#i don’t have an explanation for this or how i came up with this concept but i sure did huh

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi I have concept questions rate the yandere Greek gods, and who is most likely out of them with sexually assault or rape reader any gender I don’t know it came in my mind after I found out that Ares has never raped a women or man in my opinion that is a really shocking thing coming from the god of war I mean when comes to gods it’s a pretty good standard because I have read about so many sexual assaults in Greek mythology. for example obviously, Zeus is most likely going to force himself on reader he has done it many times and then the other one is Poseidon he did it with medusa if I remember correctly, so he is most likely to do it, and he has done it with other people and then Eros I don’t know why I just think he would do it and Apollo would do it and I actually thought Ares would would also sexually assault reader, but after finding out that he never did with anyone I don’t he would force himself on reader since he has never done it in Cannon fun fact, one of the sons of Poseidon raped his daughter and when Ares found out, he was furious and killed Poseidon son. Hades, this is another god I think he would not force himself on reader. But I’m not sure about Dionysus maybe he would and Hephaestus is another god who would force himself because he did it with Athena if I remember correctly. Aphrodite, maybe you would do it too. Hermes is another god I think he would do it too. What do you think can you Frank them from? Who is most likely to do it to who is least likely to do it and never do it at all.

tw: talk about rape/sexual harassment.

I would say the same ones you mentioned above.

Zeus and this one doesn't even need explanations. Poseidon, depending on the version, is said to have raped Medusa, but this is the Roman version and not the Greek, so it depends on which myth you prefer, but I think he would be able to force himself on the Reader.

Apollo would do it if he was rejected by his beloved, and he wouldn't even think he was doing anything wrong. Eros would also force himself on his darling if he was rejected in a very cruel way, then he would force them to be his.

Although there are no records of Ares forcing himself on anyone, as we are doing a headcanon and I don't work with canon but with the voices in my head, I would say that he could force himself on the Reader. And he wouldn't even need much for that, it can easily be motivated by jealousy, pure lust or just because he wants to mark the Reader as his.

Hephaestus... It's complicated, the reason he tried to abuse Athena is because of Poseidon, in a way. Poseidon became jealous of the closeness of Athena and Hephaestus and incited the god of forging to make unwanted advances on the goddess of wisdom, thinking that she liked him. He never actually raped her, it was more like harassment, but he came on her thighs and a child was born from that. Bizarre? Yes. Would he abuse his S/O? Look, it depends. I think that if Hephaestus was really consumed by obsession, by jealousy, he could force himself on his darling.

Hades would never force himself sexually on his darling. He can kidnap them (and he will), he can lock them up but he will never do anything against their will, sexually speaking. He doesn't want to be like his brothers and loathes it, so he would never touch the Reader without their consent.

Dionysus would do it too. He is delusional enough and the reason he would abuse his darling could be motivated by how delusional he is. The god would be so delusional that he wouldn't even realize that the Reader doesn't want to sleep with them.

Hermes would only do so if he wanted to dismantle power over his S/O. Like, he did that to them because he can, because they are his and that means he can take them wherever he wants and whenever he wants. A form of control and psychological torture, in a way.

I think Aphrodite would be the only one of the goddesses to abuse her darling, but for her, she would not be committing abuse but rather showing how much she loves them. And for her, the goddess of love, also the patron saint of prostitutes, what better way than to have sex with her darling? Even if it's not consensual.

#ask #yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #greek gods x reader #concept #yandere concept #yandere Zeus #yandere poseidon #yandere hades #yandere hermes #yandere dionysus #yandere Hephaestus #yandere Aphrodite #yandere ares #yandere apollo #yandere Eros

[adrunkskeletonsduck]

Can you please write Aonung x jake sully! Daughter, he begins teases her as a way for demonstrating his attraction but takes it too far and her brothers get involved?

Tʜᴇ Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ Yᴏᴜʀ Wᴏʀᴅs | Pᴀʀᴛ 1

➜ Pairing: Aonung x fem!Sully!reader

➜ Warnings: Body shaming, mentions of having body image issues

➜ Word Count: 0.5k

➜ Notes: Please be kind, and remember that picking on people is not the right way to convey you attraction to them.

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2 | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

“My body?” you repeated, looking down at yourself with a frown, then back up at Aonung, who had a teasing smile on his face as he nodded with a laugh. You brought your arms over your torso, trying to cover as much of it as you could as tears pricked your eyes. You felt stupid for taking it so seriously even when you knew he was just teasing you, but this was a weak spot of sorts for you.  

The Omiticaya weren’t people who entertained silly concepts like beauty standards, but you had developed a bad habit of comparing yourself to other Na’vi girls after seeing a friend do it when you were children, and that had eventually led to deep rooted body insecurity.  

Neytiri was the first to notice the longing looks you’d watch other girls with and what could only be described as the disgusted way you’d look at yourself. She’d sat you down and asked about it, then consoled you when you came clean, crying because of how ashamed you’d felt. She’d agreed to keep her lips shut about it with Jake after you’d begged her not to tell him, but at some point, he’d found out. The two of them helped you through it, and it had been bumpy and hard but slowly you’d began to make progress. 

“You really think my body looks weird?” You asked again  

“Just a bit,” Aonung laughed, reaching out to poke at your rib cage. You flinched away from the contact, which made furrow his eyebrows in confusion and look up to see your glossy eyes and quivering lip. Instantly his face fell and he reached out, opening his mouth to try and backtrack his words, but another hand slapped it away quickly.  

Neteyam stepped between the two of you, seemingly appearing from thin air, eyes blazing, and face set in a furious glare. He reached a hand out, wrapping it around you protectively and pushing you behind him.  

“Don’t you ever touch to her again.” He spat, and Aonung sputtered in response,  

“I didn’t mean to-“he began, trying to move around Neteyam and speak to you, but Neteyam pushed you further behind him and cut him off, not allowing him excuses or an explanation.  

“Do you understand?” Aonung clenched his jaw, shooting Neteyam his own glare at the harshness of his words before turning on his heel and storming off. Once he was a safe distance away, Neteyam turned to you, who was on the verge of tears. He placed his hands on the sides of your arms, checking you for any physical harm.  

“Are you okay? I heard what he said,” you sucked in a sharp breath, glancing at his worried face before fixing your eyes firmly on the ground.  

With a shaky voice you replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Neteyam didn’t believe it for a second, 

“Don't listen to him, okay? There’s nothing weird about your body.” You nodded along with his words, wiping a few stray tears that had fallen. You knew Aonung hadn't meant any harm, he often teased you, although it was a much friendlier and innocent type of teasing as opposed to how he treated your siblings. But his intentions didn’t matter because the damage had been done and it would take a lot more than any apology to fix. 

#Aonung x reader #sully!reader #x reader #avatar way of the water #avatar twow #aonung imagine #aonung x you #aonung #aonung x y/n #avatar fic #beautiful body #adrunkskeletonsduck

[epiicaricacy-arts]

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #artists of tumblr

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 04

note: this is part 4 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, self-sabotaging behavior, self-loathing thoughts, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, lots of crying (sorry), brief mention of blood

word count: 16.9k

“Do you believe in twin flames?” 

Chan’s question hung in the air for a moment, changing the atmosphere so drastically that you weren’t quite sure how to react. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a less-than-appropriate giggle.

“You don’t?” his voice came quieter this time.

“It’s not that,” you tried to contain your amusement. “It’s just…what a very Bang Chan thing of you to ask.”

Even through the dim light of your living room, you could tell that the smile he flashed you didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was being serious, you realized with a start, at least to some degree. 

“I mean,” you paused, searching for the right answer to such a heavy question—if there even was one. “I guess it’s something you can only believe in once you experience it for yourself, right?”

It was Chan’s turn to hesitate, nibbling on his lower lip in silence. Whether he was holding back what he really wanted to say, or simply lost in thought, you couldn’t decide.

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno,” he said slowly. “Just wondering.”

“Huh. Really?”

It was a vague explanation, and you knew better than to accept it at face value. Knowing Chan, he wouldn’t have even raised such a topic with you if it hadn’t been weighing on his mind for some time now, longer than he himself may have even been aware of. The concept was more or less a mystery to you; a special sort of relationship that, judging by name alone, was brimming with intensity, if not defined by it. You wondered just how deeply Chan had immersed himself in its ideals, if it was one of those philosophies he’d adopted into his heart and spent sleepless nights thinking about, despite the superstition of it all, just as a way to understand the world around him—the people around him. Maybe, even, to understand himself. 

“I’ve just never really felt like this before,” an awkward chuckle escaped him, as if to lessen the gravity of what he was implying. “I feel like you can see right through me.”

See right through me. 

Your heart leapt in your chest. Immediately, you understood what he meant; the exact same phenomenon you’d been trying to wrap your head around since the day you’d first met him. You’d been so caught up in your concerns over how effortlessly he seemed to read you—seeing past every carefully crafted guise you could conjure up like it didn’t even exist—that you hadn’t ever considered he might be experiencing the same feeling on his end. The feeling of knowing each other long before you’d ever crossed paths. 

It had a strange effect on you. Elation. Dread. Had you felt like this before? In a certain sense, you knew that you had. 

The familiar foolishness of being prepared to give someone your all—of stubbornly believing that, somehow, you would never run out of things to give. At the same time, though, it couldn’t be more different. Chan couldn’t be more different. For the first time, you were faced with an unexpected obstacle in your efforts to trudge mercilessly down the path to your own detriment. He wasn’t there to usher you along like so many had before, feeding off your every step until your legs inevitably gave out from under you. He was there to guide you down a different path—one that was infinitely more pleasant, and one that you were infinitely less acquainted with. 

It couldn’t be more different because now, with every drop of yourself that you so willingly offered up to him, you fretted over what you might be draining from him in return. Chan was, after all, every bit as self-sacrificing as you, and then some. 

That didn’t even begin to cover everything else that surrounded your relationship. The magnetic pull that drew you to him wherever you roamed, the burning sensation that consumed your body any time he so much as crossed your mind, the insatiable desire to open him up and witness him in his entirety—to know every part of him like it was your own. 

If those were the kinds of things twin flames entailed, then, yes, you believed in them. You’d believe in anything that connected you to him. 

It dawned on you, suddenly, that you hadn’t spoken for what was probably an unsettling amount of time. The slightest bit frantic, you combed your brain for an answer, overtaken by an urge to reassure the boy next to you before he made the decision to never share an even remotely personal thought with you again. You didn’t doubt that he would. Despite his seemingly endless levels of understanding, Chan was sensitive. He wouldn’t forget.

“Did I say something wrong?” he chuckled again. It wasn’t even awkward this time, just bordering on defeated.

“No, no,” you cursed yourself for even giving him the chance to second-guess such an idea, for giving him any more reason to believe that opening up to you could ever be a mistake. “I was just caught off guard. Sorry, Channie.”

You shifted in your spot, turning inwards to get a better look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact—nothing new there—but it wasn’t just his usual timidity at play. It was something you could only describe as akin to shame, the expression of someone who had overestimated his importance and was now berating himself for ever having the audacity to assume he mattered. You decided, instantly, that it was a look you never wanted to see cross his face again.

“I think it’s the same for me.”

You didn’t think, you knew. You knew it better than anything else. Still, it was difficult to say out loud, even when Chan was sitting before you, looking ready to bare himself to you with a sincerity that you may not entirely deserve. 

He perked up a bit, and you relaxed the instant that fog of uncertainty cleared from his face, brightening it once more. “Really?”

“Do you…” you prayed that you wouldn’t sound completely insane in what came out of your mouth next. “Do you feel it, too? That weird sort of heat?”

His eyes widened, fingers flexing where they rested on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I feel it. When we first met, I thought you had a fever or something.”

A wave of sentimentality crashed over you all at once. You thought back to that day; that horribly clumsy first encounter that had you certain Chan would tell Changbin to please keep his strange friend far, far away from him in the future. The encounter that had ignited something you hadn’t been able to explain—something you still couldn’t explain, even six months later.

“I thought you were a human pressure cooker.”

“A pressure cooker?” he grinned, actually taking a moment to consider it. “I kinda am.”

That ever-present tug found your heartstrings again. But you knew he’d intended on it being light, a playful jab at himself that was truer than he seemed to understand. So, you didn’t dwell on it.

“Guess we’ve got the flames part down, then,” you joked.

“I’ve been reading about them.” His eyes twinkled, now encouraged. “They’re not exactly soulmates—more like two parts of the same soul. Kinda like you’re holding up a mirror to yourself.”

“Sounds poetic,” you murmured. He was speaking so earnestly, like he’d been longing for the opportunity to share these thoughts with someone all his life. You might’ve accepted anything he said in that moment as an absolute truth. “So, how do you know if you’ve found yours?”

“Lots of ways.” He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Shared experiences, for one. Uncanny similarities, and that feeling of…” he trailed off briefly, features softening. “Like you’re a part of each other, y’know?”

Each example stirred something deeper and deeper within you, rattling the windows and doors of your mind. Shared experiences. Uncanny similarities. A part of each other. Memories from that night two weeks ago swarmed you, demanding all your focus and ripping you away from the present conversation all at once. Chan’s flow of tears, his vulnerability, his dependence on you. How the cracks you’d caught glimpses of in just one of the many, many walls he’d put up finally spread far enough to send the entire structure crumbling unceremoniously to the ground. 

Not only that, but his uncontainable guilt the next day, and every day that followed. His profuse apologies for allowing you to see him like that, his promises to make it up to you, and, most heartbreaking of all, his subtle spike in attachment, as if he was afraid that now that you’d discovered a side to him that dared to be anything less than accommodating—anything less than convenient for you—you’d pack up and leave without a second thought. No matter how many times you’d reassured him that it was fine, good even, to allow himself to lean on you, he was nevertheless determined to return the favor. Like it was transactional, like you couldn’t possibly have been there for him simply because you wanted to be. Because you loved him.

You were all too conscious of the fact that your promise to him back in July hadn’t been forgotten. The clock was ticking, with each passing second serving as a wrench to the bolts you’d kept so tightly wound up all these months—all your life, really. If Chan’s feelings were anything like yours, you knew he must be hungry for it, the opportunity to loosen the bolts himself and peer into what was buried inside. 

It was as invigorating as it was terrifying. The fear of being known, the comfort of being understood.

“A part of each other,” you echoed. “That’s...”

“Kinda scary, yeah?”

“A little,” you admitted. “But I think my parts are in pretty good hands.”

Chan beamed, eyes crinkling and teeth peeking out under heart-shaped lips, flooding his face with a glow that washed away any remaining trace of his earlier reservations. Despite yourself, you smiled back, choosing selfishly to fall into his warmth. It wasn’t in short supply—not in the slightest, it was limitless—but inexplicably, you always held yourself back just a bit. 

Even now, you couldn’t escape that survival instinct, that pesky voice in the depths of your brain telling you to take him in moderation, to keep a distance before you grew accustomed to something you weren’t sure you’d be able to go back to living without. But it was a losing battle from the start, and it was far too late to fight it now, anyway. 

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, sending a gentle ripple of heat through your skin and pulling you out of the hole you’d been digging in your head. Before he could ask what you were thinking about—and he was going to, you could feel his flicker of curiosity—you spoke up again, throwing out a question of your own.

