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erinwantstowrite · 3 days

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Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

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suhnandmoon · 1 day

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soul eater

weapon!park jisung x meister!reader

genre: soul eater au, best friends to lovers, angst w/ happy ending, fantasy, college-ish au (kinda. read info)

wc: 8.5k

info to know: heavily inspired by the anime soul eater. you don’t need to have watched soul eater to get the concept because i try to explain what i can. something i don’t explain but should be known is that weapons will grow stronger when they consume the souls of a kishin egg (a soul that has become corrupt). to soul eater fans: the werewolf in this fic is a kishin egg but for the sake of minimizing confusion with the term ‘egg’ being mistaken as a literal egg, ill often call it just a kishin. last thing! you can read this as a college or highschool au. honestly i wrote this as a combination of them both as in they start the academy when they’re 16 and graduate four years later. it doesn’t matter how you see it.

additional author’s notes: hii guys i’m back with this for you guys. take it as my apology for leaving you guys hanging with my minecraft boyfriend. this is my first full length fic so please be kind T_T there may be issues with grammar because i’m posting this before i chicken out of never sharing this to the world

when you start at death meister academy, it's a rare occurrence for a student to find their pair immediately. weapons and meisters alike often spend the first month looking for the most compatible partner.

compatibility heavily relies on the wavelengths of both individuals. if your souls are able to harmonize on the same frequency, that’s a sign you are suited to pair up. should a meister have a higher wavelength frequency than their weapon, either party could get greatly injured and vice versa.

to make things easier, many students opt to take a compatibility test issued by the school to be automatically paired up with the best fit for them.

you personally deemed this as the only way fit to receive your weapon. if you were going to graduate as an elite ranked scythe-meister after your four years at the academy, you needed the best possible weapon for you; as determined by the statistics of the test. all meisters are categorized by rank: it scales from one to three stars from with select meisters promoting to elite if they prove themselves fit. all first years start at one star. typically it’s most common to see meisters graduating at a two or three star rank, but it’s not impossible to reach elite by the end of their time at the academy. and that's exactly what you’re going to do.

so imagine your initial shock when you were paired up with poor little park jisung.

upon receiving the results, everyone grouped off with their partners. your eyes scanned the room for someone wearing the name tag ‘park jisung’

no one approached you for a few minutes as you searched so you decided to let the room clear out and see who was left.

with his shoulders hunched, eyes shifting across the room, and the overall appearance of a sopping wet cat, the last person left was indeed your partner- though you had double checked his name tag a few times, hoping this was a joke. you had to prod the timid little demon weapon into introducing himself, earning only a shy mumble in response. it was hard to believe he was the weapon you were paired up with. the only indication of his status as a scythe would probably be his height- which let him tower above the rest of the class even with his slumped posture.

you debated on the spot if you should just find a different weapon, not sure if this pairing was entirely the best for your four-year plan. yet, you at least had an ounce of guilt for leaving him behind and faith in the wavelength statistics for this to work out.

after your introductions, you laid out your intentions and planned path for your time at the death meister academy: collect 99 souls and one soul of a witch to successfully ascend your weapon into ‘death weapon status’, reach the elite-meister status for yourself, and finally, graduate top of the class. simple really.

it must be something about the way you said it so confidently that had jisung looking at you with a mixture of admiration and fear, but you received a gulp in response.

you were about to tell him flat out that, if it didn’t seem plausible for him, he’d have to find another meister when he beat you by saying a quiet, “i’ll do it.”

and in a rare moment, a peer of yours didn’t outright laugh in your face for expressing your goals.

you struck out your hand, signaling him to shake yours, beaming at the boy. he softly takes your offer and grasps your hand.

“well then, nice to meet you, partner!”

the next few years went exactly as you hoped they would

well, nearly exactly. it did take jisung a good three months to work up the courage to eat his first soul. which in turn, brought three months of stress to you. but he got over that quickly.

your initial first impression of jisung was proven wrong after some time, seeing as how the two of you were almost always able to synchronize your wavelengths in battle.

you both take pride in being the first in your class to perform soul resonance, a fundamental skill for a weapon and a meister to achieve with their partner. many first years struggle with the concept of matching your frequency to someone else so accurately that it resonates. it takes most students the entire unit to perform one successful hit, some even take years. you two nailed it the second it was taught.

after three years at the academy, you and jisung have gotten to know each other better than you know yourselves. its typical for a weapon and meister to share some sort of deep connection, but you’ve always felt like you two exceed that standard in some way.

and here you both are, strewn across your shared couch with your legs across his lap as he sits on the other end, watching whatever's on the channel. you’re sprawled across the couch, revising your notes for the last time before you call it a night and watch with jisung.

“peach ring?” jisung asks as you absentmindedly reach in the bag to hand him one, eyes not once lifting off the pages of handwritten notes for your soul studies class. he takes it from your grasp and tosses it in his mouth, a hum of gratitude following the action.

jisung, over the years, has come out of his shell significantly from that first day you met him. you aren’t aware of it, but he owes a lot of it to you- from your contagious drive for success to your ability to believe in him wholeheartedly. he’s honestly still grateful you hadn’t dropped him the day you met. he still shudders at the memory of the day he ate his first soul, you comforting his hunched over form on the ground as he cried for an hour or two. that’s something that you both are taking to the grave with you.

he looks over to you, your brows furrowed as you mouth the words on your page in an effort to memorize the material, he finds your concentration to be quite cute.

“you almost done? its getting late. plus- its just soul studies,” jisung shrugs with a lazy smile, “last time i checked, we still have the highest resonance success rate. i think we know souls pretty well.”

you scoff at his answer, finally tearing your eyes away from the stack of papers and onto him- which was really his goal from the beginning.

“you and i know damn well that soul studies isn’t reliant on who can match their partner’s frequencies the best. its about the essence of souls.” you lecture lightheartedly and he takes the opportunity to reach over and pull the notes out of your grasp.

“well if you know so much about it, it wouldn't kill you to take a break,” he places your notes on the coffee table as you weigh the pros and cons. its getting late, so you know if you take a break, you wouldn’t return to your studying but you also didn’t have the energy to argue with jisung either. taking the selfish route, you give in and reposition yourself so you’re sitting side by side with him.

an hour passes and the both of you knock out on the couch. you’re the first to drift off and jisung just doesn’t have the heart to wake you up by moving you off his shoulder so he decides he can just close his eyes for a few minutes…

well!

it wasn’t a few minutes

more like a few minutes over the time you were both supposed to leave the house for class the next morning.

an unfamiliar feeling wakes you up that morning, half of your body on top of jisung and his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. before you can even process the position, you’re already jumping off the couch and frantically getting ready. you were supposed to leave the dorm five minutes ago

“-jisung! we’re so late! god. oh my god!” your fading voice as you run to the bathroom is the first thing your roommate hears when he wakes up. he groggily rises, rubbing at his eyes as he watches you run around your shared living space yelling in a frenzy. he would never tell you but he finds the ordeal to be endearing. he allows himself watch you for just half a second before he gets up to brush his teeth to avoid being on the receiving end of your curses.

you get ready in record time, cutting down your usual thirty minutes to a whole 4:37; albeit several steps were skipped in the process. as you frantically tie your shoelaces, jisung strolls next to you with two granola bars in hand. his morning routine is always less involved than yours so its no surprised he took like two seconds to get ready.

he can’t even hand the bar to you as you’re already dragging him out by his wrist.

by some miracle, you manage to make it to your soul studies class one minute before it began. you rush to your seat in the lecture hall and jisung follows behind, clearly not as worried about missing the test as you are.

you miss the raised eyebrow and shit eating grin that chenle sends jisung, causing the tips of his ears to turn pink.

both of you walking in together late, jisung’s hair sticking up from sleeping on the couch weird, and the lack of sleep evident on your faces may not mean anything separately, but jisung was well aware of the implication chenle’s thinking of. he’s sure as hell lucky that you’re too focused on the exam to notice.

the next thirty minutes breeze by. you finish up your test half an hour in so, technically, you’re free to turn it in and leave for your next class but you always wait for jisung so you can exit together. it takes another ten minutes of doodling on your exam and picking at your eraser for him to wrap it up.

the two of you walk to the front of the lecture hall, dropping the tests off at your professor’s desk and walking out the door. zhong chenle is quick to follow you both out. you assume he was also waiting for jisung to finish his test, presumably to walk out with you both as well.

“hey you two~ had fun last night?” he teases you abruptly as he jogs to catch up to your pace. the three of you walk down the corridor as his voice echos down the halls.

