#i just need to find a way to “script” things without actually scripting it all out... you know? i cant read what i write

[owlcafe]

Please feel free ignore my inane, barely-related ramblings

Perhaps the most memorable conversation of my life was with a bus driver, on the regular route I took home from university when I was a grad student. He and I had both landed a Tuesday graveyard shift, so I was the only person getting on this bus at 10pm or so. The week before, the bus had arrived late, while I was waiting, so this driver had come up to me and asked if I minded if he took his break now - apparently it was timed such that he would entitled to his break either now or after the return route. Without much thought I said something to the effect of "hell yeah brother rest up", for obvious enough reasons. The following week, it was raining, and I was scrambling to find cover in a place where I could still see the bus stop. The bus came early this time, and the driver rode up to the stop and let me on the bus early to get out of the rain. I didn't initially recognise him as the same driver, but apparently it had meant a lot to him that I hadn't flown into a rage insisting I be delivered home on schedule by an overworked and tired driver.

As you do, we got to talking, and the obvious course of the conversation was to ask what had gone wrong in our lives that we were mutually on this godforsaken bus at 10pm on a Tuesday night instead of doing literally anything else. His story was more or less what you expect - it was the best job available to him to make the kind of money you need to support a family these days. My story was simply that I'd signed on for a PhD, and with it a pretty good helping of teaching hours, including the occasional 5-9pm lab class (a process which, incidentally, more or less prevented me from having a driver's licence at the time. Don't worry about the details, but it's important to the story).

At this point, I had just begun the process of emerging from a series of self-loathing spirals - the one that stems from being an autistic child, then the one that comes from simply being 14, then the one that comes from being bisexual, then the one that comes from being non-binary, to the bonus round of growing up in a stereotypically male way while being non-binary and the unique way that makes you feel like your body is betraying you when your hair starts thinning at 19, and and fun and fresh ways these all bleed into each other. At some point in that whole whirlwind, I'd become quite convinced I wasn't going to make it out alive, despite never having any real risk to my life externally or even really internally, so my early to mid 20s were a period of discovering that I did indeed survive and now I needed a plan. This led to me falling into a lot of things just cause they sounded nice. I took a lot of odd jobs because they sounded interesting or paid well, I signed on to the PhD simply because I was asked to by my supervisor and I liked the idea of earning myself a gender neutral title, as if putting Dr [extremely common male name] on my mail was actually going to make people think twice about whether or not I was a man. This all to say, I was in the beginning of cultivating my "just a guy" self-image. It's easier, in that circumstance, to cut away the grandeur and the pompousness, because you can easily recognise them as fake. It's harder to cut away at the ways in which you undermine yourself, hate yourself, discredit yourself, because it feels like humility (and, especially in an emergent and incomplete social justice mindset, it's easy to invoke your privileges with the aesthetic of checking them, but the function of whipping yourself for "not earning" the things that you have, only further centralising your feelings as a member of the oppressor class).

To finally get to the point of all this, whenever you mention you're doing a PhD there's a pretty common social script that happens. The other person says that's very impressive, you bat it off, they say oh no I could never, and then you either make some joke about the absolute buffoons with PhDs you've inevitably met in your time in academia or just laugh awkwardly and move on. The bus driver starts the script normally, with an "oh that's very impressive" and I follow up with the canned response of "oh its not really all that, anyone could do what I'm doing". And then, I remember very precisely, he said "it seems that way to you because you can, the same way I think anyone could drive this bus because I can. But, I couldn't do what you do anymore than you could drive this bus."

And that pierced through it for me in a way that's really stuck with me. If I wanted to do the ivory tower academic thing, I could semantically dissect his statement - I could drive the bus and he could do my PhD, it's more accurate to say that the power structures surrounding us wouldn't have permitted it because I didn't have a licence to satisfy the local laws and he didn't have the educational background to pierce through the veil of graduate school exclusivity. I don't necessarily think it's literally true, what he said, but it was very powerful to me emotionally at the time. Because, in that moment in the bus at 10pm, we were both just some guy. We'd ended up in different places because of our circumstances, our identities, our choices, but we were still just some guy. In that moment, I had the same capabilities and limits as he did, just distributed differently. And for me, I'd spent most of my adolescence and much of my early 20s desperately projecting this ideal of like. A renaissance man, I guess? I needed people to believe that I was perfect, unlimited, infinitely skilled but also unflinchingly humble, lest they detect the parts of me that I assumed they would hate (because I hated them about myself). That someone I'd never really met before could so precisely and sincerely cut through it all, simultaneously denying me my instinct to degrade myself and reminding me that I am indeed subject to many and varied limitations, denying me even the privilege to bemoan that of course I can achieve these things because I'm white and middle class and so on, so I'm really not that remarkable. It really affected me. It brought me to a new level of being just some guy, and really helped me calibrate my vision of myself.

Obviously, it didn't fix everything in that single moment, but it helped me build a new frame I could use to look at things. If I started to feel shame or fear over not being able to do some particular thing that I wanted to do or felt compelled to do socially, I could remember that moment and how my path in life has given me limits as well as possibilities. And that's kept both halves of my ego in check ever since - I don't feel that I'm somehow entitled or should naturally have "lesser" skills on account of having access to "greater" ones (I can run advanced stats like nobody's business but I still can't drive a car), and I also don't feel the guilt and shame of not having certain skills that are considered basic because I have other skills that I've developed instead (yes I can't drive a car, but I can run advanced statistics).

I am once again just yapping with no real purpose but this idea really strikes a chord with me I guess. I just wanna say these things cause I want to. I don't particularly feel that there's untold wisdom or anything, it's a pretty milquetoast case of this whole thing occurring, but if anything I guess I feel compelled to pass on the wisdom I got from that bus driver that night. For better or for worse, we're all just some guy.

i really do believe that the answer to a lot of people's self hatred is not to try and reassure them that they are wonderful and okay and enough, but instead to remind them theyre a completely unremarkable regular ass person who is not the center of the universe or especially important so why would they expect themselves to be some superhuman savior. like there really is a kernel of out of control self importance at the heart of thinking youre an evil lazy piece of shit. because why would you expect you be anything but just like some guy. if you wouldnt expect the guy who works at the vape shop or your mailman or whatever to be able to do something then why would you expect yourself to? youre just some random ass person. its fine

[woodsorrelpainting]

I knew on some level that my style of writing is not the same as my style of speaking, but I've never had to contend with that until recently

[heartavenue]

જ⁀➴ Things To Script: Politics Edition

Yes, this is an American aesthetic. Yes it is because I am American.

Elections are completely fair, not rigged, no scandals, fair.

There are no two of the "lesser evils" all candidates are genuinely good people and they want nothing but the best for the country.

All candidates represent the American people, if the American people find that the elected official is unfit they will be REMOVED (yes this is Trump shade.)

There is separation of church and state.

Americans are more open-minded about candidates from parties other than the Democratic and Republican party

(should I just say script out conservatism in general? I mean this is your reality you can if you want!)

We have no official language and ALL languages, cultures, backgrounds are represented and have the ability to be taught.

DEATH to the electoral college.

Fake news, propaganda, lies, non fact checked information cannot make it's way towards journalism.

News outlets have to report TRUE, unbiased information (I'm looking at you FOX)

No trade wars...

America does not involve itself in colonialism, imperialism, militarism, etc (mainly because those things do NOT exist.)

Supreme Court Justices do not rule for life.

There is an age limit to the presidency (this is subjective but personally I don't want an 80 year old president)

The minimum wage is increased from $7.25 (can you believe it's still that) to $20 (or whatever you prefer)

Free healthcare across ALL fifty states.

Planned Parenthood is in every state, providing safe abortions, sex ed, contraceptives, etc to everyone who is in need.

Abortions can NEVER be banned.

Free childcare across ALL fifty states.

Our politicians are civil, cordial, respectful, kind, intelligent (another dig on...let's just say a few people)

World peace

All oppressed/colonized people are FREE and live without any colonial influence.

Affordable prescription drugs.

Baby formula is affordable (this isn't really political but no formula should cost FIFTY BUCKS?)

Gay marriage is legal across all states and can NOT be revoked.

No fascism, Nazism, white supremacy, zionism, any bigoted idealogy in general does NOT exist.

Books are not banned/ can't be banned.

No fracking.

Free college.

No discrimination against ANYONE no matter their race, ethnicity, nationality, origin, sexuality, gender identity, etc.

Rape, sexual assault, pedophilia does not exist.

Crime in general doesn't exist.

Free therapy across the country.

The government actually WORKS to make this country better.

ICE does NOT exist.

Federal assistance programs can NOT be cut.

No wealth gap (no top 1% and the struggling 99%)

No homelessness.

No poverty.

Maternity leave is LONGER (isn't it like 2-6 weeks? come on now...)

Court rulings that have been passed can NOT be overturned (think roe v. wade)

No pink tax!

First time homeowners receive a grant from the government to help them with payments.

Credit scores isn't an issue, anyone regardless of their wealth can purchase a new car/home/rent an apartment.

Native Americans are seen as the true indigenous people of the Americas an they are incredibly respected, the land is returned back to them.

Follow up: Columbus Day does not exist.

The KKK doesn't exist...or MAGA or TRUMP!

No anti-vaxxers (get vaccinated, no they don't cause autism and no they aren't chipping you or whatever right wingers think)

They are laws put in place to protect our planet, nature reserves, recycling is MANDATORY, wildlife parks, etc.

History is NOT erased and is actively taught/encouraged in schools.

Guns...do I even need to explain at this point...

Immigrants are WELCOME and there is no stigma, discrimination or stereotypes about them either!

This country is extremely diplomatic we are on good terms with all countries, every meeting with them goes well and can only strengthen our allyship.

DEI EVERYWHERE!

everyone is WOKE, I mean unprecedented woke, profoundly woke EVERYONE GET MORE WOKE NOW!!!

No wars.

There is RESEARCH done on women's health (why don't we know anything about endometriosis fr...)

Mount Rushmore doesn't exist

Okay that's all I could come up with for now! Buh bye my loves!

[songbirdseung]

𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀  𝑩𝑶𝒀  /  𝑺𝑰𝑴  𝑱𝑨𝑬𝒀𝑼𝑵

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

Everyone kind of saw your boyfriend, Jake, as the babygirl in the relationship; the one to be spoiled, taken care of, and loved on constantly. And to be fair, they weren’t exactly wrong. He was your baby. The one you’d drop everything for, the one you’d die for. You’d do anything to make him happy, and he knew it, taking full advantage with those wide, pleading eyes and that cheeky grin that could get him anything he wanted.

But what people didn’t see was the way the roles would sometimes reverse.

Because there were moments, many moments, actually, where Jake completely flipped the script. He wasn’t always the clingy, whiny, spoiled one. No, there were times when he’d turn it all the way around, going above and beyond to baby you instead, never letting you lift a single finger, doting on you as if you were royalty. And when you finally sat him down, hands holding his face as you begged him to just relax and stop doing so much for you?

He never listened.

"Jakey, seriously-"

“Mm-mm.” He’d shake his head, placing a finger against your lips with a playful smirk. "You take care of me all the time, babe. Let me do this for you, okay?"

And you couldn’t even argue because every single time, those puppy eyes would come out, that signature pout curving on his lips, and you folded like a house of cards. The moment you gave in, that innocent pout would shift into a triumphant smirk, and before you knew it, he’d be dragging you along somewhere, his next surprise already planned.

It was the little things, too. The way he could take the most mundane moments and make them feel like a fairytale, the way he never let you sit in boredom for too long, always finding ways to entertain you. Whether that meant teasing you endlessly, poking at your sides just to hear you squeal, or pulling you into his lap and demanding your attention because he was your boyfriend and you were legally obligated to adore him 24/7.

Sure, Jake was your babygirl. But more often than not, he was also the one making sure you had everything you needed, never letting you go without, proving that underneath all his teasing and clinginess was a boyfriend who would literally carry the weight of the world if it meant making your life easier.

Like right now.

“Sim Jaeyun, just come back for the rest,” you called, watching in amusement as he hauled every single grocery bag from the trunk, arms flexing under the weight as he refused to do a second trip.

"Shut up and just open the front door, woman," he shot back, jaw clenched as he balanced a watermelon on his hip like it was a toddler.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you stepped aside and let him inside. He really was something else. The perfect balance between boyfriend and best friend. The type to poke fun at you at every given opportunity, but also the type to kiss away your pout before you could even think of being mad at him.

And it was little things like that that made your heart swell.

Like when he’d text you while out, giving you barely five seconds to respond before fake-threatening to leave you empty-handed.

"hey dummy, i’m coming home soon, need anything?" "reply now or i’m leaving the store." "fine. ignore your loving boyfriend who just wanted to do something nice for you."

And yet, even when you did ignore his texts, he always came home with something anyway. A snack you’d been craving, a new hoodie he saw and just knew you’d love, or even a single flower, just because he felt like getting you one.

And when he placed it all in front of you, arms crossed, lips forming that exaggerated frown, demanding an apology in the form of babying him back?

Yeah, you’d just roll your eyes and pull him into your arms, rubbing his back like a child as you cooed, "My poor, neglected Jakey. How ever will you survive without my attention?"

And the second you started babying him? That pout disappeared, his smirk returning, his arms wrapping around you as he buried his face into your neck.

Yeah, you spoiled him.

But, God, did he spoil you right back.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu), octavinelle's shady business deserved it's own tag, 7.0k words

note. hiii again! it took a whole month for this to come out hehe. my honest opinion, the kid here is the cutest I've had to write. I really love em' 🤎 most of the good parts of this fic is near the end where they start interacting with yuu!

azul

ashengrotto did not do things himself–it sounds bad, by extension. like he was incompetent but most of the student body of the school knew better than to assume so, much less say it out loud. associating with him came with consequences, but much larger rewards to sow if you were actually useful for him to keep close.

why should he exert much effort from the body when his mind had already done the work? he rewarded his employees well after all.

his grip was iron. figuratively, and literally. no slip through for an exit, if he let go then it was because he wanted to. he does things when he wants to and watches it all play with a critical eye. he let his actor take point center, relish the spotlight where in the end, he can bask under the light. what was rewards without hardships?

azul does things for you despite himself.

like now, he’s desperately trying to pluck out every thought of you like a needle stuck in hay from his mind because he was not at the local store for you, but for a business opportunity.

like before, when he would inevitably grace you with pointers for advanced lessons for better preparation. muttering something about him not nurturing employees that lack the essence of his dorm–intelligence, and wit. 

like after, he’s not so sure if there is one now. who would take back what he said? him? ashengrotto?

everything is so within a script he plays that he tells himself that he let you storm off because he willed it. 

