#there is only one acceptable outcome/path forward

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

[lovelynim]

dare i say lee!sunday and ler!caelus? I haven't seen him being wrecked so of today. 🥺

[Requests open]

Now that I think of it, you're right, anon! I don't think I've seen any lee!sunday content as well...

I hope this one helps you with your cravings ~

It’s been a week, at most, since Sunday decided to accept Welt’s offer and make himself part of the Astral Express. Truth to be told, complying to the crew’s peculiarities and their daily routine proved to be easier than Sunday first expected, but… there was no way he would ever get used to this.

“Come on,” Caelus teased, his hands held right before his chest, his fingers wiggling, poised to strike at any given chance. “What’s the harm in trying it out? You said yourself you don’t even know if you are ticklish or not ~”

“And why must you find out?” Sunday muttered, pressing his back against the wall, finding himself cornered, but, at least, at a safe distance. “I dislike this plan of action.”

“Pfft, how can you be so sure? I never tickled you before, have I?” Caelus stepped forward and Sunday tensed up in anticipation. He wrapped his arms around his torso and partially covered his jaw and neck with his wings. “It won’t hurt, I promise!”

“That doesn’t make it sound any better,” Sunday retorted, trying to keep his composure and eloquence, but unable to refrain from darting his eyes back and forth between Caelus’ hands and face. “Any possible outcome sounds unwelcomed.”

He felt the heat spreading over his face at the sight of Caelus rolling his eyes, seemingly not convinced by any of his arguments. Could there really be no way out of such a trial? Oh Great One, why must you leave your child at moments like this?

Maybe taking a moment for his silent prayer wasn’t exactly the right choice at his current situation. In a blink of an eye, Caelus went from a few steps away from merely a few inches apart, one hand already closing around Sunday’s wrist. Ah, he was done for.

“C-CahAHaelus! S-stoho- ahAHa, s-stohop it, plehehease!” Sunday laughed, focusing all his efforts into pushing Caelus away by his shoulders, but ultimately lacking strength to do so. Fingers spidered up and down his sides, sparing no spot between the dip of his hips and the bottom of his ribs.

“Aw, your wings are flapping!” The unrequited observation only seemed to make Sunday more embarrassed, not even sure of how he was supposed to respond when not a single muscle inside his body listened to his commands. “Is that like a dog wagging its tail?”

“I-It’s nohot!” Sunday protested, finding himself sat at one of the parlor’s seats while Caelus towered over him, tickling one different spot after the other, thoroughly checking which would be the most ticklish one. “SOhohomeone, hehEHElp me!! PlehEHease!”

Ah, the Great One, could this be one of the hardships in the trailblazing path? He needed to ponder about it… of course, once he figured a way out of Caelus’ tickle assault.

[severedfromthesource]

Bite Back

Pt 1/3

Next part

Original concept from @delicious-beats. Contains F resus, M rescuer, LUCAS thumper, automated CPR, mouth to intubation tube, depictions of gore, trying to resuscitate a zombie

Blackened veins ran in a spiderweb from the holes in Luffy’s shoulder. She shouldn’t have even been out, Elijah had told her again and again, the fucking news had told her, the trucks with megaphones and military personnel blaring up and down her street for the past ten hours had told her. But she needed to know he was okay. She was always trying to look out for him. He’d never hated her selflessness more than right now. 

Her skin was bloodless, her usual dark brown hue sapped until she was completely ashen, the circular row of splotchy red teeth marks and black fissures of veins the only real color left to her body. Her heart was beating arrhythmic on the monitors as the ambulance tried to find a path forward through the streets choked with people fleeing. Her head rolled back on her neck and she looked up with bleary eyes towards him. 

“Eli,” she choked out, her throat tight to the point of almost closing up. 

They’d dealt with bite victims all day. They’d lost all of them, and then had to cut it and run when the old woman or the jogger or, worst, the fucking ten year old who had been playing soccer, reared back up and tried to take a bite out of them. Elijah cradled her head, his mind racing. The symptoms presented differently with everyone they’d encountered. One spewed blood, one just bottomed out and died, but so far complete cardiac arrest had occurred within the first twenty minutes of contact. His eyes darted to his watch. It had been fifteen since she’d screamed over the phone and he had raced to come find her.

He pressed a square of gauze against the wound, his breath shaking. “Okay,” he said, “Okay, Lu? I need you to look at me, focus on me, hey-“ He held her face with one hand and snapped his fingers near her ear with the other. It lolled like a doll with loose joints. “We’ve got a couple minutes before… b-before the first real symptoms kick in, the really bad ones. But I’m gonna get you to the hospital, alright?” He added in an aside to his partner in the front, “How long you think until we get there?” 

“Fuck man,” Jonas spat, “Every street is clogged, the military is setting up choke points on every major road. They’re not gonna let us even through if she’s infected.” 

“I didn’t fucking ask about the stupid fucking military, I asked how long until we get there,” Elijah replied in a tone that warned the other man he would not be accepting any other outcome but Luffy making it to the front doors of Saint Edward’s.

“Twenty minutes, if I can find a decent backstreet. Probably forty if I can’t.”

He nearly sobbed. The air left his body in a rush with a stricken noise he couldn’t hold back. Luffy’s hand reached out and grabbed at his shirt. 

“Eli,” she sputtered again, but there were tears in her voice this time. “I don’t … I d-don’t wanna die…”

Twenty minutes. Probably over that, but he couldn’t think about that. His eyes snapped to his watch again. Three minutes left. He could keep her heart going. If she wasn’t really dead then she couldn’t be undead. He would keep her alive, and they would cure her, and she would live. There was no other option. Not for him.

Spittle dried white at the corner of her lips as he stared down into her face, those lips he had kissed until they were swollen now trembling and pale. He smoothed hair back from her forehead and leaned in close. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he promised in a low voice, cupping her head with both hands. “You’re gonna be alright. You trust me?” She nodded, even as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and slid into the pillow beneath her. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We take care of each other, right? It’s what we do.” 

Two minutes. Elijah kissed her sweaty forehead and drew back, collecting everything he’d need for an arrest as the ambulance swayed and bounced over uneven terrain. He snatched out epinephrine, pulled out the AED, strapped her to the gurney, all with an efficiency he didn’t even know he was capable of. Already her heart was beginning to skip, throwing out PVCs on the monitor as her jagged heart rate either spiked above the line or dipped far below it. He eyed the restraints they had on hand, the brace boards for trauma victims and cuffs meant for psych patients. As he drew the LUCAS out, he tested the straps on the sides of the large, crescent moon shaped piece of equipment. There was no telling if they’d hold if she tried to take a swipe at him, but maybe. 

Twenty seconds. Elijah gripped the neckline of Luffy’s shirt and tore it down the middle, sweat beginning to drip down the back of his neck and back. She was hardly moving, her bare chest glistening with sweat. Her nipples had lost their color too, and her breasts swayed jerkily with every short, halting breath she managed in. Her eyes were drooping closed. Her jaw twitched open a little and slackened back as she took one more shallow sip of air. Then it left her lungs in a quiet sigh as her chest deflated for the final time. There was one more quick flutter on the monitors, her heart clawing for the last few quivering beats it could manage. Then it stopped. 

Elijah clamped down on the welling nausea to tap the timer on his digital watch. Jonas cursed up front as the EKG hummed a flatline. Wasting no time, he slid the curved backboard under her limp body, lifting the LUCAS and clicking it into place above her. The thing settled between her breasts, the flexible rubber plunger flush against her sternum. One of her arms hung limp off the side of the gurney and he took it by the wrist, fixing it in the straps on one side of the machine, then the other. Her fingers curled against the motor case. Elijah jabbed at the controls and turned it on. 

The machine jabbed the plunger down into her chest with all the force of a trained EMT. It cratered into her heart, the force displacing through the rest of her body so her belly rolled out, her shoulders rippling with the force of a robot that didn’t care if it felt her ribs pulp under its hands. It had never held her. It had never known the warmth of her. The thing pistoned and made a noise far too loud for the cramped space. Zip, zip, zip, zip, zip.

Luffy’s eyes were half mast and empty, lips parted. Elijah checked the timer. A little over a minute had passed since the start of the arrest. Maybe there was still time for intubation. He snatched the laryngoscope and tilted her head back by the jaw, sliding the metal blade past her bloodless lips and over her tongue. The curved blade made an easy track down her throat, bulging it slightly as he maneuvered an intubation tube down the tunnel of her trachea. He slid it home with one hand, the other resting at the pulse point in her neck to feel the blood being forced to circulate. He knew he couldn’t look at her face. He had to focus on her tongue, her mouth, her teeth, the hard bone of her jaw under his fingers. If he looked at her face, he would lose any shred of sanity he had left. But his eyes slid anyway. They moved down to her eyes- only they weren’t half lidded anymore. 

They bore into him, the pupils grey discs in the center of her dark eyes. The whites of her eyes were shot through with red veins. Her jaw clicked as it moved around the intubation tube, her lips peeling back, exposing her teeth.

“Fuck!” Elijah exclaimed and jerked back, his back hitting the wall of the ambulance. 

“What, what?” Jonas shouted from the front seat.

Luffy’s body moved, her arms tugging at the restraints, her legs shifting underneath her. They curled up and kicked out, but the belts around her waist held her down. Her back arched against the LUCAS even as it slammed down against her sternum. Elijah heard something shift sickeningly under the skin. A guttural growl rose up from the tube and she thrashed, shaking her head, rolling back as her teeth gnashed against the tube poking from her mouth. She gargled and sputtered and he realized with a jolt that she was tearing up her throat with her bucking and shaking. 

“Luffy,” he breathed. “Lu… Lu, stop, stop it-“ He lurched forward, grabbing her jaw, but she snapped her head to the side and clicked her teeth within a hairs breadth of his hand. "Fuck, fuck!"

"Eli! What the hell-"

"Focus on the road!" As he snapped this at Jonas, Luffy burbled a mouthful of blood from around the tube in her throat. He managed to throw his arms in front of his face just in time before it might have splattered in his eyes or mouth. The last thing poor Jonas needed was another flesh crazed cannibal in his ambulance. Elijah had already decided he was saving the woman he loved, and he was going to keep that promise; he just needed to stay warm and breathing to do it.

He lunged for her again, clapping his hands on both sides of her head, just out of reach over her bared teeth. "This is definitely not how you're supposed to intubate someone," he panted, already out of breath, "But I know very well you're not breathing for yourself right now." As if in agreement, Luffy gurgled with a throat full of blood, already darkened by the virus until it was almost black. He wrapped his lips around the opening of the tube and forced a breath into it. Might as well, things definitely couldn't get any worse. His eyes flicked to her chest as the LUCAS did its thing, bowing her ribs in against her spine with ruthless efficacy, and blew another breath into her oxygen starved lungs, even as she fought against it. Six minutes in arrest.

Her arms strained against the bindings and he heard the velcro straps start to go, but she was just mindless and angry enough she didn't seem to understand what was keeping her stuck. She twisted her wrists and struggled until the skin was bruised and raw, but the straps held. They'd hold until they couldn't anymore. He considered a neck brace to try and hold her still enough to attach an ambu bag and actually intube her properly, but if he lessened his hold on her for even a moment, she'd snap and flounder, teeth chomping as they lunged for his flesh. The LUCAS had to be good enough. It was all he had. He stood there, bowed over her, filling her lungs. Each breath forced her chest to rise before it was again crushed under the LUCAS as it beat her heart over and over again. Every time he gave her oxygen, she made a wretched wheezing noise and used the breath as fuel to snarl wordlessly at him. Her legs kicked out, banging against the walls of the truck, scattering supplies tucked into corners. Her body tried to roll up and fight the machine as it relentlessly battered her dead heart.

"Please, stay still, Lu." He stroked his thumb against her cheek, trying to suppress the sobs he felt building behind his eyes. Every time the LUCAS pounded against her sternum, it forced what little air was left in her lungs out, often in a grunt or a a hollow rasp in the back of her poor, abused throat. “I got you, baby. I’m not giving up, not until I get you back.”

She snarled again, but the thumper kept cutting into her displeased noises. “Haaar-huk, graa-ack, huk-“

Ten minutes in arrest. Elijah looped his arm under her chin, pinning her in his bicep to keep her head still, and punched the pause button on the LUCAS. He slipped two fingers under his headlock to feel for her pulse, but the monitor returned to a flatline the moment the automatic compressions stopped. She was still dead even as she squirmed under the restraints.

“Come on, fucks sake, Lu. Give me something,” he muttered, slapping the resume button to once more fill the ambulance with the rhythmic zip, zip, zip noise. Her breasts bounced with the force, her hardened nipples drawing lines back and forth in the air. He breathed once more into the intubation tube. The machine forced the breath back out as soon as he’d given it. She didn’t stop her struggles, trying to fight the thing assaulting her motionless heart. He had to wonder if she felt it pushing stale blood through the chambers and ventricles. He could only imagine how much it must hurt to be conscious during CPR. Her ribcage had probably already been rendered into pudding by now. He could see the bruise where the plunger knocked again and again into her. “I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering.

Thirteen minutes in arrest.

He didn’t know how much more he could take. Seeing Luffy’s face contorted, empty even as it moved and made noise, was starting to break Elijah. Or at the very least break some vital piece of him. He ran his thumbs over her temples as tears silently slipped down the bridge of his nose and patted wetly on her face. She didn’t even flinch. There was nothing left of her in those diseased eyes. He held her still enough in another headlock to check her pupil reactivity, but they were fixed and blown wide with dilation. He didn’t know if that meant the virus was doing its job, or if she was beyond saving. Luffy rattled the gurney as she kicked again, thrashing her body as much as she could while being pinned down by the machine punching into her sternum over and over. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen minutes and absolutely zero electrical activity: her heart hadn’t even quivered. It simply lay silent and still while the rest of her kept moving.