“How about you? Do you like your reflection?”

He studied your face, and the lapse in his reply might have made you panic if you weren’t so taken by the fact that, miraculously, he was holding your stare for longer than just a precious few seconds. Your fingers twitched against his, resisting the impulse to reach up and brush them over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “For once, I do.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October’s pleasant chill came to an end, leaving behind a harsher cold spell for the incoming winter months. Bright orange leaves, once providing a golden canopy of light overhead, now littered the ground, dead and dull. Still, it was a sight to admire in its own way—a paper sheet shielding the grass from November’s sharp winds and more frigid temperatures, like the leaves had chosen to sacrifice themselves for the sake of protecting everything else. 

You tried not to think about it, how dangerously close graduation was drawing. The view of the finish line on the horizon wasn’t exactly a comforting one, not when it led right into another race—one that would be even more critical than the last. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean for you once your final semester was complete; what it would mean for your studies, your home, your friendships, Chan. The question of where you would go from here was always lingering in the back of your mind, and no matter how much it haunted your thoughts, you still hadn’t managed to find a sufficient answer. All you knew for sure was that whatever path you walked next, you wanted to be side by side with him, matching your steps and feeling your hand brush against his with each swing.

On a less cynical note, the uncertainty of where the future might take you made days like today all the more valuable, reminding you that, regardless of the tricks nostalgia might play, there were always new memories to be made and cherished. You shoved your hands into your pockets with a shiver as you entered the bowling alley, longing for Chan now more than ever. Just one touch from him, and all the cold nagging at your bones from the walk there would dissipate in an instant.

You felt his warmth begin to spread through your skin as soon as you spotted that familiar head of curls near the front counter. His hair swayed with the rest of his body as he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking absentminded. If you drew close enough, you had no doubt you’d catch a snippet of whatever melody he was sure to be humming. 

Before his presence could fully relax you, however, you registered who was standing there next to him, effectively countering his heat with a sharp chill down your spine. You hadn’t known he was coming. Changbin hadn’t told you he was coming. If he had, you surely would’ve found some excuse to stay home, or, at the very least, prepared yourself to deal with the guy who had so diligently been playing the role of bane of your existence these past months.

Channeling all your strength, you forced a smile and called out a greeting to the group. 

Two pairs of eyes lit up, and one pair narrowed.

“You’re here!” Changbin piped. He elbowed Chan lightly, a self-righteous look crossing his face. “See? I told you we weren’t late.”

You kept your expression calm as you approached them, but it did little to ebb the unease steadily piling up in your stomach. Without a word, Chan’s hand reached out for yours, and you wove your fingers together, barely suppressing an exhale when warmth kindled in your palm.

“I’ve just learned to give it an extra ten minutes before leaving to meet up with you, Bin,” you teased.

It was lighthearted, but he seemed to sense that you weren’t entirely joking. You exchanged an amused glance with Chan as Changbin’s smug look dropped into the frown of someone whose peace had been disturbed, suddenly reevaluating every occasion where he’d so gleefully believed that he was becoming more punctual.

“That’s messed up,” he huffed. “Maybe next time I just won’t show up at all.”

“You say that like you haven't done it before.”

“And as soon as I did, you stole my best friend.” He looked dramatically off to the side, passing your bowling shoes to you. “On second thought, I’d better stick around.”

Half-embarrassed, you cleared your throat and hooked your fingers under the cuffs of the shoes, surprised to find that he’d chosen the right size for you. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, you found your answer—or, rather, you felt it, in the palm of your other hand. You kept quiet to avoid setting yourself up for more playful jabs, but the affection that buzzed to life in your chest was too much to ignore altogether, instead manifesting as a grateful squeeze to Chan’s hand. It was something you weren’t quite used to, something you weren’t sure you’d ever get really used to: care down to the last little detail.

You’d made it a point thus far to stay focused solely on Chan and Changbin, not keen on confronting the source of the tension looming behind your smile. It was probably best not to utter a word to him, anyway, given the direction your conversations veered into every single time without fail. Regardless of which approach you took, regardless of how tightly you gripped the steering wheel, it always spun into something uncontrollable.

But as your eyes wandered casually over to the empty lanes further inside the building, you made the grave mistake of locking them with his—fleeting, but just enough to make your gut twist. You tore your stare away as soon it landed on him, bracing yourself for that inevitable surge of frost, a glare that spoke a thousand scornful words. 

“Hey.”

You wondered for a moment if you’d imagined it, or if Lee Minho was really speaking to you on his own accord. Granted, it was just a simple greeting, but strangely void of his usual disgust when addressing you.

It put you at a complete loss, thoughts scrambling to decipher what his angle could possibly be. You had half a mind to not even respond, but you knew that wasn’t an option when Chan and Changbin were right there, well within earshot. Instead, you settled for nodding at him with a quiet “Hello.”

“You look cold,” he commented.

“Well, it’s cold out.”

Not your most eloquent response. In your defense, you were still trying to make heads or tails of why he was bothering to acknowledge you. His words felt like a taunt in your paranoid mind, like somehow, he was fully aware of the chill that gripped you every time he so much as glanced your way. Mistrust bubbled up inside you, threatening to burst through the surface when he shot you a half-smile that was sickeningly sweet—far too sweet to be natural. To anyone else, it was nothing but friendly, but you knew better than that by now. The closer you looked, the more reminiscent it became of his usual sneer. 

“It’s a relief you’ve got someone to call on if you get sick, then.” He cocked his head towards Chan.

Suddenly, the gears fell into place in your head, making it very clear what Minho’s intentions were. You might have found it admirable, how seamlessly he put on the act, if not for the minor detail of it being positively infuriating. 

“I make a pretty good galbitang, didn’t you know?” 

Minho’s smirk faltered just barely, but before he could say anything else, Changbin finished up with the cashier and clapped his hands together with a bit too much force, startling everyone in the vicinity. 

“We’re all set!” he announced, turning to you.“Hope you’re good at bowling, ‘cause you’re gonna be carrying Chan.”

“Hey, hey!” the boy in question protested. “I score the most out of any of us!”

“A whole eight points,” Minho quipped.

Chan gritted his teeth, still, good-natured as ever. “That…was an off day.”

You willed yourself to chuckle in spite of the bad taste Minho had left in your mouth, for Chan’s sake, if nothing else. It was difficult to envision him not immediately excelling at anything he put his mind to, especially in the realm of sports. Given Changbin’s snickers, though, you had a sneaking suspicion that the jeers held some truth to them.

The four of you made your way over to the first open station, slipping on your bowling shoes and splitting up into two teams: you and Chan versus Changbin and Minho. A quick game of rock, paper, scissors, and it was decided that you and Chan would go first. Chan wiggled his hand to push back the sleeve of his jacket and picked up a ball from the rack, testing its weight a few times before deciding on it.

You figured Changbin would be able to hold his own on his team, but, as always, Minho was more of an enigma to you. Even if he didn’t exactly seem like the athletic type, anything you thought you knew about the guy could be taken with a grain of salt these days. He was the complete opposite of Chan in that sense, so unreadable that even the most sensible, the most intuitive of assumptions could turn out to be dead wrong. You could feel Chan’s emotions like they were your own; Minho’s emotions were ones you weren’t sure you’d ever felt.

“What do you think?” You gave Chan a nudge when he approached you, admittedly endeared by the competitive gleam in his eyes. “Do we stand a chance?”

“We’re the better team, no doubt,” he grinned. “But Minho’s got this insane luck. So, we’ll see.”

You tried not to let your own smile dim. Of course he did. It was all in good fun—on the surface at least—but the mere possibility of losing to Minho was one you didn’t even want to consider. He already had enough snarky remarks lined up in his arsenal without you adding to the ammunition.

Chan took a deep breath, lifting the ball up to his face, swinging his arm back in a low arch, and releasing in one fluid motion. It hit the polished ground with an impressive speed, but your glimmer of hope was crushed just a split second later when it rolled directly into the gutter.

Countless sounds exploded all around you at once, so loud you worried you might have to issue an apology to anyone nearby who had the misfortune of being subjected to them. Changbin’s delighted cackles, Minho’s wild laughter, and Chan’s mortified shout of dismay. You covered your mouth to avoid letting your own amusement show, but it made no difference considering that Chan’s face was buried shamefully in his palms as he shuffled his way back over to you, ears already beginning to tinge red.

“Another off day!” Changbin threw his arm over Minho’s shoulder, as if their victory was already guaranteed. “Guess the experience of age is worthless, after all.”

“His old man bones just can’t keep up,” Minho clicked his tongue wistfully. 

Chan peeked out from between his fingers, any attempt at a glare rendered harmless by the wide, hopelessly embarrassed smile plastered on his face. “One year!” he cried defensively. “This is your future, Lee Minho!”

Minho’s smirk stayed intact, unfazed by the prospect of such a sad fate awaiting him. You gave Chan a sympathetic pat on the back as soon as he was within reach, trying to meet his eyes.

“Cheer up, Channie,” you encouraged. “Can’t have our ace giving up so soon, can we?”

He managed a shy chuckle, hand reaching up to fiddle with his piercing. Whether it was the other boys’ provocation that had him so flustered, or the fact that you’d been there to witness the pitiful display, you weren’t sure, but you were determined to boost his morale before he had the chance to beat himself up over it. Even for something as frivolous as a game of bowling among friends, you didn’t want to leave any room for Chan to doubt his abilities. You couldn’t help it; you’d do anything to see him shine.

As expected, Changbin was a force to be reckoned with as the game carried on, managing to score steady points for him and Minho’s team with a consistent flow of spares and strikes—that was, when he wasn’t stepping over the line and fouling himself. You were positive it wouldn’t have even been an issue if Minho didn’t point out his mistakes every single time, eventually spiraling into a full-blown argument between the two with Changbin loudly demanding to know whose side he really was on. 

Between their bickering and Chan’s bubbly laughter, emitting fondness with every squeak, it almost felt like old times. You almost felt light, just as you had during those spring days spent studying in their apartment. Bumping your shoulder against Changbin’s to keep him focused as you listened to Chan ramble on about thermodynamics with thinly-veiled adoration, taking more and more frequent breaks each passing week just as an excuse to snack and chat with each other, laughing quietly to yourself every time Minho would, inevitably, disturb the study session and antics would ensue between the three boys—more often than not, pulling you into an ambitious new cooking experiment or an hour long tangent to debate the strangest existential topics known to man. In retrospect, it had been the closest to carefree you’d felt in a long time. 

“Just throw the ball like a normal person!” Changbin shouted, snapping you back to the present.

Minho sniffed, not breaking eye contact with him once as he bent forward, spread his legs, and tossed the bowling ball carelessly through them. To your astonishment, it rolled down the center of the lane; steady, and by some miracle, steering clear of the gutters all the way to the end. The incredulous sound you let out was only rivaled by Chan’s stunned yelp, half-impressed, half-horrified as the ball managed to knock over a respectable five pins.

It became clear, in that moment, that Minho’s aforementioned luck was very much real, and it operated just as erratically as his own mind did. With each increasingly bizarre stance and tactic he implemented, he was scoring dozens of points before you knew it.

Chan never quite seemed to recover from his initial fumble, and, as much as you wanted to win, it was undoubtedly adorable every time he sank into a crouch, wailing miserably into his knees after yet another failed attempt at gaining some momentum. He was trying to be a good sport about it, even with Changbin and Minho’s taunts making the task near-impossible, but you could still feel the fire of frustration behind his every awkward glance at the monitor and apologetic smile sent your way. 

Fortunately, you were able to score enough points to keep the gap between your teams from growing too wide, even pulling a few strikes here and there. It was a bit silly how seriously you were beginning to take the game, but you were fueled on by the desire to lift Chan’s spirits—and, on a pettier note, a desire to see Minho lose. By the time you reached the final round, you and Chan were only behind by nine points.

“Hope I haven’t been too heavy for you,” he remarked, sheepish as he picked up the ball for his last turn.

“I don’t like hearing such defeated words from Bang Christopher Chan,” you frowned. “C’mon, show me some of that showcase confidence!”

He ducked his head with a puff of laughter, thumbs gliding over the sleek surface of the bowling ball. “That was different.”

“That was in front of a crowd of strangers,” you agreed. “This is just me.”

“Exactly,” he hummed softly. “It’s you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was getting at, only fully registering it when you spotted the rosiness of his cheeks flushing into something deeper, something much more noticeable. Acutely aware of Minho and Changbin’s eyes on you, you tried to keep a straight face, even if every cell in your body called for you to cup Chan’s face and press a kiss to his pouty lips right then and there. He was unreal. It was unreal how, even now, he could charm you so effortlessly—accidentally, even.

“Alright,” he sucked in through his teeth, seemingly reaching a verdict. “Do you think you could turn around? Just this time?”

You blinked, dumbfounded. When you said nothing, he lifted his gaze to give you a look that, despite the absurdity of his request, was resolute as ever. That was all the convincing it took for you to indulge him. 

Changbin watched curiously as you turned your back to the lanes, but you made no effort to explain yourself, figuring it would only be all the more embarrassing for Chan if his plan ultimately failed. It was too easy for you to picture his concentrated expression in your head as you waited patiently for him to make the shot—eyebrows furrowed with a striking intensity, but lips twitching in a way that betrayed his excitement underneath.

The heavy thump of the ball against the polished floor met your ears, and shortly after, the crashing of pins, followed by a chorus of disbelieving shouts. You spun around just in time to see Chan rushing back over to you, beaming so wide that his cheeks eclipsed his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious,” your voice turned up into a squeak as he pulled you into a triumphant, bone-crushing hug. “No way that worked.”

“Told you,” he sang into your ear. “It’s you.”

Any disappointment Changbin might have felt over losing was crushed by sheer delight when it became apparent to him what had just happened. “Oh, this is too much,” he howled with laughter, leaning against Minho—who, you were surprised to find, had a faintly amused smile on his face, as well. You looked away as quickly as you caught it, driven by that feeling of alienation, an understanding that it wasn’t a sight for you.

In honor of your victory against all odds, Chan decided to head over to the concessions stand he’d been eyeing since you’d first arrived at the bowling alley. Changbin jumped at the chance to tag along, setting panic off in your mind the instant you realized what that meant for you. You stood a bit too quickly, offering to join and help them carry back the snacks, only to be waved off with a reassuring smile from Chan.

Despite your discomfort, you relented, deciding it’d be best not to rouse any suspicions. You slumped back down in your chair as the two walked away, leaving you and Minho sitting directly across from each other in silence.

It wasn’t long before you began to run out of points of interest to look at other than him. Your eyes shifted awkwardly from your shoes to the monitor, from the monitor to the ball rack, from the ball rack to the distant lanes, and right back to your shoes. The cycle repeated for a good few minutes, and just as you reached into your pocket to fish out your phone in a last resort to quell the awkwardness, Minho decided to speak up. Oddly chatty today, you noted. 

“Didn’t see you at Chan’s birthday party.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“Just thought it was interesting,” he pointed out. “Since you care about him so much, and all.”

There was a laughable irony there, that the person who was the sole reason why you hadn’t shown up to celebrate Chan, was now questioning why you hadn’t—an irony that, you were willing to bet, he was well aware of.