“you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be special,” he shouldn’t have regretted the remarks that flew from his mouth as a defense mechanism that wrapped around himself and inevitably pushed you away. azul was special because he made himself to be (and you were special to him in a way that was irrevocably lost to him).

what did you do? how did you do it?

azul did not want to hold onto someone so sought after, he wouldn’t handle it well if you chose another warmth to run into, he only made investments that he was sure he would win.

he watched when you straightened abruptly from his words. like his voice struck you even when he made sure it was a sound that drew joy from you, you don’t look happy. you breezed past him like the wind, not unkindly but something fleeting that he can’t grasp at.

after all, no one can hold onto the wind.

a pair of eyes follow his frisky movements with amusement–since when did the perceptive, at ease azul struggle to focus picking off the most ripe ruby berries? he’d been staring at the fruit for so long that even floyd, whose attention was frayed by other aisles.

jade had only been interested in the mundane task of shopping when he spotted a tray of fungi on sale, his eyes sparkled. so azul compromised to purchase some free of charge if he was diligent in his work afterward. over time the interest faded, it was simply routine until he exited the aisle after a quick skim and found azul in the same spot.

then floyd got interested at whatever jade was standing by and idly observing.

now, they’re both looking at azul.

“he’s still sulking?” floyd scrunched up his nose as azul threw a perfectly decent ruby berry back into the basket, in his opinion anyway why was there a need to spend so much time finding perfect ones? azul was not as interesting to poke at considering he hadn’t blown up at floyd yet.

marine creatures are much more fun when they puff up. he had told his brother who agreed without any insight.

azul can only take much of floyd, and if he’s still keeping to himself by now it must have been serious.

and! more fun to see if pushed too hard. chuckled floyd in his head.

jade does not stray his eyes from azul. “it appears so.” he agreed with a light hum, he took the pack of eggs from floyd’s hands and set it in the basket before the latter got any ideas of breaking it–more so if it was related to throwing them at azul’s head specifically.

“but i would say it is brooding rather than sulking.” he added unhelpfully to azul’s case to which floyd merely shrugged in response.

“you do know i can still hear you both?” azul drawled from the stands. seemingly finding two more ruby berries adequate enough so he discards them at the basket hanging from his inner elbow. when he has forcefully moved his gaze from the fruits to the two, he is given the full extent of the amusement on their faces.

for floyd, lack thereof.

“indeed.” jade flashed him a smile.

floyd continued for him, shifting on his feet with one hand buried beneath his pocket. “that’s why we’re talking, azul.” cause you can hear us.

in response, azul merely crinkled the two of his brows. he briefly pondered to grace them with a response, but what would simply be adding more oil to the flame and he greatly disliked fire. the twins offered a brief respite from the hurricane of thoughts that was you, he supposed he could at least be grateful for that.

even if they clearly didn’t intend so and relished his disdain.

he pushes up the rim of his glasses. “all done?” azul interjected. there were far better thing to use with time rather than spend it all teasing him–or for thinking of good old you that didn’t fit into any equation he drew.

he still snuck you in.

thankfully none of the two had the ability to read minds, as it happens jade might be eerily good at reading but peering into his thoughts was out of his range. if they did, he would simply never hear the end of it, could have left them all alone just so he could have a hint of privacy.

jade nodded, azul hands him the list. “double check in case floyd,” he glared pointedly at said male. “forgets something like last time.”

the last time azul was negligent in checking twice, floyd hadn’t been able to grab a bottle of witch’s essence. mostly because of the presence of you, where floyd had found trailing after you far more interesting than browsing the aisles for what he was supposed to get.

he was supposed to be irritated, he was until he was simply just a bit grateful floyd was near to ward off a persisting customer of the shop who found your ‘less than interesting magic-less capabilities’ apparently interesting enough to poke fun at.

azul didn’t take you with them anymore. due to floyd’s distraction or the possibility you’d be bothered again he isn’t so sure.

of course, he tied off that loose end with jade.

“i don’t get why we couldn’t have done this at sam’s shop.” grumbled floyd, stopping in front of their paths and is then ushered by jade forwards once more. the voice shakes azul from his recollection, that unfortunately was once again related to you–who shall not be named.

jade momentarily eyed azul who stares ahead as if to shake off his piercing stare. “of course, azul would only stop at the best for the prefect.” 

the remark burned him. you who shall not be named burned him, and azul sort of liked it. his cheeks flared with warmth and he cleared his throat, fearful that it would come out as a scrawny, weak, affected croak. “this is for our new exclusive offer.” azul retaliated.

“so the birthday bash offer was not for the prefect whose birthday is today?” jade retorted.

the excited it’s shrimpy’s birthday? from floyd was only entertained by his brother who nodded in confirmation. he looks away from azul who made it a point to drill him a stare on the side of his head.

“that makes sense.” floyd said, stopping to lean by the register where the other two transfer their item of goods from the basket to the counter. “everyone else doesn’t deserve anything but nothing except for shrimpy.”

besides the other students that you had ‘beast tamed’ that extended to the twins, jade took you in steadily when you proved to be a fascinating specimen while floyd took more convincing when you pointedly ignored his attempts at intimidation.

now the tweel won’t even leave you alone. azul is only ever grateful a few times for it.

when thought about once, you embedded deeper in the mind. it must be what floyd as doing because he spoke again. “i haven’t seen shrimpy in a looong time,” he pouted, the cashier had rung up half the items at that point. looking sleep deprived, and their chatter was merely background noise.

“it’s only been 7 days.” azul corrected, unwilling to voice the and 2 hours that lingered in response to floyd’s quip.

“you could just say a week.” teased jade. “have you been keeping tabs?”

floyd off-handedly took jade’s phone from his pocket, having forgotten his back at the dorm. the latter does not argue considering it was better to let floyd run amok when the things he desired was innocent.

“i simply like to be informed well.” 

ignoring the other two was easy as trein’s class (which was easy because he slept through mot of it). floyd inputted the password of his other and peered as the screen flared to something other than an ominous screen of a forest fungus. he, for one was glad to be free of the sight.

his face does sour into a blach when he finds the last thing jade was on is an online cart full of plants he didn’t bother to remember, and a few he associated with the list of fungi crewel gave them with the book to study for an upcoming test. 

floyd isn’t sure if jade was trying out hands on learning or doing something weird with those… things again, like cooking them up and force feeding it to him.

he shuddered.

“about yuu?”

azul glared, floyd spared a glance to quietly laugh at the expression before returning to the device.

way too bright, he sniffed, swiping down to lower the brightness that was obnoxiously raised to the maximum setting and stopped at the myriad of notifications of missed calls.

“you buddy-buddy with oyster?” queried floyd as he found the number seven next to the red ping of a missed call.

jade tilts his head.

“or yellowfin tuna,” he read. “or flounder, or mackerel..”

floyd listed out the names as he scrolled, only pausing when he found the end to be an answered call from you four days ago. azul turns his head after handing off the newly bagged items as they made their way to the exit.

likely, he recognized those to be the species of his employees. 

“we are dorm mates.” jade answered, they weren’t friends, colleagues at most but most prominently dorm mates.

floyd held up his phone. “you got like ten million missed calls from everyone at the dorm at this point,” he snorted. “and message from tuna hours ago about the lounge being in chaos.”

“what?” azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i left flounder in charge, he’s capable.”

“clearly not capable enough, did azul make a lapse in judgement?”

“why you–”

“floyd.”

___

the dorm was in fact.

not in chaos?

the three stood befuddled at the surprising serene peace of the lounge. azul in particular crossed his arms and wondered when his employees got off making lies about the state of his lounge. if anything the atmosphere was better simply because everyone on the shift seemed to be in a good mood right now.

oyster passed along a bottle of coral sea refresher to a table of savanaclaw students with a smile which could be the sign of the impending doom of the world because all they knew how to do was brood, and brood, and brood about their state of finance as if azul isn’t their answer to that particular problem.

“did you teleport us to the wrong place?” floyd scratched his head.

“how dare you imply i could make a mistake.” azul snapped, reigning his temper in before he could fully grant floyd the satisfaction of seeing his patience fraying.

“you exerted your magic suddenly without pausing for mistakes.” jade chided. usually a teleportation spell could have moments to spare before the final incantation to polish beforehand to ensure the body is in one piece after the travel. a spontaneous one consumed larger magic due to lack of perfection.

if the reservoirs weren’t enough the spell would simply hurt the body instead.

azul sighed. “what can i do? the lounge cannot run well, or at least i was told.” his face twists into a cold stare of annoyance, eyes skimming the room, likely looking for flounder.

to his displeasure, he does not see them. only the startling smoothness that the lounge operates in at the moment. it was a sight that should have brought him satisfaction–just another variable in his equation to separate from his worries.

instead the sourness that had lingered for days now churned in his gut. no matter how much water he drank to flush it out, it stayed and that was strange because you did not.

floyd shrugged his shoulders. “eh, looks good enough to me. since it’s operating so well, we shouldn’t disturb them.” which was the less subtle form of i don’t want to work. azul could not read jade’s expression as usual, so he was unsure if he agreed with floyd or not.

he stared longer around. looking for a crack in the pristine management to put floyd as a temporary bandage

azul slumped his shoulders. “fine.” he relented, not without a heated glare at the side of floyd’s head.

then the eel was huffing, striding to the back where the dark halls extended to the inner dormitory of octavinelle. intimidating on purpose of course, to ward off just in case any stray, wandering customer came to close.

and of course, if they still looked past that. any octavinelle hungry enough for a fool was welcome to name it their prey.

he glanced sideways. “find flounder. we have much to discuss.” jade nodded, did not pry. a more favorable trait between the two brothers if you asked azul.

azul was just about to turn to the direction of his office, sort out his plans for the following week. ensure his current plans are not falling through, ponder about the state of you or maybe he can pick himself out of his towering, fragile pride that he’d let you tip over if you came back.

maybe.

you likely would not though, once he’s chased off someone they don’t come back. he does not give them a reason to, nothing in him to stay anyway. you had nothing but had something that briefly makes his heart stammer in a way that warms him even in the frigid cold of octavinelle.

he would need several hours to shrug off afterwards, lamenting over the time his thoughts scattered and he scampered around in his mind trying to pick off fragments. azul did not waste time, didn’t make the same mistake twice but still sought you out like a symbolic voice.

he’s never heard you sing, but he wants to hear it more than your stifling silence.

frazzled, azul grasps at the edge of his hat. tilting it down to hide even the slightest of skin over his distraught expression. forget about them! he protested against his mind, now his mind won’t even listen to him lately. stop thinking about them…

“azul,”

“not now jade.” he hissed, eyes shut.

“azul,” again.

“i told you to look for flounder just a second ago.”

“i suppose you don’t want to talk about the child skimming through your contracts?”

“whatever you do is none of my–”

blue eyes snap open to jade, tracing the line of sight.

a cold chill shriveled his spine. he had not fully registered the entirety of jade’s words, the word your contracts is what he zeroed in on with lazer focus as his legs jerked to move towards the bar. where he certainly did not keep his contracts and where a child was certainly skimming through quite a few diligently.

where did they find that? his eyes twitched, eyes unrelenting on the little thing. the better question was, who let it inside of mostro lounge! do any of them know he’s not allowed to bring any in here? 

well, no one does.

still! a child? his contracts?

“excuse me,” he halted in front of their tiny frame, their legs barely even meeting the floor and hovering from the stool. if azul had to guess… they required some semblance of assistance to even reach it, begging the question who and why in the world when they are clutching onto his–! “i do believe you should not take what is not yours.”

azul could not help the frown that tugs at his face. he probably looks unfriendly, and frightening to a child now no matter how soft he forced his voice to be. he reaches out and grasps at the edge of the pristine parchment, tugging, smoothly rolling it to tuck into the inside of his coat without another word.

to make up for the sudden motion, he breaks into a smile. “you are not supposed to be here.” he states flatly, half aware of jade’s footsteps coming to a stop beside him.

the eel leans down slightly. 

curiously. the child peers up without a sense of startle, just calm observation.

“mister jade.” they murmured.

said male’s brows quirked. “i would have remembered such a… small specimen.” he says, a subtle jab to their knowledge. a nicer way of prying he typically does not spare for problems, after all, it is a kid.

his eyes drift from the child to azul. not to share a look of confusion but to compare the eerie shade of blue that reflected back at him.

in a surprising act of sincerely, the child blinked and glanced at the hand that used to hold his contracts. “I'm sorry, papa.” they murmured, bowing their head in a show of what seems to be genuine atonement. their hand reaches out and clutches onto the coat of his dorm uniform, azul is feeling more surprised to the fact he hadn't recoiled away.

papa? he's not a papa! he blanched, forcing a wobbling smile.

at their point of eye contact only does he notice the striking similarity of his eyes. it reminded him of himself when he was young, that sort of innocence before it was tainted.

gravely. he shook it off.

though they seemed to have mistaken his silence for anger. their lips purse. “don't be mad.” 

jade eyed the interaction with a glint of surprise. “you clearly shouldn't have a child in the future if you've made one so upset already.”

azul spares him a heady glare. “be quiet, jade.”

the child frowned lightly at that. “don't be mean to mister jade, papa.”

the eel in question grinned lightly. “that's right, papa. don't be so mean to the kind mister over here.”

azul is tempted to make his stare more harsh, and throw in the good old threat. it always worked for employees out of line, even if it was scarce to work on jade. so he had always pinned the punishment on floyd, who would then pester jade about being dragged about his mess.

that was how to keep jade in line.

halfway into it, he remembers the innocent child in front of him. holding onto him like he was their father. well, they certainly thought so. which was an extremely silly thought. still, azul bites his tongue before he can spew any semblance to ink on land.

once, jade had received the unfortunate end to his ink and wasn't too pleased.

safe to say he had never tried to dent his pot ever again.

azul clicked his tongue but for appearances sake, he manages another practiced smile at the kid. turning his head to hide a grimace as they tugged on his coat. “ahem… dear child, you are not supposed to be here.” he started. he wanted to back track, he did not want to sound like that crow! “how did you get here?”

“how about we inquire about this charming little one's name first?” jade cut smoothly.

the child perked up.

“i’m solon!”

azul's lips twitched–

“I haven't thought about a name yet.”

“don't tell me its another business thing? it's just to differentiate marine life!”

“hmph, I am not always so driven to success. I have time for other things, like pondering, and indulging your silly excuses for passing time like naming these creatures..”

“what would you name that little cutie there then?”

a shy little octopus in the corner? he paused. “a wise one named solon.” proudly said.

–downwards.

he wants to knock on his head this instant. how dare he betray himself again by drifting his thoughts to you? azul cleared his throat and feigned a cough. “is that so?” he croaked.