Elijah sank into a crouch, holding onto the edge of her bed to keep himself from collapsing utterly. He heard Jonas radioing into the hospital, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pitiful gasps and grunts Luffy made as the thumper pinned her beneath it. “Stay still, please God just stay still,” he begged her and felt tears spilling over. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. All he could do was sit there and shake with silent sobs. He couldn’t even focus enough to breathe for her. “Baby,” he rasped in a hoarse whisper, “Please… Jesus Christ, please…. Come back…”

“Eli,” Jonas called again for what had been the third time, but was the first time Elijah had heard him. “They say they’ve got some kind of antidote, they’ve tried it on a few of the infected.”

Elijah wiped tears and snot off in his upper arm. “Any results?” he asked, warbling. The greater part of him wanted to tell Jonas not to bother, that it was too late. That she was gone. The most an antidote would do would maybe put her down peacefully so she could rest easy. But there was that little kernel, that one errant thought that said maybe, maybe she could come back.

“A couple people have come back. Not totally, they think it might be brain damage from the time they spent without circulation. But they stop trying to rip people’s faces off.”

They’d been her life support since the moment she turned. Her heart had barely even been given a chance to stop in her chest. The LUCAS had good rates of spontaneous return of circulation; if anyone could come back, Luffy had been given the best chance.

“They know we’re coming?”

“They’re gonna meet us the second we pull in.”

He stared down into the silver discs of her eyes. She was still in there, somewhere. She had to be. “Hold on, Lu. I’m gonna get you back.”

[shadow-work-toolkit]

Following on from my hidden pick-a-card reading (previous post on my page), here are the interpretations. Let me know if it resonates, I ADORE feedback.

PILE 1

The fulfilment you're looking for, either in your situation or just in life in general, is not gonna come until you detach from situations in which you're over-giving and under-receiving. You need that energy for yourself to put towards your own empowerment. You have so much potential to make the best of this situation and use it to propel yourself ever-upwards but a deficit of self-love makes you feel like you need to keep accepting second-best. You don't. The rewards are waiting for you as soon as you detach, and, tbqh, any people in your life draining you like that need you to detach too. There is a difference between enabling and genuine love. Everyone will benefit from genuine love in your life and/or situation, but no one is benefitting from the self-sacrifice you're engaging in rn. Put your energy towards developing your own skills and abilities, be persistent about standing up for what you know is right, and start listening to your gut feeling on things. It is correct. The other voices are not. Your intuition is the one that comes from nowhere and feels like gentle, loving advice.

PILE 2

If the minutiae of a situation is making you feel hopeless or overwhelmed, know that it is safe to let it go. Sometimes you need to hold tight to make something work but others that grip will only kill it or stop it growing, and this is one of those situations. The constant vigilance is preventing things from progressing. If you need a distraction, there is something you can focus your keen intellect on to pass the time until your other situation bears fruit, you just have to look up from your current thing long enough to see it. The outcome of the thing you're hyper-focused on either is up to or will feel like destiny when it manifests, it's out of your hands and possibly always was. Your fear of everything going to shit is not based on reality, just because it was that way in the past doesn't mean it will be this time. The path is quite literally blessed, just hidden to you at this time, but it will be made clear very soon. Possibly as soon as 8 days from now, but don't quote me on that lol. Just take a deep breath and try to look at it from above and not from in the thick of it and things will go a lot easier for you with it.

PILE 3

Someone's stubbornness is preventing you from moving forwards and is holding everything up. This could be a good time to meditate on it but I get the sense it's actually just getting in the way of you doing your work and knowing where to put your efforts. Try not to judge them too harshly, including if it's yourself being stubborn, coz the rebirth after this hold-up phase will be swift and powerful. Whether or not it's you being stubborn or holding things up, don't worry, there is plenty of other opportunity for advancement in this area (I'm sensing work but I'm tryna keep it general). And it's likely the situation is nearly over with. Once you've moved through the challenges, joy and happiness you haven't felt in a very long time is waiting for you. So don't rush, use this time wisely to take stock and plan your next moves, but be ready for things to change because that joy and happiness is soon and inevitable at this point. Expect full rebirth by May-June.

PILE 4

So looks like you're feeling pretty stuck and stagnant, something's got you indecisive to the point of inaction. You know what you want but you're not sure either how to get it or, potentially, don't feel good enough to receive it. But the truth is that you absolutely do deserve to receive what you want and actually more than that. You have the ability to get it too, don't worry for now about how stable it is in the beginning or if it's something that's going to be around for the long-haul. The universe is waiting for you to take the first step so it can lay down the path before you. The path only exists once you decide to take it. Idk I'm getting scattered energy a bit here so maybe work on your focus, use your intellect to rationalise it out a bit, and you'll see how to get around any obstacles you do genuinely face but tbh I'm getting that the biggest obstacle in your path is you, so just set your sights on where you want to go, let your feet start walking and you'll be amazed where you end up. You don't even think you're the Knight when in reality you are already the King.

PILE 5

Seems like you're in a bit of a transitional phase right now and feeing at a loss for where to start. You're not sure you can do it alone, but you're so full of impetus to begin. Start with healing and go from there, you have everything you need to get where you want to go but you won't get there if you keep focusing on what's missing or lost in the past. You're going to need to take life by the balls a bit but the rewards are so worth it. Everything you've dreamed can be reality if you balance the emotional/intuitive side and rational side of your brain. Overall it seems like you're in a way better position than you feel/think, or that there is not so much work needs doing as it seems from your perspective right now. You could be seeing real movement and change as soon as six weeks from now.

[the-wayside]

Okay so I can only share how I feel about this kiss through ficlet because there are layers.

So please accept whatever this hogwash is and understand what I'm trying to say, ya feel? (1k, gen, not beta'd because this is a feelings space not a logic space)

***

It was an optimistic dream and Joke was happy to be family. To sit around the table with Jack and his grandma and soak up the warmth they shared, not only with each other but him. He had a family for what felt like the first time in his life.

Nevertheless, he gulped down the lukewarm beer that hadn’t even condensed on the outside of his glass when Jack told him Rose had asked him to be her boyfriend. It was almost flat and bitter but even then, it still reminded him of the fizzy feeling he held in the center of his chest when he thought of Jack. The feeling surges up every time he looks at Jack with those kind eyes and bright smile. He wished they were always directed at him and that the meaning was anything other than familial kindness. So in reality, it’s an ugly kind of jealousy that burns hot for a moment when Jack tells him about Rose before he kicks it out of his head, letting it pass as he wipes the beer that escapes onto his lips.

Maybe he likes pain because he asks, “And what did you say?”

I turned her down. I told her I already like someone.

Maybe worse than jealousy, hope swells in the same space as the feeling. It bolsters him in a way that can only be partially explained by the steady loose-limbed sensation of downing a drink too fast. He doesn’t question it when Jack offers him to play Truth or Dare, calling up short memories that shouldn’t take up as much space as they do. Every moment between them is etched inside Joke like an internal mirror to each of his tattoos. Jack’s smile, Jack’s laugh, Jack looking at him like he sees something more.

The first spin lands on Jack and the beer truly does nothing to temper Joke’s thoughts from coming out of his mouth when Jack offers him Truth, “Who’s the person you like?”

Jack doesn’t look away and Joke feels like the edges of the moment blur. They’re not five years older than when they met. The mistakes and the lost time don’t matter, “You.”

The word takes up residence inside his chest with the feeling, the two of them intertwining and curling, sending a tingle through him. Anticipation, he realizes. It’s been so long since he’s looked forward, he had forgotten what it meant.

Jack takes the opportunity to corner him, pointing the bottle at him on purpose. Laughter bubbles up inside him because he knows what Jack is fishing for, a partner to his confession. Still, he calls him out for being a cheat.

He finds that he’s giddy and everything takes on a weightless feeling as he challenges Jack, not wanting to make it easy, “Dare.”

There are so many paths and possibilities, but like with everything, Jack cuts through it as he always has, “Wanna be my boyfriend?”

Everything and nothing happens at once.

He moves, bottle hard under his fingers as he pushes it out of the way, grazing Jack’s hand and sliding into his space. The feeling is almost at bursting point, a pressured throb that expands to the edges of his ribs, “Yeah.”

It’s five years, it’s one night, it’s now, it’s been everything until now. Everything explodes like fireworks behind his eyes as he pulls Jack into him and pushes against him, mouths hard for the briefest of seconds as Joke figures out the shape and feel of Jack, parting his lips to taste him better in the next. A heavy but tender hand weighs down on the back of his neck as he continues to pour out the remnants of his emotions. The overflow is raucous, crashing over his entire self. His own hands come up to grip Jack tighter, to keep him pinned and ready to receive the outcome of all this unspoken need that seemed to rise and grow with each passing press of their lips. It’s all-consuming and he is consumed. He doesn’t want to deny it. Five years with only an echo, the lonely places are filled and he is full for once in his life.

Jack gentles him, parting only their mouths as their foreheads remain pressed together. Joke can’t bear the parting so he follows Jack, barely keeping the space Jack placed between them, but eager to close it, to reclaim what he was only given barely a hairsbreadth ago. The feeling inside his chest aches, wanton, and beats in time with his blood. Jack closes the distance between them and his kiss is more artful than Joke’s. It isn’t raw and ragged and it gives them the chance to be intentional. Joke has to wait for the soft catch of Jack’s lips, teasing him before he pulls away again and it curls low, almost in his stomach. He’s never wanted a kiss as much as this. He’s never been kissed like this; with delicateness and softness. Balancing his hand on Jack’s thigh for stability, it doesn’t take much for the feeling to overflow in a different way. It’s Jack, guiding them up, still claiming Joke as he guides them back to his – their – room.

The feeling in his chest sings because finally, finally, everything is returned. Joke has never coveted anything he’s stolen, he isn’t materialistic in that way, but he covets this, him. He doesn’t need anything else and he knows that. Even if it’s for now and he has to give Jack back, he wants this. He wants the feeling in his chest to thrum happily rather than pain him, he wants to keep kissing Jack for as long as the world will let him.

He knows that the world has never been on his side so when his shirt slips over his head under sure hands and warm lips lovingly skate along his neck, he doesn’t take any of it for granted. He hopes that little bit more that he’ll get to be Jack’s love for a long time to come.

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

Word Count: 6.6K

Warning: SLOW-BURNER, Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional, Mentions of Pregnancy.

The clock on the dash reads 8:47 am, a plaguing countdown, counting me down with only thirteen minutes until the appointment that could potentially change the entire course of my life.

Forever.

I've been sitting in this car for nearly forty minutes like a statue, watching as people file in and out of the discreet medical building as if their worlds aren't being dismantled with each breath they take, reconstructed with every step forward, and here I can't stop squeezing the steering wheel, my knuckles stretched so tight they've gone white.

Every hour I should have been sleeping last night, I spent preparing my mind for every possible outcome, playing each scenario out in my brain so many times reality and imagination have blurred into one anxious haze, I can't seem to pull myself from—a continuous stream of every what-if playing out in my head, that I'm too numb to form any other coherent thoughts, and that scares me.

It makes last night feel like a fever dream now—the premiere, the cameras, Shiloh's eyes finding mine across the crowded room, that ring exchange that felt so fucking meaningful in the moment, but how quickly it all unraveled, and how quickly I let it.

I keep staring over at my phone in the passenger seat, a daunting reminder of everything I'm running from, still turned off since I left the premiere. The thing is, I know what I'll find when I power it back up: missed calls, unanswered texts, more digital evidence of my cowardly avoidance. There's a piece of me that wants to leave it dead, to exist in this limbo where I haven't quite ruined everything yet. Where Shiloh might still be waiting, might still believe there's an explanation good enough to warrant my disappearance.

But there isn't, is there? What? Am I going to send her a text?

Sorry, I vanished. Hope you're not mad. Still want to meet up? Oh yeah... I forgot to tell you, Olivia might be pregnant. I'm actually about to find out shortly. I'll keep you posted.

God, the thought of it being that easy is so annoying, and I drag a hand down my face, feeling the warmth rising, my whole body aching from a sleepless night, probably the first of many, I'm sure, but let me tell you, irony has a funny way of showing up—because how long have I been pining, suffering with the months of longing, of building this connection with Shiloh text by text, call by call, and she was right there, within reach, and I fucking ran.

And shit, if Olivia really is pregnant...

Christ. A baby. My baby.

My throat burns at the thought, tightening as if I'll choke on the very idea alone—a strange dose of terror and wonder swirling deep in my gut. I've always wanted children, but it was always in the distant future, always someday, once I had figured all my shit out. Not now, Jesus, not like this. Not when I'm finally feeling like I might have found the person I've been looking for.

Not when I finally feel like I might actually know who I am...

When I check the time again, it's—8:52 am. And I know I should go in, just get this over with. Olivia is probably already waiting, thinking I've bailed on this, too, and we all know this wouldn't be the first time I've disappointed someone in the last twelve hours.

Yet, I can't seem to force myself into motion, make myself move a single muscle, because the reality of that would mean me walking into that building and having to accept that this is real, that there's no escaping whatever verdict awaits me behind those doors. It means facing Olivia and the tangled history of our not-so-distant past. It means acknowledging that the future I've been romanticizing, yeah, romanticizing about with Shiloh—might not be anything more than wishful thinking.