“I didn’t think I was exactly welcome,” you said plainly. 

“Showing up uninvited is nothing new to you, is it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Look, Minho, I’m really not in the mood,” you hissed. “What exactly are you trying to gain from all this?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering about you, too,” he bounced off you with ease. “I’m kinda curious—did it make you feel better about yourself when you visited him? Felt like you proved something with that soup?”

“Proved something?” You didn’t bother to watch your volume this time, thoroughly set-off in a matter of seconds. “If you think I have anything to prove to you, you’re fucking delusional.”

Even as you spat the words with an uncharacteristic lack of restraint—and decorum—a wisp of doubt brushed past your mind, the same way it had the day you’d confronted him after checking on Chan. Why did he sound so sure of himself? Why did you even allow yourself to entertain his accusations?

What did he know that you didn’t?

He leaned back in his chair, whatever harsh retort that was on the tip of his tongue immediately being cut short when he spotted Changbin hobbling back over with an armful of snacks.

“Someone go help Chan out!” he called. “I don’t think he can carry everything himself.”

Minho rose from his spot before you had the chance to, eyes glinting as he shot you one last look. “You should get that temper of yours checked out,” he suggested under his breath. “Chan might like it, but others won’t.”

At that, he slunk off, leaving you with nothing to do but fume in frustration as Changbin made his way over to you. He dropped his stash on the table with a self-satisfied whistle, picking up a bag of chips and passing it to you.

“Here,” he offered. “Chan got these for you.”

You caught a glimpse of the brand—your favorite. It brought a smile to your face just in time, wiping away your scowl before Changbin could get a proper look at you, but even the warmth glowing in your chest wasn’t enough to erase the residual tension left behind by Minho. Changbin squinted as he settled down next to you, popping open a bag of his own.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you replied quickly. “Thanks for the snack.”

He crunched down on his shrimp chip with a suspicious hum, not convinced by your dull tone in the slightest.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course,” you smiled, only half-feigned. “Chan and I just won, didn’t we?”

Changbin chewed thoughtfully a few times, breaking his inquisitive stare to shoot a glance over his shoulder, exactly in the direction Minho had disappeared to. When he turned back to you, his expression was more solemn; knowing.

“Is it Minho?”

You couldn’t find the will in you to hide it, picking uncomfortably at the plastic bag in your hands. “I guess I didn’t expect him to be here.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “Did you ever end up talking to him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “He just doesn’t like me, simple as that.”

You tried to keep your voice casual, unaffected, but Changbin’s reaction to the news made it difficult to maintain. The fact that he seemed so genuinely puzzled almost rubbed salt in the wound, like he’d had the utmost faith that a simple conversation was all it would’ve taken for the two of you to sort things out. Amidst all the complicated feelings you had on the issue, a new one joined the fray: guilt. You hadn’t been able to make it work. If anything, your efforts had sent the situation spiraling into something much worse. All you could do now was ensure that a problem as ridiculous as this wouldn’t reach anyone else—Chan, most of all. 

“I don’t get it,” Changbin muttered, brows scrunching together. “I never got the feeling that he doesn’t like you.”

“You definitely would if you saw the way he talks to me.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you nearly cringed over the self-pity laced in them. You didn’t want to be a victim in this situation, especially not if it meant pressuring Changbin to pick a side between you and Minho like you were children fighting on a playground.

“I can have a chat with him, if you want. See what’s really going on.”

“No, no,” you dismissed it like a reflex. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? It’ll be easier for me to get through to him.”

“No, Bin. Seriously,” you paused, not having intended it to come out so sharp. “Sorry. I mean, thank you, but it’s alright. I’d rather handle it myself, y’know?”

It had been made abundantly clear to you that you were, in fact, doing a terrible job at handling it yourself, but Changbin didn’t need to know that. The last thing you wanted was to grant Minho the satisfaction of Changbin revealing just how much his behavior was affecting you—or, even worse, the very real possibility of Chan catching wind of it. You could already picture Minho’s scornful stare, voice dripping with mockery as he ridiculed you for needing to call on Changbin to protect you, for not being able to fight the battles that, in his head, you’d instigated with your mere existence. The thought alone made you shudder in your spot, visibly enough for Changbin to notice.

A strange look crossed his face, one you’d only ever really seen on a few rare occasions before. It was grounded, mature; a side to him that, oftentimes, you tended to forget existed because he traded it out for something less intense. Without him even needing to say a word, you knew that his attentive instincts had kicked in, and once they had, they would be difficult to shake. 

“You just seem upset,” he said at last.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Sometimes people just don’t get along. It’s not worth stressing about, so, please don’t say anything to Minho. Or Chan.”

He eyed you for a few seconds longer, and briefly, you worried that he may actually let his stubbornness get the best of him. It was comical, in a sense, how you’d grown so accustomed to disregarding your own emotions in all facets of life, that being faced with a shred of compassion felt more like a hindrance than anything else. Fortunately, the concern was short-lived. With a grunt of agreement, Changbin popped another chip into his mouth. 

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

The relief you felt upon hearing those words increased tenfold as you spotted Chan returning with Minho from the concessions stand, loaded with snacks and drinks that even his long arms could hardly contain. He was smiling, no doubt still giddy over your unexpected win and the victory meal that was lined up for him. That was all it took to make you absolutely certain of your decision.

“I’m sure. Thanks, Bin.”

You wanted to be the reason for Chan’s smile. If it meant securing his happiness, then you could deal with it, no questions asked. 

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The shrill ping of your laptop—a sound you’d come to despise in recent weeks—rang out to notify you of a new email in your inbox, breaking your focus so that you lost your place in the article you’d been reading.

Huffing to yourself, you clicked off the page begrudgingly and switched to your email tab, reluctant to see what academic horrors were lying in wait for you. As expected, it was a followup message from your lab instructor. With the fall semester drawing to a close in just under a month, the pressure was on for you to complete your research paper in time to have your findings included as part of the final study. Having your name on a published academic paper was an essential goal you had set for yourself as an undergraduate; something to give you an extra edge in the fiercely competitive field of astrophysics. The only problem was, (save for the grueling amounts of time and effort it took to reach that point) you had to get your draft approved before it was too late, a task that was beginning to seem impossible with every new response you received from your instructor.

Today was no different, a fresh wave of stress washing over you as you read the contents of her email. Another extensive list of revisions, a reminder of your approaching deadline, and, most troubling of all, another order to have your progress peer reviewed by at least one other student as part of the physics department protocol. Alarm spiked within you. You didn’t have a lot of time.

Before you’d even finished reading the email, you reached blindly for your phone, fumbling with the passcode in your haste to unlock it and open up your messaging app. 

you (9:23 p.m.) hey! sorry to nag about this again but have u had the chance to look over my paper?

You tried to get a grip on your impatience, telling yourself that it was just the incessant desire to be done with the process already that had you so on edge. But all it took was a few minutes of waiting for you to start tapping your fingers anxiously against your desk, debating whether or not you should try calling instead before you succumbed to the unreasonable levels of foreboding stacking up inside you.

Then, at last, a reply. Any reassurance it might have brought you instantly dwindled as soon as you read it.

iseul 🪷 (9:34 p.m.) omg… omfg no i totally forgot

You pressed your lips together. In a way, you couldn’t exactly say you were surprised. Not in the slightest, actually.

you (9:34 p.m.) okay no worries are u still able to? the deadline’s pretty soon

iseul 🪷 (9:39 p.m.) i’m not sure tbh i’m kinda busy rn so i’ll lyk later on a date ;P

Your heart sank, panic shooting through the roof. It’d been well over a week since you’d first asked her to look over your paper, and you’d made a conscious effort not to press the subject too much to avoid coming off as pushy. Now, you wished desperately that you’d been firmer from the start. Surely, then, she would’ve realized how important it was to you. Surely, then, she would’ve prioritized it.

You took a deep breath, mind frantic and scrambling for a solution. It found one almost immediately, like second nature, but you pushed the thought away as soon as it came. You didn’t want to bother him. Absolutely not. 

As you continued to wager the possibilities, however, it became more and more evident to you that there may not be any other option on such short notice—or, maybe, you just felt a selfish need to reach out to him in that moment, knowing you would be met with nothing but that certain warmth. It was a foreign desire, completely unlike you, and you weren’t sure you liked how often it wormed its way into your brain these days.

You’d consulted a handful of other friends before Iseul, all of which shared your major; a double-edged sword in this case. While it made them reliable candidates for peer review, the issue lied in the fact that they were all preoccupied with their own capstone research. Even without the added weight of having to complete an extensive documentation by a strict deadline like you had, the amount of work their labs required was more than enough to keep them busy. 

Changbin was no exception. You’d already been hesitant to ask him from the start—which was, frankly, a bit ridiculous considering he’d demonstrated time and time again how dependable he could be if the situation called for it—so when he’d apologetically told you that he wouldn’t be able to get to it before at least another week, you’d dropped the subject without a second thought. It would be too far late by then, and bringing it up a second time would only put an unnecessary pressure on him. Even if you got a response in a timely manner (a pipe dream in itself), his answer would be the same, and your paper would more than likely end up falling into Chan’s hands, anyway. 

You tapped your thumbs together indecisively, trying to approach it with a clear mind. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to allow yourself to rely on him just a little bit, to lean into that warmth you’d been so determined to ration for reasons you couldn’t fully grasp.

Maybe, it wouldn’t be so unforgivable to take your own advice, just this once. 

Steeling yourself, you hit Chan’s contact before you could talk yourself out of it. All it took was a matter of three rings, and you heard the other line pick up. That was another detail you’d noticed lately, another subtle shift in attachment that made your chest tighten when you lingered on it for too long. He was much more responsive ever since that day in October, texting back uncharacteristically fast and calling uncharacteristically more often compared to the usual, comfortable periods of absence between the two of you. It was as if he was on standby for you at all times, ready to jump at the opportunity to meet your every beck and call in case there was something—anything—he could do for you.

“Hey, you.”

In spite of everything, his melodic lilt soothed your nerves. It always did. 

“Hi Channie,” you couldn’t mask the stiffness in your voice. “Are you busy?”

“I’ve got time,” he chirped. He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant; he had time for you. “But first, guess what I’ve been working on.”

Fondness tugged at the corners of your mouth. “What?”

“Not telling,” you could practically hear the dimples carving their way into his cheeks. “You gotta guess.”

“Hm. Could it be what I think it is?” 

“Dunno,” he giggled. “You’re the one who can see right through me, yeah?”

You let the pull at your lips form fully into a smile. “In that case, you’d better not break your promise.”

It wasn’t difficult to envision the look on his face, the pure giddiness it etched into his features to know that you’d caught on with ease. Speaking in riddles because he could; a language only the two of you could understand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed. “So, what’s up?”

You faltered, having nearly forgotten your reason for calling him in the first place. The cheerful rhythm of his voice and the charming tune of his laughter had almost been enough to sway you, to change your mind and shield him from the academic nightmares that he was no stranger to. But anxiety spiked within you all over again as you were reminded of your looming deadline, providing all the push you needed to latch on to him with an embarrassing speed.

“Actually, I…” you began slowly. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“Anything,” he said it without an ounce of hesitation, ready to comply before he even heard your request. It made your heart swell—with affection, gratitude, and something else you couldn’t quite place. 

“So, Iseul was supposed to review my research paper draft before I submitted it for the final publication but…but I don’t think she can anymore,” you hoped to sound nonchalant, not wanting a single drop of your unease to spill on his conscience. “I know it’s a lot to ask on short notice, so it’s absolutely fine if you can’t, but—”

“Of course, I can.”

“Really?” you swallowed. “Thank you, I…”

A critical thought crossed your mind, bringing the sense of calm that Chan always enveloped you with to an immediate halt. You felt stupid for not considering it sooner, for allowing yourself to be so short-sighted, even for just a moment.

“Your project,” you said suddenly. “Your mentor gave you an extension, right? Did you finish it? Because you need to work on that instead if—”

“Nah,” he assured you. “It’s all done, don’t worry.”

You paused. It was just your inner saboteur making excuses, probably—grasping for any reason at all to pull back before you committed to burdening him with your troubles—but why was it that every single time he told you not to worry, it only worried you more?

Still, you forced your reservations to the side. Maybe he sounded so terse because it was still a sensitive topic for him, something he couldn’t think back to without the guilt that surrounded that night plaguing his mind all over again. It made you soften with sympathy, and a faint hope that, just maybe, your gentle words as you’d bathed him had pierced through the fog of doubt in his mind—enough to compel him to be honest with you about this.

“O-okay. Then, yeah, I’d really appreciate your help,” you exhaled. “Thank you, Channie.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured. “The least I could do, really.”

You nearly laughed out loud. The least he could do. As if he owed you something, as if he didn’t do more for you than you could ever express simply by being himself.

He could read you with such ease—could catch on to your every thought and sentiment, however fleeting, like it was the most natural thing in the world—but the view of him from your eyes, the sight of himself from a lens of pure, unadulterated adoration; that was one thing he’d never be able to truly comprehend.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“I didn’t lose it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Lose sounds so…so harsh,” Changbin protested. “I just happened to put it somewhere and can’t remember where that somewhere is.”

“That’s a relief,” you snorted. “You had me scared for a second.”

“It was an accident, seriously!” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You gave him a good-natured shove as the two of you shuffled down the hall side by side, a sight that had become commonplace for anyone who frequented the physics building. “But if I were you, I’d get to searching.”

“C’mon, it could be anywhere!” he complained. 

“I’m saying this for your own good, Seo Changbin. Do you really wanna suffer through finals without your lucky charm?”

Changbin’s face dropped, a horrified look of realization parting his lips and widening his eyes.

“I’ll find it,” he mumbled, so serious that you couldn’t hold back a snicker. “For you, of course. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Uh-huh,” you said plainly. “Once you do, custody of Cinnamoroll is going right back to me.”

You weren’t upset about it, not really. It was honestly a miracle that he’d been able to keep track of something as trivial as a pencil for so long in the first place. Though, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t an undeniable feeling of wistfulness there, to think that the prized possession that had initially brought you and Changbin together was now missing. You weren’t exactly the superstitious type—well, maybe that had changed just the slightest bit as of late—but it almost felt like a bad omen of sorts.

“That’s too cruel,” Changbin whined. “I’ll never let him out of my sight again, I swear.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you in anticipation of a response; but you were lost in thought. A sea of inhibitions that, funnily enough, had inched further and further up the shore in recent months, months where you’d been objectively happier than even your highest points over the past few years. 

You were certain your change in demeanor wouldn’t go unnoticed by Changbin—he’d tapped far more into his observant side as of late, ever since he’d come to learn that you and Minho weren’t nearly as in harmony as he’d led himself to believe. Between his added scrutiny, Minho’s pointed, all-knowing glares, and Chan’s ability to tune in to even the finest shift in your emotions, you didn’t think you’d ever felt more uncomfortably seen in your life. You felt like you were being watched from all angles; nowhere to hide, no way to maneuver yourself so that your loose seams weren’t visible.

“Wanna go bowling tonight?” Changbin suggested, breaking your stream of consciousness before you were completely pulled out to sea. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re so into it these days because it’s the only sport you can beat Chan at?”