“fun? studying for that test? certainly not-” you respond with your brows furrowed, not catching chenle’s implication as the classroom disappears in the distance.

zhong chenle, as much as he is a little shit, is jisung’s best friend and gun-meister to his own weapon. he also happens to be he son of lord death, the reaper who founded the school and the one in charge of all of meister/weapon affairs. he acts as a headmaster of sorts. you interact with him frequently, as you and jisung are always getting assigned missions issued by the reaper himself.

jisung sputters a cough in an awkward attempt to seem nonchalant about this situation, “don’t be an idiot, chenle. we were studying for the test last night and fell asleep on the couch.” he slaps the back of his friend’s head and you finally catch on.

you suddenly remember waking up in jisung’s arms and how it felt so… right. is it really so natural of a conclusion to think you two are sleeping together? that was seriously chenle’s first assumption? the very thought plagues your mind

you need to purge it immediately, fearing the imbalance of your emotions for jisung will fluctuate your wavelength levels.

you brush off chenle’s allegation and he scurries away to his next class. you wrap your arms around yourself subconsciously as you both continue to your next class, purposely ignoring the previous conversation floating in your minds.

it’s around the evening when you and jisung get called in to ‘the death room’. really, its just lord death’s domain where he observes the outside world from his mirrors.

you approach the man, who’s appearance as the ‘grim reaper’ takes much more of a whimsical approach rather than intimidating. he’s larger than life in both size and personality and his mask toes the line of a cartoonish feel. his appearance contrasts the vast liminal space he resides in. it's an expansive graveyard with a circular platform in the center where his full body mirrors reside. this is how you all exit in and out of the space. though the space itself is unsettling, you always find interacting with him to be fairly easy. maybe your friendship with his son benefits that but you also like to believe your own skill is a testament of how you earned his respect.

“yn and jisung! perfect timing. i have a bit of difficult mission for you two~”

lord death’s sing-songy voice is the first thing you hear as you step through the mirror and into his domain. your hand rests on jisungs arm to stabilize yourself before you both bow to the reaper.

“stress levels have gone up around the south outskirts of the city. we aren’t sure of the threat level- an estimate would be rank three kishin egg but don’t get too comfortable,” lord death explains the mission and you’re concealing the grin that threatens to spill from your mouth, “this should be the perfect assignment for the two of you. yn, i trust you know your promotion to elite is being considered. don’t disappoint me.”

you return his sentiment with a firm nod and pat to jisung’s back. he subconsciously straightens his posture when you reply, “no need to worry, lord death. we’ll get this done in no time!”

“thank you both, see you back soon!”

and with that, the reaper gestures towards the large mirror you entered from. this time, it reflects your next destination. you can see civilians running away from the scene, personal belongings strewn across the ground, and what looks like to be a werewolf kishin. its long legs reach the floor on all fours and its about double the size of the houses around it. you watch as its hollow, white eyes survey the upcoming area for its next victim with a notable hunch in its back.

so this is your target, you observe. looks easy enough

jisung’s hand on your shoulder stops you from charging in without him. you pause for a moment to make sure he’s as ready as you are and once you get that confirmation, you’re hopping through the mirror without hesitation.

the growl of the beast before you is terrifying enough to send chills through anyone’s spine. except the fast heartbeat in your chest isn’t derived from anxiety, rather excitement instead. you know lord death is observing your every move in this mission specifically so this is your chance to put on a show; to prove that you’re able to handle elite ranked missions.

before the kishin notices you, jisung snakes an arm around your waist, getting ready to transform..

suddenly, you get the worst timed flashback of your life. visions of this morning flash across in your brain and then to chenle’s accusation. you grip the transformed scythe of a partner in your hands tightly to push the unwelcome intrusions out of your mind.

goddammit. you couldn’t be losing focus now.

“everything alright?” you hear jisung’s voice echo out of the scythe as well as a roar in the distance. you know he can feel your grip on the weapon’s handle but you’ve already been noticed by the kishin to respond.

you swing your scythe away from your body, so the blade scrapes the dirt underneath you. you run toward the angry beast, not even bothering to reply to jisung. the only thing you should be thinking about is reaching the beast.

you take your first swing at the kishin, which it narrowly avoids. you only manage to shave off the ends of its dark fur. immediately after, its paw swipes at your midsection. you manage to jump up and use the arm under you as a platform to take another leap onto its back. you’re almost moving on autopilot, you’ve battled creatures like this countless times already- yet the thought plaguing your entire being creeps in the back of your mind. it bothers you but there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment. you curse yourself for being so immature for thinking about a stupid crush in the middle of a fight.

you position yourself so that you’re straddling the werewolf while it thrashes around in an attempt to throw you off its back.

“jisung!” you call out to your partner, scythe in the air and ready to plunge into the neck of the monster, “soul resonance!”

your blade cuts deeply into the side of the kishin’s neck, but nothing happens. no blinding light, no dissipation of the beast below you, and certainly no soul resonance performed.

the shock of you not being able to complete this move for the first time in your career as a duo allows the werewolf to send you flying off its back. you’re thrown off into the dirt, jisung having transformed mid-throw to soften the fall. he has you in an embrace to minimize your impact since you can’t even react

you can only sit there, shell shocked.

there has never been a time where the two of you have failed to perform soul resonance. and now, when you need it the most- when lord death is watching your every move closely for your promotion, you stupidly fail the easiest skill you could’ve showcased.

it takes one excruciatingly long minute to realize jisung has been shaking your shoulders yelling for you to snap out of it.

“yn!! yn!! are you okay??” the pure amount of concern in his eyes is enough to get you to push yourself off your feet. you ignore the searing pain in your right arm and grab jisung with your left, wordlessly. he gets the memo and gets back into form. you’re gonna have to do this the hard way.

it takes longer than you would’ve liked, but you eventually manage to find an opening to the kishin’s heart and strike it down, revealing its glowing red soul as the body dissipates. jisung shifts back to his normal form so he can grab the egg-shaped soul and swallow it down.

he’s fast with his actions so he can run back to you to check on you. you start walking the opposite direction, not being able to stomach your terrible performance. you can’t even look at him.

“yn! are you okay? please say something.” he pleads, grabbing your forearms so you’re forced to face him. you wince and retract your right arm but you don’t make an effort to turn away again. you fight the tears forming in your eyes and avoid his prying gaze, knowing that any attempt you would make to speak would croak out pathetically.

“i- i’m sorry. i’m so sorry” those are the only words you can say before jisung is pulling you into an embrace.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he hushes your sobs, stroking the back of your head. there's a strange nostalgia about this scene. it's fairly reminiscent of the year you and jisung first met, except your positions have swapped. last time it was you comforting a crying jisung for being too ashamed over his fear of soul consumption.

you hate how small you feel in this moment, but there's one last sliver of selfishness in you that lets you enjoy the feeling of his arms around you.

“this wasn’t your fault. don’t blame yourself,” he reminds you, though you don’t believe his words. at the end of the day, you couldn’t perform soul resonance because your wavelengths didn’t align. you had been distracted during that fight. your feelings for jisung are throwing off your wavelength levels.

“thank you, jisung”

he hears your tone and knows you well enough to know you don’t believe him. he doesn’t comment on it but it makes him sad to hear you like this. he doesn’t voice his thoughts.

“are you ready to go back to lord death?” he asks tentatively and the thought makes you completely nauseous. you’re sure you absolutely ruined your reputation in front of him but you also remind yourself that he’s probably watching you wallow in your own pity right now through his ornate mirrors.

you suck it up and give your partner the okay to keep going. he walks toward a large storefront window in the damaged city, cups his hands over the glass while letting out an exhale to fog up the surface, and writes down the numerical code engrained in all of your minds: 42-42-564. if you ever wanted to knock on death’s door. the quickest way to contact lord death himself.

the glass window soon turns into the scene of lord death’s space. you see him waiting on the other side and your stomach twists in anxiety. the both of you step through the storefront display and end up back in the graveyard.

you’re about to bow your head and profusely apologize but the reaper speaks up first, breaking the silence.

“yn,” his tone is sincere, yet you can’t quite place how he truly feels, “don’t apologize to me. i don’t want to hear it.”

you thought your heart was already at your feet, but it somehow plummeted six feet under. jisung wants to stand by your side but ultimately takes a few steps back to give this conversation some space

“is there something going on in your personal life that i should consider?”

your mouth goes dry and you attempt to respond but you can only muster up the strength to shake your head. lord death strides up to you and in that moment you think everything you ever worked for is going to crumble in front of you.

“hey, i’m not about to punish you. you’re one of the academy’s most dedicated meisters, i obviously know that whatever happened with your soul resonance was the first time that happened in all your years here, which is impressive in itself. and aside from that, you wrapped up the fight without resonating very professionally. don’t beat yourself up about this battle.”

this is too much. you’re starting to feel a little lightheaded at the rollercoaster of emotions you’re feeling. one moment you are terrified out of your mind that you let lord death down.. the next, he’s.. praising you?

“but- the promotion!” you sputter out.

“you’re exceptionally hard on yourself, yn. and i think it benefits your work ethic greatly at times, but it also pulls you down. you need to take care of yourself. i’ll look the other way when it comes to this assignment if you take a week break. a good meister knows how to balance every aspect of their lives. figure out what is causing both of your wavelengths to not resonate, i’ll work things out with your professors.”

your eyes widen at the compromise and you thank lord death for his empathy.