My phone screen stares back at me, solid black, accusing in its silence, and it's crazy because all I can think about in this moment is Shiloh. I wonder what she's doing right now? If she's woken up yet. If she's still wearing my ring, or if she took it off the moment she realized I wasn't coming back. I wonder if I've lost her already, before we even had a chance to begin, and the most looming thought is: What if I can never have her at all?

8:55 am.

And now, somehow, I need to find the courage to turn my phone back on and face what I've done—face what I've potentially thrown away. Because even if Olivia is pregnant, even if my life is about to become infinitely more complicated, the thought of losing Shiloh entirely feels like losing a part of myself I've only just discovered, and before I can lose myself completely, I reach into my pocket, feeling for Shiloh's ring, hoping it will give me the strength to get me through the morning, but there's guilt in its weight as I slide it on my finger, a constant reminder of promises made and potentially broken in the span of a single night, and I know I don't deserve it.

When I turn the key in the ignition, silencing the hum of the engine, I reach for my phone. As I gaze down at the blank screen, it's mirroring my mood, as dead as I feel, lifeless, but only I have control over it. I know I need to find out what exam room Olivia is in and form some semblance of a plan before I cross the threshold into a future I'm not ready to face, so with a shaky exhale, I press the power button. The logo illuminates before me, the crisp glow of the Apple haunting the screen as seconds stretch into eternity while I wait for the inevitable flood of messages, calls, anything from Shiloh.

But there's only one missed call.

Just one.

From Shiloh, timestamped 11:43 pm. This means she only tried calling one other time, in succession with her previous missed calls from last night, right before I turned off my phone, and the fact that she didn't leave a voicemail makes something inside me ache.

This is it. This is where she gives up on me, is all I can think, and something deep cracks inside my chest—she tried once. Only once.

And the thought is just another layer, my stomach churning with the ghosting sense of relief and a sickening misery of devastation—relief in the way that there isn't a cascading barrage of messages to wade through, no voicemails demanding explanations I don't have words for yet. But the devastation—fuck, that cuts deeper. One call meant she had absolutely given up. One call means she knew, somehow, on some level, that this was where we would end up.

My ego was expecting anger, confusion, a digital embodiment of the hurt I've caused. Instead, this quiet acceptance feels entirely worse, like she evaluated what was between us and determined it wasn't worth fighting for, or worse, maybe she expected this from the start.

Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe Shiloh had already heard the whispers, the rumors about me; maybe she got turned off by the public persona, and the idea that she had simply confirmed what she already suspected—that I would drop her the moment something more pressing came along—makes me physically ill, and yet she's not far off, because what security have I given her to believe otherwise?

I press my forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel, trying to steady my breathing. I should call her back. I should explain. I should—

Then my phone vibrates in my hand, Olivia's name flashing on the screen, and the present moment is crashing back like a tidal wave, wiping out any other thoughts in my head.

"Hello?" I answer, and my voice sounds foreign, rough around the edges as I try to gain control.

"Harry, are you close? They're just about to set up a private room, but we need to get in there now. The doctor just called and said they're ready for us." And there's something strange in the calm of her voice; it's too practical, an odd contrast to the storm raging inside me, and it's already confusing me.

"I'm outside. Just parking," I lie, already reaching for the door handle.

"Great. Come through the side entrance—the one we discussed over email this morning. There's a security guard; just give him your name. I'll meet you in the hallway."

The normalcy in her tone is throwing me for a loop. I'm still expecting the accusations, the manipulation I felt last night. She's talking like there is no reminder of what she might be carrying inside her—just logistics, like we're meeting for coffee instead of a fucking life-altering appointment.

"Are you okay?" she asks, surprising me further with her genuine concern. "I know this is a lot to process."

And this catches me off guard, a sudden kindness when I was already bracing myself for manipulation. "I... don't know," I answer honestly.

"I understand. Listen, whatever happens in there..." She pauses, her voice softening. "We'll figure it out, okay? I know this isn't what either of us planned for."

I nod almost dazed, forgetting she can't see me. "Yeah. I'll be right in."

When the call ends, I stare at my phone for one last moment. Shiloh's missed call sits there, unanswered, a quiet indictment, calling me out, and I force myself from the car, willing my feet to move.

The side entrance is exactly where Olivia described it, and I hand the security guard my ID. When his eyes sweep to mine, his face is completely neutral, as if he's done this a thousand times, and hell, maybe he has. Then he hands it back, not batting an eye at my name or fact. I wonder how many celebrities he's ushered through these doors, how many secret pregnancies and private crises he's witnessed, and now I'm just another blip on his radar of secrets he's being paid to keep.

My head spins as I reach the hallway, suddenly stretching before me like a looming shadow, my mind smearing thoughts across the sterile white walls, each step echoing against the polished floors as my heart hammers in my throat. And then I see her. Olivia, standing outside a door marked "Examination Room 3," her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, is wearing jeans and a loose sweater—casual, calm, and collected. It's disarming. This glimpse of the woman I used to know before the cameras and careers complicated everything, now slowly becoming a stranger, and now she might be carrying my baby.

What a mindfuck.

She spots me, her face softening with relief. "Good, you made it just in time," she says simply, as if this had been planned for days.

"Yeah... I'm here," I reply, the words automatic, and then I'm wondering what kind of man I would be if I hadn't?

Then she's stepping forward, blindsiding me as she wraps her arms around me in a hug that feels familiar, yet the feeling is foreign, and for a disorienting moment, I'm transported back to simpler times between us, before Venice, before the press tours, before Shiloh, and then I'm surprising myself and I'm returning the embrace, startled to find comfort in it. Because underneath all the confusion and resentment, there's a terrifying truth: I am so fucking scared. Scared of what the next hour will bring, scared of the responsibility that might be waiting for me on the other side of that door, terrified of the life I thought I wanted evaporating like dew in the morning sun because that's what Shiloh had become—my morning sun.

The one thing I had been looking forward to.

When Olivia pulls back, she's studying my face. "You look exhausted."

"Didn't sleep much," I admit.

"Me neither." And then her hand moves to her stomach, an unconscious gesture, and my eyes follow, my stomach twisting at the thought of my baby growing inside her right now.

Please, I find myself thinking. Please don't let this be real, and somehow, the shame is immediate, my thoughts selfish. What kind of person prays against the existence of their own child? It took two, and I know I was a willing participant, but I can't think past myself long enough to accept this simple truth.

"The doctor's ready whenever we are," she says, eyes moving toward the door, and I nod silently, unable to form words as she pushes the door open. The examination room is warmer than the hallway, designed to feel less clinical, with softer lighting and muted colors. A nurse stands by an ultrasound machine, organizing supplies with a practiced ease, a smile playing at her mouth like she doesn't have a care in the world.

"Ms. Wilde, Mr. Styles, good morning," she greets, her voice is as flat as all of this feels. "I'm Nurse Chen. Dr. Morrison will be joining us shortly, but I'll be setting up the preliminary scan."

Without direction, Olivia moves to the examination table with confidence. She's done this before, but for a second, I forgot, and it's jolting my reality, and I realize that this will be a breeze for her. She's already a mother. This isn't new territory for her, just for me, and the feeling of that is even more isolating.

"You can take a seat there," then Nurse Chen points to a chair positioned near the head of the exam table. Close enough to see the monitor or to hold Olivia's hand if needed. Close enough to witness the moment my life changes forever.

With regret, I sink into the chair, my legs suddenly unable to support the weight of my body, and it's like watching everything through a dreamlike veil as Olivia settles onto the table, pulling her sweater up to expose her stomach, and I stare at the pale flesh of her belly, trying to imagine it stretched and rounded with my child, but the image refuses to form, like my brain is rejecting the possibility outright.

"This will be cold," Nurse Chen warns, squeezing clear gel onto Olivia's abdomen, making this all too real as the scan is set in motion.

Suddenly, the silence in the room is deafening, my ears ringing, punctuated by the crinkle of paper as Olivia shifts on the examination table, the soft beeps of the machine being calibrated, and the steady tick of a clock on the wall marking each second of this agonizing wait.

Each slight sound is amplified by the steady race of my beating heart—the mechanical squeak of the nurse's shoes on the linoleum floor, Olivia's calm, measured breathing, the blood rushing in my ears, a uncompromising reminder that time is still moving forward, even as I'm desperately wishing it would stop.

"Dr. Morrison will be here momentarily," Nurse Chen says, breaking the heavy silence. "I'm just making sure everything's ready." Her eyes catch mine for a brief second, and I wonder if she can see the panic, if I'm breathing, because I think I'm breathing.

Then she goes back to pressing buttons on the ultrasound machine, adjustments that mean nothing to me but seem to hold the weight of my entire future. The screen flickers to life, static gray and black like something from a horror film, now waiting to reveal its secrets.

Naturally, Olivia's hand finds mine, her fingers cool against my palm, and even though it feels alarming, I don't pull away. Whatever complicated history hangs between us, we're unfortunately bound together in this moment of uncertainty.

The door opens, and Dr. Morrison enters—a woman who's maybe in her fifties, with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor that fills the room the second she enters. She introduces herself, but her words fade to background noise the second she takes the ultrasound wand from the nurse, and I feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach.

This is it; this moment is about to decide my whole future. Olivia is squeezing my hand, but I can't tear my eyes from the screen as I force myself to breathe. "Let's see what we have here," she says, pressing the wand against Olivia's flat stomach, moving it in slow, deliberate circles.

That's when the room seems to narrow to just the monitor, just that screen of shifting shadows, and time itself seems to stop as Dr. Morris concentrates, adjusting angles and pressing buttons. The moving static on the screen shifts and changes, patterns emerging and dissolving into the grayscale void, and I keep trying to make things out in my head, piece it together, but I'm out of my element because everything just looks confusing, like the screen is reflecting all my jumbled thoughts.

And I'm holding my breath, my mind suspended between two possible futures—one where I walk out of here still the same person I was yesterday, and one where I leave forever changed, responsible for a new life that I never planned for, never imagined would come from a moment of weakness in Venice, and I can't help the hate that's swarming in my chest.

Then Dr. Morrison's voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. "There," she says, pointing to the screen.

I lean forward, trying to get a better view of the mess on the screen, straining to make sense of the blurry image. And then I see it—a small, defined shape amidst the static. A tiny bean-like form with a flickering center.

"That's your baby," she tells us with a proud smile on her face. "Approximately six weeks along, judging by the size. And that flickering—" she points to the pulsing center, "—that's the heartbeat."

A heartbeat. My child's heartbeat.

And the words seem to send the room spinning, the walls closing in as my entire world seems to be crashing around me, crumbling into pieces I don't know how to gather in this moment. This is real. This is happening. There is a baby—a fucking baby—growing inside Olivia.

"Everything looks normal for this stage," Dr. Morrison continues, her voice distant, drifting further away. "Strong heartbeat, good implantation site."

Olivia's grip on my hand tightens, but I barely feel it because all at once I'm drowning in a sea of terrifying certainty, the confirmation of what I feared most sinking me deeper with each passing second, and I can't fucking breathe, I can't fucking do this. How am I going to be a father? How am I going to raise a child with a woman I no longer love? I'm going to be tied to Olivia forever, through this small being who deserves absolutely none of the complications it will be born into, yet I can't change it; I can't take it back.

And Shiloh—God, Shiloh. What would this mean for any chance of a future with her? How could I possibly ask her to step into this chaos—the chaos that I've brought every step of the way? How can I ask her to accept a relationship where my ex and my child would always be part of the equation?

That's when my ears lock onto the steady rhythm of that tiny little heartbeat that fills the room, a relentless reminder of the life I've helped to create, a life that's about to reshape my whole world, and as Dr. Morrison continues explaining developmental milestones and prenatal care, one single, terrifying question overshadows everything else in my mind.

Now what?

In my head, I wanted him; in my heart, he had me, but in my bones, I knew I couldn't live without him, and that for me is the most terrifying thought above everything else because if he called, just once, I know I would forgive the distance, his fucking avoidance like a knife, because I miss him, because he's the first and last thought of my day, but I can't bring myself to call him.

"So, like, maybe we start with the nail painting segment, keep it authentic to your channel, you know, in a way?" Billie suggests, sprawled across my couch in an oversized tee-shirt, clinging to the shape of her body underneath, a rare sight as her bleach-blonde hair splays against the cushions. "That's honestly been my favorite part of sleepovers."

It's been a week since the premiere. A week of tortured silence from Harry, which seems to speak volumes on his end. A week of me throwing myself into work to avoid the hollow ache that's taken up residence beneath the tender flesh of my ribs. When Billie sent me another DM two days after the premiere, it felt like the universe was trying to throw me a lifeline—or at least a temporary distraction, and honestly, I was grateful for it.

"Nail painting is perfect. That's definitely something that feels natural," I agree, scrolling through our shared document of ideas. "We could start casual, then do a couple of outfit changes as we go. Build up to the pillow fight before we go to sleep." I joke, laughing out the last bit.

"A fucking pillow fight, dude? I'd be dead. The world is not ready for that at all...everyone would be walking around with a fucking boner. Could you imagine?" And when Billie grins, it draws me in, and I'm struck again by how disarming she is in person. On stage, she has this creatively cool confidence, with a raw talent that only adds to her uniqueness, but here, in my living room, she's just a twenty-something girl planning a sleepover with the same enthusiasm as a teenager, and it's fucking mind-blowing, like I'm living in a parallel universe.

