it was. Honestly, he was mesmerised by it. That dream of his grew, changed, and he wanted to understand what that entailed for him. After all , together, they saw the sea. The world outside was vast. But, Farlan knew he never cared about the world. All he wanted to do, he realised, was be at his side. He wanted to make sure those wings of his were never cut or broken from the weight of it all.

Before they met, Farlan had given up on people. Didn't trust them as much as they could trust him. Relationships with people were there to be exploited - in the end, they'd all betray each other one way or another. He wonders if Levi ever knew that. How much of his life he changed.

Brows furrow, his eyes SHARP, as he turns on his heel. Where was he going? As the walls fell around them, as the internal struggle of allies and enemies erupted, of what was right and wrong plagued the minds of those who still wore the symbol of freedom (...) he had his own determination.

“ No, you're wrong. There's no chance (...) that stubborn idiot won't allow himself to die. ” FARLAN WON'T ENTERTAIN THE IDEA. He knew the cruelty that was this world well, understood that no one was safe from it's wicked clutches - he wasn't naïve enough to believe in miracles. But putting Levi next to those very ideals was impossible. There was one thing in this world he did believe in. He'd wager it all on that fact. If there was anyone that could survive what this shitty world would throw at them, over and over again, no matter the stakes, no matter how treacherous a climb; clenched fists shake at his side, nails digging so deep the cut into his skin. He's going to find him.