“thank you, lord death. i promise i won’t let you down.”

the walk back to your shared dorm is mostly quiet. you had just wrapped up your conversation with lord death and stopped at the infirmary for your arm. it had dislocated during the battle but luckily the healing process was supernaturally sped up thanks to the nurses working at the academy.

there's an unspoken tension between you and jisung with both of you knowing you weren’t on the same page in terms of wavelength. this is something that has never been an issue for the two of you. you wouldn't blame him if he felt like he was walking next to an unfamiliar person.

jisung, on the other hand, is stuck wondering what happened. there was something so clearly bothering you, so why couldn’t you tell him? his mind is desperately grasping for solutions to help pull you out of this but he’s not even sure if you’ll allow him.

if anyone could see the both of you walking together, you’re sure they’d be looking two large, grey clouds above your heads, both equipped with a torrent of pouring rain.

the jingle of your keys breaks the silence between you as you unlock the front door. in the midst of kicking off your shoes, jisung urges you to stay put. you watch him shuffle off into the kitchen before returning with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. there's a shy smile on his face, hoping that this will at least improve your mood ever so slightly. theres a twist in your heart to see him looking out for you like this but you also feel a sense of guilt for letting your feelings get in the way of his own accomplishments as a weapon.

“thank you jisung” you take the carton from him with a small smile and move over to the couch. he sits opposite of your injured arm, though its pretty much healed up at this point. he’s still mindful. the regeneration magic used on it cut down your recovery time greatly. it only really feels sore now but jisung doesn’t take any chances.

you let yourself cozy up into his side as he scrolls for something to watch. the scene is similar from the night before. you weren’t exactly sure when you started blurring the lines beyond what would be considered normal for a ‘friendship’ but none of you have ever bothered to correct this behavior.

when he finally finds something to watch, jisung leans back and starts taking spoonfuls out of the tub of ice cream situated on your lap. you look up at the television lights illuminating his features, taking a mental image of the scene so you don’t get caught staring. its a scene you’ve probably seen thousands of times, yet the more you see him like this, the more flustered it makes you.

god. you’re fucking up your wavelength by the minute, you’re absolutely sure of it.

you’ve never liked the sight of the training grounds. it reminds you of the excruciating hours you’ve spent over the past few years practicing and training to get to the point where lord death deemed you strong enough to take on assignments. you typically opt for taking on lower ranked missions if you and jisung ever need to get some practice in. at least there, the targets actually fight back.

patience was never a virtue for you- clearly.

“we were asked to spend everyday together to work out our connection” jisung recites the instructions given to you guys by lord death after he granted you a week long break.

“oh, what a difficult task..” you retort sarcastically. you don’t think there's been a day where you haven’t spent a single moment without him, “hey, do you think if we can fix our connection this weekend, we can go back to class this week?”

jisung deadpans, “lord death gave us a ‘get out of jail free card’ with a whole week off of class and you want to throw that away?”

“come onn, we’re missing so much! when we get back, we’re not gonna know anything thats going on in any of our classes!”

“i already don’t know whats going on and you’ve probably studied up until the next month’s worth of academic content. we’ll be fine,” he states factually. he honestly can’t be surprised that you’re already itching to get back to work, “plus, this break is for you to get a better grasp of work-life balance. you need this week off.” he pleads with you to concede. most of his intent is for you to take it easy on yourself, but the week off from class definitely was a perk.

you kick the dirt of the training grounds and mutter an, “i guess, i guess”

jisung grabs your waist and the transformation happens as always. you stand there holding your scythe perpendicular to your body behind you with the blade’s tip facing the ground. your left arm is extended out to the side as it holds the base while your right rests on your hip.

you toss him up into the air, the weapon twirling in circles before you grab him and hit the wooden training dummy. you give him a few experimental swings before you close your eyes and focus on what you two are really here for.

you got this.

“soul resonance!” you say, voice lacking your usual confidence. and as expected, nothing happens. you squeeze the handle in frustration as if swinging harder would magically fix your problems.

“don’t think about it too much. relax. its just me and you” you hear his voice call out.

its just me and you. your heart patters with anxiety. that’s probably the one thing you didn’t need to hear. me and you

how are you failing miserably at this when its always been you two?

you try again. and again. you’re making repeated attempts, only getting close to resonating once. that one managed to make a larger dent in the training dummy, but it was absolutely nothing you were used to.

you lost count at the embarrassing amount of failed attempts you’ve gone through. around an hour and a half passes.

most of your hits end up just being hacks into the dummy to release your frustration. you almost go in for another hit when jisung transforms back. he’s sweating and he grabs for your wrist to keep you from going further.”

“that’s enough. let’s take a break for now.”

and in your frustration, you scoff to yourself. a break, huh? that’s what you’re on right now. moved to a hiatus until you can get your shit together. you don’t voice your annoyance when you glance over at your worn out partner. he wipes the back of his hand against his forehead, displacing the sweat sticking to his bangs. guilt creeps up on you for pushing him through this with you and you imagine you probably look in worse shape than he does.

“alright.. lunch?” you breath out and he gives you a lopsided smile.

“sounds perfect” he tosses your water bottle to you as you make your way off the field. your feet don’t feel as heavy anymore as you two walk away.

“there’s no way he actually did that!” you cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

the two of you are seated inside a nearby cafe across campus. the sun shines through the window you’re seated by but the a/c is doing wonders after your miserable training session. you take slow sips at your iced latte as jisung tells his story.

“no- because i heard it was so bad. the whole class went silent after,” jisung recounts what chenle shared to him about your friend mark. apparently, the alumni was invited back to help first years with their soul resonance unit and ended up embarrassing himself with some speech he wrote the night before. safe to say, he probably isn’t going to show his face ever again after his weapon had to drag him out of the classroom out of pure humiliation.

you continue laughing, missing the way jisung relishes in your joy. he tries to cover his smile by taking a bite of the pastry he bought while averting his eyes but jisung has never been known to be discreet.

“our training today might’ve been rough, but at least we aren’t first years running off of mark’s advice” your giggle even though referencing the prior event provides a momentary reality check.

jisung notices the shift and dares to ask about it. afterall, you haven’t directly discussed what's causing this disruption.

he’s been avoiding it, patiently waiting for you to confide in him. but as hours go on, he’s unsure it will ever be brought up.

“do you.. want to talk about it?” hesitance is laced in his tone. you keep the smile on your face when you reply.

“i- well,” you don’t feel ready to confront him with what’s been haunting you. you could never outright say ‘hey! i think our wavelengths don’t match because i’m stuck with this deep, festering crush on you and you don’t at all!’

so you lie

“i really don’t know whats going on.. maybe its just extra stress? before we went into that fight i was distracted over the fact lord death was watching..”

you curse your weak attempt at an excuse the second it comes out of your mouth, praying that jisung doesn’t point out that you were jumping into the fight headfirst out of excitement. and if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. he only nods sympathetically and doesn’t prod further.

“if you think its stress related.. how about we step off the battlefield for the week. even being on the training ground for a few hours was too much for us,” he references your disdain for the location, “lets take this break to focus on, well.. you know, each other. and return by the end of the week to see if anything worked.”

as he says that outloud, he’s painfully aware of how bad it sounds. he makes eye contact with an older woman who shoots him a look of pity. yeah, it really did look like you two were airing out your relationship issues to the whole cafe. his ears turn pink.

you, however, only nod thoughtfully, too caught up in your thoughts to catch the expressions of any eavesdroppers. you want to agree with jisung’s proposition but you’re backed up into a corner. if anything, spending more time with jisung would only do you worse.

all you want to do is camp out in your room for the next week and do your best to forget that your dumb crush is ruining your career. yet on the other hand, if you told jisung all of this, that would definitely make things a lot worse.

is it too late to start searching for a new partner? one that doesn’t through off the entire balance of your soul just from one waist grab.

no. you could never do that. you need to make sure that your souls can resonate by the end of the week, starting with his suggestion.

“alright, lets try it.” your usual self-assured tone makes an appearance with that statement and it soothes jisung to hear.

the week passes rather quickly. the two of you followed out with jisung’s proposal, spending every day together doing various things, desperately trying to get yourself back on the same page: picnics, more cafe visits, a trip out of the city, you name it. yet each planned event seems to feel more and more like dates. sure, you two already have spent everyday together for the past few years, but the intentionality of picking places to spend time with one another had your heart thinking for itself.

you really tried to ignore what it looked like, but on friday night when the two of you decided to try a new spot and eat dinner at chenle’s favorite restaurant, you really couldn’t take it anymore.

dressed in nicer attire, you stole glances at jisung while he busied himself with browsing the menu. your heart beats faster when he tugs at the collar of his white dress shirt subconsciously.

well.. maybe you’re gonna need an indefinite hiatus if he keeps this up.

you instinctively reach for your glass of water and drink a little too much to push down those thoughts.

“you alright?” he voices his concerns, hoping that since you’re nearing the end of the week, you would be open for a real conversation.

“yeah! yeah- don’t worry about me.” you try to say as naturally as possible. he nods just like how he has been doing for the entire week. there's a dull ache in his chest knowing that you still don’t feel comfortable enough to open up to him.

its odd, he thinks. he’s so used to being the anxious thinker always relying on your drive and spirit to encourage himself. it upsets him to see you so thrown off. he’ll admit, he’s not doing much better. it keeps him up at night worrying whats got you so worked up and why you don’t trust him to completely share your burdens.

jisung has the remaining energy to muster up the self control to stop thinking about this. he has to be the strong one for you, just like how you’ve been for him in the years that you’ve known him. seeing you stuck like this hasn’t happened before. he chooses his actions thoughtfully.