"It's crazy, but Kim sent us so many options. When you agreed, my team reached out to her, and she was totally down," Billie adds, nodding her head toward the unopened boxes of Skims clothing stacked in the corner. "Would we want to do, like, a mini fashion show between takes? Honestly, this could be so chill. It's the perfect collab; I just had to work with you." And when she looks my way, she smiles, those dreamy blue eyes of hers roaming my face, and I have to look away.

"It's actually so crazy. I still can't get over how much shit these companies hand out for free...I guess it falls into line with you have to spend money to make money...but money is fucking weird."

Billie laughs, "I thought the same thing when I started making real money, but you just have to look at it as all parties are benefiting, not just you... you know. Plus, I've been trying to figure out a way to boost your channel. That's why I reached out the first time." And her words have me grinning, my cheeks warming at the thought that she's that invested.

She's right, though. This collaboration is perfect for all parties involved—Billie gets to tease her upcoming music video concept with me at the forefront, and naturally, I'll for sure get content that will definitely boost my channel, and Kim, of course, gets the organic promotion for her newest collection. It's a triple fucking win. But mostly, I'm looking forward to not spending the next week obsessively checking my phone for a message that isn't coming, because what's another week of not talking? We've done it before.

"I haven't done anything this girly in a while... it's very fem forward, I'm kinda digging this idea, like completely," I confess.

This makes Billie's eyes light up. "That's why it's gonna be so good. People love seeing a different side of someone. I've been really trying to dive into my feminine energy lately, and this just felt right."

And god, the fucking irony doesn't escape me—that I'm about to show the world a softer, more playful side of myself right when the one person I actually wanted to see that side has disappeared from my life. The weight of Harry's ring sits heavy on my finger, a decision I keep telling myself is practical rather than sentimental, but I couldn't bring myself to take it off, once I put it back on because maybe there's still this desperate, pathetic part of me that keeps hoping he'll call, that he'll have some explanation that makes this all make sense, that maybe this isn't our ending after all. At least, that's what I tell myself.

"Yo, Shiloh, you good, girl?" And then I realize I must have zoned out, because suddenly Billie is waving a hand in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. "I think I just lost you, dude?"

I force a smile, trying to push the thought of Harry from my mind. "Just mentally planning the shot list. Maybe we should get food before we start going through the boxes."

"Hold still, silly," Billie laughs, her face scrunched in concentration as she applies a delicate white daisy sticker to the emerald polish on my index finger. "I swear, you're worse than a child."

We've been filming for three hours now, and somehow it feels like minutes. It's crazy how fast the initial awkwardness of working with someone new faded almost immediately, because there's something about Billie that makes it impossible to maintain any walls or whatever pretenses I may have had. There's something so genuine about her that it practically demands the same in return.

Demanding that you be yourself, demanding no bullshit, and it's such a breath of fresh air, and every second I've spent talking to her seems to blur that veil between the parallel I sometimes find myself in.

"Sorry," I say, trying to steady my hand. "I'm not used to being on this side of things, you know..."

With my free hand, I'm scrolling through the live chat on my phone, which is blowing up. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen it this wild, a blur of excited messages, heart emojis, fans obsessively trying to already form theories about Billie and my "relationship." Our followers wanting to ship us was not on this year's bingo card, but it's a welcome change from all the Harry speculation, which has not died down in the slightest.

"This color is fire on you," Billie coos, carefully adding another tiny flower, and as soon as it hits the wet polish, she brings my hand closer to her mouth, locking eyes with me as she purses her lips to blow a cool breath over the tips of my fingers, and the gesture sends a flutter to the pit of my stomach, because god, those eyes, that perfect mouth has me dumbfounded when she says, "Green is definitely your shade." I'm mesmerized. Her blonde hair is lit up by the light above us, and she looks ethereal, an angelic being sitting inches away from me.

"It matches my eyes?" I ask slowly as memories of FaceTime calls with Harry flood back—him telling me how much he loved when I wore green, how it made my eyes look like spring, and all I can do is smile back at her, because her presence is stealing my focus.

Billie glances down, biting her lower lip with a smirk that blooms into a full-blown smile, and when she looks back up, she catches the flicker of something on my face but doesn't press right away. Instead, she gently takes my hand, turning it to admire her handiwork. That's when her thumb brushes over Harry's ring ever so slightly—a deliberate gesture, questioning without words, and my heart stills when her eyes flick to mine.

"Nice hardware," she says lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Is it vintage?"

I freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, like the ring itself is burning into my skin with a history even I don't understand. Suddenly, my mind is racing for something to say that won't sound like a lie but won't open the floodgates to questions I'm not ready to answer, especially not with thousands of viewers watching my every reaction, just waiting for me to slip up.

I hate that the truth is complicated. It's obviously not vintage in the traditional sense, but it carries the weight of memories that don't belong to me. I can feel Annie's eyes boring into me from behind the camera, silently pleading with me not to derail this carefully staged segment with personal drama. The chat is probably already exploding with screenshots and speculation. One wrong word and I'll be trending for all the wrong reasons, I just know it.

"Honestly, it was just a trade I made with a friend; I don't really know anything about the ring..." I finally answer, but it's true enough, and I can't bring myself to look up at Billie, whose eyes are trained on me.

"I see..." is all she says, but I can hear the smile in her tone, her soft voice playful as she swipes her finger over it again.

Of course, the fucking camera catches it all—the gesture, the smirk, my momentary hesitation. The chat explodes with new theories, and I can practically hear Annie groaning from behind the camera.

"Something like that," I respond with a practiced smile, grateful when Billie seamlessly transitions to the next topic.

Two outfit changes later, we're sprawled across my bed, surrounded by pillows and snacks, Billie's song for the music video playing in the background as we flip through magazines like teenagers, passing questions back and forth from Cosmo, early 2000s editions. The casualness of it all feels surreal after months of being more structured with all my interactions, of measuring every word, every glance in case it might be misinterpreted. I felt like I just wanted to have fun with this, be myself as much as possible.

"The more I read this magazine, the more I'm thinking this shit is toxic," Billie says, taking a bite out of a chocolate-covered strawberry.

I laugh, leaning back against the headboard. "God, I know, dude, this one is giving 23 ways I can fake my weight...that's insane."

"Fuck that...chocolate-covered strawberry?" Billie offers, nudging my leg with her foot as we both laugh.

"Hell, yes, pass those fuckers my way..."

It doesn't take long for us to fall into easy banter, the kind that makes viewers feel like they're eavesdropping on a private conversation between two friends. Because somehow, that's exactly what we've become. Not just collaborators, not just industry connections, but genuine friends.

Is this really happening? The thought floats through my mind as Billie laughs at something I've said. Billie fucking Eilish, in my bedroom, eating strawberries like we've been friends forever. Last year, I was struggling to even land a single celebrity; now I'm going to be in a music video, and I'm somehow collaborating with Kim K, and I've never even talked to her before.

What if this is it? The peak before the fall? What if I'm just the flavor of the month, another body to fill a frame, forgotten when the next girl comes along?

But I push the thought away. Not today. Today, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. Even if it all disappears tomorrow, and as the filming wraps, I curl up beside Billie—her idea—fairy lights twinkling above us, pretending to settle in for the night. Billie throws an arm over my waist, pulling me closer in a casual cuddle that feels both performative and genuinely comfortable.

"This is gonna break the internet," she whispers just as Annie signals the end of filming.

Later, after Billie leaves and we're all done packing up the equipment, I find myself alone in my room, scrolling through the comment section under our Live. The comments are already flooding in—speculation about Billie and me, about the ring, about what it all means. It's the most attention I've ever gotten on any of my stuff this fast, and I'm not sure what it all means, nor do I care.

And maybe for the first time in a week, I don't feel the ache of missing Harry quite as deeply. Maybe this is a new beginning, a chance to step into a life that isn't defined by someone else's absence, or what his presence would have made of it. Let them wonder. Let them create the narratives, whoever they're going to ship me with this week. I don't care; let them build an entire relationship based on a glance or a touch. It doesn't mean it's true.

When I look down, I twist Harry's ring around my finger one last time before slipping it off and placing it in my jewelry box. Whatever story the world wants to tell about me and Billie, at least it's one I had some control of crafting. It's a comforting thought, unlike the story of Harry and me, which seems to have ended before it truly began—a narrative cut short, incomplete.

I close the lid, and for the first time in a week, I feel free.

And life, somehow, goes on anyway.

The comments section blurs before my eyes, each pixel on the screen a tiny dagger. Two weeks since the premiere. One week since I first saw Shiloh curled up next to Billie Eilish on a livestream, both of them wrapped in matching loungewear, giggling like schoolgirls at a sleepover.

The internet had lost its fucking mind.

Are they dating? Shiloh and Billie serving sapphic EXCELLENCE. What happened to Harry??? Wasn't she just wearing his ring?

That's the part that guts me. Every time she's photographed, every new video she posts—there it is. My ring. Still on her finger like a promise I'm failing to keep with each passing day.

I scroll past a zoomed-in photo of her hand from yesterday, a paparazzi shot outside some cafe in LA, my silver dancing bears band glinting in the sunlight. The tabloid headline makes my stomach twist: Shiloh Taylor: Hollywood's Most Eligible Mystery—Who's Next After Harry Styles?

As if I ever really had her. As if I didn't throw away my chance the moment Olivia uttered those life-changing words.

The notifications on my phone have tripled since Shiloh's collaboration with Billie dropped. My mentions flooded with questions, theories, demands for explanations that I have no right to give. Even my own fans seem more invested in Shiloh now—dissecting her every expression, speculating wildly about what happened between us. Some defend me; others taking sides, declaring themselves "Team Shiloh" with a loyalty that would be touching if it weren't so fucking tragic.

I've drafted a dozen messages over the past two weeks. Typed and deleted and retyped until my fingers ached. There’s nothing to say but the truth. No explanation feels adequate. No apology big enough to bridge the chasm I've created.

But I can't take another day of silence. Another day of watching her life unfold through screens and snippets, hearing her laugh for everyone except me.

Before I can think twice, my finger is pressing the call button, and my heart hammers against my ribs as the phone rings, once, twice, three times. She won't answer. Why would she? I've given her every reason to hate me, to move on, to—

"I didn't think you would call?"

Shiloh's voice hits like a physical blow, knocking the air straight from my lungs. She sounds exhausted, wary, not a hint of the bright laughter I had heard echoing through my phone screen as she painted Billie's nails.

"Shi—" I try, but my voice breaks on her name, it's like everything I've been planning on saying evaporates into the ether. "I—"

"Are you back with Olivia?" she asks, not wasting time. The question comes like a bullet, precise, yet devastating, and I hate that this would even be the first thing that comes to her mind.

"No..." I answer immediately. It's not a lie—we're technically not "back together" in the romantic sense. But the truth is so much more complicated, so much harder to explain.

"Did you—" she starts, and her voice cracks, and she sighs, taking a moment to collect herself, "Did you sleep with her that night?"

The question hurts, another direct hit, and I close my eyes, willing myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest, but it hurts so fucking bad that this is what I've left her to suffer with, the assumptions I knew would come, but it's different coming from her mouth.

"No," I say again. "But Shiloh, there's something I need to tell—"

"Listen, Harry, I can't do this over the phone," she interrupts, her voice softening slightly. "I've spent two weeks trying to hate you, and I... I can't. I fucking miss you so bad. Whatever you need to say, whatever happened, I need to hear it from your mouth, face to face, I need to see you."

And as her words land, I swallow hard, pressing the heel of my palm against my eye to stem the burning threat of tears. "I don't deserve that."

"Maybe not," she tells me, and there's a sharp edge to her tone. "But I do. You owe me an explanation."

For a long moment, the silence stretches between us, heavy with everything left unsaid for the past two weeks, with everything that's to come, because I don't think it's as easy as just coming over.

"Harry?"

"I'm here," I whisper, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.

"I think..." She hesitates, and I can almost see her twisting my ring around her finger, struggling to find the words. "I think I'm in love with you, and I know it doesn't make any sense, because we barely know each other, and God, we've spent more time apart than we have together. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I can't explain it, and it's fucking driving me insane. I don't think I can take another day of this, please, Harry."

And then my heart breaks even more with her confession—breaks because this is everything I've ever wanted to hear from her, everything I've ever dreamed of coming from Shiloh's mouth, and now it's tainted by the weight of my reality, by what she's yet to find out.

"I feel it too," I admit, my voice barely audible. "From the moment I saw you. It was like something inside me recognized you. Shi, I swear I've missed you with every fiber of my being. Every day. Every second, I swear to you."

When the phone picks up on her shaky breath, I grip it tighter, as if I could somehow reach through and touch her, as if I could comfort her in this very moment somehow.

"So come over," she says, the line simple and easy. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Nothing can be bigger than this. I need you."

And Christ, if only she knew. If only she understood the complication waiting to upend our lives, she might change her mind, but she's right, I owe her the truth, face to face—not another cowardly disappearance, and it can't be another excuse.

"Harry?" she pushes when I don't respond. "You still there?"

"Yes," I manage, as the dread pools in my stomach at the thought of watching her expression change, watching the realization that loving me will come with baggage she never signed up for.

"Are you going to come over or not, Harry?"

A/N: Finally we have our answers, Chapter 13 is here! This timeline is all over the place. Please don't try and hold this story to any sort of time period. I'm only taking what I want from every character involved.

LET'S TALK ABOUT IT: Now he knows, now what? Is Harry going to face Shiloh or continue to leave her hanging. What do you guys think will happen next?