“and azul is your father, is that why you're here?” 

the former shot him a look so incredulous that it was easy to read. you’re kidding. azul’s face read, both a non-verbal message to himself and jade. do i look like a father to you?

jade was almost tempted to give azul a nod out of spite, to see if his expression twist into deeper offense but then again the two had known each other for a while enough to read more clearly than others. they did not use the term friends to describe one another, more of a lasting companionship than anything else.

as long as he continued to be amusing, jade and floyd would stick by him. be occasional thorns on his side but nonetheless still there.

azul opened his mouth to reply before he could get prodded at further.

solon already answered for him with a nod. “yes, my papa.” to which azul’s eyes bulged through the fogging lens of his glasses. jade had never seen him so discombobulated that he could not help an amused, low chuckle under his breath,

always so interesting. he thought with a simpering smile. he’ll stay by for a while it seems. shouldn’t he call floyd to share the laugh?

it was not azul that pushed up the rim of his sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose, but his seeming younger counterpart. “papa’s establishment was failing so i saved it.” they added.

that solves the why is the lounge operating so good. so that means flounder was out of azul’s red zone. for now anyway!

“excuse you?” azul stammered. “mostro lounge is many things, but it is not a failing establishment!”

solon blinked. “oh, it's a mostro lounge? i thought it was an aquarium.”

“azul was always thinking of having something other than a restaurant for business.” jade mused in reply.

azul could not believe the audacity of this child. coincidentally looking the same as him or not… sharing the same name he shared only with you or not… mostro lounge could only be his only real child, something he raised from ground up with his own blood, sweat and tears yet here was this strange child…

he glanced up, watching the lounge around. azul will not deny that if solon really took care of mostro lounge in his absence, and flounder’s apparent incompetence…

his eyes glimmered. a business opportunity! his mind swooned. “would you like to work for me?” azul grinned lightly, voice tinged with sweetness.

again, jade unhelpfully cut in. “you’ll be arrested for child labor.”

oh, right that was a thing.

azul’s smile faded immediately as he sighed. if only chances came to him like this little one on a silver platter everyday, his business would simply be booming. he would even entertain jade’s idea of variety in his line. 

it wouldn’t be too bad.

that way the names you bestowed upon those oblivious fish would be put to use.

ah! internally, he slapped himself.

on the other hand. jade was having the highlight of his day. he would say time of his life but that was only ever reserved for the time azul was scampering around to find a suitable gift for you for… well, no reason that he can remember at all.

after all, he had not been given the pleasure of seeing a pink octopus until then.

in hindsight. he noticed azul was quite down under the works, and even that description was too far off to describe the spiral of a mood that azul seemed to be going through. funny for a while but now quite boring. thankfully, this random child that spoke of odd things made azul interesting once more.

that interest transferred over to them in an instant as he surveyed their form. he had never met this one so he was not so sure how they knew of him, or even spoke so politely with respect for that matter. jade is used to seeing being held in high regard out of fear, not such positive emotion.

a grin breaks his lips apart as he spots the dangling shell initially hidden by their little sweater.

once upon a time he spied on azul giving you the exact same thing…

seems like my theory is correct. 

wouldn’t it be hilarious to slap azul with that kind of truth?

“azuuuuul!”

the said male immediately groaned.

solon eyes brightened, letting go of azul’s coat instinctively as the latter quickly straightened his uniform. azul sighed deeply, bracing his remaining brain cells to stick together as he turned. “floyd, how many times do i have to tell you that yelling is unbecoming in the–”

he shuts his mouth at the sight of a blank faced you.

floyd, proudly it seemed, shook his arms in your direction as if you were a surprise. a surprise yes, but certainly not a pleasant one–! “tada!” cackled floyd, sliding an arm around your shoulders and tilting to the side. you wordlessly followed. “i got a tilting shrimpy with me!”

“kidnapped.” you corrected. not too pleased with the sight of azul either which only seemed to fuel floyd’s amusement. 

oh. is that what it was? floyd was bored and in dire need of a drama to watch?

at first. you did not notice the little kid. neither did floyd considering he only ever paid attention to his area of ‘people’ which happened to be very few right now. so solon slipped from his radar, only paid attention to when he barrelled to your side.

startled. you hold a hand to their head in case they toppled over from the speed and force they ran over to you with.

floyd shamelessly pointed. “an fry shrimplet sticking to the shrimpy!”

all three of you send him incredulous glances.

“mada!” solon exclaimed with bright eyes, briefly glancing at floyd. “and mister floyd!”

the male in question tilts his head, looks at you, looks at solon, looks at azul then back at solon. “the fry talks!” he blinked.

“of course i talk. you’re always weird, mister floyd.” solon replied, not an ounce of intimidation on their chubby little face at floyd hovering until he leaned down to curiously peer at them. he pokes their chubby cheeks with a grin.

“you’re weird.” floyd retorted like it was obvious, another poke to their cheek has his teeth widening. “and round, hey, hey… you kinda look like az–”

“floyd!” azul snapped with rapidly warming cheeks.

when the male frantically waved floyd over–several times until the latter relented and swaggered forwards, you take the chance to adjust your grip on the child. feeling a sort of responsibility to treat youth with care came naturally as you settled one of your hands on the back of their head, letting them nuzzle all they liked on your stomach.

the other smoothed down the curve of their solider. you felt movement against your front, no doubt a delighted quirk of their lips. it brought a light smile of your own despite your initial wariness to be in the same presence as the intruder of your thoughts.

thoughts that came in either harsh hurricanes, memories less than pleasant swirling around in your head like a storm you can only brace yourself from or a gentle breeze, lighter memories that you couldn’t hold onto as they passed.

nor did you want to remember it again.

“hello there,” you greeted politely at the child who tightened their arms in response. when they looked up their lids were blown open, staring upwards at you with what you presume to be marvel. being the object of such a sentiment has you warming, absentmindedly patting their head. “i’m yuu.”

you also miss the look of offense flashing through azul’s face before he schools it into stubborn neutrality.

“i know!” bubbled the increasingly excited child who promptly bit the inside of their cheek lest they overflow. control what you show. solon thought to themselves but that was so incredibly hard when they could only focus on what they feel!

and what they felt was incredible admiration. even if you were unmistakably younger, more expressive due to the passage of time not caressing your soul long enough for you to be a cultivated version of yourself… this was still the same person that made your house a home alongside their father, who took a more prominent role in managing the smooth flow of the home.

you smiled wider, pinching their cheek. you could melt into a puddle with how the adorable fat stretches as you tugged lightly. would it be possible to shake this little one into oblivion out of cuteness? “i’m solon.” newly introduced solon adds, clearing their throat. “but mada, and papa calls me sol.”

mada? your smile doesn’t falter but you do blink slowly. papa?

you sniffed, glancing up the trio who appeared to be watching you with deep fascination. jade, more so, floyd, less so. azul… was staring pointedly at solon. 

“is there a teen father at night raven or did you kidnap some child?” you snorted, tone laced with skepticism. 

jade in particular side eyed azul and you followed his sight and could not help your train of thought as you peered back at solon, noting their similar features. huh.

“not at all.” the eel replied smoothly. “azul was just about to recruit a new hire though.”

you blanched. “that’s illegal!” or at least in your world it was… hopefully in this world it is? azul in question immediately straightened up at the feel of your disappointment rolling in waves and he could not help but sputter in defense of his already shattered reputation by you.

“i knew that!” he cried. too aggressive in the manner he shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose to actually know that. “why wouldn’t i?”

“probably only seeing madol rather than the law.”

floyd snickers from his side–having grown bored of remaining idle, and instead striding towards you. he grasps at solon’s arm, about to pull them up and you frantically correct his manner of holding a child before letting him lift them up.

he holds him up under his arms and tilting his head. “you’re even smaller than shrimpy.” 

floyd ignores you boldly smacking his side when he feigns dropping solon, who surprisingly does not even yelp in surprise. only blinking when they were temporarily suspended in air, and caught again. this time closer to your side as you tugged on floyd’s arm with a simmering glare.

“that’s a child, floyd!”

“eh? i just see a sticky fry.”

“you need to handle solon with more care. they’re not like me who you can throw around for a bit, i won’t stand for it.”

“shrimpy survived all the rough stuff and now, look. you’re tougher than all those other kids.”

the heat of your stare heightened until floyd pouted and deposited solon to your side. you shuffled several steps backwards. “that’s not how it works.” you pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes when floyd barked out an sure it is! 

you also ignore floyd now attempting to rile you up once more–looking for entertainment, which is apparently you brawling with him.

“how did you even end up here?” you sighed defeatedly. at least you weren’t roped into reconciling with azul, which was what you initially thought when floyd popped out from the octavinelle’s mirror in the chamber. he had spotted you chatting with your heartslabyul companions and when they departed back to the space of their dorms he pounced on you.

no polite requests of letting you go loosened his grip as he hauled you to the lounge.

now you were, not talking to azul but instead holding a smaller version of him it seemed. well, good thing this one was cuter than that idiot.

you were spiralling back to azul and your face must have darkened because solon had paused to eye your microexpressions carefully. the squinting of your eyes, the displeased curl of your lips that only pulled down further the more you unconsciously glanced at azul…

he muttered something under his breath.

again, you sighed. “sorry–what was that?”

strangely enough, floyd stopped speaking.

… so did jade who joined floyd to pester solon with endless questions. do you only stick to shrimps? what do you do for your past time? why are you an algae? would you inform authorities if we took you under our wing? 

you didn’t even want to question the last part.

when you look up floyd’s mouth was open in an intermittent yawn–one of his eyes was shut and there was moisture gathered on the corners. he was still staring quite interestedly at solon while jade seemed to just… stand still as a statue.

neither of them blinked.

feeling just like the day you found out magic was apparently real and people here could just levitate a remote back to them across a room, you snapped your gaze around. even the customers remained unmoving. you spotted a group of savanaclaw, one pointedly having hurled a glass towards a half dead server of octavinelle who had their back turned.

you contemplate walking over to save that guy from a possible injury before identifying said student to be one of your previous perpetrators–getting your stuff (especially when it was from professor crewel. back then you went to classes without much simply because you were too shameful to ask once more for a replacement) dumped in the fountain was indeed no fun.

goodluck with that. you mused in your head. call it your petty way of payback.

you glanced around for moments longer, lingering on kalim’s midst at some table. 

“what in the world…”

apparently azul could move, like you. you’re not sure why and even dreading your predicament. in what world would time freeze and the only one unaffected is you, oh, yeah. your enemy that you self proclaimed in your head? twisted wonderland apparently…

besides your increasingly disgruntled face that you no longer try to mask in the presence of others considering azul is only ever the one you’d show such blatant dislike to now, he looks positively floored. while the turn of his head is slow as he stared around, his eyes are wide through his rims.

the arms encircled around your waist slid off, bringing your attention to solon who frowns lightly. their previous look of sparkling warmth was still present in their eyes, simply dwindled to highlight their look of seriousness. they crossed their arms.

“you’re my before mada,” solon pointed at you, then to azul. “you’re my before papa so now you have to go back to being lovey so i can go back to my mada and papa.”

both of your jaws drop. 

“what?!”

“wait a second–this is going too fast.” you blurted, feeling a bit flustered. who would drop a big bomb like that so suddenly? this kid was saying you and azul have a kid in the far time ahead!

didn’t that mean you chose to stay here? or perhaps you never really did find a way back… 

implications aside, it was certainly… an experience to hear it being said so outright. azul seems to think the same due to him gasping out an: “y-you mean…” he gaped, eyes darting to you and solon with reddening ears. “they’re my… we… have a…?”

gosh he was going to faint.

it was at least a pleasure to witness the eloquent azul struggling to conjure a coherent sentence. the more he glanced at you the more prominent his change of color was. it didn’t help that his attire helped it contrast from his complexion.

solon giggled, momentarily dropping their face of seriousness. “you said i’m the product of your love.” 

azul squawked. “i said that?!” but, that was just so… embarrassing to say! why would his future self say that?!

you frowned. “is this a joke?” you asked seriously only deadpanning when solon nods.

“please make up,” they said sincerely. sensing both of your skeptism, they reached under the collar of their shirt pulling out a shell necklace that eerily seemed similar to– 

your hand instinctively flew over your collarbone. panic giving way to unwanted relief. azul watched the motion.

he thought you threw it away since he did not see it.

“i want to go home.”

you simpered bitterly. you did too.

“mada please forgive my weird papa.” solon beamed, ignoring azul’s look of offense.

“if you do you’ll go home too.” 

your throat twisted.

“you said me and papa is your home.”

before solon can spot the look of frozen shock from your face, they whirled around, smacking azul on the leg. the latter winces but didn’t look as reluctant as before. he’s even staring at you in the eye with something unreadable and heavy in his. 

azul seemed to be weighing his pride the size of a mountain and the depth of his feelings for you that could probably only be measured by the neverending sea. it wasn’t infinite like some cheesy someone would proclaim, but it was calm at some parts, rough at the other but certainly deep.

something he can’t pinpoint a how but he knows.

he sighed deeply. “i apologize.” he said finally, voice low like he only wanted it to flow between the space of the three of you despite the time frozen. azul felt like that was how he spoke to his business transaction partners so he rephrased himself, there was a lot of them and only one of you. “i’m sorry.”

you squinted.

“my mind was clouded before.” he pursed his lips. “i… don’t want you to be special. that only meant you would be something others would be reaching for, i don’t want that. i’m selfish. you’re so special in a way that i can never take ahold of and keep to myself. i dislike it.”

“you’re terrible at communicating.” you pointed out gruffly. albeit less hostile than before, more inclined to hear him out. was being terrible with emotions an admission requirement here? is the concept of affection illegal?

azul chuckled at that. he did not smile–tried to but it fell. “with you it seems so.” 

“yeah.”

“i don’t know how to atone.” he admitted and you only furrowed your brows.

“being mean to me isn’t a sin but it sure was unfair.”

you only heard a quiet agreement from him and pointed accusingly. “you’re going to listen to my demands until i say so, okay?”

iffed but carrying a plank to bridge the distance between two mountains, azul nods. “we should discuss it over a contract. i won’t change any terms.”

which was his sad version of an apology. you’ve come to learn that individuals here deviated from the normal and morally right way of doing things. the most you could do was to recognize that this was this world’s version of grovelling on the knees.

you only focused your attention on the brightening solon–literally bright like he was about to get sent to heaven or something. he was only smiling lighty, no teeth. something you’d see on azul’s face but solon did well in expressing something so little sincerely. his expression was brighter than the light he was encased in.

“you’re going home?” you sniffed, aware of azul quietly shuffling to the side where you were in your peripheral vision as if his small steps weren’t noticeable. you didn’t comment on it.

solon nodded enthusiastically. “mhm. thank you.”

they did not bother with a goodbye, it wasn’t a goodbye. they’d see you soon.