“jaemin was telling me how chenle finally got busted for showing up late to his literacy arts class.” he tries to take your mind off of the current situation by thinking of the first thing he could think of.

“the one he always shows up half an hour late to? its about time,” you snort. chenle, due to the identity of his father, has the habit of running on his own schedule. he’s been lucky so far that every professor he’s had has been too scared to report him to his own father, but its about time someone said something about his habit.

“seriously! we’re already halfway through the semester, it took long enough.” he sighs, thinking about his friend’s reckless behavior. the story takes your mind off of things which jisung is just grateful to see a smiling expression on you.

the two of you chat for the rest of the dinner and you start to feel a little more at ease.

its the next morning when the both of you are back on the empty training grounds. its officially been one week since you were last here. you feel the pit of anxiety in your stomach but you try to drown it out with affirmations of confidence. you’re hoping the act at least convinces yourself that you can do this.

you notice the faint dark circles underneath jisung’s eyes but he tries to tell you its just because you had to wake up early for this.

“i’m ready. i trust you, yn. lets do this.” jisung tells you sincerely and you think that might’ve been the first time you felt hope about actually succeeding this week.

you take both of his hands in his and give them a squeeze, “we got this.”

you continue repeating that phrase under your breath as he shifts into the familiar weapon. the hands you were once holding are now a cold bar of metal, signaling you to begin.

you twirl your scythe around your body, trying to mimic the motions you know so well, the ones you’ve gone through a hundred times. you can do it again.

as you approach the wooden dummy, you actually feel the hope building up. as you swing the scythe in a circular motion, you feel the essence of jisung’s soul nearby. you close your eyes and approach the target.

“soul resonance!” you strike.

a light emits from the training dummy, its fainter than what its supposed to look like and you didn’t land a clean blow.

and even though it was a partial success, you can’t help but feel that rush of disappointment return.

jisung is quick to return back to form and you turn your back to face away from him and the in-tact training dummy serving as a reminder for your failure.

you’re so frustrated. though you’ve made slight progress, it really does feel like your back at square one.

you start walking away. you don’t even know where you’re going but you feel everything in your body driving you off this stupid field.

“yn.” jisung’s voice calls out to you, presumably to get you to try again. you couldn’t even get yourself to want to go through another attempt. its only going to make you more upset when it doesn’t work out.

“what is it?” you snap back, sounding more sharp than you intended. the second you say it you immediately regret it. jisung doesn’t deserve to face the brunt of your frustrations.

“..do you not trust me?” his voice comes out weaker this time, self-doubt clear in his words. he looks exhausted. you turn around to face your partner. it feels as if an eternity passes as you two stare into each other’s eyes, trying to figure out what the other is thinking.

“in what world would i ever not trust you?” you ask, pained and baffled as to why he even has that thought in his mind.

“then tell me whats wrong,” he pleads, “you don’t think i notice? this whole week you’ve been dancing around telling me the actual issue. i know somethings bothering you, yn. i know you. i only wish you would share it with me. we’re supposed to be.. equals.” the last word he spoke faltered. he said it as if he didn’t quite believe it

“jisung-” your eyes widen at his confession. there was never a day where you would consider yourself anything other than his equal, his partner. guilt weighs in your heart that you hadn’t noticed his desire to hear what’s been causing your turmoil, “its nothing like that, trust me.” you try to defend yourself, desperately trying to grasp at a viable explanation.

“then tell me, yn. tell me what it is.” he takes a few steps closer to you and you feel your hands go numb.

“i like you.” you blurt out. you see his frustrated expression morph into one of surprise. his eyes flicker between yours for further explanation. he stays silent while you continue, “i’m sorry. i tried to ignore it, i really did. our wavelength imbalance- i know its my fault. the whole thing is so dumb but i like you so much that its throwing off our entire balance.”

jisung hesitantly reaches out to you to say something but you beat him to it and dart off the field. you run, just like you’ve been running away from the issue this entire week.

you’re aware you don’t have anywhere to go. you live with him after all, but it doesn’t stop the overwhelming desire to lock yourself up for an indefinite amount of time. you’ve never felt this pathetic before.

you sit in your room with the door locked and lights off. after this exhausting week, you just need to think. with no point of reference of what time it currently is, your solitude feels like an eternity.

you recall hearing the front door open and close a while ago. you even heard jisung’s light footsteps in front of your own door and delicate knock, “i’m home.. by the way.” his voice is muffled. you can’t seem to place how he’s feeling through his words. you remain dead silent in response, trying to pass it off as being asleep. he lingers at the door a few seconds longer before retreating back to his room.

it was slightly after that instance when you actually fell asleep, deciding that you could probably use the extra rest after what had just occurred.

one hour turns into four when you wake up around noon, not expecting to have crashed out for that long. catching up on the much needed sleep, you don’t feel as convoluted as before. you still weren’t ready to step outside the haven that your room provided, still feeling sick over the reality of having to stand face to face with jisung. you’ll never be able to perform soul resonance with him because, fundamentally, your entire relationship is ruined. where are you going to find another weapon? let alone one that worked so perfectly with you. god. it was perfect. you grip your pillow in frustration and flip it, covering your head. you almost want to scream into it, but you're hyper aware of jisung’s presence in this dorm.

you can even hear him shuffle around in the kitchen, telling you that it is indeed lunch time. the thought of running into jisung to grab something in the pantry kills your appetite a little. flopping over, you stare at the ceiling and recount all the memories that led up to this point.

the amount of time passed is unknown to you. if you were to guess, you would say it's already dinner time but maybe that’s the hunger talking from your missed lunch.

you’ve rotted the whole day away in your bed and you’re ready to spend the next year there if you have to.

those thoughts of recluse are interrupted by what you assume to be jisung coming home again. you thought you heard him leave a bit ago, but you were set on distracting yourself from analyzing his every footstep around the house. however, your stomach growls and an instance of regret kicks in when you realize you should’ve snuck out to the kitchen when he wasn’t occupying the same living space as you. you groan at the missed opportunity.

a few raps at your door echo into the room. you curse yourself for making any noise because there’s no way you could play asleep again. you’re about to open your mouth to ask him to go away but jisung is faster in speaking up.

“i’m not leaving this time. i’m coming in.” he warns you somewhat sternly before opening up the door separating him and your personal refuge. the crinkle of plastic bags follows him in the room. he's carrying take out. once the scent of fast food hits the air, your stomach betrays you and the initial growl from a few minutes grows louder. he deposits the bags at your desk before moving closer to where you’re seated at the edge of your bed. he kneels on the floor and places a hand on your knee.

“we need to talk. i wanted you to be ready on your own time but, i’m sorry, i have to speed up this process.” he chuckles at that last part. you both know you were stubborn enough to avoid him for the rest of your lives if you had to. he rises from his position on the floor to sit on the edge of your bed.

his hand moves from your leg to your hand and he pulls it toward him. his eyes urge you to remain in contact with him.

“how have you not noticed this whole time?” he asks you softly, glancing at your interlocked hands. your heart beats out of your chest when he continues, “the day that test paired us up, i saw it in your eyes that you wanted a different partner,” he fondly laughs at the memory and squeezes your hand, “but when you laid out your dreams to me, something told me that i needed to make myself capable of helping you achieve your every wish.”

he moves your hand to his chest, placing it atop his heart. “i am the weapon i am today only because of you. because i’ve always admired your drive and dedication to do what you love. you’ve pushed me to be the best version of myself and grow more comfortable in my identity as a scythe. i’ve always loved that about you,” his grip on your hand loosens and you take the liberty to trace it upward to his cheek, resting it there as you stare into his eyes, “i’ve always loved you.”

and though you’ve managed to get through the majority of the day without shedding any tears, you feel your cheeks getting wet before you even realize. jisung is quick to delicately wipe them away, his large hands softly rubbing your face. you melt into his touch and he leaves his hands cupping your cheeks. you don’t know how long you two spend in that position before your faces eventually end up inches away from each other.

“can i?” he looks at you with shining eyes that cause your heart to soften the second he asks.

“of course” you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed. he waits a second after receiving confirmation before dipping in to kiss you. his hold on you is gentle, every touch channels the greatest amount of care. you lean closer to him, resting your hand against his thigh as you continue the kiss further. as you two share this moment, you feel as if your soul is fusing with his.

jisung moves one of his hands to your waist as you briefly break apart to catch your breath.

“i’m sorry about this. i really hope you know why i wasn’t telling you the truth this whole week-” you feel the need to apologize but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“i know, i trust you” he embraces you, smiling in your neck.

“and i’ll always trust you,” you both lean back into the bed and lay there for who knows how long. the takeout on your desk sits forgotten, but neither of you care about that at all- not when your souls are unified, having found their home in each other.

“soul resonance!” you slash into the training dummy. you returned to the field the next day with jisung, never having felt more confident. within your first attempt of the day, you are knocked back by a blinding white light- one brighter than ever before. it takes ten seconds for the light to fade and you and jisung are met with the sight of your demolished training victim as well as a massive gash in the field behind it.