->chat with me<-

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl @lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies @amateurduck

Chapter Fourteen

All Chapters Here <-

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere! Self-Aware! Markus/RK200 (Detroit: Become Human) with gamer darling. It can be depicted as romantic or platonic. Always enthusiastic with the choices made for him and doesn’t mind if darling made some mistakes either. However I’d like the darling to be female, of course if that doesn’t bother you.

The cool thing is this doesn't really require much knowledge about what happens on his route. I'm mostly focusing on how he'd react in this so no need for many spoilers or anything :)

I'd love to experiment with this idea even if I am not the best with Self-Aware yanderes!

Yandere! Self-Aware! Markus (RK200) with Player! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Self-aware yandere, Obsession, Yearning/Pining, Dubious feelings/relationship, Game character comes to real world, Protective behavior mentioned briefly, Isolation, Delusional behavior, Slight worshipping yandere behavior, Slight possessive behavior.

Honestly, with a game like DBH a self-aware yandere actually seems very interesting.

Why, you may be asking?

Compared to other video game characters, games that require you to make choices like DBH affect the outcome and the character.

Essentially, a character in DBH is dependent on their player to develop themselves.

Sure, many self-aware yanderes feel guided by their player.

In DBH it feels more intense because your choices actually develop their personalities.

Although it would only be this intense if they're a player character like Connor, Kara, or Markus.

These characters are ones you play as in DBH, which means you as the player shape their story.

You shape how they act.

You shape them.

These three as self-aware yanderes would be intense due to this.

Like in this example;

Self-aware! Markus can either be a pacifist or choose violence in how he deals with people.

His darling chooses that for him.

Honestly, Markus was already one of the most self-aware player characters in the game.

He was the first to go deviant, funnily enough he'd be the first to grow self-aware too.

It's an experience for him.

Not only does he learn he can be much more than an android, he also learns he's in a game.

He feels he has control, yet you're the one making decisions.

It's a conflicting feeling but he begins to not mind it when you guide him.

He actually... likes it when you shape him and his personality with your choices.

When he does see you he's intrigued by this woman who guides him with such wonder.

Markus does accept every choice you make with slight excitement and curiosity.

He understands if you make a mistake but for the most part he looks forward to what you'll say in certain situations.

Part of him wonders if the others, Connor and Kara, know your presence.

Part of him is actually jealous of the thought and hopes they don't.

Markus accepts the fact that you two need each other in a way.

In order to play the game, you need him.

In order to find just who he is, Markus needs you.

Markus assumes the personality you shape for him is to your taste at times.

Did you want him to be a pacifist? Did you want him to be violent?

He assumes you're shaping him to your tastes... he finds it endearing in a way.

Markus, like most yanderes in a video game, would want to meet his player face to face.

Markus feels he wants to meet the partner who has shown him many paths.

You've shown him kindness, you've shown him violence, what has he learned from all of these choices?

In the end, he is yours.

He actually doesn't mind it too much.

For the most part Markus would watch you through a camera on your device or accept the fact he can only adore you from afar.

Yet let's get... hypothetical and unrealistic.

Let's say by some means, Markus came into the real world.

He'd be curious on finally meeting you and would look you over.

You're a female human as he's seen before briefly... you look about as adorable as he's remembered.

He can't believe you've been guiding him all this time.

He greets you like you're long time partners, which works for platonic or romantic.

He wants to be close with you, he wonders if you can still help each other in this new world....

You may be panicking but Markus tries to reassure you that everything is okay.

He's experienced in taking care of humans, he'll take care of you, his player.

Markus would treat you with care regardless of how you shaped his personality.

He owes it to you, after all.

He... he's indebted to you after everything you've done together.

You made him this way, he's yours.

Markus hasn't seen other humans like you and would probably isolate you.

You're his whole world.

He doesn't care about the other humans in this world, or the fact he's the only android, all he cares about is feeling you in his arms.

He's protective of his yandere but depending on the route you took with him he'll either be violent or calm with it.

Markus wants to keep up the idea of you just relying on him.

He has only ever known you as his partner... the same should be with you.

When Markus enters the real world, he begins to isolate you.

He feels it should just be you and him.

You could be a girlfriend or just a close companion, Markus dedicates himself to you either way.

Markus may even think of ways to bring you back to his world.

He doesn't ever want to part from you again.

But, why do you look at him with so much fear?

There's no need to be scared of him...

Markus is your partner... your host in the game... yours...

You're his partner... his player... all his until the end... aren't you?

[budd-ie]

(BOOK 7/8 SPOILERS AHEAD)

Back at the end of this post I said that Mu Qing's mindset reminded me a lot of Jun Wu but didn't have any insight for why at the time. I think I figured it out now though!

To establish some context, this post explains what Mu Qing and Xie Lian's answers to the riddle reveal about them as opposites, which I believe is relevant to understand for this explanation. In short though, we know this:

Mu Qing is someone who is willing to make realistic cost-benefit moral choices for what he believes is the greater good.

Xie Lian is Not willing to make cost-benefit choices and will always try to idealistically achieve the greatest good for everyone.

Jun Wu, the crown prince of Wuyong, once wanted to save everyone, make no sacrifices to the volcano, and find that third path to victory. Unfortunately, this path crumbled beneath his feet, and in the end he gave in to choosing one path—making the sacrifices. On the first side of this, he desperately tried to find that other cup of water, and when he found none, he inevitably chose who to give it to. From this perspective, he sees Xie Lian’s moral dilemma of choosing the greatest good over his own wellbeing and wants to find Xie Lian’s breaking point. Bitterly, he wants to know if his aspiration really is impossible and if all good in the world really must die eventually, as he’s observed. Clearly, it’s impossible to give up so much of yourself without losing yourself eventually.

On the other side of this he sees Mu Qing, who isn’t afraid of the cost-benefit decision and is not only willing but conditioned to chase the greater good like jun wu did. Mu Qing is a very important character because his position compared to Xie Lian makes him the perfect manipulation target for Jun Wu. He already understands cost-benefit and holds previous grudges, so all that’s left is to further incite that hatred inside him use him for all he’s worth.

But…

Mu Qing refuses.

He refuses to be incited, he refuses to hurt no matter what kind of negative emotions have been festering all these centuries, and suffers the extreme punishment of banishment for it. Why doesn’t this incitement work? While he may be petty and spiteful, he’s never actually been malicious. Mu Qing’s resolve is extremely significant, because this is the event that sets in stone that Jun Wu is wrong. Suddenly this quote from Yin Yu becomes less incidental and much more thematically significant:

“I only wanted to hate him. I never wanted to hurt him”

Mu Qing may have held a lot of ill regards, but he himself even said he never wanted to hurt Xie Lian all those years ago on the cultivation grounds. Was he still in the wrong? Sure, the outcome was still negative, but he learned a real lesson about the two of them that day and absolutely regretted what he did. Isn’t that what matters most? All these negative emotions don’t need permanent dire consequences, and it’s okay to learn and grow after adversity, not only admitting mistakes, but accepting realities, perspectives, and choosing to move forward too. On top of that, the emotions both Yin Yu and Mu Qing felt were never even true hatred, just years of pent up frustration mixed with misunderstanding. As easy as it would be if the world was so black and white, that really just isn’t the case.

And so, all these centuries later, despite it all, Feng Xin and Mu Qing still choose to support Xie Lian. Not his highness the crown prince of Xianle, not the flower crown martial god, not the prince who pleased the gods, but Xie Lian himself. He still believed in them, and they believe in him, too. Jun Wu believed that betrayal is inevitable, but he didn’t understand that this doesn’t eliminate reconciliation. That’s why Mei Nianqing chooses to stay this time. His spirits were crushed back then, but his affection never wavered, and regret formed in the cracks, so he wants to try again. You don't have to, but as long as you want to, you’re allowed to try again.

[ancientforgcd]

Ruby is not a hero, nor does she claim to be. She is not self-sacrificial in the way many would expect from someone who fights as hard as she does. She is selfish, but not in a way that makes her cruel. Everything she does, she does because she wants to. If she helps, it is because she desires to. If she fights, it is because someone pissed her off, she loves to fight or because she refuses to let things slide. If she kills, it is because she believes it needs to be done. She does not act out of duty or expectation. She acts because it satisfies her sense of self and aligns with what she thinks should happen. That kind of selfishness is absolute.

The contradiction is that her selfishness often manifests as kindness. She will feed the starving, protect the vulnerable, and eliminate those who abuse others. But she does not do these things out of obligation. She does them because she wants to. If she did not want to, she would not. That is what separates her from those who call themselves heroes. She does not fight for an ideal or see herself as responsible for the world. She fights because it is who she is. The greater good does not concern her, nor does she try to balance consequences. She acts first and moves forward without regret.

She does not care for systems or structures, only for what she deems right in the moment. That is why she does not hesitate to kill those she deems unworthy of life, shatter institutions, or burn bridges without a second thought. It is not about justice. It is about her own sense of what should be. People who operate within morality may find this terrifying, but to Ruby, it is simple. She does not fight for freedom in a traditional sense. She is free, and by living that way, she shows others they can be too.

Her goal is not to change the world. Her goal is to live how she wants, go where she pleases, take what she desires, and leave behind what does not interest her. If she fights against tyrants and monsters, it is not because she dreams of a better world. It is because she cannot stand them. If she defends the weak, it is because she has decided they should be defended. Those who follow her do so because they see in her a life without rules, expectations, or authority dictating her path.

She does not plan, does not strategize, does not weigh outcomes before acting. Some would call that reckless or dangerous, but it is also why she wins. There is no hesitation, no doubt, no fear. There is only action, driven by instinct and conviction. That makes her unstoppable.

Some think of freedom as something to achieve by toppling structures or breaking chains. Ruby does not. She is free because she chooses to be. She does not ask for permission, seek validation, or hesitate. She does not free others by fighting for them but by showing them they never needed permission in the first place. She does not promise a better world, only a world where no one controls her.

She will never be a hero because a hero follows an ideal, sacrifices, and plays within the rules even when breaking them. Ruby does not. She does not sacrifice what she wants for others, hesitate when she decides something must be done, or accept compromise. Her selfishness has created someone who cannot be stopped. Not by laws, expectations, morality, or fear. She does not need to change the world. The world changes around her, whether it wants to or not.

[thejournallo]

Hi!

I'm wondering how can I have my faith of manifesting and shifting back. I'll explain briefly but it's been since the pandemic since I tried to apply the law and it's been 3 years since I tried to shift, however I've failed everytime (well, I've succeed for small things not even in my life but things on TV and stuff, but nothing worth it).

I tried everything, I've read Neville, I've interacted with peoples who succeed, I've applied everything, but nothing has worked, in fact, quite the opposite. I've been kick out of my apartment (I'm living with my family rn so dw), I'm unable to stay in college, I've anxiety attack if a small thing goes wrong when I'm watching shows and many other things that prevent me to relax.

The worst thing is I've never been looking more male when in fact I want to be a cute girl so bad. I hate the fact I'm trans because I know my current brain is not strong enough to assume it, I'd rather be a cis women or even stay as it is because I don't want everyone in this society to hate me.

That's why I'm trying to shift. That's the only way I could be me, seeing a therapist or having hormones won't change anything, but even shifting I fail. Each time waking up here makes me want to puke and disappear. I just want to have a strong brain and be the person I should be and deserved to be.

I don't know what I should try anymore. I've done everything, maybe I'm the 1% of people who can't manifest or do anything.

I'm sorry to bother you with this, but that's literally my last chance before doing something stupid or trying to erase my personality in order to be more accepted.

Hi there!

Thank you for reaching out, and I can feel the strength and determination in your words, even through the struggles you’ve described. Manifesting and shifting are deeply personal journeys, and it’s completely normal to feel lost or frustrated when things don’t go as planned. Remember, the power to create and transform is within you, and sometimes, it just needs a clearer path.

One of the main reasons many people struggle with manifesting is self-doubt. This doubt can sneak in as the belief that the opposite of what we want will happen or that our efforts will ultimately fail. When we think this way, we end up “polluting” our intentions with negativity. You deserve to believe fully in your vision, without these clouds of doubt.

Here are a few ideas to help you reconnect with your faith in manifesting and shifting:

Reaffirm Your Strength: Begin with simple affirmations that feel authentic. Saying things like, “I am capable, and my desires are valid,” or “I am moving closer to my true self each day,” can plant the seeds of trust within you. Repetition matters here; affirm whenever you can—over a coffee, while cooking, or whenever you feel down.

Let Go of ‘Perfect’ Outcomes: Sometimes, holding too tightly to the “perfect” vision of our desires can add unnecessary pressure. Embrace your journey as it is, allowing small successes to build your belief over time. Try to notice even the small moments that align with your goals, like those little manifestations on TV. Each one reinforces that your mind is a powerful tool.

Create a Safe Space to Visualize: It can be helpful to set aside time each day to connect deeply with your true self—visualize your ideal self not just in terms of appearance, but in terms of feeling and wholeness. Write down the qualities you admire and want to embody. This isn’t just about seeing yourself differently but feeling the reality of that change.

Trust the Process and Be Kind to Yourself: Trusting yourself can be hard, especially when faced with setbacks. But every day is a new chance. Even small, positive shifts in mindset are victories worth celebrating. And remember, manifesting often starts with loving where you are—even if it’s challenging—because that love and acceptance will help carry you forward.

Finally, it’s okay to reach out for help if you feel overwhelmed. You’re not alone, and there are people who genuinely want to support you. Keep going, and know that you have the strength and worthiness to reach the life you envision. It’s all within you; just take it one step at a time. and if you need im here

-xoxo the journallo

[aghost-writer]

Followers

Chapter 24

This is a Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen/JJK x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!!