“bye, sol.” 

you elbowed azul who had somehow managed to awkwardly stand by your left in the span of a few seconds.

he coughed, side eyeing you. “farewell, sol. keep that necklace safe. it is very precious.”

the child laughed. “don’t worry. papa has all the stuff he gave to mada in a box under your bed.”

azul’s eye twitched. “off you go.” it was more of to finally drag you off somewhere himself and a little bit of not letting any of his future secrets be jeopardized.

when the last proof of solon’s existence fades before your eyes, the world starts again.

“-our wing–?” jade finished, frowning when the spot where solon used to be, in front of you, was replaced by nothing. 

he blinked. directing his gaze to azul, noticeably lighter who seemed to be quietly exchanging words with you.

“the heck?” guffawed floyd, rearing his head to squint at the two of you. “when did they make up!”

“go back to work.” azul snapped, grasping at your wrist and dragging you off to the direction of the back.

“are you two getting started on solon already?”

“jade!”

trivia

if you guessed, the time stop was solon’s unique magic: “a chilling stop” very boring name, i know. i kind of just spew the children’s UM names off the top of my head! like you have observed it is simply pausing time within a decimated space for a period of time. in this case, solon only paused time inside the lounge. everything outside remained in motion. the larger the range, the harder it is to keep up.

solon is written to be a ten year old cutie pie male! the necklace he was wearing is what past azul gave to past yuu, and future yuu will eventually give it to solon (yes, azul actually does have a box of trinkets he collected. some things from you, the other reminds him of you. it accumulated over the years and he couldn’t stop)

like the other kids who had specified conditions to return, in solon’s time, future yuu and future azul was in a fight, and he coincidentally (or intentionally?) got warped to a time where past yuu and past azul was also in a fight. their conditions to return home was to reconcile their before parents.

when they came back future parents also made up <3 (idk i am just yapping at this point)

yeah. azul was out here trying to recruit a kid just because they ended up doing pretty well with managing the lounge lol.

i accidentally deviated from my outline lol! originally azul was supposed to start interrogating the employees currently on shift as to why they’re letting a kid run the lounge. it was chaos before and solon made it run smoothly so they kind of just accepted it. better than azul coming back to chaos, right?

floyd’s nickname for solon “fry shrimplet” deviates from the babies of shrimps. 

as you can see i didn’t see that particular line and i was writing the ending when i saw it!

the names of the employees are not their actual names lol but rather their species, just like what i did for leona’s part with the side characters. 

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown | @squishychongyun @brights-place @mochiclouds @sol3chu @runu-chan @random-fandoms7 @minkyungseokie

[livelaughlovebeinggod]

This post is for the people who are procrastinating on applying the law or for those who need a wake up call. ‼️

what if you had never found the law?

Or let's say there's a parallel reality where you never stumbled upon the law of assumption. That you with the same circumstances but without the knowledge of the law, how would they have felt? For many, it would feel like their horrible reality would never change, how helpless they must be feeling, thinking about all the hardwork they need to do in order to achieve something, thinking that there's no shortcut to life and they've to do far more than just lifting a finger, they've to chase after life relentlessly just to live their dreams and the list goes on...all this just because they're limited in their mind, they're not aware of just how powerful their mind and their assumptions are, just because they're not aware that they can have absolutely anything and everything just by assuming they have it. They would have lived their entire life feeling like they've no control over their life, having that hope that maybe one day it would all change but unfortunately it never does. You come to your last stage of life with nothing but regrets because you wanted to do so many things but either didn't have the time or you just didn't have the courage to "take action" on them.

Seems horrifying? It is.

Now let's flip the script!

GOOD NEWS!

YOUR LIFE IS NOT THE WAY I DESCRIBED ABOVE.

You're blessed and lucky enough to have the knowledge about the law of assumption. I would have certainly felt helpless and hopeless if i didn't know about the law of assumption with my circumstances, i would've felt like giving up but this is not the case, I know about the law, i know it IS possible to have the life of my dreams and more, oh how blessed i am. Then why the hell am i procrastinating on doing the bare minimum?! imagine the things you would have to do in order to achieve those dreams if you didn't know about the law? Damn I'm exhausted even thinking about it! But guess what? With the law, u know all you have to do is just assume it's already done and persist! You don't have to even lift a finger let alone doing anything more than that. It's this easy.

Just think about it.

It's that easy so why are you procrastinating or why are you not taking accountability and changing your life? YOU LITERALLY CANNOT BE MORE BLESSED THAN THIS. Like imagine getting whatever you want with just your assumptions?! Even a fairytale falls short of what cheat code we know now. You're not realising just HOW FREAKING LUCKY AND POWERFUL YOU ARE.

This is not just a post to motivate you, this is a WAKE UP CALL, I'm calling you out rn and telling you to end this cycle, NOW. I need you to step aside from ur phone or Tumblr after you've read this post and just think about it, what are you doing? You could be living ur dream life by now if u had just applied the law and stayed consistent with it but here you are, consuming more loa content as if it's all not just the same information you've read a hundred times. The law is simple, too simple actually.

DECIDE YOU HAVE IT & PERSIST. THAT'S IT.

There's no other magical information out there, you WILL NOT get your desires if you don't apply the law. It cannot get easier than this. There are people who don't have ANY idea about the law, they're living a limited life, but you? You know about the thing people would sell their souls just to find out about it, and here you are still procrastinating as if you don't actually hold the power of the whole universe inside your mind and all you need is a decision and commitment to that decision.

It's either you decide to CHANGE YOUR LIFE AND FINALLY END THIS CYCLE or GET THIS LOOP GOING FOREVER. It's upto you. No one's coming to save you and it doesn't have to be scary, no one's coming to save you because you're enough to save yourself. You've all the power you'll ever need. Stop doubting your power. Actually applying the law and being consistent is scary and hard because your mind is too familiar living in hell that even heaven starts to feel uncomfortable but trust me, once you come out of that comfort bubble, you'll see that you were living in a tunnel all your life when there was a whole universe outside waiting for you to come out.

You can do it. Now, GO DO IT.

[dimonds456]

Oh my god I figured it out.

When people say "we need more morally grey characters" and then immediately turn around and accuse morally grey characters of being evil, I think that is directly equivalent to the amount of screentime they have.

Like, people LOVE the characters in Arcane despite none of them being pure people, but people are quick to hate on characters like Ford Pines or Rose Quartz despite them doing similar things because we barely get to know them.

When those people say "we need more morally grey characters," they just mean they want a chance to get to love them.

No no I have proof.

The Pines Twins are pretty equal to each other in different ways about the crimes they've committed and how good they are doing it, but people adore Stan and hate Ford because Stan gets two full seasons of screentime whereas Ford only gets BARELY half a season.

We don't know him as well, and by the time we meet him we already love Stan, so hearing about him shutting the curtains or the "remember our childhood dream? Go live it out without me while doing this thing I need you to do," makes people MUCH quicker to jump to Stan's defense, which online QUICKLY turns to "I hate Ford so much" rather than a genuine conversation about the presented conflict at hand.

Or take anyone in SU. All the main characters make a pretty big bad decision at some point- Pearl left Steven to drop, Amethyst shapeshifted into Rose, ect- but we do forgive them because we love those guys and we have gotten to know them.

But Rose is dead. We can't get to know her and have to piece together who she was through other's retellings of her. The only time we see Rose as herself is in Steven's tape, and even then, her message to him is scripted. So when we find out Rose is Pink, and we see everyone fall apart, instead of trying to understand why she'd do this, people instead jump to "she betrayed everyone, I hate her."

Not saying this is an invalid way to write morally grey characters (please don't stop doing it this way actually), but I AM saying that fandom should be more aware of this from a psychological perspective.

Something to think about.

[applecidersturniolo]

hate to be lame.

in which..you’re falling in love with your best friend, is that okay?

your laptop screen aluminates the glow of blue light directly in your face.

how do you know when you lik-

no. that’s stupid.

how do you know if your best-

still no.

how do you know you are falling in love?

bingo.

you read article after article, page after page. different sappy poems, stupid scripts about finding the one. but was he actually the one? or did you just think he was?

maybe you just weren’t used to guys being so..friendly without them wanting something in return.

you don’t really trust the internet, but maybe this one time, maybe it’s worth trying. you hate to admit to yourself that you’re desperately in love with your best friend, it’s truly embarrassing, but you can’t help it, the feeling of longing..it’s always on the tip of your tounge. in the back of your mind.

“it’s gonna change everything.” you breath out while shaking your head, “it’s not.” chris says blunt, “it is.” you argued.

chris scratches the stubble on his jaw, “so do you wanna do it or not?” his patience running thin, not with you. never with you. just with the situation.

“yeah..yeah just. just do it.” you spoke moving your legs from under you to crossing them in front of you. you can feel chris’ tender hand graze your jaw as he pulls you closer, your breathes mix together. before you can pull away, before you can say it’s not the right time or something dumb he presses his lips against yours. it’s the most gentle thing you have ever felt in your life. it was over quicker than it happened.

your lips swollen, his eyes meeting yours. “so?” he whispers, you lick your lips, the faint taste of his caramel chapstick lingers on your tongue. “no um..no i didn’t feel anything.” you muttered as you fiddled with you shirt. you’re such a god damn liar. you felt every little thing those stupid websites described falling in love as. you felt every little butterfly swarm in your stomach. and you hate to admit it but you think he knows it to. he knows that you love him, that you need him. but is that enough to make him stay? is it enough to make him feel the same way? absolutely not.

so now you guys are right back to where you started from.

if you could rewind time back to last week when your lips collided with chris’ and you told him the truth, the real truth. would that really change everything? would there be some butterfly effect? would the stars genuinely align.

maybe.

but it’s too late for that now. because now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, your feet on the dash board as you two sat and shared an orange. the smell of the peel filled his car, “you fond of oranges?” he questioned popping another piece in his mouth, “i’m fond of the way you say the word” you spoke simply, chris lets out a dry chuckle, “what? orange” he repeats furrowing his eyebrows, his thick boston accent coming out clear as day, making you chuckle and shake your head, “you don’t even realize how you’re saying it!” chris’ head falls back against his head rest. “you’re a fuckin’ dork, you know that?”

a grin plasters onto your face, “no. but you love to remind me” you spoke taking the piece of orange he was offering from between his fingers.

chris let’s out a soft chuckle and smiles to himself. silence fills the car for a moment, chris’ attention is out his window, staring at the street lights that brighten up the almost empty parking lot. “i know you’re in love with me” he spoke gently.

you could’ve thrown up onto your lap right then and there. “you what?” you whisper, you heard him. you heard him clear as day. “don’t make me repeat myself, you know i hate that shit” he muttered as he takes a sip of his drink, he glances at you, seeing your well nervous expression. “i know you’re in love with me.”

all you can do is slowly nod, chris places his hand on your knee, his thumb going back and forth, he’s trying to comfort you but it only makes your mind race more and your heart beat faster.

“you know how i feel..about relationships and shit” chris chokes out, his throat clearing. “but fuck.”

a sliver of hope cuts through you like a knife, the simple word but opens up flood gates to a whole new world, a whole new relationship between the two of you.

“i mean, i hate to be lame but..i love you too” chris shrugs.

you lick your lips, “yeah?” you breath out, “yeah.” he echos.

“so kiss me.” you blurt out. chris smiles and leans over the center console, his lips melting into yours, the sweet yet sour taste of orange seeps between the two of you.

orange is your new favorite flavor. chris is still your favorite person.

yall does this fic make sense SAY YES OR NO 🫵🏼😖

divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws

TAGS FOR INTERACTION: @sturns-mermaid @oopsiedaisydeer @slvt4chrissturniolo @owenstar @lyingonchris @malsmind @bernardsbendystraws-bookshelf @mi-co-uk

[july-19th-club]

a while back i read jane eyre for the first time since high school in anticipation of watching the 2006 wilson/stephens miniseries. it's incredible to reread these classic novels as an adult, because while i got all the words and understood the *content* as a teenager, i didn't at all find the book interesting or fun to read. anyway i think one of the reasons that book stood the test of time isn't so much the gothic intrigue and how fucked up rochester and his wife are . he sucks so bad in so many ways . but he keeps needing rescued from stuff and only jane can do it . he fucking breaks an ankle falling off a horse early in her employment with him and she's the one who helps him back to the house . his attic wife sets his bedroom on fire and jane's the one who finds him and puts it out before he dies of smoke inhalation . then attic wife sets the house on fire after jane leaves and the whole place burns to the ground, grievous death and permanent injuries, etc, etc. jane comes back yippee everything's okay again! austen heroes don't get wounded like that because they're far too sedate and busy engaging in social seasons and heathcliff is like not wounded physically so much as destroyed emotionally . but this dude strikes the balance for readers who best enjoy when a man is collapsing of various problems and literally cant survive a day without some governess to pour water on his four-poster so he doesn't fry to a crisp

ALSO . i particularly was interested in the passages just after jane first meets him where she talks a lot about how if he was a normal polite person, or even just like a normal Lord with like, a sense of propriety and good manor house manners, she'd have been shy and awkward and uncomfortable and would have hated him. but i think where some interpretations get it wrong is that she doesn't think his rudeness is HOT. she thinks it's good for her own confidence, in that she knows her own self-esteem and social comfort levels are so low that all the scripts of peerage and society make her crawl into herself and disappear. she doesn't know how to follow the scripts convincingly, she's been emotionally abused her whole life so she has no sense of self-worth, but he doesn't follow the script. which means she doesn't have to worry about following it either. which does wonders for her confidence levels because when she can just act in ways that make sense to her rather than second-guessing whether she will be Approved Of, she can actually be a person. and that's what she first appreciates about him: his ability to (more or less without trying or even noticing) facilitate that for her.

"The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something, trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive."

[bitchinbarzal]

Kiss Cam | C Keller

Summary: You and Keller have been fake dating for PR reasons. But when the kiss cam finds you at a game, and he leans in with that cocky little smirk? Yeah… you’re toast. And suddenly you’re rethinking everything about how fake this actually is.

⸻

Clayton Keller had never needed a fake girlfriend. Not in Arizona, not on the road, not even during his stint captaining Team USA to a gold medal. He wasn’t the scandal type. Didn’t chase headlines. Didn’t post thirst traps. He kept his head down, played hockey, golfed in the summer, and occasionally wore designer hoodies that made people wonder if he had a stylist. But when he got traded to Utah and handed the metaphorical keys to a brand-new franchise, suddenly image mattered.

The Mammoth were a fresh start. A shiny expansion team in a city still learning what icing was. And Clayton, quiet and notoriously private, was suddenly expected to be the charismatic face of it all. The golden boy captain with a heart-of-gold smile and a lifestyle fans could fall for. The only problem was that no one knew him. Not really. Not the way they wanted to.