“holy shit.” jisung morphs back, staring in awe at the damage you caused to the training grounds. he looks at the huge dirt cavern you sliced out of the grass and back to you, “holy shit!”

you turn to him excitedly and jump into his arms, spinning around as you two celebrate the long week of trying to repairing your broken connection. he finally sets you down, still keeping you in his embrace. his head lifts up to look at you.

“do you think we’re gonna get in trouble for,, this?” he references the mess and you step back to further examine just what you caused.

“who cares. we’ll never be back here.”

bonus scene:

“today we have an alumni here to speak to the class about advanced soul resonance. mr. mark lee, please give these students a word of advice.” the professor steps down and a young man walks to the front of the lecture hall.

“alright guys, uh, listen up,” the fairly awkward boy clears his throat in front of all the students, “no matter what they say, no matter what they do. we gon’ resonate. resonate!”

the class goes silent.

#park jisung x reader #park jisung imagines #park jisung imagine #park jisung scenarios #park jisung fluff #jisung x reader #jisung imagine #jisung imagines #jisung scenarios #nct fic #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream au

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moviecritc · 2 hours

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Hello! Can I please request a smau with Charles Leclerc and Alexandra with the reader. Like her getting hate online because people think she coming in between them but then they found out that she and Alex were already dating before even they met Charles and he's the one who came into their relationship also could you please make it fluff at the end, thank you <3

you wonder why i'm bitter ⋆ charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader x alexandra saint mleux (fc: chappel roan)

summary: you and alex broke up because she suggested charles to join your relationship, and you're really mad about it

warnings: hate comments (mostly for alex, but it's just for the plot), mixed smau, arguments

a/n: i changed basically the whole plot bc i've seen this idea many times, so i wanted to do something a little different.

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername MY NEW SONG IS HEREE !!!!!!!1!!!!!1!!!!! Stream Good Luck, Babe! so i can pay my hairdresser and make up artist THANK YOUU 🐽💥🌈💍

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user1 she's turning into my comfort artist guys

user2 y/n l/n for president 2024

user3 alex in the likes is LOUD

user4 and she's even early wtf girl user5 i'm new someone explain the lore user6 @/alexandrasaintmleux was y/n's gf for like four years, they were high school sweethearts and y/n wrote many songs about her. but four months ago they broke up and alexandra is now dating some formula 1 driver. literally four months later. some people say that she cheated, others that it was friendly, but idk user7 i mean after this song...

user8 ALEXANDRA WHEN I FOUND YOU

user9 'and you're NOTHING MORE THAN HIS WIFE' alexandra you're cooked

user10 FRRR she at least was something when she dated y/n. now she's just another f1 wag

user11 HOW I LOVE MESSY SONGS

user12 WE'RE SO BACK

user13 alexandra should be ashamed of walking in public after this

user14 sis casually making a diss track

f1gossip just posted!

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f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux out for dinner in Monaco

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user14 girl wtf

user15 they did her so dirty i love it

user16 the difference when she was out with y/n is LOUD

user17 yk i'm starting to think that charles is the problem user18 righ? alex was so comfortable with flashes around y/n and now this? wtf is this man doing user19 i think it was just a bad moment user20 maybe she didn't want to be seen after y/n's song user21 i hate men

user22 NOT Y/N LIKING THIS

user23 she KNOWS it's alex loss

user24 charles your gf is cleary uncomfortable why tf you're smiling

user25 he's probably happy about all the drama bc he's life is boring

user26 this is a pr relationship at a 100%

yourusername just posted a story!

[caption: 10K streams just in the first week OMGGG, thank you thank you thank you. I love you so much guys, thank you for feeding my delusional ass 💥💥]

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user27 pop people princess

user28 WE LOVE YOU Y/NNN

user29 please PLEASE come to spain

user30 drop the tour dates nowww

alexandrasaintmleux Can we talk, please? In person, I know that you are in Paris this weekend

Y/N had left Alexandra on read. She hadn't wanted to know anything about her since the proposal to become a throuple with that guy Leclerc, but even though she thought she hated the idea, she found herself looking at the photos Charles posted on his Instagram. He was objectively handsome, she wouldn't lie. Although the fact that he had taken her girlfriend did make him seem like the most horrible person she had ever met. But he was handsome.

Most of his photos were related to his job as a Ferrari driver. She had heard Alex talk about that sport hundreds of times; she should have guessed that she felt somewhat attracted to the most handsome driver on the grid. But there was one photo that really caught her attention; him, in his apartment, shirtless on his stationary bike. She couldn't stop looking at it, she even went into the comments to see what people thought, to make sure it wasn't weird to find him extremely attractive. Then, unintentionally, she liked it. She saw the red heart float on the screen and knew that was her end, she removed the like immediately, praying that no gossip page decided to be watching that post at the same time as her.

But it was already screwed, he was going to see her notification, he was going to tell Alex, and now they would have more reasons to meet. Everything was screwed.

A few minutes later, she received a message from Charles, which left her totally bewildered, but she opened it immediately anyway.

user34 not the censurated name-

user35 makes a lot of sense to me actually

yourusername just posted!

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yourusername Monaco you were LOUUUD !!!! The best city to open the leg of the tour and we had a blast together. Omw to Paris 💋🎸💐

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user31 she's so normal after exposing everything and everyone just in the first date

laufey princess of the princesses liked by author

user32 she's crazy for what she said

user33 now i want a public apology from alexandra and charles

user34 FR i can't believe they made her fell so bad

user35 yk break ups happen, it's not something bad. instead of spreading hate you should just move on girl, it's embarrasing

user36 oh shut up, she's a singer, she does drag. she's going to be dramatic user37 and we're here for it

user38 it has to be marketing bc last night was wild

user39 pretty sure it wasn't

f1gossip just posted!

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f1gossip Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend recently in Bali

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user40 they went the further they could bc of y/n's concert

user41 you can't convince me they're not pr

user42 0 chemistry

user43 i always see alex with her phone with charles

user44 she must be bored of him

user45 i don't think they even talk to each other

user46 i hate them so much

user47 these y/n's fans are taking f1 and i'm here for it

yourusername just posted on her story!

[caption: favs ✨]

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user48 aren't those alex's favourites?

alexandrasaintmleux beautiful pic 💞

[TRANSCRIPTION OF THE CALL BETWEEN ALEXANDRA AND Y/N]

Alex: Hiii. Y/N, listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I fucked up in every possible way

Y/N: Yeah, you did

Alex: But I love you. You have no idea how much love I have for you, mon chéri. So much that I thought I had to share it with someone else. But I was wrong, so wrong

Y/N: Alex, you're so drunk. You're not thinking clearly

Alex: Listen to me. For once in your life, listen. I fucked up pretty much everything, and you have no idea how much I regret it. I- What are you d-?

[background noises, you hear Alex complain]

Charles: Y/N?

Y/N: Charles? Give the phone back to Alex, for the love of god.

Charles: Y/N, hear me out. Leave my girlfriend the fuck alone. You know I found you really hot at the beginning but you have to stop this shit. I have a fucking reputation out here.

Y/N: Give her phone back, dickhead.

Charles: Move on, bitch. She doesn't want you anymore, and me neither.

part 2?

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hrtsfromjules · 3 days

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𝐮𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - jana el alfy

Jana El Alfy had always been someone Y/N admired from afar, but their connection went beyond admiration. Their bond was genuine, deep, and rooted in love. Today, they decided to share their happiness with the world.

"Are you ready?" Jana asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she held her phone, poised to hit 'post' on their carefully curated Instagram photo.

Y/N took a deep breath, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in her stomach. "Ready as I'll ever be."

With a gentle tap, Jana posted the photo: a photo that they took together with a digital camera in the mirror, with a caption that read, "Love knows no bounds."

Within minutes, the post exploded with likes, comments, and shares. Y/N's heart soared as she read through the flood of supportive comments some from their friends, some from other people.

nika.muhl: My cuties💕

randomusername: Beautiful couple!

pboogersfan05: loveeee this! you both look so good!

kamoreaarnold: Ok so boom COUPLE OF THE YEAR

But in the sea of positivity, a few hateful comments stood out like dark clouds on a sunny day.

kanyewestfan911: this is wrong.

user751589534: Why can't people just be normal?

icanthinkofaname: This is disgusting.

basketball4life2014: you're ruining your career jana

user965786479: How could you choose this lifestyle?

Y/N's heart sank, the words cutting deeper than she expected. She tried to brush them off, but the more she scrolled, the more the negativity gnawed at her confidence.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jana asked, noticing the shift in Y/N's demeanor.

Y/N sighed, putting her phone down. "It's just... some of the comments. They're really hurtful."

Jana wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her close. "Don't let them get to you. There will always be people who don't understand, who are filled with hate. But that doesn't change how I feel about you, how we feel about each other."

"I know," Y/N whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm enough for you. If this is all worth it."

Jana gently lifted Y/N's chin, looking deeply into her eyes. "You are more than enough, Y/N. You are everything to me. Those people, they don't know us. They don't know our love. We can't let them ruin our happiness."

"But what if it affects your career?" Y/N's voice trembled. "What if people start seeing you differently because of me? What if all they will see is someone who is in love with the same gender and not for your talent in basketball?"