The college campus was eerily quiet under the moonlight, the stillness broken only by the distant hum of cicadas. Satoru Gojo walked briskly through the empty corridors of Jujutsu College, his mind preoccupied with the day's events. He was supposed to be meeting with Y/N and Geto, but the ominous silence was unsettling.

As Gojo approached the classroom where he was scheduled to meet them, he was met by a grim-faced Yaga. The master of the college stood alone, his expression a blend of sorrow and resignation.

"Don't make me say it again," Yaga said sharply, his voice cutting through the night air.

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. "Say what?"

Yaga’s gaze hardened, his eyes filled with a depth of anguish that Gojo had seldom seen. "Geto Suguru has abandoned the sorcerers. He’s become a curse user."

Gojo’s face paled. "What are you talking about?"

"He's turned against us. He’s embraced the very thing we fight against." Yaga’s voice wavered slightly, but he forced himself to continue. "And worse, Y/N... she was burned to death by him."

Gojo’s world seemed to tilt. "No... That can’t be. You must be mistaken."

Yaga shook his head. "I wish I were. But the evidence is irrefutable. Geto’s actions have led to her death. We found her remains, along with traces of Geto's cursed energy."

A cold fury bubbled up inside Gojo. He could hardly process the weight of the words, the reality of Y/N’s death sinking in with brutal finality. His mind raced back to moments shared with Y/N, her laughter, her warmth. Now all that was left were shattered memories and a burning rage.

"So, Geto has really become that much of a monster," Gojo said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And Y/N... she suffered because of him."

Yaga’s eyes were somber. "I know this is a lot to take in. But we need to act. We need to find Geto and stop him before he does more harm."

Gojo clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "He’ll pay for this. I’ll make sure of it."

Yaga placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, trying to offer some measure of solace. "We all grieve in our own way, but we must remain focused. The mission isn’t over yet."

Gojo nodded, though his mind was consumed by thoughts of vengeance and justice. As he walked away, the moonlight cast long shadows on the ground, mirroring the dark path he was about to tread. The betrayal of a friend and the loss of Y/N had ignited a fire within him—one that would not be extinguished until he had avenged her death and stopped Geto Suguru.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

The moon hung low over the horizon, casting a silver glow across the peaceful landscape of the Jujutsu College grounds. Yu Haibara walked slowly along the familiar paths, his thoughts clouded with worry. He had been searching for Y/N, hoping to find her safe and sound, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him.

As he neared the college's main building, he spotted Yaga waiting by the entrance. The master's usually stern face was now etched with profound sadness, and Yu's heart sank. Something was terribly wrong.

"Master Yaga, have you seen Y/N?" Yu asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Yaga’s gaze was heavy with grief. "Yu, there's something you need to know. It’s about Y/N."

Yu’s breath hitched. "What happened?"

Yaga’s silence was a heavy weight, and he finally said, "Y/N... she’s gone. She was burned to death by Geto Suguru."

Yu’s eyes widened in disbelief. "No. That’s not possible. You’re mistaken."

"I wish I were," Yaga said softly. "The evidence is clear. Geto has turned against us and embraced the path of curses. Y/N suffered because of him."

Yu’s knees felt weak, and he stumbled back, clutching at his chest. The world seemed to spin around him as he tried to process the devastating news. "Y/N... No. We were supposed to..."

Yaga’s voice was gentle but firm. "I know it’s hard. We all hoped for a different outcome. But we must accept the truth and find a way to move forward."

Yu sank to the ground, his tears falling freely now. The image of Y/N’s smiling face, her laughter, and her warmth were suddenly replaced by the harsh reality of her death. The grief was overwhelming, and he could barely breathe through the pain.

"It can't end like this," Yu whispered, his voice breaking. "She didn’t deserve this. None of us did." Yaga knelt beside him, offering a hand in solidarity. "We will honor her memory. But for now, we need to focus on stopping Geto. He’s still out there, and we can't let his actions go unpunished."

Yu took a shuddering breath, struggling to regain his composure. "I’ll do whatever it takes. I owe her that much."

As Yu looked up at the night sky, he could almost hear Y/N’s voice in the whisper of the wind. The pain of her loss was a heavy burden, but it was also a call to action. The fight was not over, and Geto would face the consequences of his betrayal.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

Nanami Kento walked through the dimly lit halls of Jujutsu College, his heart heavy with an unspoken burden. The day had been long and fraught with tension, but the weight of his recent breakup with Y/N lingered, gnawing at him. He had hoped to find clarity and closure, but instead, he was met with an unexpected and shattering revelation.

He approached Yaga’s office, where a somber atmosphere seemed to hang in the air. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear murmurs of a conversation. Pushing the door open, Nanami saw Yaga standing with Yu Haibara, their expressions grave. Yaga’s gaze met his, filled with a sadness that spoke volumes.

“Nanami, you’re here,” Yaga said softly, his voice trembling with the weight of his words. “I need to tell you something. It’s about Y/N.”

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat. “What about her?”

Yaga took a deep breath, the gravity of the situation clear in his eyes. “Y/N is dead. Geto Suguru—he betrayed us and burned her to death.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath Nanami’s feet. The room swirled, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts. “No... it can’t be. There must be some mistake.”

“I wish it were,” Yaga replied, his voice steady but sorrowful. “But the evidence is undeniable. Y/N’s death was a result of Geto’s actions.”

Nanami’s mind raced back to their final moments together. The argument they had, the words they exchanged, and the hurt that lingered between them. He had ended their relationship, believing it was for the best, but the guilt of that decision now crashed over him like a tidal wave.

“No,” Nanami whispered, his voice barely audible. “I told her... I told her I didn’t want to be with her anymore. I broke her heart.”

Yaga’s expression softened with understanding. “You made a decision based on what you believed was right at the time. But now is not the moment for self-blame. We must focus on the immediate danger.”

Nanami sank into a nearby chair, his face buried in his hands. “I never told her how much she meant to me. I never got the chance to apologize or make things right. She must have died thinking I hated her.”

The weight of regret pressed down on him, and tears streamed down his face. He had been so focused on the reasons for their breakup that he had never considered the impact it would have on their relationship. The thought of Y/N facing her end with the belief that she was unloved and unwanted was almost too much to bear.

Yu approached him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nanami, it’s not your fault. None of us could have foreseen this. We must focus on what needs to be done now.”

Nanami nodded, though the pain in his chest felt unbearable. “I know. I just... I need to find a way to make amends, even if it’s too late for that now.”

Yaga’s gaze was resolute. “We will ensure that Geto faces justice for his actions. And in Y/N’s memory, we must stand together to prevent further tragedies.”

Nanami wiped his tears away, trying to muster his strength. The path forward would be difficult, and the weight of his regrets would remain with him. But he was determined to honor Y/N’s memory and seek retribution for the wrongs committed against her.

As Nanami left Yaga’s office, the night air was cool against his face. The world had irrevocably changed, and he was left to grapple with his sorrow and resolve. The fight against darkness would continue, and in his heart, he carried the enduring love and regret for the one who was now lost.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

The neon lights of the KFC sign flickered against the encroaching darkness, casting long shadows over the pavement. The fast-food restaurant was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside the hearts of its two patrons. Geto Suguru and Satoru Gojo stood outside, facing each other under the dim, flickering light of the sign. They had chosen this mundane, ordinary setting for a conversation that was anything but ordinary.

The tension between them was palpable. Geto's eyes, once full of warmth and camaraderie, were now cold and distant. His transformation from the friend Gojo once knew was marked by the blood on his hands and the darkness in his soul. Gojo, on the other hand, was a storm of emotion, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a gravity that spoke of heartbreak and betrayal.

"I never thought it would come to this," Gojo said, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his emotions. "I thought we could get through this. That maybe... maybe we could find our way back."

Geto's gaze was unyielding, his expression a mixture of indifference and something that might have been sadness if it wasn't buried so deep. "You don’t understand, Satoru. You never did. I’m not the person I used to be. I’ve changed."

"Changed?" Gojo's voice was tinged with anger. "You’ve become a monster, Suguru. You killed your own parents—non-sorcerers! How can you justify that?"

A flicker of pain crossed Geto's face, but it was quickly masked by a hardened resolve. "I did what I had to do. They were in my way. All those old beliefs, those morals—I’ve abandoned them. I’ve chosen a different path."

Gojo clenched his fists, trying to maintain his composure. "And what about Y/N? What about everything we fought for? You’ve thrown it all away."

Geto's face remained impassive. "Y/N was a casualty of my choice. I had to make a decision. I needed to be free of the constraints that bound me, and if that meant leaving her behind, so be it."

The words cut through Gojo like a knife. He took a step back, as if physically pushed by the weight of Geto's betrayal. His heart ached with the realization that the person he had once called his closest friend was now a stranger—someone who had willingly chosen darkness over the light they had once shared.

“You chose this path because of your hatred,” Gojo said, his voice breaking. “You never really cared about anything but your own desires. You’re the reason Y/N is gone. You left her in a world where she is alone, and now you’re claiming victory over the very things we used to protect.”

Geto's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp as steel. “I don’t like monkeys. That’s the truth I chose. Everything I’ve done has been to rid the world of what I see as impurities.”

The finality in Geto's words was crushing. Gojo felt as though he had been struck with an unbearable weight. He was standing on the precipice of despair, grappling with the loss of his friend and the person they both had loved. The darkness that had consumed Geto was not just a physical transformation but an emotional chasm that had swallowed their shared history.

“I can’t believe I ever thought I knew you,” Gojo whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I thought we could rebuild, fix what was broken. But now... now I see that you’re beyond redemption.”

Geto turned his back, the finality of his actions clear in the way he walked away. He had abandoned not just his old self but the very essence of their friendship. As he disappeared into the night, Gojo was left alone with his shattered heart and the bitter taste of betrayal.

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Gojo stood there, unmoving, the weight of what had transpired sinking into him with each passing second. The world had changed irrevocably, and the bonds that once held them together had disintegrated into fragments of pain and regret.

The neon lights of the KFC sign flickered on, casting a ghostly glow over the empty space where once stood two friends who now were nothing but distant memories.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

The cold, sterile walls of the Star Religious Group headquarters seemed to close in on Geto Suguru as he stood in the center of the room. The once-grand hall, now repurposed into a command center, was illuminated by the soft glow of a dozen computer screens, their screensaver flickering with haunting images of Y/N. The walls, lined with ornate tapestries depicting various religious symbols, now served as a grim reminder of the price Geto had paid for his choices.

In the dim light, Geto’s face was a mask of anguish, his usually sharp features softened by the weight of his grief. He moved with a slow, deliberate gait, his hands trembling as he reached for a framed photograph on a nearby desk. The photo was of Y/N, taken on a sunny day when they had been together, smiling and carefree. It was a painful contrast to the current reality—one where Y/N was no longer alive.

The room was eerily quiet, the hum of the computers the only sound that broke the silence. Geto’s gaze remained fixed on the photograph, tears streaming down his face as he clutched it to his chest. The loss was suffocating, a chasm of emptiness that swallowed him whole.

“She died trying to save them,” Geto murmured to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She started the fire to protect those girls... and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

He had made his choice—becoming the villain, taking over the Star Religious Group, and using his newfound power to ensure the safety of the two girls Y/N had sent to him. It was a choice born of desperation and love, a way to give Y/N's sacrifice some meaning in a world that had turned its back on them.

The weight of his decision pressed down on him like a physical force. Geto had taken control of the organization, transforming it from a seemingly benign religious group into a powerful force under his command. His leadership was ruthless, his actions driven by a twisted sense of justice. But every decision he made, every command he issued, was haunted by the memory of Y/N.

He walked to the large window overlooking the city, the night air cool against his face. The lights of the city below twinkled like stars, a stark reminder of the life he had once shared with Y/N—one filled with hope and love. Now, it felt like a distant dream, a world that had been irrevocably altered by the loss.

As he stared out into the darkness, Geto’s thoughts turned to the two girls—Mimiko and Nanako Hasaba. They were the legacy of Y/N’s final act of bravery, and he had sworn to protect them with his life. Their safety was the only thing that gave him a semblance of purpose now, a way to atone for the choices that had led to Y/N’s death.

The door to the room creaked open, and one of Geto’s aides entered, breaking the somber silence. “Master Suguru, the preparations are complete. The new recruits are ready for your inspection.”

Geto nodded absently, his mind far removed from the immediate concerns of his newfound power. “I’ll be there shortly,” he said, his voice hoarse.

As the aide left, Geto returned his attention to the photograph. He brushed a tear from his cheek and took a deep, shuddering breath. The path he had chosen was dark and treacherous, but it was the only one left to him. In his quest for vengeance and redemption, he had become a villain—a shadow of the man he once was.

“I’ll protect them,” he vowed, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll make sure their lives are worth something. It’s the least I can do for you, Y/N.”The photograph was carefully placed back on the desk, the image of Y/N’s smiling face now a bittersweet reminder of the love he had lost. As Geto turned away, his resolve hardened. The path he had chosen was fraught with darkness, but it was the only way he could honor Y/N’s memory. In the cold, impersonal halls of the Star Religious Group headquarters, Geto Suguru carried the weight of his choices, mourning the past while shaping a future forged in the fires of love and loss.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

The roar of engines and the smell of burning rubber filled the air at the racetrack, where the usual bustle of mechanics and drivers surrounded Toji Fushiguro. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar figure that was conspicuously absent. It was their monthly meeting—a ritual that had become a constant in the chaotic world they both inhabited. But today, Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

Toji leaned against the side of his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, the cool breeze doing little to calm the unease gnawing at him. The racetrack, usually a place where he could unwind and forget the world for a while, felt strangely empty without Y/N's presence. She was always on time, always there with that mischievous grin, ready to challenge him to another race or share some ridiculous story that would make him laugh despite himself.