“You’re too mysterious,” his agent said, pacing in his office. “The fans want connection. A reason to root for you off the ice. Right now, all they know is that you like golf and avoid Instagram like it’s cursed.”

“I don’t avoid it,” Clayton mumbled. “I just don’t care what people had for lunch.”

“Exactly. You’re not relatable. You’re polished. You’re… unbranded.”

And that was how the idea was born. A PR romance. A soft-focus, storybook girlfriend who would humanise him. Put a heart behind the hockey. Someone who could handle the spotlight without making it look fake. Someone the fans could love and who the franchise could trust.

They chose you.

You worked in PR already, part of the Mammoth’s fledgling communications team. You were the one who made sure his press days ran on time, who wrote his quotes when he didn’t feel like being quotable, who once told him he couldn’t wear a backwards hat to a charity gala. You weren’t a model or an influencer, but you were clean-cut, confident, and camera-friendly. You also happened to be the only person who had ever rolled her eyes at him during a photoshoot and lived to tell the tale. That alone made you a unicorn in his eyes.

You said no at first. It was ridiculous. You weren’t an actress. You didn’t want to be part of some weird PR stunt. But when the pitch came again—with a timeline, a contract, and full creative control—you started to reconsider. Six months. A few games. Some social media engagement. No kissing. No real feelings. Nothing messy.

It started easily enough. A photo at brunch. A quote in a press release. You started calling him Kel off-camera. He started sending you memes with no context. You accompanied him to a few team events, wore his Mammoth hoodie in the background of a training video, and the internet lost its mind. Someone zoomed in on his hand resting on your back. The post hit 800,000 likes. You were suddenly “his girl,” and somehow, that label stuck.

It was supposed to be a script. A strategy. But there were moments that chipped away at the fake.

The first was when he showed up at your apartment after a press day with your favourite smoothie. No reason, just figured you forgot to eat. The second was when he started learning your schedule so he could walk you to your car after long nights. And the third, the biggest, was when you caught him staring at you during a team media shoot like you were the only thing in the room. You’d looked back at him, heart in your throat, and he didn’t even blink. Just gave you a soft little smile like he already knew everything you were about to say and loved it anyway.

You never brought it up.

Then came the Jazz game.

It was supposed to be another easy appearance. Courtside seats, a Mammoth-branded jacket, a couple of clips for social. You sat beside him in the front row, legs crossed, sipping your Sprite, laughing at something dumb he said. It was comfortable. Easy. Familiar. Until the crowd started cheering.

Clayton looked up first.

You turned toward the jumbotron just in time to see the giant red hearts frame your faces. “KISS CAM” blared across the screen. Your heart stuttered.

“Don’t,” you said immediately, warning etched in your voice. “Clay. Don’t.”

He turned to you with that slow, infuriating smirk that meant you were about to lose this battle. “Babe, come on. Gotta sell the story.”

Before you could argue, he leaned in.

His lips met yours, soft but confident, like he’d done it a hundred times in his head and finally got the green light. His hand curled around your cheek. Your breath caught. You meant to keep it light. PR-friendly. But the kiss lingered. His mouth moved against yours just enough to make you forget the crowd, the cameras, the fact that it was supposed to be pretend.

When he pulled back, your heart was racing. The arena was losing its mind. And Clayton Keller was looking at you like he had absolutely no regrets.

“That wasn’t in the script,” you managed to breathe.

“No,” he said, grinning. “But it should’ve been.”

You barely made it to the car before your phone exploded. Twitter was chaos. Instagram even worse. TMZ had already posted a blurry screenshot of the kiss with the caption “Fake? Or the Realest Couple in Utah?” Your inbox was full of subject lines like “KISS CAM GOLD”

“This is a PR nightmare,” you said, dropping your head against the seat.

Beside you, Clayton laughed. “Felt more like a dream to me.”

You looked at him. Really looked at him. The soft brown eyes. The curls falling into his forehead. The way his whole face relaxed when he looked at you like he didn’t have to put on an act.

“Don’t do that,” you whispered.

“Do what?”

“Say things like that. Look at me like that.”

He sobered, shifting closer. “Why not?”

“Because it’s fake,” you said, though it came out smaller than you intended. “It’s supposed to be fake.”

“It hasn’t felt fake in a long time.”

You didn’t mean to say it. But it slipped out anyway.

“It doesn’t feel fake to me either.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding it in for weeks. “Then let’s stop pretending.”

You stared at him, the world outside buzzing with chaos, headlines swirling, the entire city of Salt Lake apparently rooting for your fake love story. But here, in the quiet of his car, it didn’t feel fake. Not even a little.

“You sure?” you asked softly.

He reached over, took your hand, and brought it to his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

[vettelsvee]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO + MAX VERSTAPPEN PLS

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | Max Verstappen

⋆ PAIRING: Max Verstappen x Ex girlfriend actress Female!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: After breaking up with Max, your boyfriend of three years, you decide to move forward and show people that you weren't the villain of your story ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2574 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Does university have me mentally draining? Yes. Did my doctor tell me to take a break since I'm on lots of medication and I didn't listen? Also yes ✨ Anyways, hope you like this one, and remember that I'd love to read your comments and feedback, and that reblogs are very much appreciated as well! Thank you so much, and enjoy your reading! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The worst part of the breakup wasn’t losing Max.

It was losing yourself.

Despite being a world-renowned actress with a thriving career long before you started dating the Dutchman, the last three years of your life had revolved around him. 

You weren’t just one of the most admired couples in the paddock, you were also Hollywood’s golden pair. The actress and the Formula 1 world champion, unstoppable together. Rumors of weddings and pregnancies swirled around your seemingly perfect (at least in the public eye) love story.

So when everything ended abruptly, without explanation from either of you to everyone, the world needed a villain.

The headlines spoke for themselves:

"Y/N Y/L/N DUMPS MAX VERSTAPPEN AFTER USING HIM FOR FAME" "DID Y/L/N EVER LOVE VERSTAPPEN?" "FORMULA 1’S GOLDEN BOY, BETRAYED"

The comments from people who once admired you were even worse. If the insults were harsh, the death threats were unbearable. Demands flooded in for you to issue a public apology for a “crime” you hadn’t committed, for nothing more than just a breakup that Max himself had initiated to focus on his career, as he told you and excused himself with. Every interview you gave was twisted, your words manipulated. And instead of staying silent, like your words, the press loudly proclaimed that you were the reason Verstappen's performance had declined last season.

Max knew about it all. After all, he’d been asked about it countless times during press conferences. Reporters bombarded him with headlines starring you both, turning your private lives into international gossip. Yet, all he did was smile politely and dismiss the questions as if they were mere inconveniences.

You had expected at least a call from him to find some way to put an end to it all. But when he never reached out, you decided to call him yourself. All you got was a voicemail telling you to try again later. And when you did, again and again, he ended up blocking your number, showing you how things actually were between you both.

You never got an answer. You never found out why he decided to ignore how the world was painting the woman he had supposedly loved.

That’s when you decided to stop waiting for an answer, a real and proper explanation. 

If they wanted a villain, you’d give them one.

You didn’t just delete your social media and vanish from the public eye, you also returned to the industry in full force, accepting a lead role in a film after years of turning projects down just to support Max race after race. A psychological thriller that intrigued you from the moment you read the script, because the character felt too familiar and close. A woman scorned, reborn from the ashes of her own destruction.

“She gave them everything, and now she’ll take it all back.”

That one line was enough to fuel your performance, turning it into a masterclass in acting. Your director praised you endlessly, your co-stars were in awe, and even the producers—one of whom had once been a key sponsor of Max—were captivated. You convinced them to join the project though you weren’t really sure if they ended up doing so out of pity or as a subtle jab at the driver who had severed ties with them at the peak of his career. 

Either way, the message was clear: a middle finger to the boy in a narrative where you were only ever relevant because of him.

Then came your real return to the public eye. Your rebirth.

The docile girl who once stayed quiet, who barely spoke to the press, who even put her acting career on hold. The girl who lived in Max Verstappen’s shadow, was gone.

Your first public appearance, where you began promoting the film that would mark your resurgence, was at the Cannes Film Festival. You walked the red carpet with a confidence you hadn't felt in years, perhaps ever. The camera flashes were relentless, but you smiled because you knew exactly what they had expected to see: a broken, shattered woman.

Instead, your thirst for revenge made sure you left an impression, one so striking that it became the talk of the town for days.

“Y/N Y/L/N: UNBOTHERED QUEEN OR A POISONOUS SNAKE?”

You couldn't help but smirk when you read the article. In fact, you couldn’t resist making it your first Instagram post in that new era.

“Let them talk,” you thought. Because in a few weeks, everything would become even more interesting.

You had known you’d see Max again the moment you received an invitation to a TAG Heuer event as part of your film’s promotion. Your agent had tried to find a way to decline, suggesting excuses convincing enough to avoid the inevitable encounter.

Your answer?

You told her to find the best designer in the industry to create a dress dripping in subtle, unmistakable messages. A dress that would make it clear just how much you had moved on.

And so, in the heart of Monaco, in a lavish mansion hosting the exclusive party, you finally saw him again.

To no one’s surprise, he was wearing the same suit he always chose for events like this. His hair was styled, though slightly tousled because you knew he hated looking too put-together. A champagne flute rested in his hand as he moved through the room, making conversation with the other guests, effortless as ever.

Then, just as he finished speaking with his team principal, Christian Horner, and his wife, he turned.

And his eyes met yours.

415 days.

That’s how long it had been since the last time he looked at you.

You couldn’t lie, it hit you like a punch to the gut. A searing, burning weight in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Especially when he began walking toward you slowly, deliberately.

And when you saw the flicker of emotion in his gaze, when you felt the sting of tears threatening your own eyes, you reminded yourself why you were there.

You thought of every headline they had written about you. The way the media had twisted your story, painted you as something you weren’t. The way your reputation had plummeted overnight, forcing you to rebuild yourself into someone new, someone unbreakable.

Most of all, you thought about the moment Max chose to cut you out of his life completely when all you ever wanted was just an explanation for the breakup.

Just for him to care enough to silence the world that had made your life a living hell.

That was the moment you realized you were ready to see Max again.

He, however, wasn’t ready to see you.

“Y/N. Long time no see.”

He stood in front of you, avoiding your gaze. His voice was rough, uncertain.

“Max,” you murmured, taking a sip of your champagne, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on your lips. “It’s been a while.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t bother to say anything else. Instead, you turned toward the balcony just a few steps away, where the view stretched across most of the principality. The city lights shimmered before you, captivating you, reminding you that this place had once been your safe haven, your refuge… The setting of dreams that never became reality, of a life you once envisioned but that crumbled before it could ever be built.

You tensed at the sound of footsteps behind you, but you didn’t turn around.

You knew it was Max. And you also knew you should have left. Should have walked away, let him drown in his guilt, let the weight of regret eat away at him.

But instead, you drank the last sip of champagne, carelessly let the empty glass slip from your fingers, watching as it shattered into tiny shards against the floor, then turned to face him.

“Are you just going to stand there looking at me like I’m the best thing you’ve ever seen in your fucking life, or are you going to say something that makes sense for once?”

He inhaled sharply. You knew you had hit where it hurt the most: his pride.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was low, but his frustration was unmistakable. “To play the vengeful ex? To prove something? To prove something to yourself?”

You let his words settle, rolling them over in your mind, searching for a reply that would cut just as deep.

“Prove something? To someone? To myself?” You tilted your head back and let out a hollow laugh. “That’s funny, Max, because I don’t think I’ve ever needed to prove anything to anyone, including you. Tell me, have I ever needed to prove anything to you?”

Yes, that you loved him with everything you had. And where had that gotten you?

“You’ve turned this into a game, into some kind of performance,” he said coldly, his blue eyes cutting into you like daggers.

“If you want to say so…” you smirked, voice laced with mockery, "Honestly, I wouldn't mind being the actress starring in your bad dreams but, between you and I… I think I already am."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. Max, however, wasn’t laughing. His irritation was growing, his anger simmering beneath the surface, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of unease at the way he was looking at you, clouded with something dark, something dangerous.

“A game? Seriously, Max?” You spoke again, stepping closer, fingers playing with the fabric of his tie. “Tell me, who was the one who started this game? Was it me, when I heard you say you wanted to focus on your career instead of a relationship? Was it your fans, when they decided I was the villain in our story? Was it when they painted me as the ruthless bitch who left you the moment I got the fame I wanted? Or was it when you stayed silent, letting them believe it, knowing damn well it was all a lie?”

Max flinched. He knew you were right, but his pride, his damn pride, kept him from admitting it.

“I never—”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you cut him off, turning away before spinning back to face him. “You never defended me. You let them say whatever the hell they wanted. You let them tear me apart while you laughed at their comments, dodged their questions… feeding into the rumors you knew weren’t true.”

“It wasn’t that simple—”

“No, Max, it really was that simple,” you shot back, raising your voice. “It was as simple as telling the truth. Or saying something, anything, really. Even a lie would’ve been better than leaving me to burn the way you did. You let them think I used you, that I never loved you, that I walked away without a second thought.”

“You did walk away, don’t act like you didn’t—”

You froze. You had heard that accusation before, over and over. But the way he said it now, the coldness in his tone, it was what finally made you snap.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Max? Follow you around like some desperate puppy after you told me you wanted to focus on your career?” you shouted, not caring who might hear. “Stay with you while every headline called me a gold-digging whore? Let strangers tell me and truly believe that, if I had a career, it was only because of you?”

Your breath was coming faster now, your chest tightening with an anxiety you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you didn’t miss.

“Do you even know what it’s like, Max? To have your entire existence reduced to being someone’s girlfriend and the main character of a series of meaningless scandals?”

Max said nothing.

“You never had to explain yourself, Max. Never. If you won races, they praised you. If you lost, they still worshiped you. If you got into fights or disappeared for weeks, you were still Red Bull’s golden boy, still the one everyone adored. But me?” You shook your head, laughing bitterly. “I had to justify my own success… the success I had built long before you and I were ever a thing.”

“I never wanted that for you—”

“And yet, you let it happen.” Your voice softened, a hint of something almost like pity creeping in. “You let them destroy me just to keep yourself clean. I don’t know if it was your idea, your dad’s, or your PR team’s, and honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I don’t wish the same on you, Max, I really don’t… but I do wish you’d had to live through it, even just for a second, so you’d understand.”

“I…”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, restless. His eyes darted around, unable to meet yours, his whole body tense with unspoken words. And despite everything, despite all the pain, you knew one thing for certain: at the end of your reputation, you were truly feeling alive.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t know how to fix it. How to make it stop—”

“That’s the thing, Max,” you murmured, tilting your head. “You never had to fix anything. You just had to stand by me.”