Jana's expression softened, her thumb brushing away a tear on Y/N's cheek. "Y/N, my career is important, but you are the most important thing in my life. Basketball is my passion, but you are my heart. If people can't accept that, then they don't truly support me."

Y/N sniffled, a small smile forming on her lips. "You're right. I just... I want to be strong, for us."

"And you are," Jana said, kissing Y/N's forehead. "You're the strongest person I know."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. Jana's words, her unwavering support, made her feel secure and loved. They spent the rest of the evening reading through the positive comments, responding to their friends and fans, and letting the love drown out the hate.

"Look at this one," Jana pointed out, smiling. "Someone wrote, 'You two are goals! Thank you for showing us what true love looks like.'"

Y/N's heart warmed. "I guess we are making a difference, even if it's just for a few people."

"Exactly," Jana said. "And those few people make it all worth it."

As the night fell, Y/N realized that their love was indeed unshakeable. The world could throw its worst at them, but as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.

"Thank you, Jana," Y/N said softly as they lay in bed, their fingers intertwined.

"For what?" Jana asked, her voice tender.

"For loving me. For being my strength."

Jana smiled, her eyes filled with love. "Always, Y/N. Always."

#wlw #lesbian #uconn wbb #wnba basketball #basketball #wnba draft #wnba #wnba x reader #wbb #jana el alfy x reader #jana el alfy

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smehur · 22 hours

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Some Harry/Draco Fic Recs

There is so much great fic in this fandom, I'm struggling to keep track of everything I read and like. I already mentioned some of my early favorites here, but I have since found several more.

In no particular order:

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi

In which Harry did not go to Hogwarts, but is instead found by a group of seventh year students led by Hermione, and recruited for the war at the ripe age of 17.

I'm not usually a fan of AUs, but this charmed me within the first few paragraphs with irresistible characterization. Harry is a little different than how I imagine him, but the premise allows for it. And the Harry/Draco romance is possibly the sweetest, softest I've seen so far. 10/10 would read again.

In Pieces by dysonrules

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

When I got this rec myself, I wasn't sure I would like it, because, well, the summary spells it out, doesn't it? But I ended up loving it. It's incredibly sweet and tender and sad and hot. I couldn't put it down.

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone. Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

This story moved me like few others. It's a masterpiece of 'show, don't tell' in that elusive way I have never been able to tap in my own writing. It speaks in images, and the images capture incredibly specific, perfectly chosen details that paint years and decades of slowly fading hope. Just the thing for one who considers their own aging and mortality increasingly often.

Take You Home by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

From the author of one of my early favorites (Right Hand Red), a hugely enjoyable read that makes love to a post-war Draco (and his long hair in a man-bun that he fastens with his wand). I gulped this down in one sitting.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

I am in love with this premise. It works so well? While I wished for a bit more shipping and a bit less collateral, I still enjoyed this story immensely and went on to read almost everything the author wrote for the pairing.

An Issue of Consequence by Faith Wood

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he's Draco's boyfriend.

The light-hearted summary belies the gravity of the plot of yet another favorite tale from the pen of my favorite author. The POV immersion is so deep that I absolutely did not see the resolution of the mystery until it was revealed, and then I was just as shocked as Draco. Fabulous stuff.

A Doll's Tale by Faith Wood

Harry/Draco, as observed by Draco's childhood doll. Please note, this doll is very self-absorbed.

This... broke me a little, lol. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing (too) heavy, angsty or dark about this story. It's as innocent as they get? But it just clicked so well with the idea I've been brewing in my own (yet to be published) writings, of Draco as this... sensitive boy hiding under the guise of confidence and cruelty. And the plot-twist, Merlin. Was it obvious? Maybe, but not to me! It struck me like a (fluffy toy) train and days later, I'm still recovering. I want to take this fic and hug it when I go to sleep.

Actually, I'm in a bit of a pickle, as my instinct is to list pretty much every single thing written by Faith Wood that I've read so far. But that would be silly, so I'll list only one more, as a treat.

Beholden by Faith Wood

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

I already mentioned this one in that inaugural post I linked at the very top, but: 1) it's now completed and can be safely binged on; and 2) the only thing I said about it back then is that it deals with chronic pain, which was particularly relevant at the time because I was at the peak of sciatica and could relate to poor Harry all too well. But that's just one of the many merits of this incredible story. Now that I'm feeling better, I'd praise it first and foremost for the patient exploration of the characters' inner worlds and the gradual, methodical and inexorable buildup of their feelings and convictions that eventually leads to falling in love. A masterpiece of slow burn. I plan not only to read this again, but to study it in the hopes of improving my own craft.

Tagging the authors I found on here: @dysonrules @faith2wood @corvuscrowned @lqtraintracks and also my friend @kuraiummei who helped me find some of these gems.

Thank you for enriching my life. ❤️

#harry potter #draco malfoy #harry/draco #drarry #fic rec

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come-away-with-me87 · 3 days

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I just wanted to take this moment to say THANK YOU. Thank you to everyone, between tumblr and ao3, who have read, liked, and commented on my Aizawa stories.

You don't know how much it means to me. You see, I've never had a hobby. All I ever did was go to work, come home, watch TV or something mindless, then sleep.

I'm nearly 37 now, and just felt like I was missing something in my life, and that missing someone was writing. I'm new to the MHA world, I only started it semi-recently, but the second Shouta Aizawa graced my screen, I was in love.

When I wrote my first story, Love & Angst, I wasn't expecting much. I thought if I just posted it, and even one person liked it, then that was good enough for me.

But the feedback I got was incredible. Between tumblr and ao3, I've received sooo many likes, comments, and private messages, and that inspired me to write my other stories. So, again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

That all said, I wanted to let you know I'm currently finished with Modern Hearts. I just need to make some edits before I post the remaining chapters.

I am currently open to requests! I'm open to pretty much anything: fluff, angst, smut. I tend to like my romance "will they or won't they?" stories, but again, I'm open 😊 The only thing I will not write is smut between Aizawa and a student, current or former.

I love you all, and I wanted to especially give shoutouts to the following for either cheering me on or writing such amazing stories that have inspired me: @jaguarthecat, @lili-pond, @big-denki-energy, @mayajadewrites, @jjkamochoso, @jjkamochoso-main, @missalienqueen, @contentsisyphus + many more!

♥️

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perfectlyoongi · 17 hours

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PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

‧₊˚ ┊synopsis ... namjoon was in love with you since the first day he saw you, but letting your magic paralize him, he never had the courage to admit it to you – that is, until he found out that you were his soulmate.

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... namjoon x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... long-shot. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... soulmate!au, college!au, fluff, angst, using of they/them prns for reader at the start. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 5.1k. ‧₊˚ ┊cole's note ... i originally wrote this for bts but posted for jjk but i regretted it so heres the original post <3 i hope u like it ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person’s own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – all the gods knew this. And, as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What more to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had, the numbers managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity – the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Hoseok placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Namjoon was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I’m sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette’s lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Namjoon spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Did you receive your card?”

Hoseok’s question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his dark eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Namjoon sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Namjoon died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Namjoon raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun’s rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze of that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends’ conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Namjoon looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Hoseok, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Namjoon to Hoseok. “Ready for the test?”

Hoseok put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Hoseok’s outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Namjoon and Hoseok on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Hoseok gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Namjoon a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Namjoon spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Namjoon set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Hoseok’s hair. “Well, I’m going now. See you later.”

Namjoon followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn’t leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

Namjoon repeated the number again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Namjoon grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Hoseok followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Hoseok’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for a notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, he turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Hoseok nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend’s bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Namjoon, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Namjoon which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn’t notice as the hours passed. Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Namjoon and Hoseok disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Namjoon’s bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work, and, in the sky, between the soft clouds and the vast dark blue, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Namjoon stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Namjoon felt tired, totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong – no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Namjoon, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Namjoon had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn’t understand why, but you had a power over him, like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Namjoon had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order some food?”

Hoseok straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting the sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Namjoon stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I’m going to order some food and I’ll take the opportunity to call Jin and ask for his notes for tomorrow.”

Hoseok didn’t answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Hoseok saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Hoseok fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Namjoon to return.

Hoseok was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquillity in the chaos of others. Hoseok’s slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn’t stop Hoseok from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page. It was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed – but Hoseok noticed, Hoseok realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Namjoon’s desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Hoseok’s point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Namjoon had just received his card.

Hoseok leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Namjoon’s room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Namjoon had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Hoseok’s eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Hoseok’s actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Hoseok did, everything he thought.

But Hoseok continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Namjoon’s voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just done.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Namjoon was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Namjoon faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Namjoon couldn’t be happier at that moment. That day seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to draw Namjoon’s path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Namjoon arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Namjoon approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Namjoon,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate.

Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Namjoon to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Namjoon, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Namjoon handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

ㅤㅤY.N. 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn’t received your card yet, but you didn’t care. In so many years of life, you never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card – that didn’t mean you weren’t expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other – that didn’t mean you didn’t want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Namjoon’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Namjoon, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Namjoon confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Namjoon let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Namjoon as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can’t explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me changed. It’s hard to explain, but it’s as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Namjoon’s words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Namjoon’s confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague’s frankness.