But now, as the minutes ticked by, the unease turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages to see if he had missed anything from her. Nothing. No calls, no texts—just silence.

It wasn’t like Y/N to just disappear. She was always dependable, especially when it came to their meetings. Toji knew she had a life full of secrets, just like he did, but this… this was different. A heavy sense of foreboding settled over him as he pushed off the car and began pacing, his mind racing with possibilities.

What if something had happened to her? The thought sent a chill down his spine, and he quickly shoved it away. Y/N was strong, resilient—she could handle herself in any situation. But even the strongest people had their limits.

A familiar voice called out to him from across the pit lane, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was one of the track attendants, a man Toji barely knew but had seen around often enough. “Hey, Fushiguro! You waiting on someone?”

Toji nodded, trying to keep his voice casual. “Yeah. She’s late. You seen her?”

The man shook his head. “Not today. Thought she’d be with you. Everything okay?”

Toji forced a grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, everything’s fine. She’s probably just caught up in something.”

But the words felt hollow, even to him. As the attendant walked away, Toji’s grin faded, replaced by a look of grim determination. He couldn’t just stand here and wait—he had to find out what was going on.

Without another thought, Toji slid into the driver’s seat of his car, the engine growling to life as he revved it in frustration. He peeled out of the pit lane, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he sped down the track, his mind racing faster than the car.

Memories of Y/N flashed through his mind—their banter, the way she always seemed to get under his skin in the most infuriating and endearing ways, the quiet moments where they both understood each other without saying a word. She was the only person who could make him feel… something, anything, in a world that had long since gone numb.

As the car roared down the straightaway, Toji’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He needed to find her. He needed to know she was okay. Because the alternative—the thought that she might be gone, that she might have left him behind without a word—was unbearable.

The checkered flag waved at the finish line, but Toji didn’t slow down. He kept driving, pushing the car to its limits as if he could outrun the dread that was tightening around his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared—scared that he had lost the one person who mattered to him in this world.

Finally, he brought the car to a screeching halt in the parking lot, the engine ticking as it cooled. Toji sat there for a moment, his hands still gripping the wheel, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. The silence was deafening, and it was then that he realized—she wasn’t coming. Whatever had happened, Y/N wasn’t here. And that terrified him more than any fight he had ever been in.

Toji slammed his fists against the steering wheel, a guttural growl of frustration escaping him. “Dammit, Y/N… where are you?” he muttered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

But the racetrack offered no answers, only the echo of his own despair. As the last of the cars left the track and the sun dipped below the horizon, Toji remained alone in the parking lot, waiting for someone who would never come.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥༻❀༺♥༻༺♥❀༺♥༺♥༻

Once again, Y/N slowly opened her eyes. 

[basedhighsenberg]

Honestly I’ll agree with you on the college thing. Getting an engineering degree right now. It absolutely feels like the advisors and others involved in course selection and financial aid are at best incompetent and at worst acting against the students. The main problem though with technical courses is that professor outcomes are not tied to student outcomes. All of my professors are researchers first that are forced to teach and don’t give a shit what happens to us, and I believe quite a few of them and the TAs are foreigners here on visa, so they’re not really tied to the outcome economically.

Every single degree, even the beloved STEM ones, are getting devalued by massive class sizes from low quality schools and foreign people competing for the same positions. Pretty much everyone in my class thinks we’ll have to get a Masters to be worth anything by time of graduation.

It’s a gamble but it’s probably one of the better bets I can make right now given my circumstances. I don’t see why people can’t at least recognize that point.

I understand your point anon. When I was in my early-mid 20s college felt like the only acceptable path for me going forward. It took a series of life changes outside of my control and hard decisions within my control for me to realize my path could continue outside of college and still be successful.

STEM is especially tricky because it's arguably the fields of knowledge that benefit most from being in some sort of structured/class learning environment. It's difficult to pursue anything requiring lab work watching YouTube videos and hard sciences aren't something that most people can simply just "pick up", no matter how much of an autodidact one might claim to be.

But to your point about being tied to student outcomes- I would argue that this is the BIGGEST issue right now in academia. A lot of it has to do with the fact that colleges have been specifically financially decoupled from all outcomes.

I have long argued that colleges should, in some way/shape/form, be liable financially for student outcomes. Being able to discharge loans through bankruptcy would be a vast improvement but doesn't go far enough- universities/colleges that pump out useless degree holders should have to liquidate their own assets to cover the financial burden. Perhaps something more nuanced or technically feasible but something along those lines.

It's the kind of change that probably requires the complete collapse of the current collegiate system in the US before it would ever be seriously implemented. Here's hoping for that though 🙏

[taradactylus]

I wrote this little one shot idea after Lunar killed Eclipse, just never finished it. So decided to share it here. I don't care about any of the mistakes because this is literally just copied out of my "Unfinished works" drafts. I don't think I'll finish it, so just enjoy this sketched out idea I had!

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, mentions of death, mentions of suicide attempt(?)

Just a step. Nothing more is needed. Making a hard decision always needs a bold, first step towards the goal you wish to reach. Everyone has a goal, no matter how benefitial or morally acceptable that goal is. We have goals we share with the world, steps we're not scared to take. Or maybe we're scared, but we take the step either way. Most of the times, as we slowly go on the labyrinth of decisions just to taste victory for a moment, wether to go on further after that or not, we can step back. Or just look back how far we've come, what paths we chose to reach our beloved destination.

Sometimes, when we're too scared to take steps forward though, the time as we stay frozen in place can be long. Sometimes, it's because we overthink the unknown, or the possible outcomes. Theories upon speculations, poured into worry, anxiety, and fear. Being aware how fragile the path we're on, too frightened to mess it up, so we drown in our desperate attempts in getting an actual answer before we make the decision.

But sometimes, the reason we stay frozen in place, thinking and waiting, is because we know what's coming with this decision. The consequences, the outcomes, the reactions. The knowledge of what's hand in hand with such a hard and drastic choise makes us stay in place usually. Maybe even pretending we are taking steps, but truly, we are not getting any closer to the goal we long for. Everyone has their reasons why they wouldn't take the step, why stay in place as everybody goes by. Why watching and waiting until the ones we started our journey with are long gone. Everyone has their reason.

For Sun, he was aware he won't be able to step back, or look back afterward. He knew how deep he was in the maze, and how lost he was. There was a path he knew he could take, a victory too tragic yet welcoming he could easily reach out to, but he refused. He hated to admit to himself how much he longed to take that step, how much he wanted to reach a goal not everyone would understand. Would anyone ever understand actually?

Why would they? They didn't even care to see if he is okey. They only reached out when they needed something from him. And sure, it was fine logically, there was enough of a mess around this family, he understood why everyone was dealing with their own problems, but it still hurted.

Sitting alone at home all the time when he is not in the daycare seemed like therapeutic from the outside view, everyone thought Sun was simply relaxing with his cats and having fun. But as Sun thought one night, during a lonely dinner because Moon was busy with Solar: "Everyone is blind to see the signs until it's too late. Not like I'm trying to show it," he said quietly to himself as he turned the tv off that night, petting Thunder on his lap with a sad smile "but I know my act sometimes slips. Yet here I am, and no one sees through my clear act. Nevermind it though.."

The truth is, that every day was a fight. A constant battle with emotions, nightmares, hallucinations, things he was glad didn't go on the channel anymore. The editor was probably too focused on everyone else that's more important than him. Him, who is technically the name of the channel.

He couldn't lie to himself, he was jealous. Mad too, and depressed day and night. Everyone was slowly moving forward in their lifes, yet he felt like he was stuck in place, and nobody cared enough to look back and see if he is still on their side. Why would they care after all? He is just Sun. Sun, the stupid one. The weak one. The clumsy one. The replaceable one. The one who watched everyone either die or be tortured and changed. The one who started all of this, yet no one seemed to care.

"Why would they care about a murderer?" A voice echoed in Sun's head, a way too familiar voice he couldn't get rid of no matter what. He thought it got better, and sure, he didn't see Bloodmoon every time he heard him, but it was still so hard to focus on anything when that bloody maniac was there, one way or another.

Sun just finished putting the cats down in the basement, and he locked the door. He didn't remember much of it, too deep in his own thoughts. But now that he stood there, his task finally done, he realized how... heavy everything felt. He was tired, yet almost fully charged. His hands were shaking, and when that voice spoke, it made things worse. Sun closed his eyes, sucking in a bit of air to not loose it just yet.

"Don't.." talking was harder than Sun thought, he surely had a headache, but the mental weight on his frame just didn't seem to make this easy for him "Don't make this harder..." Sun muttered, at the edge of crying, as he leaned his forehead against the closed door. He heard his cats meow and hiss in worry, definetly sensing Sun's breakdown, which just made Sun feel more guilt than he already was.

He had something in his head this morning. The lingering thought of the lighthouse being high enough for something he wished for so long. A step he could take into the thin air, feeling free for at least a moment, and ending this every day battle with himself. He didn't want to keep doing this. He could've just went up there any day and end this, but he knew no one would understand. He knew how guilty Moon would feel.

As much as depression tried to convince Sun nobody cared, Sun knew at least his brother would care enough he'd blame himself for Sun's decision. Depression's answer was always Solar and Earth, who seemed to be closer to Moon than Sun, which left an ache in Sun's code, but he knew Moon would still feel guilty. Solar and Earth could help him move on and cope, but he would still hurt Moon. This tiny, fragile thread of guilt and fear of hurting his Moon again gave enough strength to Sun to continue this never-ending battle. But this morning, something seemed to snap in him.

Appearantly, Lunar killed Eclipse. This was the first messages Sun was greeted with this morning. Granted, this was a horrible situation, and Sun was aware how damaging killing someone is. But... Lunar killed for revenge. Out of pure spite and hatred, in a situation where he wasn't even in danger. It was all on the YouTube channels.

Sun watched the two separate videos over and over again, not even bothering to dress up and get some coffee just yet. He had a day off, and planned on relaxing and playing with his cats, which seemed to all shatter when he saw the videos. Lunar enjoyed killing Eclipse. The only reason he seemed to feel some short of guilt was because Earth freaked out and left. But that guilt wasn't towards Eclipse. He saw how Solar scooped up and helped Lunar away from the scene, but there was something in both videos that made Sun feel an amount of different feelings he couldn't handle. His hands were shaking, and he didn't even realize how bad the videos affected him until heavy oil tears dropped on his phone screen.

Lunar killing Eclipse is okey?! Everyone seemed to be so calm about this situation and supportive towards Lunar. Why were they so supportive? Lunar JUST killed somebody! This wasn't even the Eclipse who killed him and hurted him!

And the worst part is, when Sun wanted to kill Eclipse, it was bad. The moment he tried to help his family, he was 'becoming just like Eclipse' as Lunar said. And now .. now its okey to kill Eclipse.

Why wouldn't it be okey for the family's favourite brother after all? The one who's trauma was recognized, taken care of. The one everyone was tiptoeing around to make sure he was fine. The one who had the opportunity to seek for help, get a second chance in life, have time to heal, and constantly distract himself. The one who became family the moment he turned his back on Eclipse, the one who only had to endure one hit in his life before getting blown up, the one who dared to say Sun is just like Eclipse for WANTING to kill him-

Sun snapped out of his thoughts when his phone shattered loudly against the wall. Did he just throw it away?

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // seventy-nine

| @maladi777

POLL RESULTS |

[Life] and the [The Star] win the aspect and card polls, respectively, both with a 56% majority. [The Star] is draw in the upright position. This applies a permanent positive buff to Aster for the remaining trials, and will affect Aster's personal story moving forward.

next / previous / beginning

KYRIE: You have chosen The Star card. KYRIE: In the upright position, The Star symbolizes hope; Rewarding one’s faith and earnest efforts. Though, not without significant sacrifice. It speaks to a history of past challenges. Your life has not always been easy, and neither has it always been fruitful. I see your struggles. The doubts and insecurity you still hold tight to. Years of poor and shallow treatment has made you wary, fearful and full of doubt. KYRIE: But your future is not to follow this same path. Rather, the cards encourage you to enact change, and should you have faith once more, the outcome will be to your advantage. Let go of those insecurities, lend yourself to healing, and embrace what you have once feared. If you accept people back into your life, you will find what you have long been searching for. Secretly hoping for. ASTER: That’s no simple thing to do. KYRIE: No. I expect it won’t be easy. But in the days to come you will find strength, again. Lean into it, and perhaps you can finally have some peace. Your future is optimistic, Aster. I see only good things to come for you in your friendships, in your state of mind, even in these trials. ASTER: To be well honest, I didn’t expect to hear good things. KYRIE: I’m simply the messenger. But I admit it brings me great satisfaction to deliver good news to good people. ASTER: Am I one of those? A good person? KYRIE: Nothing should make you think otherwise. You know, if you were as confident in other aspects of your life as you are in your musical abilities, you’d be a hard one to beat. ASTER: Suppose then I’d be too much like Valkyrie. KYRIE: laughs You might be right. ASTER: Do you really think… someone like me could win a challenge like this? KYRIE: Aster— and I mean this with whatever’s left of my entire being— but I certainly hope someone like you… does.

[yuseirra]

Persona 3 and Oshi no Ko- About losses and moving forward

Spoilers for both works are included!