“I can beat him at billiards, too! And soccer, even if he won't admit it,” he retorted. “Besides, it’ll just be you and me. Pretty sure Chan’s busy with makeup work.”

You froze.

“What?”

It took Changbin a second to realize that you weren’t walking beside him anymore. He stopped in his tracks, turning to give you a strange look.

“Y’know, that big project with his mentor. It’s due tonight, I think.”

Your stomach dropped. All at once, dread consumed you, at such an alarming rate that it felt akin to plunging into ice cold water on a hot, sunny day. You didn’t want to believe it; you wanted to tell yourself that Changbin had to be mistaken, that Chan had finished his work days ago like he’d told you, and that he certainly hadn’t taken on the burden of reviewing over twenty pages of scientific jargon for you when he still had a very crucial, very future-defining project of his own to complete.

Even as you tried to convince yourself, even if you wanted to cling to the faith you’d put in him more than anything, even though you knew Changbin was notoriously bad with dates, deep down, you already had your answer.

Changbin’s expression grew heavy with concern. “What’s with that face?”

You cleared your throat, praying that your words would come out steady. “Nothing,” you replied quickly. “I just thought he’d already finished.”

He opened his mouth to say something—most definitely to question you further on why you looked like you’d just seen a ghost—so, you spoke up again before he had the chance.

“Anyway, yeah, let’s go bowling tonight. See who the real ace is.”

The playful challenge, strained as it was, seemed to ease Changbin’s misgivings a bit. He flashed you a smirk, taking the bait immediately.

“Haitai Bbasae shrimp chips are my favorite, by the way.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “So you know what to buy me when I win.”

You rolled your eyes. “Forgot about your pencil debt so soon?”

Your joking did nothing to seal the pit of apprehension that had opened up inside your gut. In fact, it deepened with each step you took, as if your body was physically rejecting the idea of you walking anywhere other than directly towards Phase 8 of the campus apartments; directly towards Chan.

You all but forced the muscles in your face to relax, solely to avoid rousing Changbin’s suspicions again. Already, you were regretting your decision to meet up with him later that night. Spending even an hour or two pretending like the thought of Chan—cooped up in his room, undoubtedly running on minimal sleep and an empty stomach, bloodshot eyes locked on his laptop screen as he struggled to meet the most important deadline of his academic career, all because of you—wasn’t eating away at your insides wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park, even for you. 

You told yourself it was just an overreaction. You were jumping to conclusions. Maybe taking your mind off of it tonight was exactly what you needed; enough time for Chan to finish his work, and enough time for the fog that always seemed to cloud your rationality when it came to him to clear up.

You’d mull it over properly, and then you’d talk to Chan. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

As it turned out, subjecting yourself to a constant back and forth argument for two days straight—a trial where you were playing the role of judge, jury, defendant, and prosecutor all at once—served no real purpose other than to drive you to the brink of madness.

The more you’d tried to reason with yourself, the more convinced you’d become that the situation was, in actuality, far more dire than you’d initially believed. It appeared so simple on the surface, a harmless white lie that was said only with the intention of easing your worries, to displace some of the weight from your shoulders to his. You loathed the fact that you’d managed to spin such a kind, loving gesture, such an authentically Chan gesture, into something so unpleasant. But knowing what you knew, knowing Chan, it went deeper than that. You never would’ve allowed yourself to shift that weight over to him if you’d known he hadn’t been relieved of his own first. 

It was for that reason that when Chan had called you earlier in the day to see if you were free to meet up—a timing that only spurred on your paranoid thoughts, given that he was no doubt reaching out to you because he’d finally submitted his work—you’d all but jumped at the opportunity. You needed to see him, his crinkled eye smile, his face well-rested and bright. You needed to be certain that you hadn’t ruined everything for him.

Each step up the stairwell to unit 8-325 added another layer to the anxiety piling inside of you. It was a sensation you’d experienced once before; that strangely chilly day in April, trudging your way up alongside Changbin, completely oblivious to what the universe had in store for you. Completely oblivious to the warmth you would be met with, the part of yourself that you hadn’t known you were missing until you found him.

You gave the front door a few knocks, a bit harder than usual, just in case Chan had his headphones in. Before the gusts of wind blowing through the hallway could even begin to chill you through your clothes, the door swung open. Despite everything, your heart sang at the sight of him. Eyes sleepy, and, as predicted, accompanied by those dark bags he carried around far too often for your liking, curls ruffled, hoodie wrinkled, smile lazy—just prominent enough for one of his dimples to peek out. 

You wondered if he’d been napping. The idea both calmed and unsettled you; the comfort of knowing he’d gotten some rest, the fear that he’d needed to catch up on sleep because he’d been pulling all-nighters to complete his work. Because of you.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, Chan.”

You hadn’t even noticed the issue with your greeting until he tilted his head curiously.

“Scary,” he giggled. “Am I in trouble?”

You padded through the doorframe and slipped off your shoes, keeping quiet long enough for his grin to waver. It nearly made you grimace. Two words in, and you already couldn’t tolerate the idea of speaking to him with anything but the utmost care. 

“Sorry.” You chided yourself for being so pointlessly intense about it. You didn’t even know the full story yet; there was no need to stir unease in him like that. “How are you, Channie?”

“All good, now. I missed you,” he added.

You knew he must be wondering why you hadn’t hugged him yet. So, you leaned into his arms the very instant they outstretched. You took in his scent, his body heat, the peaceful beat of his heart. You wished the tranquility that he washed over you would last. You wished you could fall fully into him and just pretend like nothing was wrong. But then, where would you go from there? How many more times would he do something like this? How many more corners of himself would he cut until, before you knew it, you were doing the exact same thing to him as so many others had done before? The question itself was enough to scare you, let alone what the answer may be.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured. Mustering all your willpower, you pulled your head from his chest, taking a few steps deeper into the apartment with Chan following suit. 

You braced yourself, and then you tested the waters.

“So, did you finish your project?”

A heavy pause, then an awkward laugh.

“Oh, yeah. A few days ago, remember?”

You said nothing. Instead, you turned to look at him properly, not bothering to mask the doubt written all over your face. His gaze fell, and you knew, immediately, that you’d been correct.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “It’s done now, no worries.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your desire to be gentle with him was already beginning to battle it out with your urgency to get to the bottom of this, to decode what had been going on in his head when he’d made such a potentially disastrous choice for your sake. Chan reached up for his earring, eyes still averted as he rolled the silver hoop sheepishly between his fingers.

“Are you mad?”

Mad. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. The idea that you could feel anything but boundless affection for him was so incomprehensible to you. No, you weren’t mad. You were frustrated. Because you knew he saw no problem with what he had done, because the damage had been to him and no one else.

“Of course not. I…I’m really grateful you were there for me,” you began, and the hopeful way he raised his head almost made you want to leave it at that. “But I’m just a little concerned that you kept this from me, Channie. I wanted to be sure that you had nothing else on your plate before asking such a huge favor of you.”

He smiled, clearly oblivious to how much you meant it. “It’s no problem, really. I wanted to help.”

Your stomach churned. Of course he wanted to help, you knew that more than anything. Two years ago, he’d only wanted to help, too. That was the detail that had unnerved you most in the 48 hours you’d spent dissecting it all—the eerie similarities between this situation and the one Chan had poured his heart out to you about just a few weeks ago. Once you’d noticed how they paralleled each other, it was impossible to ignore, to the point where that became the driving force for your need to set things right, to put your foot down before history repeated itself.

“Don’t you remember what we talked about the other day?” you prompted, as delicately as your growing tension would allow. “What if you hadn’t finished your work in time because you were too busy helping me? Graduation is less than a month away—why would you ever risk that?”

Chan shifted his weight from side to side. You could tell he was starting to grow uncomfortable.

“This is different.”

“How?” you pressed. “How is it any different? You nearly let me jeopardize your future all over again.”

“I don’t understand,” he chuckled softly. “I finished in the end, didn’t I? There’s really no need to worry about me.”

You took a deep breath. You weren’t getting through to him.

“But what if you hadn’t? What if you failed because of this?” You didn’t miss the way he shrank back when you spoke the word, only feeding into your own distress. “Not just that, it can’t have been easy to balance so much work at once. I don’t want you taking on more than you can handle again, especially not for my sake.”

“It’s okay,” he said lightly, almost dismissive. “It was my decision, y’know? If it’s you, then it’s okay.”

Normally, the words would’ve melted your heart. They would’ve made you coo and fawn and swoon over him and his insurmountable selflessness. Now, they only frightened you. If he was willing to put something as important as this on the line without a second thought, you didn’t even want to think about what else he might try to sacrifice for you.

“Chan…” you hesitated. “I need to know that you’re not gonna do something like this again. I need you to promise me that you’ll put yourself first in this relationship, at least when it matters most.”

His expression darkened, just the slightest bit. It was a look you’d never once seen cross his face, one that felt so unnatural that you didn’t know what to make of it. But the feeling it evoked was one you understood all too well. The feeling of having a core part of himself confronted; challenged.

“I—” Chan sucked in through his teeth. “I don’t think I can promise you that.”

Your heart sank. The dread that had been slowly creeping its way up on you since you’d first arrived, now consumed you in full. He wasn’t going to stop. He was never going to stop. Not for you, or anyone else. Certainly not for himself.

“Please,” you tried again. “Please, tell me you’re not gonna put me in this position.”

You could tell, just from the bewildered look he was giving you, that he was having trouble piecing it together in his head, that he was struggling to decipher why you would ever even ask such a thing of him. Why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to take advantage of him, to use him for all he was worth, like so many others did. 

“You’ve got to stop treating yourself like this,” you continued, not liking the way you were losing control of your voice. “If you keep giving and giving there’s not going to be anything left of you to give.” 

Chan remained silent, and for a split second, you felt a glimmer of hope that he was starting to grasp the message you were trying to send. But it was nothing more than a candle in the wind, blown out before it even had the chance to illuminate anything.

“And what about you?” 

You tensed. “What?”

“Could you make that promise to me?” he asked quietly. “Would you stop hiding things from me if I asked you to?”

Just like that, the mirror was turned on you.

“That’s…you’re changing the subject. This isn’t about me.”

“Really? I think it is.”

You held your ground, determined not to let him steer the conversation away from himself. “I know my limits, Chan. I wouldn’t hide anything serious from you.”

“Then why have you still not told me about what happened when you went home?”

It was unusually direct coming from him, just short of accusatory. You were reminded, once again, that even the parts of yourself that you thought you might be able to slip past his attentive eyes, he was well aware of—more than he ever let show. Even when he caught on to every minute detail, even when it filled his head with concern for you, he remained considerate as ever; waiting patiently until you were ready to open up yourself. At least, until now. 

“And…why haven’t you told me about what’s going on with Minho?”

Something twisted deep within you. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. You’d done a horrible job in hiding it—and even if you hadn’t, he would’ve sensed something was off, anyway. He always did.

When he gauged your reaction, Chan’s face dropped into something heartbreaking, eyes flashing with a resigned sort of fear. 

“Do you—?”

“No.” You couldn’t hide your revulsion towards what you were sure he was going to ask, denying it so fiercely that it at least seemed to convince him right away. “That’s not it at all.”

“Okay,” he exhaled. “Then, what’s going on? You can tell me everything. I’m here to listen.”

Countless emotions fought for control over you all at once. Dismay. Exasperation. Vulnerability. Love. Even now, he was finding a way to focus on you, to make sure you were okay amidst your attempts to get him on speaking terms with his self-preservation. It was a testament to everything you adored about him, and everything about him that made you feel utterly helpless. You needed an escape route, a window to break out of before that pure, sincere gaze of his cast its spell on you and made you do something that you were sure to regret. Because you always regretted it, every single time. You couldn’t tell him. Not about Minho, not about home, not about her, not about him. Not because he wouldn’t care, but because he would. He would care so much that all your pain would become his.  

It was your turn to break eye contact, brushing your thumb over your nose. “It’s not something you need to hear, right now.”

“Then, when? How can I be there for you if you won’t let me?” Desperation began to seep into every word. “You promised, didn’t you?”

“I know,” you swallowed. “But that’s not the point of all this. You don’t owe me anything for what happened in October, okay? You don’t have to feel guilty just because you let yourself lean on me a bit.”

You meant the affirmations—you knew you did. So why did they suddenly sound so unconvincing? Like something you’d never believe if spoken to you. Chan pressed his lips together, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he knew exactly what you were doing.

“If this keeps up, you’re going to hate me,” you said plainly. “You’re going to resent me for all the times you helped me when you should’ve helped yourself.”

His fingers curled around the sleeve of his hoodie, picking at its loose threads in a way that betrayed how high his tensions were running beneath the silence. 

“Why are you so sure that’s gonna happen?”

“Because…because I know you.”

“Because you do the same thing?” he asked sharply.

He wasn’t going to let you get away with it today. He was tugging at each of your seams, peeling back the adhesives to reveal what you’d let fester underneath. You were trapped. Cornered by someone who you’d come to trust more than anyone else in the world—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

“Maybe I do,” you relented. There was no use in hiding it, not when he sounded more sure of himself than you’d ever heard him sound before. “That’s why I know it won’t end well. I need you to stop this, for your own good.”

“Don’t,” Chan interjected. “Please, don’t talk about what’s good for me. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh my God, Chan,” you let out a hollow laugh. “Am I supposed to agree with that?”

Of course nothing had changed. How naive, how fucking foolish of you to believe that one conversation could ever be enough to undo the ideas that had been hammered into his being by everyone around him his entire life; so extensively, so persistently that, as time went on, he began to do the hammering himself. You were positive now, that everything he’d revealed to you that night in October, as gut-wrenching as it’d been on its own, wasn’t even the half of what he’d been through. It was just a single star in a constellation of hurt.

Minho’s words echoed in your head. He was right. You weren’t special. You would take advantage of Chan just like everyone else, whether you wanted to or not. Your ex’s words echoed in your head. He had been right. You were a liar. You couldn’t even apply your own words to yourself—how could you ever, ever expect them to get through to Chan?

“These…types of relationships don’t always work out, right?” 

You didn’t want to use the term he’d used before, it felt unnecessarily cruel in that moment. Ever since he’d first brought the subject of twin flames up, you’d spent any free time you’d managed to get your hands on reading about them. That kind of connection could be transformational, sure, but the further you delved into the phenomenon, the more you came to learn that it could be just as harmful under the wrong circumstances—destructive. Two individuals who shared such core similarities were bound to experience problems far deeper-rooted and far more intense than anyone else, after all. Most people didn’t take kindly to being faced with their own traits completely unfiltered—the good, the bad, the ugly. A mirror that reflected them in their truest form. 

“Maybe we’re not ready to see these parts of ourselves. Maybe we just bring out the worst in each other.”

Each word made your tongue feel drier and drier. You didn’t dare to look at Chan as you spoke them, certain you would break the very instant your eyes locked with his.

“Maybe,” you paused. Your heart was pounding, so loud that you felt it in your ears, making it impossible to think straight. There was still a chance to take it back, to change your mind before destabilizing the foundation of everything the two of you had so carefully built until now.