Could it be true? All the words Namjoon said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn’t care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Namjoon space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Namjoon, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Namjoon with amusement. “I will invite you until you say yes.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Namjoon would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn’t explain what it was, you couldn’t explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Namjoon.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Namjoon stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Namjoon said hadn’t crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Namjoon, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Namjoon looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Namjoon.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Namjoon, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn’t understand the nature of that something. What was it? Where did it come from? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Namjoon?

Yes. You could ignore it. You should just let yourself lay in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn’t explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn’t know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren’t ready.

“I’m waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Namjoon let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Namjoon’s hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t be silly!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Namjoon looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn’t you feel your connection? Didn’t you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Namjoon’s voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Namjoon. “I just want to be sure.”

Namjoon looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Namjoon’s words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Namjoon’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Namjoon got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Namjoon’s hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city’s flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Namjoon watched you enter your house, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – oh, how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn’t even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

A white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality.

You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands.

Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You abruptly pulled Hoseok into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“Wha–”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Hoseok’s words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Hoseok, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Hoseok with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe–”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Hoseok, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Hoseok’s dark eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Hoseok quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

ㅤ J.H. 2430.1872

“I can explai–”

“I can’t believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Hoseok, who now had a look of determination that didn’t match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Hoseok approached you, the card held in one of his hands. “You like him. It’s noticeable! The way you look at him. The way you shine when you’re with him! Yo–”

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Hoseok’s hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It’s you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Hoseok was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep your–”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Hoseok laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and pulling lightly his hair. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Hoseok in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Hoseok looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Hoseok irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Namjoon entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Namjoon’s eyes jumped from you to Hoseok.

He was confused, he didn’t understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Namjoon hadn’t been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.”

Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Hoseok.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Namjoon started to get nervous.

What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles – how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

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prouvaireafterdark · 18 hours

Note

Thanks for your in depth answer! I realised after I possibly sounded a little like I was going after your words specifically, when what I meant was as somebody new to the books I felt like there was something I was missing in these discussions. And it turns out I was with the real life context! My own personal hopes for the show is that Lestat's perspective will be just as messy and biased as we've already had, because that's the thing I enjoy most! Love your fics btw :)

You're very welcome! Something else I forgot to add about the IRL context tho is a little more about the timeline of events. Anne's 5 year old daughter Michele died of a rare blood disease in 1972 and Anne wrote IWTV over the course of I think five weeks in 1973 fueled by nothing but alcohol and grief. IWTV was published in 1976 and TVL wasn't published until almost 10 years later in 1985, after which point she started publishing more consistently for the next few books with Lestat as her new protagonist. IWTV is very much a reaction to losing Michele and she had a lot of time after it was published to grow and reflect on the story, and I think also get distance from who she had been in 1973 to who she was in 1985 and I think that's a big part of why there's such a huge shift in characterization and tone between those books, and also explains why she shoves Louis out of the spotlight. Louis represented the deepest grief in her and she was trying very hard to put that behind her.

Also completely agree about hoping to see Lestat being the messy chaotic bitch we know and love! I genuinely can't wait and if we don't get it I will be deeply, deeply depressed lol

And aww, thank you! 🥰 I'm hoping to post more soon :)

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv meta

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outlanderfandomfollies · 2 days

Text

Once again, in an attempt at a "gotcha" moment, a shipper overlooks an important detail, resulting in a total fail!🤦🏻‍♀️

Someone sent me a screencap of shipper SD's weird commentary on me** and my most recent fandom post. I know I shouldn't bother responding, but the insulting tone of her comments was particularly annoying--especially because SD had so cluelessly overlooked an important detail in coming to at least one of her conclusions.

Which Old Witch?

But first things first, SD said I was one of the "Witches of Mordor."🧙🏻‍♀️😱

How dare she! I'm not a "Witch of Mordor!"

I'm from Oz.😉

Hasn't she seen the header on my Outlander Fandom Follies Blog?

Hasn't she noticed my avatar? It's not just any old witch--it's Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. 🧙🏻‍♀️🪄😉

(Want to bet that some shipper takes what I said above literally, and claims that I admitted that I am a witch? 🙄😂)

When "Gotcha!" Backfires

Now that the "witch" stuff is out of the way, let's talk about the quote from my recent fandom post that made SD think she had found a reason to say "gotcha":

And so once again, I am saying "Really?" Not just for me, but for the small contingent of Tumblr Outlander fans who are not living in an "alternate reality," and who perhaps need to know they are not alone.

SD took this to mean that I was somehow "clumsy" in "inadvertently admitting" that "Shippers are the quiet majority of this fandom, or what is left of it."

It seems that in her "gotcha" excitement, SD overlooked one very important word in my comment: "TUMBLR." Specifically, I wrote: "the small contingent of Tumblr Outlander fans who are not living in an 'alternate reality.'"

I purposely limited my comment about reality-based Outlander fans to those on Tumblr, because hey, I was posting on my Tumblr blog--which is the only place I post about Outlander. And Tumblr is where most conspiracy theorists in the fandom (which includes the shippers***) hang out. Consequently, those of us who are on Tumblr and who aren't involved in conspiratorial thinking are in a minority. But that is NOT the case in the larger Outlander community outside of Tumblr.

Tumblr Outlander Fans Are "Special"

Unfortunately, because so many fandom conspiracy theorists are on Tumblr, the Outlander Tumblr community has a reputation in the larger fandom of being completely out in left field.

I'm not saying that there aren't any SC shippers or closet crew folks on other social media platforms, but I am saying that Tumblr has a reputation for being a place where "alternate reality" fans congregate.

Outside of Tumblr, the vast majority of Outlander fans aren't shippers, nor do they believe that S is gay.

Most Outlander fans don't even know what shippers are--and when they find out, they typically consider SC shipper beliefs to be very strange.

But don't take my word for it, take Diana Gabaldon's...

[Below the cut are some of Diana's spot on observations about SC shippers and Tumblr. In addition, you will find my rebuttal to the following SD insults comments--shown in the screencap below.]

"A Closed Circle of Positive Reinforcement"

Diana wrote some interesting comments on TheLitForum.com in Jan. 2018, after she was attacked on her Facebook page by shippers for having congratulated Cait on her engagement.

Can you imagine being so far down the rabbit hole of SC shipping as to directly accuse Diana of "creating fake news for money"? Can you imagine telling Diana that her congratulating Cait on her engagement "discredits" her?😳

Someone in TheLitForum then asked Diana if she had deleted the awful comments she had received. Diana said that most likely the comments were deleted by the person(s) who posted them, after some of her "700,000 followers" did not take kindly to the comments.

I love Diana's description of Tumblr:

(I don’t go on tumblr—life is Much Too Short—but I saw a few of the first shipper discussions when they started a couple of years ago; it’s a closed circle of positive reinforcement)

Diana underscores how when shippers venture outside of their "closed circle of positive reinforcement" on Tumblr, they are often surprised and dismayed by the fact that most Outlander fans don't support their views. Consequently, they often have to run back to their Tumblr "closed circle" to get the reassurance they need to keep on shipping.

An absurd SC "narrative" is compared to--"Slavery"?😳

I'm honestly astounded by this part of SD's commentary:

I assume the "Ten (but soon to be 12) Years a Slave" is a reference to the shipper's absurd belief that S & C are being "forced" by TPTB to "hide" their love and their "family" for at least the past 10 years--12 years by the time the series ends.

Besides the fact that this absurd shipper "narrative" would be illegal if it actually happened in this day and age, it is beyond the pale to compare this fan-invented SC "narrative" to the horrific institution of slavery.

Please. Try having a little perspective here.

The "Orc Army" and "Normalcy" in Shipperville

SD went from her inappropriate "Slave" comments to complaining about the threat of the "Orc Army."

MAKE UP YOUR MIND: On the one hand, SD is claiming that "Shippers are the quiet majority of this fandom," and those who don't buy into the conspiracy theories are a "small contingent"; yet, on the other hand, she is suggesting there is a whole "Orc Army" out there determined to "fuck up every single shred of normality."

How can a "small contingent" also be an "Orc Army"?

Well, beside the "Orc" insult, in case she hasn't noticed, most of us who used to take time to debunk SC shipper nonsense have moved on. So where is this "Army"?

For instance, aside from my recent "Really?" post, It's been a long time since I've posted a stand alone critique about the fandom, or a conspiracy debunk. As a matter of fact, going back over my archive, except for my occasionally reblogging others' posts and commenting about them, or once in a while reblogging one of my old stand alone posts on the fandom, it appears that the last time (before the "Really" post) that I wrote a new stand alone fandom critique/ conspiracy debunk was NEARLY A YEAR AGO on August 13, 2023.

But even if there are still some fans on Tumblr who are actively critiquing the fandom or debunking SC "receipts" and conspiracies, they weren't the ones "to fuck up every single shred of normality" in Shipperville.