Do they seem like an odd combination? But watching them back-to-back made me realize some things. This is my commentary/stream of consciousness about how these two works tackle the loss of someone precious, and having to go on without them into the future. They do certainly share that theme in common, and it's made me think today :) I feel it's a meaningful subject to tackle.

This was originally written in another language- chatgpt helped me translate it in bulk ;v;) gah it really helps me lately; I can't dare type the full thing again, but I want to share my feelings...!

If you've been following me, you'd notice that I've been into two works (Persona 3 / Oshi no Ko) lately! Both works share the common theme of dealing with the loss of a crucial figure in one's life. In the case of Persona 3, I felt that the main story encapsulates a person’s life leading up to death, while the epilogue(episode Aigis) focuses on those who cherished that person, their lives stuck in limbo because they can’t let go, and the eventual return to the future after grieving. Literally, after the death of a very significant character, time stops for everyone left behind, trapping them in the moment. This seems like a metaphor: after losing someone, you don’t want to move on and would rather stay in that moment forever. If you move forward, it feels like you’re leaving that person behind, so you wish the future wouldn’t come. Or on the other hand, you might want to bury it all and move on as if nothing happened. But neither option is really the right answer, is it?

The correct path is to face the many aspects of that cherished person, remember them, consider what they might have wanted, and hold onto those memories as you move forward. That's the right thing to do, and in reality, the world we live in isn’t a fantasy, so it can’t be any other way. Time doesn’t stop, so you have to choose whether to move forward or stay still because the world isn’t kind enough to stop with you. Reality is harsher.

For the characters in Persona 3, the sudden loss of someone who was the center of their world left them all in deep shock, just when they thought only happiness awaited them.

In Oshi no Ko, someone is killed in the worst way possible, and this shakes the lives of everyone around that person to their core.

I genuinely believe that the person Ai really loved, that infamous boyfriend, didn’t harm her. I really don’t think he did. It just doesn’t seem like it from how the story unfolds. I’m not trying to force a hopeful outcome; it just doesn’t align with his character. It also makes for a better story if he didn’t do it. Ai’s son and daughter are deeply traumatized by what happened as well.

Today, I read several articles about suicide survivors, and they mentioned something like this (I’m paraphrasing from memory, so it might not be exact): When a death strikes sudden and shocking, as something you’re not prepared for, the time it takes for your logic and heart to accept it is drastically different from one another. It becomes incredibly difficult to come to terms with.

With a more gradual death, such as from illness or natural causes, your heart and mind have some time to prepare for the loss. But this kind of death leaves deep scars of guilt and confusion for those left behind.

From reading those articles, I began to think, whether the manga creator intended it or not, that both Aqua and Hikaru couldn’t accept Ai’s death. Even after many years, they’re still trapped in that moment, unable to move on, much like the characters in Persona 3 who are stuck in the "abyss of time" in -the answer-.

Among the three, Ruby is the most… how should I put it… She’s severely depressed too, but she’s still the one thinking about the future, dreaming of what she wants to do.

Aqua, deep in his heart, also doesn’t want to be trapped in these feelings anymore and is starting to long for peace and happiness (because his current state is incredibly painful and it brings him suffering).

As for Hikaru… he has none of that. He’s the character who, out of the three, has completely given up on the future, not even wishing to escape from his self-blame and depression. This isn’t about comparing the depth of their sadness; it’s just that he doesn’t think about his future, nor does he want to escape from his despair.

These dynamics make sense because the degree to which each character feels responsible for Ai’s death increases from Ruby to Aqua to Kamiki. The extent of their guilt over the death of someone so precious to them has profoundly affected their hearts.

That’s why I found the concept of "making the movie of Ai" in Oshi no Ko really clever from this perspective. One of the articles I read mentioned how some people, when going through the belongings of the deceased, like a diary, would realize there were sides to the person they never knew. This led them to look at the deceased from a different perspective.

For Aqua and Ruby, making the movie about Ai might have been part of their grieving process. By examining Ai’s life, they began to understand her as a person better than before. And I think Ai’s wish was always for her loved ones to be happy. What she left behind was a confession and a plea to the people she loved but had to leave behind. She was such a lovable person. Instead of being remembered for the moment of her death, she’ll now be remembered for how she appeared in the movie, right? If the movie gets released and goes public. Aqua, in particular, has a traumatic memory of Ai being stabbed, but after making the movie, I think he’ll remember her as the Ai he met while filming. And because of that… after making the movie, Aqua was able to tell Hikaru that he would move on toward the future.

As for Hikaru… I’ve said this about the character before, but I don’t think he wanted to live after Ai died. If he’s been clinging to life, it’s probably because he wanted to do something for Ai. But he’s in a state of utter despair. If you pay attention to his emotions, you can sense something overwhelming and burdensome. And whatever I’m feeling can’t possibly compare to what someone in that situation would feel, right? This must be… really hard. He must not want to live. That’s what I felt. To feel these emotions, I think this character must have had very little actual involvement in Ai’s death. The more involved he was, the more shameless and brazen he’d have become. There’d be a thorny, defensive attitude like, “So what? Sure, I did some things, but they made mistakes too, didn’t they?” You see none of that in his actions. So, I think it’s more likely that he didn’t do anything.

He hasn’t been able to move on at all. It’s like he was unable to take a single step forward from the moment Ai died. He’s probably been living with that kind of deep sorrow and despair, thinking he deserves to suffer as punishment, and he might have intentionally kept those feelings alive. That’s why I believe this character would’ve tried to undo the situation. To him, it’s as if time hasn’t passed at all… He just couldn’t accept Ai’s death, so he’d wish, even at the cost of anything, that it hadn’t happened, and maybe he wished he were dead instead of her. Without Ai, as the lyrics say in the song, he can't go on living. He doesn’t even want to live. If there had been any hope of saving her, I think he would’ve clung to it. If such a hope didn't exist, it would’ve been tough for him to hold on to these emotions for so long.

And that heart of his could begin to shift after seeing Ai’s video. Only then he would have began to realize he actually has a life with a tomorrow. It would be painful, but he realized Ai wanted him to continue living and move forward. So he has to do it. If he can't do it for himself, he must do so for Ai.

I’m not sure if he’s actually in a state where he can move forward because we don’t know how much guilt or sins he’s carrying. But it seems that only after seeing Ai’s video did Hikaru realize that he has a life ahead of him.

In order of Ruby, Aqua, and Kamiki, they seem to be progressing in their journey to move on after Ai’s death. That’s how I see it.

If someone that precious to me died, I think I also would wish time wouldn’t move forward. I couldn’t bear to see those memories fade, and I’d want to stay close to them forever.

If there were hope to bring them back, I think I’d feel a strong urge to try. That’s why I’m attached to characters like Yukari. The whole world is at stake if she goes through with it though, so I can't support her with 100% conviction, but I do see where she's coming from and I sympathize with it to a degree.

As for Kamiki, he believes he killed Ai (which I don’t think is true. It would be better for the story if it weren’t true). In that case… he can't bear to live. Ai, in terms of character relationships and setup, has been crafted in such a way that Kamiki would consider her several times more precious than his own life… She was his everything. She gave him everything that he loved. Like in the song “Fatal” where the lyrics repeat that sound like Ai, Ai, Ai, after the words, "致命的"(fatal), "運命的"(fateful), "必然的"(sacrificial), she was that kind of person to him. Losing her meant he couldn’t go on living. And if he believes it was his fault? Honestly, I don’t even know how this character is still alive. Maybe, as the title Mephisto suggests, he’s alive because he made a deal with the devil. The emotional structure in this manga is very realistic, delicate, and authentic. I believe the author has a deep understanding of psychological pain.

He was in a state where he couldn’t even begin to grieve because he couldn't bear accepting she passed. Only now, he might finally be able to. He’s revisiting what kind of person Ai was, how lovable she was (isn’t that video incredibly endearing? From Hikaru’s perspective, it’s like Ai was confessing her love to him saying "Hello! I really love you! I want to be with you forever!"). He saw her again and was reminded of who she was. That’s why he can finally begin to step out from that dark place he's in.

And that’s probably what Ai wanted. Ai really... did it. Even though she unintentionally caused pain to the people she loved, in the end, she saved them. I think Ai really liked Hikaru a lot and genuinely wanted to be with him. Not just that I think so—she actually said it herself… haha, but yeah, I think she did save him in the end… Even after her death, she ultimately saved him and her children too. It’s amazing…she's great.

In Persona 3, when the main characters decide to go see what the protagonist did, and then figure out what to do afterward, it’s somewhat similar. Figuring out what kind of person the deceased was and what they wanted—since they’re already gone, you can’t have a conversation with them or meet them directly, but still, it’s necessary to put aside your own feelings and just look at things as they are. And that became the answer to what the right thing to do was.

I’m lucky because I haven’t experienced a lot of death yet, so I still have opportunities. If someone you cherish is still alive, you have the chance to show them how much you love them.

I’m not without guilt either; there are things where I think I could have done better. But as long as both the other person and I are alive, I can still express my feelings.

The sad thing about being alive is that someday you’ll inevitably part ways. But the happy thing about being alive is that if you have people you love, you can be glad you met them. Even though you’ll eventually part ways in sadness, it doesn’t make the happiness meaningless—it shapes who you are. I hope that, for the people who have given me that kind of happiness, I can remember them more as the joy that makes up who I am, rather than just with sadness.

Maybe that’s the kind of story this is telling, too. Persona 3 definitely conveys that, and I think Oshi no Ko can also be seen in that way.

If you look at the three of them who have experienced the loss of Ai, Ruby is indeed moving in the most desirable direction, isn’t she? Besides, this manga has quite a few fantasy elements, so I think it’ll be okay. I feel like Ai, who really became a star, is probably watching over her family, the ones she loves most in the world. You can dream even more in fiction than how things are in reality. That's the good thing about "fiction", you can get a definite happy ending. Don’t you think they can be happy? :)

[survivingtrumppart2]

Acceptance of 11/5/2024

The trans community is currently in the thick of it right now, and there is no denying that, yeah this shit sucks.

Before we move forward, you need to take care of yourself and process what just happened. You need to reach an internal acceptance of the situation.

It's not even been 48 hours, and I'm sure there is a lot of emotions that you have already gone through. These emotions are valid but keep in mind a few things.

Do not make any major life decisions right now. This includes self-harm or harming others. You may have seen this go around in online queer communities but DO NOT KILL YOURSELF.

Keep up with self-care as best as you can by getting enough sleep, taking your medications, drinking water, and eating.

Do not say anything online that you wouldn't want to say in the courtroom.

It's going to take a different amount of time for each person to accept what happened. We are currently in grief, grief of a country and politicians that care about trans lives, grief of a life where we can live as ourselves with no fear, grief from a delayed or impossible transition, and grief of loved ones who have fallen to the MAGA cult. You were robbed of a life and happiness that not only you deserve, but should be a God-given HUMAN RIGHT. You are allowed to grieve that the world is imperfect and unfair. You are not alone in this.

Grief affects everyone differently. This is okay and normal. Everyone is going to have different reactions. You might be angry, you might be depressed, you might be dissociating, etc. Acknowledge and validate these feelings.

Here have been some ways to help guide you along the acceptance path:

Be easy on yourself. You need to be extra kind in order to heal.

Turn off social media and news outlets. You are not in the emotional state to change things you are unable to change and it's not concussive to your mental health to see celebratory conservatives or doomerism. Trust me, they will only make you feel worse and hinder your acceptance of the situation. (I have already seen two conservative tweets and that was enough for me. STAY AWAY FROM IT.)

CONNECT WITH YOUR COMMUNITY. I cannot emphasize this more. Whether the community is online or in real life, isolation will put you in dark thoughts. Community will help you survive.

Avoid substance abuse or any illegal action. It's only going to make you feel worse or get you in legal trouble.

If you are able, schedule a session with a therapist, even better if they are queer too. They will help you be able to sort through your emotions.

Smash a pumpkin with a baseball bat. Scream into your pillow. Hug your stuffed animals close. Journal. Draw. Write. Cry on a shoulder. Let out your emotions. Do not hold them in.

Do not involve yourself in why the election turned out the way it did, and especially do not point fingers at your fellow queers. There is a discussion for why things happened the way they did. Right now is not time for that discussion. Your priority right now is survival.

Take a break. Your body is not meant to be in high anxiety constantly. You need to step away and enjoy life to balance it out. We lost the battle and are licking our wounds, and this means laughing in the face of tragedy. Enjoy your hobbies, escape with a story, watch a movie, exercise, anything.

To keep this post short, I'm just going to link posts and resources that I found have been very helpful in keeping up hope in the read below. I don't really have any other words besides I am with you all in every step of the way. I'll be making more posts on next plans. The good news is that we have time.

Hope Post

Affirmations

This is not the end of the world

People Lived Long, Fulfilling Lives during the fall of the Roman Empire

We will survive

Everyone copes in different ways.

This is temporary and you can still transition eventually

Why you shouldn't destransition/Stonewall inn in 1969

There is no definitive that the worst outcome will happen

There is no greater act of defiance than living a full life

Advice from a millennial queer who lived through the 2004 election

You are not the first ones that this is happening to.

Additional Insights

Are you struggling to have hope?

The biggest"fuck you" to fascists

"I love you" "Please don't doomscroll."

There will always be another way to transition

“What options do I have besides suicide?”

Some Election Positives

It's an uphill battle to change the constitution and 33 senate seats are up for grabs in 2026

Guide on Preventing Burnout

Simple Hotline list

First Transgender Suicide Hotline

Warm Lines that Don't Call the Police