The weight of those words settled between you both, heavy and inescapable.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, staring at each other, reliving every second, every memory, every moment you once thought would last forever.

Max thought about how much he wanted to go back to those moments. You simply smiled to yourself, knowing you had walked away from the person who had broken every single promise to protect you.

“Did you ever love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. A lump formed in your throat.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to remember everything…

The way you looked at him, and he at you, as if nothing else in the world existed. 

The way he held you in his arms every night before bed, only to do it again as you both drifted off to sleep.

The way you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, in front of everyone, after he won a race, a championship, feeling as if the world around you had vanished.

A year ago, even a few months ago, that question would have been easy to answer. But now?

You remembered how lonely you felt when the world turned against you. How Max seemed to disappear from the face of the earth, only to reappear on TV, in Formula 1, no longer as your ex-boyfriend but as a public figure you had once idolized enough to believe you belonged by his side.

“I don’t think that matters anymore.”

You didn’t say anything else. Wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking comfort, reassurance, trying to convince yourself you were doing the right thing.

"Goodbye, Max."

For the first time, as you walked away from Max Verstappen, you didn’t look back.

He felt lost. For the first time, he truly understood that he had lost the love of his life and regretted not doing anything to stop it.

But you? You simply smiled and kept walking, head held high, feeling better than ever because this time, for the first time ever, you had won.

And also, for the first time ever, you weren’t going to apologize for winning.

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[smellysluna]

Chapter Two | Again, And Again, And You

Chapter Two: A Fresh Start

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Word Count: 5,5k

Summary:

You've lived through countless timelines—each one shaped by monsters, magic, and the unbearable weight of knowing too much. Until you wake up in a version of reality where none of that ever happened. No dungeons. No deaths. Just high school… and him. Sung Jinwoo—quiet, intense, and impossibly familiar—is here too, and maybe this time, it'll be you who changes his world.

Notes:

I— I think I went overboard with the length of this chapter I mean like— ... just enjoy

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The world felt different when you woke up.

Not in a way you could explain—everything was where it should be, everything looked the same. The sun rose like it always had, painting gold across the ceiling of your room. 

And yet, your chest felt hollow. As if you'd just surfaced from drowning.

You sat up in bed, a sharp inhale cutting through your lungs. Your hands trembled slightly as you touched your face, half-expecting to see blood, ash, or time etched into your skin. But you were young.

You were… young.

You stumbled to the mirror and stared.

The person staring back at you was barely seventeen. No shadows under her eyes. No scars on her neck. No weight of a thousand lives hanging from her shoulders.

You blinked rapidly, as if to wake up again. But this was the dream. Or rather, the end of it.

The world had been reset.

He’d done it.

Sung Jinwoo had done it.

You didn’t cry—not right away. But your knees gave out slowly, and you sat there on the floor, heart pounding like a drum, repeating one truth over and over:

You’re free.

At first, you didn’t try to find him.

You told yourself he wouldn’t remember. That this life was his reward. That he deserved peace without the weight of old memories.

But still… a part of you wanted to see him. Just once. To confirm that he was okay. That he still existed. That it hadn’t all been a dream you made up in the space between lifetimes.

So, you enrolled in the same middle school.

Sliding into the role of a transfer student wasn’t new to you. A few forged documents, a timely uniform delivery, and voilà—new student, perfectly ordinary. You’d even knocked your age down to fifteen on paper. Technically, you were almost seventeen, but what were a couple of years between friends? It wasn’t like anyone was going to card you in homeroom.

Besides, you were already ancient compared to everyone else. Maybe not in body, but mentally? Please. After a few dozen lifetimes, you were basically the wise old sage in a room full of toddlers. If anyone asked, you just had an “old soul.” They didn’t need to know it came with the emotional baggage of a thousand respawns and a suspiciously encyclopedic knowledge of stock market crashes.

Enrolling in middle school felt like sitting through an onboarding presentation for a company you'd already secretly run twice. You knew the rhythm, the roles, the script—even if everyone else thought this was your first day on the job.

A crisp uniform, a clean transcript, and your real name on the roster—check, check, and check.

Sung Jinwoo had already sparked a school-wide glow-up rumor before you stepped foot in class.

He used to be awkward, they said. Kind of forgettable, quiet in a way that made people skim past him in the hallway. But something had shifted.

He came back after summer with cleaner hair, straighter posture.

Suddenly, people realized he was hot.

Like, surprise lead-role-in-a-drama hot.

His smile was easy now. His voice low and warm. Rolled-up sleeves. That thing guys do where they lean back in chairs just enough to look effortlessly cool without actually falling.

He helped teachers carry supplies. He saved a bee from a classroom once, apparently. People said he smelled like clean laundry and citrus and the sun.

Even the guys loved him.

“Bro, I’m not gonna lie,” one classmate had said loudly once, voice carrying across the lunch tables, “we thought you were just, like… a weird shut-in last year. We were so wrong. I’m sorry.”

Jinwoo had just laughed, easy and warm, and clapped him on the back like it really wasn’t a big deal.

It made him even more likable.

Because that was the thing—he didn’t act like someone who’d suddenly realized he was hot. He just was. And somehow, that made people fall even harder.

Girls confessed to him. Often.

Sometimes it was a letter slipped into his locker, folded with trembling care. Sometimes it was a bento left on his desk, wrapped in pastel cloth with a note tucked beneath. A few were bold enough to ask him face-to-face—he always looked surprised when they did. Not because he didn’t expect it, maybe, but because he genuinely didn’t know how to react.

He wasn’t cold. Just… unreadable. He’d thank them, bow slightly, offer a soft smile that somehow didn’t give anything away. And then he’d return to whatever he was doing—scribbling in the margins of his notebook, sipping his strawberry milk, or talking to the guys. Sometimes they’d walk away giggling. Sometimes in tears. It wasn’t clear if he was just oblivious or expertly polite, but either way, nothing stuck.

Until the day you walked in.

It was morning—barely past 9:00.

A math class in full swing, the room draped in fluorescent chill and the quiet scratch of pencils. The teacher’s voice filled the space in low, practiced rhythm, chalk tapping steadily against the board. Outside, the sunlight was pale and clear, leaking through the windows in sharp, angled beams.

And then the door clicked open.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t nervous.

Just… smooth. Deliberate. The kind of entrance that didn’t need permission. You stepped in with a quiet sort of confidence, your bag slung over one shoulder, uniform crisp, expression unreadable. Composed in a way teenagers rarely were. 

You didn’t look around for approval.

You just scanned the room once, calm and quiet, the kind of quiet that made people straighten up without knowing why. You nodded when the teacher finally noticed you standing there—a slight tilt of the head, perfectly polite—and stepped aside like you hadn’t just walked into the middle of a math lesson, like this wasn’t two months too late for transfers.

The chalk stuttered on the board. The teacher cleared his throat. “Ah—yes.” A pause. “Everyone, please welcome our new student, (y/n).”

Chairs creaked. Neck cranes followed you. A ripple of whispers. Half-curious, half-nervous energy filled the air.

“Please find a seat.”

And across the room, Jinwoo—half-slouched in his seat, pen resting against his lower lip—looked up.

He blinked.

Like something inside him had missed a step.

For a second, just a second, something flickered across his face. Not surprise. Not interest. Just… confusion. That sharp, uncanny déjà vu with no image attached—only a feeling. A breath held in the dark.

He’d never seen you before.

And yet—something about you tugged at him.

A flicker. A scent of familiarity buried deep under layers of time and dust and forgotten things. He shoved the thought down immediately. It was impossible.

You walked past him—two rows back, your steps soft, unhurried.

He followed the sound without meaning to.

Jinwoo blinked again.

Then, very carefully, leaned back in his chair, tapped his pen twice against his notebook, and muttered under his breath:

“…No way.”

He caught himself a second later, eyes darting to check if anyone had heard.

Then—quick recovery.

He straightened slightly. Pushed his bangs back. Sat there like the embodiment of casual disinterest, the boy too cool to be caught off guard.

Too cool.

Like someone who’d practiced smoldering in the mirror but was now deeply unsure what to do with his hands.

You caught his eye, just briefly, as you scanned the room for a seat.

He looked away immediately. Not too fast. Just… mildly interested in the far wall, apparently.

But after that—

You felt it.

His gaze, brushing over you more than once. Lingering when you weren’t looking.

Not with curiosity.

With confusion.

Recognition.

Like a name that danced just out of reach.

Like a face he should know, but couldn't place—a phantom glimpse from the past. Every time his eyes lingered on you, that sensation crept back. Stronger. More insistent. Unsettling.

You didn’t expect to cause a stir.

At least, that was the plan.

But apparently, mastering the art of not trying was the secret to suddenly becoming the main character.

First, the grades.

Then, the moment you effortlessly corrected a teacher. Graceful. Polite. A tilt of the head, a glint in your eye that said, I’m right—and I’m not even trying to be smug about it.

It started off harmless enough.

Third-period history. The room hummed with the familiar buzz of the late morning sun spilling across desks. The air was warm, thick with the chatter of half-listening students and the teacher’s monotone lecture on post-war reforms.

You were taking notes quietly—head down, pen gliding smoothly—until he said it:

“And of course, women didn’t really play a role in those reforms. Most of them stayed at home. The important decisions were all made by men.”

The words hung in the air for a second. Just long enough.

You blinked. Looked up.

A soft click of your pen stopping. No drama. No raised voice. Just a slight shift in your posture as you lowered your hand and spoke up.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said, calm and even. Not rude. Just… precise. “I think that’s not entirely accurate.”

The room stilled.

Mr. Han blinked over his glasses, clearly surprised that anyone had spoken—especially the new girl.

You tilted your head, like you were still weighing how best to phrase it, before speaking with calm certainty:

“Several female activists were instrumental in shaping the educational reforms and labor policies during that time. Especially in Seoul and Busan. Kim Bok-dong, for example, continued her advocacy even post-war. Also, the Women’s Union had seats at the negotiating table in 1946.”

You didn’t smile exactly—but there was something in your expression. A light behind your eyes. Confident, without needing to flex it. Like this was just a fact, not a fight.

There was a pause.

A long one.

A pencil rolled off someone’s desk. A chair creaked. Somewhere in the back, a girl made a sound like she’d just witnessed a plot twist in a drama.

Mr. Han cleared his throat.

“Yes. That’s… a good point,” he said slowly, adjusting his collar. “I stand corrected.”

You nodded, jotting something else down in your notes like nothing had happened.

But something had.

Two rows ahead, Sung Jinwoo blinked slowly, the faint scratch of his pencil stopping mid-word.

He hadn’t been paying full attention—his gaze had been half out the window, half on the margin doodles in his notebook—but your voice had cut clean through the hum of classroom monotony. Calm. Precise. Just a little sharp at the edges, like the glint of a blade in sunlight.

New girl. Hair tucked behind one ear, eyes still focused on your notebook. As if none of it had mattered. As if a whole classroom hadn’t just silently re-evaluated you in real time. The girl next to you was staring. Someone two seats down had actually scooted closer.

But you? Unbothered.

Jinwoo’s gaze lingered.

There was… something.

Not familiarity exactly. But weight. Like gravity in reverse. The kind that pulls at memory, tugging on something buried under centuries of silence and blood and shadows.

The way you’d held the room just now—it reminded him of her.

The Founder.

The one who'd stood tall even when monarchs threatened war. The one who'd never bowed.

The one he’d never figured out.

But that was impossible.

She was gone. Had to be.

He was the only one cursed to remember.

He shook the thought from his head like mist from his shoulders, turning back to his notes.

It didn’t make sense.

Just another strange feeling in a life full of them.

Still…

His pen tapped against the margin once. Twice.

Then he scribbled something down that wasn’t related to history at all.

Your name.

He wasn’t even sure he’d meant to write it.

But there it was.

And the smallest crease formed between his brows.

What had started as a quiet correction soon spread like wildfire.

You hadn’t raised your voice. You hadn’t even looked smug.

But you’d dismantled a teacher’s outdated view with the elegance of someone flipping a chess piece onto a checkmate square. And you did it with a grace that made the girls around you swoon.

“I think I stopped breathing,” someone whispered to her friend outside the classroom. “She didn’t even flinch.”

From there, it snowballed.

People admired your calm. The way you carried yourself like you knew exactly who you were. Your quiet confidence, the way you listened—actually listened—and spoke like your words mattered. Like theirs did too.

Before long, you started noticing a shift. Girls who usually stuck to their own groups were suddenly finding excuses to hang around, like they were magnetically drawn to whatever vibe you were giving off. No one was trying too hard—they just wanted a bit of your coolness to rub off.

The whole thing still felt a little surreal. A few weeks ago, you’d just been the new girl—the one slipping into class unnoticed, blending into the background. Now, you had a group of girls who were, for lack of a better word, attached to you. They weren’t bad, though. In fact, they were kind of fun. They’d drag you along to lunch, chat about the latest drama, and occasionally ask for your opinion on the most important issues, like which lip gloss had the best scent or whether the cafeteria’s pizza was worth the risk of food poisoning.

Today, they were gathered around your desk, laughing about something one of them had said—some story about a teacher who accidentally wore mismatched socks to class. You found yourself grinning without even thinking about it. There was something so effortlessly easy about the way they included you, like you’d always belonged here.

“You know,” one of them said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t know how you do it. You’re so chill. I mean, way chill. It’s like you’re just, I dunno, above all the drama, you know?”

You laughed, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. “I wouldn’t say above it. Just… trying to survive it.”

“Survive? Girl, you’ve mastered it,” another chimed in, nudging you playfully. “I swear, you’ve got this whole ‘cool, collected vibe’ going on. It’s like you’re a movie star or something.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. It had been a while since anyone said something like that to you, especially not with such earnestness. Was it really that obvious? You’d always figured you were just… trying not to screw things up. In some strange way, you were almost relieved. You were just so tired of being the outsider.

"I don't know," you said, glancing out the window for a second, a little too aware of how your words sounded. "I guess... I’m just happy I can finally be, I don’t know, normal for once."

They all stared at you for a second, as if the idea was so foreign that they didn’t know how to respond. And then they laughed. Not in a mean way, just a soft, understanding laugh.

"Girl, you’re like way past normal," one of them teased, and you swatted her arm lightly, laughing along.

But there was something warm about hearing it. Maybe you didn’t need to be anything extraordinary. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, you could just be yourself.

It wasn’t a bad way to be.

The bell rang for the end of lunch, a mix of relief and slight reluctance hanging in the air as everyone packed up their things. You, however, were still caught in a bubble of conversation, a few girls chatting animatedly around you as you all made your way to your next class.