THE "NORMALITY" WAS MESSED UP BY "TINHATTING": Whatever "normality" existed in Shipperville was messed up after Cait became engaged to Tony in 2018. At that time, whoever remained of the SC "wishful shippers" (i.e., the shippers who were reality-based and just wished that SC might be a couple someday) pretty much were replaced or driven out by hardcore "tinhat" shippers.

And although tinhat shipping is ubiquitous, it is the bane of every fandom in which it takes root, because the tinhatters won't see reason, and some even attack other fans, the SOs of the celebrities they ship, and sometimes the celebrities themselves. This is why lots of celebrities don't appreciate tinhat shippers or tinhat stans.

In other words, the tinhat shippers were the ones "to fuck up every single shred of normality" in Shipperville. They're the ones who drove out any wishful shippers who didn't buy into the SC conspiracy "narrative." They're the ones who created block lists so that newbies couldn't learn about different perspectives. They're the ones who went and looked at blurry video footage of events like C's father's FUNERAL to try to prove that SC are still a couple.🙄

On Manipulation

And then we have this comment by SD:

Well, I'm glad SD thinks I'm "not an idiot." However, what on earth is she talking about by calling me "a Manipulator-in-Cheap"?

I have no idea what the "Cheap" is about, but I am NOT trying to "manipulate" anyone. I just post my opinion on my own blog from time to time. I don't go to shipper blogs and comment. The only reason I saw SD's post at all is that someone sent me a screencap.

I figured out back in 2015 that S & C weren't a couple, but that C and T were a couple. I had lightly shipped S & C for two months in Feb. and March of 2015, and I was heartbroken when I figured it out. But it was what it was, and I didn't try to rationalize it all away.

After C married T in 2019, and the MC was later obtained by a number of Outlander fans (including some shippers), it seemed to me that one would really would have to work hard to dismiss all the accumulated information over the years that does not support the ship.

That's what I believe, and that's what I say every once in a while when I post about some shipper nonsense that is brought to my attention. When I choose to post, it is usually just out of frustration with the fact that so many adult women keep fooling themselves.

MY ATTENTION IS ELSEWHERE: But I am NOT very invested in this fandom anymore, so why would I bother to manipulate anyone?

Four years ago, I turned my main CO blog into a general blog, with a progressive American politics emphasis. I also created my Outlander Fandom Follies side blog, which I use when I occasionally post about the fandom or Outlander and its stars (although I also use it to reblog posts for "romance" shows like Bridgerton).

Since I changed the topics on my main CO blog, I have gained tens of thousands new followers (granted, about a third of them are probably bots 🤖😉).

As you can see from this post, I like to make or edit gifs. But I prefer to make gifs about politics these days. You can see an example of the kind of political post I like to make here.

In addition, unlike the Outlander Tumblr community, the Tumblr progressive political community is very supportive, and has zero drama.

I have a busy schedule in my real life, but in my limited time off, I prefer to post about American politics. The Outlander fandom is rarely on my mind. So why on earth would I want to manipulate anyone?

Oh Please!

Finally, we have this little gem from SA's rant:

Like a good conspiracy theorist, SD uses any reaction others have to shipper nonsense to confirm her conspiracy theory.

When I heard about "Kissgate," I rolled my eyes and posted about it because I was flabbergasted that after all these years shippers were still finding videos, enlarging small details, and misinterpreting the resulting fuzzy gifs/ photos, in order to keep their ship afloat.

If any of my nerves were activated when I was told about Kissgate, it was the ones that cued me to roll my eyes.

Sometimes, unfortunately, the truth hurts.

I'm sorry SD if I have offended you by just stating what to me is clearly the truth.

I don't believe SC shippers are "crazy," but I do believe they have succumbed to a very "addictive" conspiracy theory, and to the community that supports that theory.

Good luck to you if you choose to continue to stay on the ship. My fear for you is how you will feel when you finally figure out that you have wasted years on the ship to nowhere.

[edited]

__________ Video sources for my gifs/ my edited gifs: Glinda gif; Gotcha! gif; Pizza Delivery & Fire gif; Orc army gif; Manipulation gif, "Oh, please" gif: 01 + 02 Closed circle/ echo chamber/ bubble manipulated image sources: 01 + 02 Other gif sources: "Wait, What?" gif; "I can't" gif; Eye roll gif; "I've moved on" gif; "The truth hurts" gif Outlander Fandom Follies blog header*and avatar image: The sources for these can be found here; note that the header is a manipulated image with multiple sources. Other image sources: "The Australia Brief" conspiracy wall image NOTE: All gifs/images above (except for "The Australia Brief") were modified from their sources. **SD referred to me with my old "CO" moniker, which is odd for a relative newbie to do. I turned my CO blog into largely an American politics blog 4 years ago. When I write about the fandom now, I do so on my outlanderfandomfollies side blog. ***I'm using the generic "shippers" in this post to refer to "tinhat"/ "extreme" shippers, who actually believe their conspiracy theories. I've generally left off the "tinhat"/ "extreme" qualifiers in this post (except for the section that deals with "tinhatting") because I don't think that "wishful shippers" exist anymore in this fandom. I've never had any quarrel with shippers who just wish that S & C were a couple, but know they're not.

#outlander fandom #rebuttal #sc shippers #my gifs #my edited gifs #my edited images

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seraceae · 1 day

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I saw the TV Glow

I'm still processing everything, but I don't really even feel like I belong to join the conversation. I gradually came out to my close friends when I was 15 but have slowly let those around me forget. I don't remind new people what I am, I let them treat me and call me what they think I am, and I let it be. I don't feel like I deserve to relate to this movie, im not a binary trans person (Can i even call myself trans?), and Im perfectly fine letting the world see me as a girl.

But on some nights theres nothing I want more than to live as a guy. I see my guy friends thrive and I can't help but want their skin. I want to shave my facial hair. I want to be flat. I want my body as malleable as I feel.

On one of those nights I wrote this journal entry:

"It’s friday, 2:38 AM, I’ve got open on my desktop maybe 12 some separate tabs each individual one outlining exactly what thoughts have been floating around my head for the last months. I’m listening to Jordaan Mason, but his apocalyptic post societal trans love is still so imbedded with a sorrow that follows seemingly every conversation around the transgender topic. “This is all I have in my hands, I wanna forget who I am, I wanna fucking forget who I am.” The character is wailing here, her and her lover are clinging onto one another after some fallout has erased any concept of civil society. She shows her lover her post-op transition scars and breaks down. Even in some cold desolate post-apocalypse, surrounded by nothing but love the trans story remains one of sorrow. I can’t help but feel like this is just how its supposed to go, like the ultimate fate of a transgender person in society is to be devastated with the sheer weight of existing. I am loved and I am cherished yet here at 2:45 AM while I am trying to write this goddamn speech for Spectrum chapel I can’t help but feel like I will always end up on the floor, weak and naked. I can’t help but feel like I’m preaching onto deaf ears, I can cry and I can scream and I can preach and I can yell but my choir is living in one of the only safe havens for trans existence. My choir has no need to mourn this month, they at most will celebrate and at least will be mildly annoyed at the celebration. I can’t help but feel I must be the same. I’m a nonbinary trans person who goes through life in acceptance with being mostly closeted. My friends know and respect me, my girlfriend is unfaltering and has done nothing but reassure me, but goddamn it if i don’t still feel so fucking alone. Its 2:51 now, I should really get started on the actual important parts."

Maybe I'll change it all for college. Maybe Maybe I'll take my binder out for a while. Maybe I'll get to being the person I only let myself grieve about in early mornings.

#i saw the tv glow #trans #am i allowed to call myself that

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lovesickeros · 10 months

Text

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #focalors #furina #neuvillete #a family can be a dragon an archon and his 300 other children who reverse adopted him #u date him its a package deal sorry #u now have like 300 children g-dspeed #also tagged spoilers on neuvi's part bc its kinda a spoiler??? sort of #also this can be read as platonic or romantic on neuvi's part #can u tell i like focalors btw :)#also gonna be swapping between focalors/furina bc SOMEONE sent me a theory and it sent me spiraling im gonna be ill #u know who u r and ur days r numbered #can be read as romantic between reader & neuvi but only bc i know focalors rubs it in his face she found the actual creator first #anyway can u tell focalors is my fav pt2 i wont shut up abt her its terminal atp #focalors..................#anyway *doesnt post fr months. randomly drops a 2k word fic. leaves and doesnt elaborate*#starts out v serious ends v silly #wrote this in one sitting im gonna go pass out now gn

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #TW: Eddie calls himself a faggot and he means it in a bad way #did I make a playlist on spotify w/ Top 40 songs for June 21-27 1987 so id know how many tapes eddie had to use to record it?#yes. its 2 tapes fyi‚ using side A and B of one. a total of 2h54m. in my defense it was a writers block activity.#couldnt figure out what to have jeff say to comfort eddie that was in character and era-appropriate so... playlist it was!#if i were titling these parts this would be Eddie's No Good‚ Very Bad‚ Terrible‚ Horrible Day #I mean... he's had worse days (Spring Break '86) but this is up there for him #also back to back updates!? who am i??? but don't expect another one too soon #i started this one as part 6 originally but decided i wanted a more lighthearted piece first #so i wrote like 2/3 of this before writing what i posted for part 6 so finishing this was quick

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