Ever since you’d met Chan, you’d thought that you’d been growing, learning, healing. You’d thought you were reaching a point where you wouldn’t need to hold yourself together anymore, because you would simply be…together. No adhesives. No loose seams. Just whole. 

But here, you had him. The kind of person you’d only ever encountered once before in this lifetime, the kind of person you used to dream of knowing again. Someone who noticed every little thing you did for him and returned it tenfold, someone who loved you and meant it, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t make it work in your mind. You couldn’t shake the dread, the belief that it was all temporary, conditional, transactional. Like if you made one small misstep, it would all be lost.

In retrospect, you really hadn’t learned a thing.

“Maybe we should end this. Before we start to hurt each other.”

Chan’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“I d-don't want to hurt you. And if this continues, I'm going to.”

His hand lowered from his ear, crossing over his chest to cup his neck instead. Covering his heart, shielding himself.

“More than this?” his voice cracked. “I think this hurts more than anything else you could ever do to me.”

There was no way to conceal the effect it had on you. A physical, throbbing ache in your chest.

“Chan,” you begged inwardly for him to understand—for him to just know it, the same way he knew everything else about you like the back of his hand. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you ruin yourself for me.”

It made sense, now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were saying what you needed to hear. The realization made it all feel infinitely more despicable. Could you even say you were doing this out of care for him? Or were you just a coward afraid to confront this part of yourself?

That was what you always did, after all; you ran. You ran from your ex, your home, your family, your friends. The moment you were faced with any kind of obstacle, you left. And this was no different. You were no different than anyone else who had abandoned Chan in the past. If anything, you were worse. A hypocrite who had the audacity to shame the people who had harmed him, then turned around to do it yourself.

“If you’re gonna leave, just do it, please.”

You wished he sounded at least a little angry about it. You wished he wasn’t so ready to accept it. You almost wished he would snap and lash out and yell, voicing every vicious thought you were thinking about yourself in that moment. A liar, a manipulator, a hypocrite. Cruel, awful, selfish.

You wished he would be a little more selfish.

But there was no contempt in his eyes, no vitriol. Not even the beginnings of tears. It felt worse—far worse. He was saving them. He wasn’t going to cry until you left.

The only emotion you could read on his face was exhaustion. By your own volition, you were no longer the reason for his smile; you’d become the reason for his weariness.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I'll let you be, now.”

You waited. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no one to swoop in and put a stop to this; you were the one who’d started it. Still, you waited. For yourself to change your mind, for Chan to change his mind, for something about all this to change.

You took one last look at the apartment around you. The stray socks, the scattered water bottles, the half-done dishes. You wondered if it was the last time you would ever see it. You hadn’t been prepared to leave it all behind. You hadn’t been prepared for any of this. 

You took one last look at him—the boy you loved. His gaze was still downcast, a detail you were, pathetically enough, grateful for. You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep it together if he met your eyes; if he looked at you with anything other than that unfettered adoration you’d come to rely on, despite every one of your instincts commanding you not to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, to leave him with something to hold on to, but you knew it would do nothing but twist the knife. There was no way to make him understand that because you loved him so much, you had to end this. You weren’t going to let him make you his accomplice in his self-destruction, and you weren’t going to subject him to witnessing your own, either.

You turned to leave. Every step you took towards the door felt like your heart was being ripped further out of your chest. 

Your heart was there, across the room, watching you go.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

bin 😑 (monday, 1:09 p.m.) what’s this what’s this??? looks like somebody’s late for class~

bin 😑 (monday, 1:32 p.m.) ur srsly gonna leave me all alone on review day???

bin 😑 (tuesday, 4:42 p.m.) guess what i found ><

bin 😑 (today, 12:17 a.m.) i’m really being ignored… huuu ㅜ

Two days had passed. You were only aware of that fact thanks to the timestamps of Changbin’s texts. You’d skipped your classes on Monday, the first time you’d missed class the entire year—ever since you’d started university, really. 

It was a stupid decision, but, well, you were no stranger to those. You probably would have done well for yourself to attend your lectures. After all, the distractions that came with drowning yourself in academics had proved to be effective even when you were at your most miserable. That was exactly why you hadn’t gone. You didn’t deserve to distract yourself.

Eventually, though, it’d become too much to bear. Sitting alone in your apartment, with nothing to do but torture yourself with thoughts of him, of what you’d done, of the way everything had fallen apart before your very eyes—by your very hands—was a punishment that you decided you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy. Which, funnily enough, was probably yourself.

You didn’t deserve to miss him. You didn’t deserve to worry about him. You didn’t even deserve to wonder how he might be doing. Still, you did, anyway. Selfishly.

You squinted at your laptop screen, a harsh, white light illuminating your face. Unnatural, nothing like the soothing glow of the moon outside. It was sure to be in its Waning Gibbous phase by now, the same way it had been the night you’d first fallen for him. But it had been cloudy for two days straight. No sun shining down on you to balance out the chilly autumn air. No stars decorating the sky. No moon to watch over you at night.

It took you a few seconds to process the sound of your cellphone buzzing against your desk. Your eyes flickered over to it, lacking the energy to even turn your head fully. It was Iseul. Given how late it was, she was undoubtedly calling about some problem or another. So, for the first time, you let it go to voicemail. 

But nothing was ever that easy. You didn’t even have the chance to find where you’d left off in your notes before she was calling again, not even bothering to leave a message or to give you time to call back first.

It was probably best not to answer. You were in no state to answer.

You steeled yourself, and you took the call.

Before you could even say hello, her distressed voice ran through the speaker. 

“Can you come over?”

For once, you wished you’d been wrong about why she was contacting you. You wished that this friendship, which was usually a comfortable constant for you, a way for both of your needs to be met, could be put on hold. You wished she saw any value in you other than what you could do for her.

“Right now?” you tried to keep calm, telling yourself that it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. How could she? You’d never let her. “I…I’m kinda busy, sorry.”

“This is important,” she sounded serious, but you knew it was more than likely that this was just another case of a very solvable issue being blown wildly out of proportion in her eyes. “I really, really need your help.”

You said nothing, not even finding it in you to string together an acceptable excuse. 

“Are you with Chan, or something?”

A physical pang in your chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” you lied. 

“Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the call. Normally, you’d fill it, say something to keep her from feeling awkward. 

“It's really late, Iseul. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“No.” You were taken aback by how abruptly she responded. “I need your help now, I'm so serious. Can you please just come for a bit? I'm sure Chan wouldn’t care.”

Another blow from your oblivious assailant, straight to the gut. You felt short of breath.

“Maybe I can help over the phone?” you offered weakly. “What’s going on?”

“No, no, no, you have to be here! I just lost my whole fucking essay file and it’s due at 6:00 a.m. and you know I don’t know shit about computers!” her tone grew frantic the more she rambled on. “I have no idea how to get it back, I'm seriously about to cry.”

An essay. The very same thing that had led to all of this. That was more important than the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you, destroying everything in its path. Of course it was. How presumptuous of you to think otherwise. The absolute gall of you to think you deserved any amount of time to feel sorry for yourself.

You gritted your teeth. She doesn’t know.

“Okay, okay. No problem. I can just tell you how to recover it.” You left out the fact that she could’ve easily searched it up online and saved you both the trouble.

“I’m not gonna know what or where anything is!” she objected. “Can’t you just come over and fix it? I'm freaking out. You can go crawling back to your stupid boyfriend after if it matters that much.”

She wasn’t thinking with a clear head, probably—letting her stress speak for her. But it was a push too far.

“I’m not your fucking babysitter, Iseul,” you spat. “You can’t just snap your fingers every time you want me to solve a problem for you. Figure it out yourself.”

The line went silent. Long enough for you to perfectly envision her hurt expression in your head.

“What?” it came quiet, meek. Everything unlike her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I'm tired.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the building sting. “I can't do this right now.”

“That’s n-not an excuse for you to talk to me like that,” her voice trembled. “I didn't do anything wrong!”

You heard a faint sniffle, and as exasperated as you were, it crashed guilt over you all the same. You didn’t want to make her feel like this. 

“I’m so stressed out and you know how hard I’ve been working on my grades so I can get into grad school. Is it that crazy for me to call my friend for help? Like, am I wrong for thinking you care about me enough to save me from failing this fucking class?”

Each word, so tone-deaf, so lacking in self-awareness, added to the pressure filling up your head, heightening it so much until it was unbearable. 

“Do you ever stop to think about the way you talk to me?” you snapped. “Or is it too much to ask for you to consider someone else’s feelings for once?”

You were being harsh, unreasonable too. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to take it back, to do what you were supposed to do and just go help her. But your conversation with Chan—everything that had led up to that doomed, wretched conversation with Chan—was all too fresh in your mind, manifesting in the ugliest of ways against someone who didn’t deserve it.

You wanted to blame her. You wanted it to be all her fault. If she had just been there for you when you’d needed her, none of this would have happened. Even as you tried to convince yourself of it, you knew it wasn’t true. What had caused everything to crumble between you and Chan ran much deeper than that simple favor. The flaw was in the very foundation.

“I consider your feelings all the time! Are you kidding me!?” she exclaimed, offended by the accusation without taking even a moment to consider if it had any merit to it.

“Right. That’s why you only ever reach out to me when you need something.”

You could practically feel her indignation burning up on the other end of the call, and you stopped to ask yourself just what the hell you were doing. This approach would never get through to Iseul. She was far too proud, far too sensitive to receive any kind of message when delivered so tactlessly. That was why your friendship had worked all this time, why you were one of the few people who got along with her. You were nothing if not tactful, enough for the both of you.

“So what!? Friends are supposed to be there for each other!”

“Yeah,” you said bitterly. “They are.”

Another spell of silence. You wondered, briefly, if she was catching on to what you were implying, but the moment she spoke up again, you knew it’d been nothing but another baseless hope.

“Well, if you hate helping me that much, don't lie to me and act like you want to!”

“I’m not lying to you!” you retorted. “I want to help you! Every single time you come to me, I want to help you. That’s the problem!”

You’d never even raised your voice at her before, let alone to this degree. You didn’t have to see her face to know she was frightened by it—yet another point on your list of reasons to feel guilty. 

“So I’m just a problem to you,” she concluded. You could hear the sobs beginning to build in her throat. “Great, thanks.”

“Iseul, that’s not—”

“Forget it,” she hiccuped. “It must be so hard for you, right? You’re so fucking perfect and I’m so fucking selfish.”

The line went dead, leaving you gripping your phone with such intensity you worried it might actually crumple under your fingers. Of all the ever-changing things in this world, the one you’d always been able to control was yourself. But it seemed even that was too tall of an order these days. 

Maybe you really did need to get that temper of yours checked out.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One hour later, you found yourself, once again, trudging miserably up a flight of stairs to meet your impending fate. Cold, exhausted, and filled to the brim with anxiety. You’d forgotten to throw on a jacket before leaving your apartment—far too preoccupied with the round table discussion taking place in your mind, one that was still well underway even as you impulsively made the decision to leave. By the time you reached the fourth floor of the complex, your teeth were chattering.

You gave the door a few knocks, drawing your hand back as soon as you did to rub it against the other, your best attempt at generating some warmth. There was no response for nearly a minute, and, with a tinge of fear, it dawned on you for the first time that Iseul may have very well given up and gone to sleep after your phonecall. It made your insides lurch. How could you have done this to her? How could you have let yourself be so caught up in your emotions that you treated hers so carelessly?

Why did you feel so cold?

Panicking, you knocked again, this time with a bit more force. It was nearing 4:00 a.m. now, there was still a chance for you to fix things before her deadline. There were so many things you couldn’t fix, you needed to make something right.

Finally, just as another shiver ran up your spine, you heard the click of a lock. You didn’t have the opportunity to collect yourself before the door creaked open.

The frown on her face only deepened when she saw who was standing before her. Lips curved sharply down, eyebrows lowering, eyes cleared from any residual redness, but still puffy—that strangely rejuvenated look after a good cry.

“What do you want?”

You flinched. “I’m here to help.”

She studied you without a word, but you didn’t miss the way her features mellowed the slightest bit. However coarse and uncaring she tried to make herself, she could never truly contain her expressiveness. 

You could see her weighing the options in her head, and, even as the biting chill on your skin wore your patience thinner with each passing second, you waited. You at least owed her that much.

“Fine.”

She turned, leaving the door open for you as she stalked into her apartment. With a sigh of relief, you followed.

You joined her on the couch, keeping a careful distance from where she’d slumped down. She slid her laptop over to you on the coffee table without making eye contact. It was open on a word document, two pages into her attempt at rewriting her essay. Not far off, you spotted a few stray tissues on the table, smeared black with mascara.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

You picked up the device, placing it in your lap and getting to work. Iseul’s eyes flickered over to you, more obviously than she probably thought, as you began clicking away, opening up the settings of the program and accessing the version history of the documents.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” You tilted the screen towards her. “There’s an autosave feature.”

She blinked, trying to keep up with your ministrations as you recovered the lost file with just a bit more fiddling around.

“Here. Make sure it’s the right one.”

Furrowing her brows, she scrolled through the pages and pages of her work, unable to mask her elation when she confirmed it was in fact her full essay, completely preserved from where she’d left off.

“It is.”

“Good.”

More silence. You wondered if that was your cue to leave. You’d done your job. You’d made yourself useful. There was no need to stick around.

Then, she said it; quiet, demure. 

“Thanks.”

A simple word, solidifying the belief that none of this had been worth it. Putting your feelings first was never worth it.

“You're welcome.”

A deep breath. 

“And, listen, Iseul. I'm sorry about what I said on the phone.”

She lifted her head, looking directly at you for the first time that night. 

“I was really stressed out about my own stuff, too, and I let my anger get the best of me. So, I’m sorry.”

Her expression changed, and though she looked like she was already prepared to forgive you, she didn’t quite say it yet.

“Is that really how you feel about me?” she muttered. “Like you’re my babysitter? Am I just a burden to you?”

A burden. It was such a heavy word, you knew it couldn’t be correct. Still, how could you explain to her that you were the problem in this situation? Worrying yourself with details about her that she didn’t even ask you to worry about, wearing yourself down without ever bothering to tell her, then snapping when it all became too much. 

It was an issue entirely of your own creation. She’d have to be as stupid and maladjusted as you to understand.

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re my friend, of course I wanna help you.”

“…But?”

“But…” you bit your lower lip. “Sometimes it feels like you just expect me to do things for you. Like, you don’t care about what I have going on as long as I can be there for you.”

You couldn’t explain why you felt near physically ill. You’d known this girl for three years, been friends with her for two, and spent practically every day with her for one. So why did being upfront with her seem like the most terrifying thing in the world? Like you were exposing yourself to a predator, completely vulnerable if she chose to swoop out and attack.

"Of course I—" Just as you braced yourself for another burst of indignation, Iseul forced herself to bite back her words, a rare display of her common sense trumping her impulsivity. She swallowed. "Oh. Okay."

“I’m always gonna want to help you,” you explained softly. “So, sometimes, I just need you to care enough about me to make sure that I can.”

You could tell she still felt wronged, and maybe, she had all the reason to. The way you’d gone about it was less than ideal. All that care you’d always tried to treat her with, nullified in a matter of seconds, just like that.