For a moment, it felt almost like before—like you were part of the group but still slightly outside it. You could feel their eyes on you sometimes, the way they’d smile at you like you were a little secret they were all proud to keep. But there was something different about it now. You weren’t just the new girl anymore. You were... someone they all wanted to be near.

It wasn’t a bad thing.

And yet, as the laughter died down and the group started to disperse, you caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Jinwoo. His presence, always so quiet, still seemed to draw attention.

He wasn’t quite looking at you, but you could feel it—a pull, like his gaze was hovering just on the edge of your peripheral. His eyes flicked to you briefly, but then he quickly turned away, scribbling something in his notebook as if it was the most important thing in the world.

You weren’t sure why it made your stomach tighten, or why your pulse seemed to quicken as you walked past him.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen him around before. He was the school’s “heartthrob,” after all. Everyone knew who he was. But this? The strange tension that seemed to hang between you and him whenever your paths crossed—this was new.

You stepped around him, almost brushing past him, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the hallway’s stale air.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world continued on around you—students chatting, shoes scuffing against the linoleum—but it felt like everything slowed down.

He shifted, turning slightly, as if deciding whether or not to speak. And then, just as you were about to move on, you heard his voice.

“Hey,” he said, the single syllable low and almost hesitant.

You stopped, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. It was strange—almost like he'd been practicing saying it to you in his head, over and over, before actually letting the word slip out.

You turned, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah?"

There was a beat of silence. Jinwoo seemed like he wanted to say more—something else was on the tip of his tongue—but instead, he just gave a small shrug. "Never mind," he muttered, and with that, he turned back toward the hallway, his shoulders tense as if he’d said something he wasn’t ready to say.

You stood there for a second, blinking in the sudden awkwardness of it all. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had almost spilled out.

But before you could dwell too long on the thought, you were pulled into another conversation by one of the girls from your group, and Jinwoo’s strange, brief interaction was lost in the noise of the crowd.

Because while Jinwoo had become the school’s heartthrob, you had become something else entirely—mysterious, magnetic, untouchable.

The girls didn’t leave you alone.

You were always surrounded. Walking anywhere alone required a strategy.

And Jinwoo?

He looked like he wanted to say something.

He’d lean forward, hesitate. Start to stand. Then pause as someone asked you a question or grabbed your sleeve to drag you to lunch.

He’d sit back like nothing happened. Scribble something in his notebook that wasn’t schoolwork. Bite the inside of his cheek like he was annoyed with himself.

Like he knew you.

Like he’d met you in a dream, once, and the memory had just now caught up.

And still… nothing happened.

Until one afternoon during break—

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. Just you, slipping away while the girls weren’t paying attention.

The school rooftop had always been… yours. Not officially, of course. Just in that quiet, unspoken way places become sacred. It was where the noise below couldn't reach. Where people weren’t buzzing around you with expectations or praise.

Where you could breathe.

You leaned against the railing, arms resting atop it, eyes cast over the schoolyard far below. The spring breeze was light, brushing against your skin with a gentle sway.

You let yourself just be.

No running. No fighting. No pretending.

You were starting to get used to the feeling.

Just the faint sound of distant laughter from the classrooms below, the wind rustling through the trees, the gentle hum of life continuing like the world hadn't ended again and again.

You closed your eyes for a second. Felt the sun warm your face.

This was something you never got to enjoy before. Not really. Not with everything you had to become.

Unknowing to you somewhere from the courtyard, he saw you.

He’d been laughing at some dumb joke Sungil cracked—something about the cafeteria milk again—and his eyes drifted lazily toward the sky.

And there you were.

On the rooftop.

At first, he didn’t think much of it.

You were always slipping away lately, weren’t you?

But there was something about the way you stood. The stillness in your shoulders. The calm. Like someone who’d earned it.

His mind flickered to that moment in class.  

The way you spoke to the teacher—controlled, sharp, like you’d negotiated boardroom wars before.  

The confidence. The dry wit.  

Your name.

It had nagged him when he first heard it. Felt oddly familiar. But he’d brushed it off.

Coincidence, he’d told himself.

But now, watching you from below, everything clicked.

You weren’t a classmate he remembered having in high school.  

He knew this place. Knew the names. Knew who lived and who died.  

But you? You didn’t belong here.

And yet… you were here.

His chest tightened.

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

He was supposed to be the only one. That was the price to pay.

But those eyes...  

Those familiar knowing eyes. The ones that used to make him hesitate even when he was the strongest hunter alive. Like you were seeing something he hadn’t caught up to yet.

He stood so abruptly that the contents of his lunchbox went everywhere.

“I—uh, bathroom,” he said quickly, already turning.

“Again?” Sungil snorted. “You good, man?”

Jinwoo didn’t answer. He was halfway to the stairwell already.

He didn’t know how fast he was going—only that his legs carried him up two flights of stairs like muscle memory had kicked in from another life. The closer he got, the more erratic his heart pounded, not from the run, but from the what if.

What if it’s really her? What if I’m not the only one anymore?

His hand hit the door before he could slow down.

Your eyes flicked to the door before he could even burst through it.

He looked out of breath. Wild-eyed. Like he’d run from something—or toward something—he couldn’t quite believe.

And you just smiled.

The same calm smile you’d given him a lifetime ago, back when everything had been louder, heavier, soaked in shadows.

“I was starting to think you’d never notice,” you said softly.

Jinwoo froze.  

His mouth opened like he was going to say something—but nothing came out. Just stunned silence. The kind where the world shifts under your feet.

There you were.  

The queen of that former world.  

The founder of the most powerful guild in Korea.  

The girl who protected him in ways he didn’t understand during the war.  

The woman who stayed when everyone else turned their backs.

Now here, in a school uniform and wind in your hair, looking at him like no time had passed at all.

He laughed—but it came out hollow, overwhelmed.

“How...?” he finally managed, voice rough.

“How are you—why do you—?”

But he couldn’t even finish the questions. Because how does anyone ask something like that?

How does he ask the past why it followed you here?

And how were you supposed to answer?

You exhaled, softly. Not as if you’d been holding your breath, but like your lungs didn’t quite know how to fill themselves properly. Like you were learning again. Like the weight in your chest was finally being seen by someone else.

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked past him, eyes settling somewhere in the distance—on the soft sprawl of the city below, or maybe a memory that lived just above the skyline.

“It’s hard to explain,” you said after a long moment. “And I’ve never... I’ve never said it out loud before.”

Jinwoo didn’t interrupt. Didn’t press.

He just waited, steady as stone, and softer than anyone else had ever been.

Your hands tightened on the railing, knuckles pale. “I don’t know about you. But to me… Time just… reset. Over and over again. I always woke up in my bedroom. Same ceiling. Same air. Same parents calling me down for breakfast like nothing had changed.”

You smiled, but it was hollow. It ghosted across your lips like something you didn’t believe in anymore.

“The first few times, I thought I was crazy. I mean, who wouldn't? One moment I’m dead, and then it’s morning again. The same morning. The same goddamn birds chirping outside my window.”

Jinwoo’s fingers curled into his palms.

You looked at him, something quiet flickering behind your eyes. “And it didn’t stop. No matter what I did. No matter how far I ran or who I saved or who I lost. Time just... snapped back. Like it was mocking me. Like I wasn’t enough.”

Your voice began to tremble at the edges, like a surface cracking.

“At first, I thought maybe I could fix it. That there was a point. That if I just made the right choices…” 

You laughed—but it broke halfway out of you. Became something else. Something brittle and wet.

“But then… it just kept getting worse. The gates opened sooner. The monsters got stronger. And then—” You shook your head.

“And then Jeju happened,” you said softly, your words barely above a whisper.

Jinwoo felt his breath catch. 

He remembered the insistence you had on him joining the force. “Just a hunch”, you had said.

“I don’t… I don’t really talk about it,” you murmured. “I haven’t. Not in any of my lives. Not once. I just—” You laughed a little, but it broke into a sharp inhale. “I thought maybe if I ignored it hard enough, it would stop existing.”

You leaned your weight forward against the railing, your shoulders trembling.

“I told myself it didn’t matter. That I’d moved past it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Jinwoo stepped forward, slowly—carefully. The rooftop wind moved around him like it knew not to interrupt.

You didn’t look at him.

“I remember the smell first. That’s always how it starts. Rot. Blood. Salt in the air. Like the sea was crying too.”

A pause.

“And then the screaming. I can’t forget the screaming. I still hear it when I sleep.”

His hands hovered near your back, unsure. Like he wanted to touch but didn’t want to break the moment.

“I wasn’t even on Jeju,” you whispered, turning slightly toward him now, eyes wide and far away. “I wasn’t one of the hunters. I was just… in a boardroom. Watching.”

Jinwoo’s throat tightened. He just stood there, arms stiff at his sides as the wind swept the rooftop.

“I saw it all. Every feed. Every scream. I watched the lines go dead. I watched people I knew blink out like they were nothing.”

Your eyes met his. Wet. Unflinching.

“And then they came for us.”

You tried to keep the tears back, but your shoulders betrayed you, trembling like a glass that had held too much for too long.

“They weren’t supposed to make it off the island. That’s what we thought. But they did. They crossed the sea like it was nothing. The cities weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready.”

Your knees gave out—but he caught you. Instinctively. Easily. 

Your body stiffened for a second—but then you sagged into him. Gave in. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he could hold you together with sheer will. Your face pressed to his chest, and your hands clutched at his sleeves like lifelines.

You clutched at the fabric of his uniform. “I didn’t even try to run. I froze. I just—stood there, staring out the window, watching people screaming in the streets. And when I saw it… when I saw it coming for me…”

Your body jolted as you broke. Sharp, silent sobs racking through your chest.

Jinwoo tightened his hold. One hand on your back. One cradling the back of your head. Steady. Anchoring.

He felt the tremble of your breath. The way you tried to be quiet, like your pain was an inconvenience. Like you were used to being alone with it.

“It was so fast,” you gasped. “But I still remember every second. I remember the glass shattering. I remember its claws. I remember thinking—this can’t be how it ends. Not again. Not like this.”

Jinwoo’s heart shattered.

And then you collapsed fully into him, and the weight of it spilled out.

Tears soaked his shirt. But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

He just held you. Like the world had ended in your arms, and he was the only piece left holding you to it.

He held you tighter.

“And Kamish,” you choked. “Kamish destroyed the world once. Not just a city, not just a squad—the world. I watched from behind screens, from underground shelters, from bunkers that were supposed to be safe. And every time, we thought we were prepared. We never were.”

You looked up, eyes red, voice barely audible. “I tried, Jinwoo. In some lives, I became a hunter. I thought maybe if I just… knew enough, trained enough, I could do something. Anything. But I wasn’t strong. I didn’t make a difference. I just kept watching the world end.”

Your legs folded beneath you, but this time Jinwoo followed you down, holding you even as the rooftop's cold bit through your skin. You cried harder now, like something ancient inside you was finally breaking open.

He didn’t speak. His jaw was tight. His eyes burned.

Because this—

This wasn’t a pain he could fight.

Not with blades. Not with power.

You had been alone. You had carried it all with you.

And now, shaking in his arms, you were finally letting someone see it.

He held you tighter, tucked your shaking frame into his arms like a vow.

“I’m here,” he murmured, so quietly it almost got lost in the wind. “I’m here.”

He pulled back only slightly, enough to look at you, to study the tear-streaked lines of your face. Even now—eyes red, shoulders trembling—you looked so… innocent. So light. How could someone so weighed down still look like freedom?

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You shattered again.

Sobs that cracked something in the air.

Sobs that sounded like a locked door finally being opened from the inside.

Jinwoo kept his jaw tight, eyes burning. He’d thought he was alone. That he was the only one cursed to remember the horrors of what came before. But you—god, you had remembered everything. And you hadn’t even asked for it.

He’d never understood it before, not fully. Not even when he met you the first time. Why you looked at him the way you did. Why you spoke like someone who had nothing left to fear.

But now he knew.

And something inside him shifted.

No more.

Not ever again.

Not if he could help it.

Then—

Ding.

The shrill chime of the school bell rang through the rooftop silence, jarring against the stillness that had wrapped itself around you both like a fragile cocoon. You pulled back slowly, your hands unclenching from his sleeves, your breath still trembling against the place where your face had been buried in his chest.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom,” you said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Jinwoo nodded, though his throat was too tight to speak. He watched as you walked away, your steps still a little unsteady, the wind tugging gently at your sleeves like it didn’t want to let you go.

And then you were gone.

He made it to class a few minutes later, the teacher already speaking, his voice a dull drone against Jinwoo’s pulse still thrumming in his ears.

You came in shortly after.

Eyes dry. No trace of red.

No puffiness, no shine. Nothing.

Your face was calm.

Your smile soft, easy—like you hadn’t just shattered in his arms minutes ago. Like you hadn’t cracked open and bled every secret from behind your ribs.

For a second, he wondered if he had imagined it. If somehow, he had projected the weight he felt onto you.

But then—he looked down.

There, on his uniform. The faint but unmistakable mark.

Tear stains, darkened into the fabric over his heart.

You had cried.

And the evidence of it was his to carry now.

He stared at the mark, and looked over his shoulder. You shot him an easy smile across the room, and something inside him twisted.

How many times had you done this before?

How many lifetimes had you broken like that, in silence?

How many tears had fallen that no one ever saw, because you wiped them away before they reached the surface?

His chest felt heavy. Drenched in a grief that wasn’t just his own.

You had been alone for so long.

Too long.

And if he wanted to restore what the world had taken from you—

That light, that freedom in your smile—

He knew he’d have to leave you alone again.

Just for a little while.

But he promised himself—

He wouldn’t take long.

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@snowy-violet @minh907 @o-qi-shisme @shineinouzen15 @awwwia @hannya-writes @tanspostsblog @lovelyevil @misakicchi @gina239 @livelaughlovekuni

[666thtoolofhell]

That Kingdon slow burn is coming 😭😭😭 all I think it’ll take for Patrick and Taylor to get on board is Langdon separating or divorcing cause wdym Taylor says she thinks Mel will probably be one of the only people not judging him 😭

I just listened to the whole interview and here are some bits that weren't transcribed to the written version:

The reaching up and tapping of the door header on their way to STEMI wasn't in the script - it was all Patrick and Taylor. Patrick would always do it and Taylor thought it was funny and "boy-ish" and copied him to tease him. She didn't even think they'd keep it in the actual episode.

Apparently all the staff will be behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary happened and one of them isn't suddenly not there anymore, just going about things as normal without even touching the subject and sidestepping the Langdon-shaped hole in the room, and Mel will be surprised at not seeing him and then very confused about the whole thing. (Until the reason why is eventually explained to her, I assume. Since she won't be judging him upon his return she'll have to be in the know regarding the basics by then, no?)