“I guess I just never thought of you as the type of person who’d need anything like that.” She picked at the skin around her nails. “But sure, okay. I’ll try.”

You leaned back against the cushions, exhaling. It seemed unreal to you, all things considered, that you’d reached this point. That telling her what you’d kept buried in your heart for so long could have ended in anything other than disaster. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Iseul turned her attention back to her laptop, high-strung as ever as she scanned over her paper once more. A thought seemed to cross her mind, and when she spoke up again, you could tell she was doing her best to sound casual.

“Are you gonna go back to Chan, now?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.”

“You can go,” she mumbled. “I get that you’re like, in love with him, or whatever.”

The sting was back in your eyes. The pounding was back in your head. The chill was back in your skin.

“Chan and I aren’t together anymore.”

“O-oh.” 

Then, more troubled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

You straightened yourself up, forcing a feeble smile.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Iseul frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

“We'll talk later though, right?”

A lump rose in your throat. You could only bring yourself to nod.

For the next hour, you sat, unmoving, as the sound of Iseul’s rapid typing and frustrated huffs filled the room. Once she’d made the finishing touches to her paper, she submitted it with plenty of time to spare, lifting the weight off both of your chests. You sank your head back against the cushions just as she shut her laptop, a sigh of pure relief easing her nerves and yours.

Through her window, you could see that the sky outside was still blocked out by the low-hanging clouds, but even so, the world grew a bit brighter as day began to break and the sun began to inch its way up behind them. Iseul rested her head on your shoulder, and you at last allowed yourself to succumb to the fatigue that had been gripping your body for the past two days.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

When Chan's eyes blinked open, he wondered, faintly, if he’d been drifting off. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Exhaustion consumed him so perpetually these days, not even standing upright could prevent his head from hanging and his eyelids from drooping. He adjusted his vision to take in his surroundings—kitchen, he realized for the first time—but the fuzz in his mind didn’t clear. That was nothing new, either. It hadn’t left him since you had.

He hadn’t slept in three days, not for more than just twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Not even enough to complete a single sleep cycle. Not even enough to dream.

He’d been kept awake by thoughts of you before, more than he’d ever be confident enough to admit out loud. But it was different now. He used to be perfectly content lying wide awake, staring at his ceiling with the giddiest of smiles plastered on his face over the mere memory of you. It had been better than any dream his mind could conjure up. Now, he wished, more than anything, to drift off instead. At least that way, he could be in a state where he didn’t have to think at all. Or maybe, if he was lucky, a state where he could dream of you, to pretend like you were still here with him.

The shattering of glass snapped him out of his thoughts all at once. With a start, he registered that he’d dropped the cup of water he was holding.

He stared blankly at broken shards, scattered amidst the puddle spreading across the wooden floor. He should probably clean it up. The remains could hurt someone.

He sank down to collect the pieces. Changbin liked this cup, he remembered suddenly. He’d gotten it on vacation. He was probably going to be upset. 

An unexpectedly sharp sliver of glass grazed Chan’s thumb, cutting it open and earning a slight hiss from him. He winced, dropping the fragments he’d gathered in his palm.

Blood began to bubble up on the surface of his skin, and he brought the injured finger to his lips. 

“Good job, Chan,” he mumbled, unsure of why his eyes were starting to sting. “You’re a good boy.”

The words didn’t calm him down like they typically would. In fact, they had the opposite effect. He didn’t want to hear himself say them. He wanted—

He curled into himself, shrinking under his clothes and barely managing to keep his balance as a sob racked his body. He pressed the wound closer to his lips, trying to get it to stop bleeding. But the blood kept flowing, and so did his tears.

He didn’t even process the sound of the front door unlocking, or the approaching footsteps that followed. A familiar pair of green sneakers shuffled into his blurred field of view. Chan lifted his head, tears falling freely as he met Minho's deep stare.

He looked concerned, but not surprised. Not in the slightest.

“What happened?”

Chan kept his thumb to his mouth, chest aching from the cries he was so desperately trying to hold in. 

“I’m okay,” he choked out. “Just c-cut my finger.”

Minho crouched down, coming face to face with the older boy. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Chan held out his hand, placing it in Minho's waiting palm. Minho gave a light click of his tongue, as if unimpressed by the injury. 

“It doesn’t look that deep.”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a fresh wave of tears down his cheeks, hot and suffocating. “Feels like it.”

Minho hummed, half-sympathetic. But it was soft. The same way Chan would hear him murmur to his cats back home. He let go of Chan's hand, lifting his gaze to look him straight in the eyes, unfazed by how red and swollen they were.

“What did she do?”

Chan sucked in a shaky breath, nowhere near ready to talk. Minho waited for a few moments, then rose from his spot, opening the medical cabinet to find something to treat him with. He turned his back to sift through their sparse first aid materials, and the absence of his scrutiny was enough for Chan to muster up enough courage to answer.

“She left,” he managed to gasp. “Think it’s over.”

Minho said nothing.

“A-and, please, before you say you told me so…it’s not the same.”

Through the soft hiccups and shallow pants that filled the room, a sigh met Chan’s ears. 

“I got tired of telling you that a long time ago,” Minho replied. “And it never made me happy to be right, for the record.” 

He lowered himself to Chan’s level again, ripping open the antibiotic packet he’d retrieved and pressing the alcoholic wipe delicately to the cut. Chan tried not to pull his hand away as the harsh burn rippled through his skin.

Once the wound was thoroughly cleaned, Minho put the bloodied wipe to the side and wrapped Chan’s thumb carefully with a bandaid. Chan tried to rasp out a thank you, but it only came out as another pathetic sound. He never felt more pathetic than when he cried in front of Minho. Minho, who he was supposed to be strong for. Minho, who, even at his lowest, only betrayed his heartache before others with a subtle twitch of his lips or a few rapid blinks, shooing his tears away for later.

Minho redirected his attention from the now patched-up injury, stone face softening when he caught the uncontrollable shake in Chan’s shoulders.

“It’s okay.” He rested his hand on Chan’s back. “You’re okay.”

Chan took a deep breath, scolding himself, berating himself, screaming at himself to get it together. To stop being so fucking pathetic. He’d cried so much already, cried until his head throbbed and his lungs ached. He was surprised he had any tears left in his system to begin with. Minho’s voice was gentle, but Chan knew what he must be thinking. He knew the frustration, the judgment, the disappointment that must be boiling beneath his composed visage.

“I c-can’t—” he swallowed down another gasp. “Can’t be okay without her.”

“You can,” Minho said simply. “You’ve been okay before, you will be again.”

“Really hurts.”

“I know.”

“Feels…” Chan touched his index finger to his thumb, running it along the smooth texture of the bandaid. He pressed down, just hard enough to draw out the light pain. “Feels like I lost a part of myself.”

Minho frowned, hand pausing its rhythmic movements along Chan's trembling back. He stayed quiet for several heartbeats, letting the weight of the admission fully sink in.

“Tell me everything.”

#bang chan x reader #skz x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz angst #bang chan imagines #skz imagines #stray kids angst #skz fanfic #bang chan x you

[r0ttenhearts]

Like A Dog

mentor!alhaitham x student!reader

angst, no comfort, insults, suggestive content, fem presenting reader

part 2

you sighed, tapping your pencil on the thick book alhaitham had brought you. he knew you were struggling with astronomy so he has brought you one of his textbooks to study, much to your dismay.

you glanced up to see alhaitham sitting on the bay of his window, a book in his hand as he didn’t pay you any mind.

you huffed out, a stray hair blowing out of your face as you do so. you reluctantly took another look at your textbook as you remembered why you were here. the large sum of mora your childhood friend, alhaitham, had given your mother as she threatened to throw you out into the streets for the drunk bastards to have. simply because you did not wish to follow in her footsteps.

so now here you were, sharing a cozy home with alhaitham and his roommate, kaveh. you enjoyed the rather simple life you had with them, it was a stark contrast to life at home. if you could call it that.

but even then, alhaitham had been a little.. hard on you, when it came to your studies. his sharp words that would bring tears to your eyes, or his way of pretending you weren’t there. it hurt the same.

if you did well? then.. you’d be greeted with his tongue lapping at your heat in the middle of the night, or the comfort of his warm bed as he held your bare form.

today would not be one of those days.

you were lost in your thoughts as you heard a loud thump on the table you were seated in. you jumped, looking up to see the gray-haired scribe looking down at you with an annoyed expression on his face.

“really, y/n? it’s that difficult for you to concentrate on one thing at once? must i help you do everything?”

you looked down at your lap, shaking your head as you felt his eyes bore into you. he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“it’s as if you intend to prove to me how helpless you are. you can’t grasp the basic concepts of astronomy, even after i give you my detailed explanations and notes. just what can you do y/n? draw silly pictures that have no value? is that it?”

you heart sinks as you look up at him from your lap. silly pictures that have no value? the very drawings you’d sketch and perfect for him that he’d hang up in his office and around your shared home?

your art was important to you and he knew how much it was, being one of your only hobbies you’d brought along from home. one of the only things you felt proud in. and he stomped on it like it was nothing.

kaveh heard the commotion and stood in the doorway, shaking his head at alhaitham with a look of sadness and anger in his eyes.

“not now, kaveh. can’t you see i’m teaching our little house pet a lesson? since clearly she’s incapable of doing anything but that.”

alhaitham smirked as he stood right next to your shaking form, your hands clasped together in your lap as you kept your gaze down. he knelt down slightly as so he could be directly in your ear.

“that’s right, y/n. you’re nothing but a dog. you follow me around, depend on me shamelessly, and i can’t help but look at you with distaste. you love me unconditionally, you cannot deny it. i know that after i say these things to you, you’ll still come into my office with another stupid picture in your hands, ready to annoy me once again.”

he scoffs as he sees your tears spill from your eyes and into your lap.

“i’m right aren’t i, y/n? i promise you, you don’t hold much worth to me. you’re just a dog i picked up and took pity on. i could return you to your mother at any instant so she could sell you off to those—“

“that’s enough alhaitham.”

kaveh shouts as he strides into the room, taking your hand gently as he leads you away from alhaitham. your feet shuffle on the hard, wooden floor as he takes you to your room. the second the both of you sit on your bed you erupt into sobs, clutching kaveh tightly as you sob into his shoulder.

“w-why, kaveh..? why must he be so cruel to me?” you cry out as he gently rubs your back.

“it’s okay, y/n. you shouldn’t do so much for him you know? take some time for yourself.”

you nodded as you sniffled, your tears slowly stopping as you drift off to sleep with kaveh soothing your breaking heart.

kaveh sighed, pulling your covers over you as he left your room. alhaitham stood on the wall adjacent to your bedroom door, scoffing as he saw kaveh exit it.

“what?”

“took to comforting poor y/n? give me a break, she’ll get over it.”

kaveh shook his head, putting a finger against alhaitham’s chest. he grit his teeth in anger as he spoke.

“you have no right to treat her this way. she cares so much for you and you treat her like your colleagues! i understand that you have a thing for knocking people down, but don’t do that to her. not after how much she does around here, especially for you.”

alhaitham walks off with his hand waving kaveh off dismissively. you’d get over it right? just like every other time? but somehow this time was.. different. not only was kaveh there, but you let your tears fall in front of him, something you always hid from him when his words ripped you apart.

alhaitham dismisses these thoughts, figuring it’ll be fine and he’ll see you in his office later with another one of your paintings to show off to him.

but that time didn’t come.

your cherry greetings turned into cold indifference as you mumbled one word replies to his attempts to talk to you. you stopped coming to alhaithams office and opted to stay in kaveh’s room while he fussed over his blueprints.

your presence lacking in his life was not something he thought he would lose, but there he stood, hand raised against your door as he hesitated to knock.

“i shouldn’t have called you those things y/n.. you weren’t a dog to me, but my lover.”

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #alhaitham smut

[withacapitalp]

@lazylittledragon did more Mombin (check it out here it's great) which I think means I might be contractually obliged to write more fic that is inspired by it. Like wowza I am obsessed with this concept

Tw: vomiting/morning sickness, reddit, discussions of cancer

Robin was dying. 

That was the only explanation. 

Dying. 

And the worst part was, she was dying of something that was both incredibly funny, and incredibly sad, and she had been so desperate for answers that she had gone to a place no mortal should ever dare to go to. 

Reddit. 

Posted by u/familyvideobrokeme

I (24F) think that I might have breast cancer, and I have no idea how to tell my (25M) best friend.

So my best friend “Sam” and I have been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. He’s not just a friend to me, he’s my person (and before you get any ideas- I’m a lesbian, so no, not happening.) we tell each other everything, even the super gross stuff neither of us wants to hear- like seriously he’s asked me to check his ass to see if he managed to pop the pimple he found there before- so I’ve never been in this position before…

But I think I’m dying of breast cancer, and I have no clue how to start this conversation. 

It just came on really suddenly??? Like last month I was fine, and this month my boobs just hurt in this really weird way I’ve never experienced before? Like I’m sore and tingly and my bras don’t fit?! Boobs are kind of a joke between us though, so I feel like if I just blurt it out then he will start saying ‘boobie cancer’ over and over at me and we will just end up laughing and he’ll think I’m kidding. 

Sam is also my roommate? I don’t know if that matters here? I also haven’t gone to a doctor yet, but there isn’t anything else this can be, right? Nothing else just magically makes your boobs hurt and get big?

Robin had made the post at three am the night before while crying and eating Ben and Jerry’s, and she had forced herself to not look at replies all night, even going as far as to shut her phone off entirely.

But now it was the next day, and she had steadfastly ignored the notifications from Reddit all the way through Saturday Brunch and Bitch. 

She couldn’t ignore them anymore. 

“You’re good if I work a little?” Robin asked, pulling her laptop close to her and carefully angling it so Steve couldn’t see the screen. 

“As you wish,” Steve muttered, completely absorbed with whatever dog video he was watching. 

“Dingus,” She whispered affectionately, an odd mixture of love and guilt crashing in her chest as she opened the website and logged into her account. She had over a thousand notifications now, and the comments were still rolling in as she opened her post and scrolled down. 

Endofthebeginningoftheend

OP are you sure you’re not in love with Sam

Grapenuts Dude she said she’s a lesbian

View 564 more replies

Robin rolled her eyes. She had expected that, but she didn’t expect it to be the top comment. She quickly scrolled past. 

Cheercaptainfromhell

OP I would definitely go to a doctor before anything else! 

SmeddieSmunson Seriously how has she gotten this far without going to a doctor??

The answer was easy. Robin was terrified of doctors. Why go to a doctor when Steve had EMT training? 

Because in this instance she couldn’t ask Steve for help. 

Robin kept scrolling. 

Frenchiefreis

You might be pregnant honestly…I would take a test first

Headphilosopher She’s a lesbian so I doubt it, but pregnancy can also cause those symptoms-

Robin snorted to herself, side eyeing Steve to make sure he didn’t look up when she did. 

Did everyone just ignore the part where she said she was a lesbian? 

…was Robin ignoring the part where being a lesbian didn’t mean fuck all when it came to her chances of getting pregnant?

Yes she was ignoring it because it was once just once and they had barely even gotten to do anything at all and-

Robin scrolled again, growing more and more desperate

Rummingbird

That doesn’t really sound like breast cancer to me My mom had similar things happen when she was pregnant though-

Another scroll. Another flutter of her heart. 

No. It wasn’t that. She was dying. Dying was bad but the idea that she was…that she could be…

HyllyBRd

OP have you considered that you might be pregnant? I know that you’re a lesbian, but if you’ve had penetrative sex in the last month then you might want to consider-

“Are you going to be good for me?” 

Robin gasped as the memory hit her, closing the reddit tab with a slam of her finger on the mouse pad, her entire body starting to softly shake as she panic opened a google tab.

Boobs hurt????

Not exactly the most scientific way of phrasing that question, but Robin needed an answer that didn’t involve nine long months of what the fuck. Luckily there was a read more question that got right to the heart of the issue. 

What kind of breast pain indicates pregnancy? 

It was going to say something completely different to what she had, and Robin was going to laugh, and then she would turn to Steve and let him know she was dying of boobie cancer. 

It wasn’t going to be the same. 

It wasn’t. 

Robin looked at the screen. 

Fuller. Sorer. Tingly pain that felt unlike anything else. Aka exactly what she had. 

Robin’s fingers moved on autopilot, asking another question of Google

How late should my period be before I worry?

Worrying about what? She knew about what, but she couldn’t bring herself to type it, she couldn't even think of that word yet.

Google said after a week of missing your period it was time to see a doctor. Robin’s period was over three weeks late. 

And a month ago-

A month ago…

“Fuck you’re so tight,” The woman above her whispered. Robin whimpered, unable to help herself as the stretch-

“I need to use the bathroom.” She blurted out, slamming her laptop shut and practically throwing it off of her, stomach twisting into knots. 

“I’ll tell you what I tell my students Bobbin,” Steve said, barely looking up and completely unaware of her meltdown, “You don’t need to ask me for permission to go take care of your bodily functions,”

“Oh, shut up,” Robin replied, laughing breathlessly. It was such a stupid joke, such a meaningless stupid joke. But it was safe, and it was familiar, and if the sneaking suspicion creeping down Robin’s spine was true, then nothing would be safe and familiar again for a very long time. 

She stood up, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Steve’s head as she walked by, just because that was familiar too and she needed it. Steve hummed, leaning over to bonk his head against her tummy as she passed him.

A bonk on the tummy that may or may not be-

Nope. It was a no. It was definitely a no. There was no possible way. 

Robin was going to be sick. 

She basically flew the last few steps to the bathroom, managing to lock it tight before she threw up in the sink. It was disgusting, and messy, and she pushed the tap on before kneeling down at the porcelain throne and continuing to hurl. 

I need Steve.

It wasn’t even really a thought. She couldn’t think while throwing her guts up, that was an experience that required every bit of her attention and mind power. 

No, not a thought, just an instinctual message from the universe, a pull from somewhere deep inside her that felt like more than just a truth. 

Because Robin didn’t need Steve because she was throwing up. Or because she thought she might have boob cancer. 

Robin needed Steve because she knew she was pregnant. 

“Fuck me,” She groaned, leaning back from the toilet only to lean forward once more as the rest of brunch came back up. 

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #st drabble #robin buckley #mombin #platonic stobin #Steve and robin #robin and steve #tw: vomit #tw: vomiting #tw: mentions of cancer

[morganbritton132]

Okay now I’m imagining someone recording the life stream where Steve explains word problems and the video just becomes this thing that everyone uses when they don’t understand what’s going on in math class

The real question would be though if Steve and/or Eddie are aware of students using Steve’s explanation to learn?

I love the thought of Steve going viral, not as Eddie’s husband but rather because he’s a great teacher. It’s not even one of Steve’s students that uploads the video to YouTube. It’s a kid that goes to a different school and just happened to be covering the same lesson in their math class when they saw Eddie’s live stream.

All the comments on the videos are from kids saying how they finally understand their homework or how they would’ve done better on their test if their teacher had explained it like that. There are some teachers in the comments that say they’re going to incorporate Steve’s teaching style into theirs, and even some parents who are just grateful that they can now help their kids.

There are some kids on there that make comments about how they wished that this teacher would cover concepts that they were struggling with, and so Steve’s students started sending them links to his unlisted YouTube Videos.

Steve is a great teacher because he is accommodating to himself and to his students. He knows that because of his head injury that he’ll have good days and he’ll have bad days. He knows that sometimes he doesn’t have a choice if he misses class or not, and he knows that it’s the same for students.

So, he compensates.

It actually started a couple years ago when a student was an accident and unable to come to school for a period of time. The student really wanted to continue with their studies while they recovered, so a lot of teachers got together to film their lessons for them.

Steve was the only one to continue to film his lessons.

It really came in handy to have a pre-recorded lesson for when he had a substitute, and then eventually it snowballed into him recording extra help, study material, and test reviews. And then during COVID lockdown, he had nothing to do other than to re-record all his plans to make them more engaging and to better explain area where students struggled the most.

Dustin helped him set up a private YouTube channel and uploaded all of Steve’s videos for him as unlisted videos so the only people that could see the videos were whoever he gave the link to.

His students had no problem passing on the link to anybody that was struggling in math.

Eddie is kind of aware that students are using Steve’s lesson to study, but that’s pretty normal so he doesn’t think anything of it.

Steve, on the other hand, finds out about it when the local news channel calls because they want to do a story on him. He doesn’t know if he should be mortified or honored.

#Eddie’s like: are you going to do the interview? #Steve: Of course I’m going to do the interview and then I’m going to leverage it so I can get new textbooks #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[concreteangel92]

Noah With A Witch Girlfriend

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: none, all fluff

A/N: so I wanted to do something a bit different to what I’ve seen on here before and I thought a headcanon about Noah having a partner who practices witchcraft was such an interesting concept due to his upbringing and it’s also something very close to my heart haha hope you all enjoy 🖤

•although Noah was never a believer in witchcraft, he was open to learn from you as to why you do it and what it was all about

•would definitely find it fascinating comparing it to religion and seeing the similarities (of course you’ll tell him that it all comes from the pagans)

•loves watching your eyes light up when you talk about it

•Noah would soon have a new found respect for magic and its history

•but he will definitely crack the odd joke here or there but means no harm with them

• “you going to curse me if I piss you off?”

• “don’t tempt me”

•when you tell him that you work with your spirit guides/angels/universe (or whatever you prefer to call them) you know he’ll be making jokes like “so if I work with you, does that make you my angel?”

•corny jokes aside, you know he’s only teasing you

•he would soon perk up when you tell him that sex can be very powerful in spell work

•he’d be more then willing to help, I mean, what are good boyfriends for right? 😏

•if you gave him a tarot reading and it came true, of course he’ll try and find a logical explanation first

•Noah would also do that when any of your spells have worked, but you can definitely see the shock in his eyes at the outcome for whatever spell you’ve done

•he’d love to watch you work at your alter and loves how it looks and how personal it is for you

•would definitely buy you gifts and crystals, etc for your alter

•after some time he may even be inclined to join you in some of your work

•he’ll offer to cleanse the house for you to show that he’s learning

•he would definitely join you for meditation or your ritual baths to cleanse your energy/aura

•if it’s important to you, it’s important to him

•gets defensive at people who may laugh or make fun of you for doing it

•he will always have your back, no matter what

•I have no doubt you’d catch him reading some of your books, man loves to read and learn, this would be no different

•would also love the personal gifts you give him such as protection jars, crystals, amulets to ward off the evil eye, etc

•“Babe, why do we have so many empty jars in this cupboard, are they to be thrown?”

•“Leave them be!”

•Noah soon learns that a witch never throws good jars out

•in time Noah would ask you for certain spells for luck with the band or a project he’s working on

• “can’t hurt to have the extra luck right?”

•and you never know, you may just make a believer out of him yet ✨

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine

[milktei]

hi! i really fell in love with your “again” fic with sakusa. it was so amazing & i really liked how you wrote it. i was wondering if you can write another fic with that same concept but with suna?

Fine

Suna Rintarou x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Suna is probably a bit ooc. not edited

Requests: Open

a/n: first of all i would like to let anon know HOW SORRY I AM FOR TAKING LITERALLY OVER A YEAR TO POST THIS. I LOVE YOU ANON AND IF YOU ARE STILL IN THE FANDOM I HOPE THIS IS OKAY. THIS WAS HALF FINISHED IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG AND I FINALLY BIT THE BULLET

on another note requests are still open somehow but i can’t guarantee that they will be finished efficiently :’)

You weren’t sure when the rift started.

You two were happy, at least you thought you were.

He would bring you little gifts after practice, eat meals with you any chance he got, either plan or agree to go on dates with you.

Until he didn’t.

Maybe he got too comfortable after so long of together. Maybe he thought he didn’t need to do much to woo you anymore. To an extent he didn’t, but him completely failing to put any effort into the relationship hurt.

He was on his phone more, staying at practice late, practically ignoring you when you would hang out, all without any explanation.

One date. One night not spent in an apartment is all you asked for.

After weeks of trying he finally agreed. An awkward dinner were trying to keep a conversation going felt like pulling teeth.

Your displeasure with him was palpable from when you got in the car all they way to his apartment where you two now stood.

“What is it?” he asked with annoyance ringing through the air.

You sighed as you sat on the couch “I…” you swallowed, almost afraid to tell him “I’m not very happy with how today went.”

Suna scoffed, “You’re talking as if that’s fault or something.

You winced “Well it didn’t seem like you were enjoying yourself either.”

He raised an eyebrow at you tone and threw his arms in the air. “I did what you asked y/n! We went on that damn date didn’t we? I even invited you over! What more could you possibly want?”

Time seemed to slow down in that moment. What more could you possibly want? Surely he knew? How could you possibly answer that without making him even more mad?

Clenching your hands, staring angrily at the ground, you could only say what came to mind.

“How did we end up like this Rin? It’s like we’re strangers again.”

For a moment you could have sworn you saw a shift in his posture, a subtle recoil, but it disappeared in a moment and was replaced by a more rigid stance.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you y/n but I’ve been feeling just fine. if you don’t like it you can just leave.”

The venom in his words was unlike anything you have ever heard come from his mouth. This wasn’t the man who you fell in love with. The man who stuttered endlessly when he first asked you out. The same man who took pictures of you any chance he could because you always looked good in his eyes.

No. This man was aloof, uncaring, detached.

He was not your Suna Rintarou.

“Fine.”

A beat of silence.

“Fine?” Suna echoed back. You hated that you couldn’t read any emotions in the tone of voice he used.

“Fine,” you said feeling more confident with your decision.

No longer feeling cemented to where you sat, you grabbed your bag from the couch, storming to the front door where you ripped open the closet to grab your coat. as you jammed your feet into your shoes you took a couple deep breaths.

“So you’re leaving? Just like that?”

You inhaled sharply and turned to him, angry tears filling your eyes. “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you pointed at him accusingly “not after everything you did, not after everything I did to try to make this work. This isn’t my fault and you don’t get to make it seem like it was.”

The only sound that filled the room was your angry breathing and in a moment you turned on your heel and left the apartment

——————

That memory from months ago rang clear in your mind as you stared at the man in front of you dumbfounded. There he was, standing at your door. He nervously scratched the back of his head as he held out a bouquet of flowers to you

The state he was in was nearly a mirror image of when he first asked you out.

“I’m sorry.”

You had half the mind to slam the door in his face.

But you didn’t

That lovesick part of your brain that you desperately tried to shove back wriggled its way free and you take back the man that had put you through so much pain.

That leads to where the two of you are right now. Months after he showed up with those flowers.

You had initially planned to go to the mall alone, just to buy a friend a gift for their upcoming birthday.

Suna had the day off and when you told him of your plans, he surprised you by asking to tag along.

While at first you were elated to be in his company. A cloud of dread sat in the back of your mind.

He was trying, you could give him that.

Flowers, home cooked meals, cafe dates, and daily calls. Everything you could’ve dreamed and asked for all those months ago.

That was the problem though. He was doing everything you begged for and now you couldn’t tell for the life of you if it was genuine or not.

It was irrational and unhealthy to be thinking this way. To think that Suna was only being a better boyfriend because you asked him to and not because he actually wanted to.

But how could you think any other way with how he had treated you before?

Still, you walked through the mall with him, hand in hand, just like before.

A particular shift caught you eye in a store, one that wasn’t your friends style, but definitely yours. Suna could tell from the look in your eyes that you liked it.

“You thinking of getting that shirt babe? I can get it for you.”

You looked at him like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and forced out a giggle “No thank you Rin, I was just looking.”

His smile faltered the tiniest bit “Alright.”

The rest of your shopping trip was uneventful and you eventually found what you were looking for.

It was when you got in the car that he tried again, “Why don’t we grab some ice cream before we go home? There’s a new place on the way to your apartment.”

He rejoiced at the subtle excitement that showed on your face

“Only if you would like to. We don’t have to.”

He nearly groaned in despair at your response.

“y/n”

You stiffened in shock at the seriousness in his voice “Yes?”

“Somethings bothering you.”

it wasn’t a question, it was a statement that Suna was waiting for you to confirm.

“What are you talking about?”

He sighed “I’m not going to sit here in silence again when I know somethings wrong. Something has been wrong for a while now.”

“Nothings wrong!” you shout defensively. Shocking even yourself. You turn your gaze to your lap and nervously wrench your hands together.

Silence filled the car

“Well now I’m even less inclined to believe you.”

You let out a sad chuckle at his response and take a deep breath before telling him what’s been on your mind since you got back together.

“It just feels like nothing will ever be like how it used to be.”

He kept silent and you took it as a cue to keep talking. You weren’t sure you would be able to stop even if you tried

“How am I supposed to act like nothing happened! They way you spoke to me back then…and then expected me to stay, getting mad at me for “throwing away” what we had, even though you knew I was unhappy.”

Tears fill your eyes but Suna dared not invade your space in a moment so vulnerable

“Then all of a sudden you come back and I can’t find it in myself to day no because I wanted you to do better so badly- and you are!

You’re putting more effort into this, but I can’t help but feel bitter sweet because I can only think about how your only trying because I asked. I wonder everyday if any of this is genuine or if you’re just comfortable having me around and then one day you’ll realize that this isn’t for you and leave again.”

The amount of despair that filled Suna was immeasurable. His mind filled with doubt and screamed at him at all the ways he could’ve done better and how he never deserved you.

Still, he reached out a hand and waited for you to grab it.

“I should have never let you leave that day y/n. I knew that from the moment that door shut, but I was too stupid, too proud, too afraid of what would happen if I chased after you.”

His grip tightened, “and like a coward I waited, hoping that maybe you would come back instead of me having to take that step.”

Suns let out a self deprecating laugh “It took me way too long to realize that’s what got us into this mess in the first place. Me waiting for all you love on a silver platter when you got none in return.”

He turned as much as he could in his spot and grabbed your other hand. You looked up at his face and almost gasped at the amount of love and earnest that showed on a normally expressionless face.

“I understand that you think that I may only be putting this much effort because you asked. But you shouldn’t be afraid to ask y/n, not anymore. Trust me, while I am doing what you asked it’s also because I want to make you happy. Every time I think about that day I get so angry at the fact that I made you so desperate for the bare minimum.”