Mel will be genuinely excited when Langdon comes back next season, very much like she was when she saw him again after he'd been - unbeknownst to her - fired and away from the ED for a short while. (Imagine if the joy and enthusiasm were to be proportional? If she was that elated after he'd been gone for an hour, how would she react after ten months? Fic writers, you know what to do.)

That man needs to be at the very least separated and in talks of divorce if not already signing those papers by July 4th. We won't survive the slowly burning colleagues to friends to lovers wrapped in soulmatism these two are bringing to the table. [wishful thinking]

I have no real expectations except for the powers that be to continue to focus - as much as possible with the time allotted to them as characters and as a duo - on their wonderful bond and dynamic, still partnering them up for cases as well as for breaks and significant downtime moments, letting their wholesome relationship progress further, growing and flourishing as naturally as it did during the first season.

Since Langdon is going to return fully believing he's failed her and that he's no longer deserving of her trust I foresee Mel disabusing him of that silly notion so thoroughly and so fast he won't know what hit him. Mel treating him the same, without disappointment or betrayal or pity in her eyes, still wanting to work closely with and learn from him? Being supportive and there if and when he needs someone? Just being unapologetically herself in all the ways that immediately drew him to her in the first place? That is going to be a huge help and relief for him, I think, and ease his reintegration into their workplace and team if only a little bit.

I'm hoping their friendship solidifies as something that isn't exclusive to the hospital and that we'll get a teeny tiny blink-and-you'll-miss-it hint that it'll extend into their personal lives. Something like Mel telling Langdon more about Becca and their parents; or him telling her about Abby, the dog, the kids. Sharing and commiserating. Getting to know each other better. Finding only acceptance and understanding. That'd be nice.

Baby steps.

[alphajocklover]

I was wondering if you could make me a super hot movie star. Like the kind of guy who plays the main male role in a rom com. I’m good either way of it makes me straight as a side effect.

You had never really liked rom coms growing up. You didn’t hate all rom coms, as some were generally good and creative, but a lot of them were just so… formulaic and repetitive. It felt like it was always the same damned story, the same formula over and over again: A stereotypical meet cute between two people who are just attractive enough to be in the movies leads to scripted, unrealistic but fairly cute bickering, which turns into them semi-dating, which is complicated by some dumb misunderstanding that breaks them up, before the two leads dramatically get back together and realize love is the answer to literally every problem in their lives. You knew hating Rom Coms because they were formulaic wasn’t very original either, but you couldn’t help it. They were just so… cheesy! But as you grew up, your opinion of them started to change. You still thought they were repetitive, but you couldn’t help but admire the male leads. They were always so strong, handsome, naturally charming and romantic, everything you, as an awkward young gay man who couldn’t get a date, weren’t. Even the actors had an effortless charm, and you began to fantasize about what it would be to be like them. To be that charming, handsome guy, the kind of guy who could sweep a girl off their feet without even trying, who the camera and audience just loved. Your fantasy evolved from you just being like a rom com male lead, into you actually being one of those actors. Which was why you were so thrilled when you got those free lessons in the new local acting classes. You knew it was probably a little too late to break into the movie scene, but these lessons gave you a chance to live out your leading man fantasies, even just for a moment. 

“Ok, first I need you to take off your shirt.”  “I’m sorry, what?” You asked, confused. You had been more than a little disappointed to find out that, besides the woman actually teaching the class, you were the only person to actually show up. It was a little concerning, but you figured that the class was free, and that less people meant more one-on-one attention from the teacher, a blonde girl named Kennedy who seemed very nice. Until she asked you to take off your shirt, that is.

“Look, I need to know what I’m working with. I know it sounds shallow, but a lot of acting has to do with image, and like it or not, certain physiques get certain roles.” She said, sending you a disarming smile. You weren’t exactly comfortable taking off your shirt in front of someone, as you were a little embarrassed by your average physique, but… it was just the two of you. And it wasn’t like she was a hot guy or anything. While still uncertain, you decided to just get it over with and quickly stripped off your shirt. For a moment you couldn’t meet Kennedy’s eyes, too embarrassed, but a quick look up turned all your embarrassment into utter confusion. It took you a moment to realize that the voluptuous blonde was looking at you with… lust? You felt your cheeks burn as she stepped closer, and a strange feeling built up in your stomach. Seeing the shocked look on your face, Kennedy giggled, a light, almost ditzy giggle that made your head spin. What the hell was happening?

As Kennedy stepped closer and closer to you, your head swam and your skin burned. You felt an unexpected sense of confidence and arousal come over you as she brought her hand up to your beefy chest. Something about that felt… wrong, but… who gave a fuck when this whole thing felt so right? You smirked slightly as you squeezed her ass with your big, manly hand, and pulled her into a deep, dominating kiss. You knew going to a movie intimacy class would be fun, but you had a feeling you and Kennedy were going to have a lot more fun than just pretending to fuck. It wasn’t like you really needed the help anyways. You had kissed and fucked a lot of girls, both on and off the screen. Not a lot of guys can do both professional acting and actual porn, but hey, you were just that good.

[lostreverb]

RANDOM LUKE COOPER HC'S

a/n: writing a fic for him and he's just so cute and i keep getting ideas for him ahh my cinephile bf i need him might fuck around and write some NSFW ones later (SORRY THIS IS REALLY LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY) bf! headcanons are here!!

he's very quiet if he's not talking about movies

not audibly just like only gives one word or one sentence answers

which means he's a VERY dry texter (it's not personal he's just like that)

though he does post his every unfiltered thought to his twitter (which has SOO many followers like a shitton)

doesn't understand typing in lowercase and thinks it's dumb (but if you type in lowercase he won't call it dumb but he'll express he thinks it's weird)

has the worst handwriting ever but that's because it's almost like a kind of unreadable script (like doctor handwriting)

he listens to all kinds of music really aside from like pop or country

also really likes monty python

he really likes musicals (singing in the rain, phantom of the opera, the sound of music) b/c he was introduced to them when he was very young so they're very nostalgic for him

but he'll never mention it because his friends would make fun of him for it

(would LOVEEEEEEEE la la land)

used to read books a lot more when he was younger

is a superhero comic book fan

he can play piano really well (parents made him play) he just doesn't give a fuck about piano

he's also like crazy smart and would do super well in school if he applied himself he just doesn't care

he really wants to switch his major to film studies but his parents wouldn't approve (but he's thinking about doing it anyway)

became completely desensitized to gore and nudity at a young age because he'd always just watch whatever movies his dad put on

wrote a series of letters to quentin tarantino as a kid and got one letter back and it's his most prized possession

likes maintaining eye contact with people for too long because it makes them uncomfortable

just generally likes messing with people and being a little shit b/c he likes how easy it is to mess with ppls emotions cause they're so predictable (which is kinda a red flag but he's never really taken something too far)

b/c of this no one really takes him seriously which bothers him a bit but he knows it's his fault

which is why when you do actually take interest in what he says he finds himself falling for you

he never got "lost" in the forest with michael he just hates being in nature and michael was annoying him so he walked back to the car

after a bit he looked outside and saw everyone panicking so he got out and went back to the group and everyone was acting like he died

he thinks it was too far for his parents to cut michael off but he also didn't care

thinks michael's annoying at times but the things he does are funny and he uses him as content for his twitter

has been so engrossed in his own world his whole life he doesn't think about girls

though his main crushes are sarah connor (terminator), the bride (kill bill), storm (x-men), and mikaela banes (transformers - but he hates the transformer movies)

but he has very little or no experience at all

he's probably the first in his friend group to have a girlfriend too

his only knowledge about talking to girls is from movies so yk the james bonds, george clooney, harrison ford are his main influences

which means if he has a crush on you he'll just stare at you all the time, bother and tease you relentlessly and try to banter cause that's the only way he knows how to get closer

he'll also try by memorizing your coffee order

if you don't drink coffee he'll try to find out what you do drink (without directly asking you)

he'll never confess, you'll have to first and use the most straightforward language or else he won't take a hint

once you start dating he has no idea how to treat you anymore

he just constantly flips between being the sweetest bf ever and the bane of your existence

if he annoys you too much and you get upset his first response will be "what? i didn't even do anything" or some other cheeky response

you'll have to help him to unlearn that

though he's a very caring boyfriend and would help you carry things around the office and drive you places and get you presents

doesn't give a fuck about most things (other than you and movies)

he just is so obsessed with you and loves being around you all the time

he's not incredibly keen on pda but sometimes he'll hold your hand and kiss your cheek in public

if you kiss him in front of other people he'll get really flustered and be noticeably disoriented for a bit after

feels weird using pet names but he'll use the occasional baby or babe

he'll discover how good it feels to cuddle it'll be his favorite thing to do along with watching movies with you

run your hands through / play with his hair and he'll fold completely

the first time you do it he'll probably involuntarily moan and get so embarrassed about it it'll take a few weeks before he'll let you do it again

during those few weeks he'll think about how your hands felt almost obsessively he's never felt anything like it

he'll create a list of movies to watch with you and once a month he'll let you choose the movie

he's really good at gift giving because he makes sure to pay extra attention to the things you like (especially movie related things bc he has good contacts)

he's definitely one of the first people to ever use letterboxd

he loves being able to drop you off at home from work because more often than not you'll stop someplace to get something to eat or head to his place and watch a movie and he loves doing that with you

he also likes picking you up in the morning because then you get to go on his coffee run with him (you'll make sure everyone's orders are correct and he'll whine and groan about it saying it's not worth the time but he appreciates it)

will definitely get you to do his work for him

his work clothes used to belong to his dad which is why they're just a tad too big for him

outside of work he typically wears zip-up hoodies and jeans with a graphic t-shirt (probably related to a film he likes)

instead of a bookshelf, he has a DVD shelf in his room (that's very well organized and categorized)

and he has a really high end tv and surround sound system that he and his dad paid for

he researched how movie theatres make their popcorn and buys the special ingredients directly from one by his house

used to have the whole script of citizen kane memorized but it's been a second since he last recited it

he's written his own scripts before but he doesn't think they're any good (he's pretty hard on himself about it)

but if he does end up making a project he'll 100% cast you in it

[onlydylanobrien]

New still of Dylan O'Brien as Rocky/ Roman and James Sweeney as Dennis in "Twinless". (2025)

📷©: ew.com

First look at Dylan O’Brien’s Twinless, a Sundance contender that takes inspiration from the Olsen twins

"That visceral moment of 'you look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories," says writer-director James Sweeney.

Nineties kids are kind of obsessed with twins. And for good reason — we grew up with the Olsen twins, the remake of The Parent Trap, and Sister, Sister.

Writer-director James Sweeney takes that obsession to the next level with Twinless, his sophomore feature that will have its world premiere on Jan. 23 at the Sundance Film Festival. Entertainment Weekly has your exclusive first look at the film, in which Sweeney costars alongside Dylan O'Brien.

"I grew up in a generation that idolized twins," Sweeney tells EW. "It was very much in my zeitgeist. It was a manifestation of the perfect best friend, somebody you could share everything with. As a military brat hopping around, that was something I really craved. When I told my stepmom about what the film was, she was like, 'Oh, you used to beg me for a twin, and I had to explain to you that I can't make that happen.'"

That early fascination is evident in Twinless, which even features a scene with a character watching the Olsen twins' film It Takes Two. "That was definitely my fantasy," Sweeney says of the 1995 film. "It's like, 'Oh, one day I'll just magically run into my identical twin.' Even though they're actually not twins, they're just lookalikes. But that visceral moment of 'You look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories."

As for Twinless, the film tells the story of a twin, Roman (O'Brien), who loses his brother, Rocky (also O'Brien), and feels like he's lost half of himself. After Rocky dies, Roman decides to stay in Rocky's Portland, OR apartment as he navigates his grief. While attending a support group for twin loss, he befriends Dennis (Sweeney), a fellow lost soul — and the two find solace in each other, forming an unlikely bromance.

"Roman and Dennis get along so well because they're both bringing their respective baggage and grief and traumas to the table," Sweeney says. "They bond and complement each other."

Sweeney is not a twin, but he did base his script on the existence of twin bereavement support groups. Though, out of respect for all involved, he didn't attend one of their meetings. "I thought it would be too much to attend," he explains. "I did order a book from their website, because I did research and read some books written by twin psychologists. One was called Alone in the Mirror, which touches on twin loss. It was written by the co-founder of the support group, and I paid $25 and they never sent me a book."

Even without that book (he tried!), Sweeney was fascinated by the psychology of twins and how that unique bond differs from those of siblings who are not twins. "I would say being a twin isn't a monolithic experience, so there's so many variations," Sweeney notes. "It also has a lot to do with how the parents reared their children and whether or not they encouraged or discouraged individuality between the twins. But there's a lot of studies done on twins because they see them as the perfect specimen."

Explorating what it means to be (and lose) a twin first attracted O'Brien to the project. Sweeney wrote the first draft in 2015, and O'Brien has been attached since 2020. But the script grabbed the actor from the moment it popped up in his inbox alongside several others his manager sent his way.

"I'm fascinated by it in terms of it being something so unique on this earth," O'Brien says of the twin dynamic. "That is one of those things that really, unless you experience it, you can't understand. Twinless support groups exist because it is a very specific loss and trauma that you need support with — losing a connectivity that us normies can't ever quite understand. That deeply resonated with me, even though I don't have a twin. I found it to be a really compelling and heart-wrenching center to this story. This tragically poignant tale of this kid losing his other half."

That, along with his love for his character, propelled O'Brien to stick with the project these last five years while the film searched for funding and postponed production in the wake of the 2023 Hollywood strikes. "It was a gut thing for me," O'Brien reflects. "I remember falling in love with Roman immediately. I read a character, and either I have that soul in me or not. Roman's somebody I know really deep down."

Sweeney was incredibly moved by O'Brien's dedication and enthusiasm for the project, a quality that was evident from their first meeting. "When I first met Dylan over Zoom, he really took ownership over the role in a way that I had never experienced with an actor," Sweeney says. "He basically said, 'I see you. I see your voice. I understand this character and his every emotion.' That gave me a lot of confidence."

For both O'Brien and Sweeney, getting to make this movie entirely on their terms was a creative reward unto itself. "The script was so fantastic and dialed in from the time I first read it," O'Brien notes. "I authentically connected to it all. It was one of those wonderful creative experiences."

But now they get to share it with the world, beginning in the U.S. Dramatic Competition at the Sundance Film Festival. Still, Sweeney says anything from here on is a cherry on top of his twin sundae.

"This was an instance where I had optimal creative control and a wonderful team championing me to do exactly the movie I wanted to make," he concludes. "I know that's a rare gift. I'm super excited for people to see the film and to find its audience. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm already content."