“Please y/n, anything you want just ask and I will do everything in my power to make sure that I don’t make you sad again.”

You couldn’t help yourself and leaned across the centre console of the car, hugging him as best as you could as tears finally began to flow.

“How do I know this isn’t just going to go back to the way it was? You could very easily fall back into that habit.” You said through sobs.

“I know” Suna sighed

You pulled back “You know?”

“I know” he confirmed, “but I promise to do whatever I can to make this right y/n, you tell me if your unhappy and I will do my best to fix whatever I’ve done and ensure that we’ll be fine.”

A beat of silence filled the car before you let out a small laugh through your sobs. Suna’s heart fluttered at the first sound of happiness you let escape for the first time in a while.

You lifted a hand and messily wiped away your tears, “This is an awful place to have a heart to heart moment”

He smiled at you with all the love under the sun and cupped your cheek. “There’s a lot that we still need to work through, it’ll take some time. But how about I take you to that ice cream place first?”

You beamed at him, “Okay”

Yeah, you two would be just fine.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq suna #suna rintaro angst #suna rintaro headcanons #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu reader insert

[highpri3stess]

Okay sorry I don’t run lmao . After reading your kidnapping one 3 guys came to mind. Hanma would honestly just let us kidnap him to see how far we’d actually go. Once he got bored he’d be like aight ima head out (insert that SpongeBob meme here) and Baji would already know like he’d know what we were up to and would probably kidnap us before we kidnap him. Some like reverse psychology shit in there too lmao. Kazutora my little touch starved baby, he’d just be so happy someone wants to give him attention, like he would willingly help us, & if we were wanting a ransom or something he’d even help us with it. (Hanma would too, try to test out how smart/ and far Kisaki would go to get him back) spoiler : he doesn’t 💀

BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO BEING A TOKYO REVENGERS YANDERE: Snippets

Hanma has definitely let us kidnap him. Being the little shit that he is, he would pretend like he doesn't know what you're doing and be extra dramatic about it. "I HOPE SOMEONE DOESN'T KIDNAP ME. I AM ALL ALONE!" It's annoying that he fucking ESCAPES everytime. He doesn't understand the concept of kidnapped by chance, lovers by choice ☹ the worst part? He'll point out WHERE YOU WENT WRONG! How dare he give ME advice on what I d- I mean, anyways, it's like a cat and mouse game.

Don't ever use Hanma as a leverage to try and kidnap Kisaki too, he won't show up.

As for Baji, you wonder how you got here. Tied up in some guys room while he's just looking at you like 🤨 all you remember is stalking Baji while petting a cat and 'BAM' you're unconscious. Would not take "It's because I love you" as an explanation for trying to LITERALLY KIDNAP HIM. in the end, he'll just keep you in his room until he figures out what the hell he should do with you. Might pet you if you're obedient.

Kazutora, my poor sweet baby. Somebody is love with him? So badly that they want to kidnap him and keep him forever? Sign him up! Will go the extra mile to find a brand of ropes that is impossible to break or magically, you're looking for something to hold him and he just offers you- CHAINS. Yes you heard me, CHAINS. "I saw what you were doing and I wanted to help you-" "you want this?" "Don't you?" Easiest boy to keep and maintain, he even gives you cuddles. Not that I know, I totally don't have him in my room-

- Monika with a K

#beginners guide to being a tokyo revengers yandere #tw. kidnapping #tokyo revengers crack #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #hanma shuji x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke #moots♡

[elizabeth-dicewielder]

Rewatching Once Upon A Time for the first time since I was a kid (I watched it as it aired, I pretty much grew up as Henry did) and like as an adult I can now actually realize how fucking creepy Henry’s life must be. Time is STOPPED. Yes, there’s a day-night cycle, but we have no proof there are seasons. I don’t think we ever hear the date mentioned. People don’t age. He probably made friends when he was a little kid, and he aged and they didn’t. How horrifying must that be? His teachers probably teach the same lesson over and over again. The clock on the clocktower doesn’t work and no one has ever tried to fix it. From the Cinderella episode it’s implied that Cinderella has been pregnant since they left the Enchanted Forest—Henry must have seen her around! He must have seen this woman be pregnant his entire life and never give birth!

And then there’s also the fact that everyone is sad. Literally no one is happy with their lives. Everyone says things have been happening for “as long as I can remember.” And we see that he has access to media from outside Storybrooke (comics, books, tv) so he would also have picked up on the fact that everyone in Storybrooke talks fucking weird. No one in the real world brings up true love or darkness constantly. Regina threatens to “destroy” Emma. No one talks like that!! Henry has to have noticed!

Like no wonder this kid immediately latched onto the everyone was cursed concept. This whole experience must be traumatizing af, he would believe any explanation he came across

#i’m just saying season one ouat could easily be reframed as horror #once upon a time #ouat #henry mills #henry ouat

[jalluzas-ferney]

Soooo….I made some nationality headcannons! At first I was a liiittle bit unsure if to do so cuz then again.. they live in ninjago…. And im pretty sure countries like argentina or Morocco don’t quite exist in the ninjago universe LMAO. Butttttt. Already seen others make headcannons, so hell, why not? I uses they apply to some irl au or what if they lived in our world uk? And what different countries would I see them coming from and etc.

I can imagine that the EM might have travelled all over the world, either to go into hiding, or missions, or escape conflict, etc. Or maybe simply that’s where they came from! So yeah that’s my little explanation that is mostly for myself cuz im a little bit too literal sometimes lol.

When thinking about nationality I always think a lot about where they grew up and what nationality they grew up with and would later on identify with the most. It’s a complicated concept when your parents are from a different nationality and theyre immigrants in a different country- so you grow up in this country, surrounded by this culture and people, but your. Also. Raised by your parents who also have your family living in this completely different country- where you also find home and relate to the people considering how you look, the language you speak with your parents- or the specific culture and environment your parents grew up wiooith, impacting your home life and the way your raised. Perhaps you lived in both places, or travel a lot to your parents homeland. Perhaps you live in one of your parents countries but the other. Not. but you still identify with one of your parents nationality because of the rest of your family from that side and the culture your take in from them. So it’s always very personal! So for Kai and Nya, I imagined that ray was Argentinian and Maya Filipino. And perhaps - because I want to project onto my faves- they were born and grew up in Argentina. But have always also identified a lot with their mothers homeland, since not only does their race impact the way they might feel more different and set apart from kids there, maya loves talking about her childhood in the Philippines and is always talking over the phone with their aunts and cousins, meaning Kai and Nya def were taught some Tagalog, tho theyre not incredibly fluid with it. In their early teens they probably travelled to the Philippines, (took ray and maya some time to settle down and get enough money to travel, as well as find time) and met their whole family, and the place they reside in, habit that would turn quite common as they would continue to travel other times the following years.

For Lloyd, I really wanted to make him Asian -Brazilian. It just felt right. So imagined that my queen (don’t you judge her >:() Misako would be Brazilian, meanwhile Garmadon,Japanese. i imagine that Misako adores traveling, so she met Garmadon on her trip to Japan, and decided to stay there for a WHILE because of the brothers. During her time there, she had Lloyd. Since her family heard of her new baby, she travelled back to Brazil with a two y/o Lloyd to have her family meet the him and catch up overall. but as the serpentine wars rose In japan (ill hc it happened in japan let me know what u think of that) Misako was told to wait in Brazil. Misako didn’t really like that though, and while she dreaded having to leave her son, she was sure shed come back soon after helping out the Brothers in the battle against the serpentine. So Lloyd was left to live with his aunties and grandparents in Brazil. Of course, after Misako found out about the whole Green Ninja thing and all that crap, she pulled the same stunt as in the series and ✨ vanished ✨. But then Garmadon came and fucking took him like divorced parents sometimes do uk? So then he spent some other of his childhood years growing up in, ya guessed it, Japan. This is how Lloyd identifies both with being a Brazilian and Japanese. As for the rest, I just envision that they lived in their respective countries their whole lives till they were recruited!

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago headcannons #sora wyldfire and arin are in the making btw! #ninjago cole #cole ninjago #cole brookestone #Kai ninjago #ninjago kai #kai jiang #Nya jiang #Nya smith #Ninjago nya #nya ninjago #Kai smith #jay walker #ninjago jay #jay ninjago #Zane Julien #ninjago zane #zane ninjago #lloyd garmadon #lloyd #lloyd ninjago #Ninjago Lloyd #ninja headcannons #ninjago hc #headcannons #hc #nationality headcannons

[androids-insides]

Another thing I’d like to explain! What can I say, I like explaining things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Todays explanation is on my theories (I guess?) on, you guessed it:

The Stanley Parable!

(I like other things, I swear! I’m just very irrationally afraid that everyone who follows me won’t like the other things, so I usually don’t post about it :,] )

A summary, so I don’t lose your attention, is that I like to think that most theories are correct! Now, allow me to explain! (Yes there will be pictures)

Put in different terms, all endings are “cannon,” in what they imply. For example,

This is a helpful and much needed picture of Stanley and The Narrator.

From here, the story could go anywhere! From following directions, to jumping out a window, anything and everything is on the metaphorical table.

This is the Confusion Ending. Here, The Narrator had a story and a point to it all, but has lost his control to a yellow line^tm and self-contradicting revelations.

One of the few examples where The Narrator has no control. The story, the parable and the outcomes are all at someone, or something, else’s command. This is currently cannon.

This, however, is the Countdown Ending. Here, everything had gone exactly to plan, aside from Stanley’s last decision. The Narrator, seemingly on a whim, rewrites the ending in a moment, and has the omnipotence to detonate the entire facility.

At this point, The Narrator is in control of everything. Nothing stands in his way from destroying both Stanley and the story’s outcome. There is no question of who or what has altered the story, as it is most certainly The Narrator himself. This is currently cannon.

If that understands it, then let it be. In some endings, The Narrator is the only one who controls the story, in others, control is left to someone/thing else. In some Stanley has a wife and a kid, and in others he’s just a boring no-body (or, no legs at least). In some The Narrator works the boring office job and created Stanley to entertain himself, in others Stanley miraculously became part of a dark and twisted game that both gave his life meaning and took it away.

On a cosmic scale of “what is the parable and where did it come from,” I honestly think there is no real answer. It’s lazy, I know, but hear me out:

Think of it as Past, Present, Future. We, as spectators or consumers, know very clearly where the story currently is. As well as that, we know several of the ways that it ends. We know it started at some point, is currently existing, and will stop existing after that loading screen, right?

Each ending answers the burning question of “what about before this?” However because of the inconsistent variation, there can’t really be a solid answer. We arrived at the middle of the story, where Stanley works in a big office building and decides to try and figure out where his coworkers went. We don’t know how long Stanley and The Narrator have been in this loop, as it is, you can play The Stanley Parable as many times over as you want. Therefore, the beginning can really only be where we know the story picks up, which is at a time where there is no definitive answer of What came first, The Narrator or The Stanley. A question that no one can truly answer.

It’s sort of like the concept of Gender Fluidity, in a way. Where however the person feels that day is their decided gender, is as to however The Parable ends is how it begins. In conclusion, The Stanley Parable plot is a close second Gender Fluid icon, right behind Nimona.

Joking put briefly aside, I think The Parable is just a huge concept. Did/can/could Stanley talk at some point? Maybe. Isn’t The Narrator supposed to be the “physical” representation of divorce? Probably. Is The Narrator a figment of Stanley’s imagination, or the other way around? Who knows. All I can guarantee, is that the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never

#I forgot to add tags somehow??? #the stanley parable #the stanley parable art #the stanley parable fanart #tsp art #tsp fanart #tsp fandom #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tspud #iknowitsagooddaywhenConnorEatsTrousersthreatenstoeatmyart #whatdoyourhinkittasteslike?

[thecuriousquest]

i love ur work!! can we get more yandere big brother dabi please 🙏🏼

Boyfriends and Bruises

Platonic!Yandere Big Brother Dabi x Little Sister Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, abusive relationship, soft big brother Dabi, graphic detailed death, violence, murder, burned alive, Dabi did what he had to do

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Your big brother hears the whimpering from outside your door. What could have upset you this much? Dabi knows it wasn’t him because he wasn’t rough with you at all today. No choke holds, no threatening to light you on fire, no pinning you to the ground on your stomach while he stands on your back. None of that happened, so what’s the issue?

Feeling the need to get to the bottom of whatever is going on, he opens your door without knocking. He finds you trying to stifle your cries under your blankets.

“I know you’re not asleep, idiot,” he notifies you as he turns on the light. Walking further into your room, he pulls your desk chair over to your bed and sits down on it.

He peels your covers back and gets a look at your blotchy face, red eyes, and something that definitely wasn’t there before you went to bed.

You have bruises on your neck.

Dabi didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing for a few seconds. He can’t tear his eyes from your throat. Those bruises shouldn’t be there. Who put them there?

“What happened to you?”

Your breath hitches. You know you have to tell him the truth. As scary as that may be, you know Dabi won’t leave until he gets an explanation.

“I know I was supposed to be in bed. I wanted to go see my boyfriend, but he was really mad at me over something stupid. I’m sorry I snuck out. Dabi, please, don’t tell Dad. He’ll kill me.”

He’s taken back by so many things. Since when do you have a boyfriend? Secondly, your boyfriend that nobody knows about abuses you? This is why you aren’t allowed to date. Dabi has told you that plenty of times that you’re not ready for a relationship. Look at where you ended up.

He can’t say these things to you since you’re in such a fragile state, however. He knows this would only break you even more. He can’t be harsh. He can’t yell at you like he wants to right now for going behind his back and doing something he has forbidden. He has to be delicate…a foreign concept to the flame thrower.

However, your big brother has a heart that grows a size when you absolutely need him, and right now, he can tell that you do. Taking a deep breath, Dabi puts a hand on your head and pets you softly.

“You had a rough night. I won’t tell our asshole dad. This can stay between us.”

You grab his hand and simply hang onto it like his fingers are your lifeline. Sniffling rather loudly, a fat tear rolls down your cheek. Your eyes glisten in the light of your room, and Dabi’s heart bleeds even more for you.

“Do you think I should talk to him tomorrow?”

The question sounds so dumb to him. Of course you shouldn’t talk to the douchebag who laid hands on you!

“Don’t worry about that right now, kiddo. Let’s just get through tonight. Okay? Do you need ice for your throat or anything? Does it hurt to breathe?”

Thinking about how to craft your answer without worrying him too much, you reply with, “It hurt to breathe or cough at first, but it’s easier now. I don’t think I need any ice.” You give him a soft smile to reassure him.

“Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” You’re not entirely sure where that question came from, but you want to be comforted right now. You don’t want the warmth of your brother’s hand to leave your side.

“Sure, twerp,” he uses the term endearingly.

He turns up his body temperature slightly in order to soothe you into dreamland. It takes some time, but eventually, you feel safe enough to fall into a deep slumber.

Dabi doesn’t want to leave you. Truly, he doesn’t, but he has some important business to take care of now. He breaks into your phone and scrolls through it until he finds the information he’s looking for.

———

It’s not like he hasn’t killed anyone before, and he has no problem with killing someone he doesn’t even know, especially if they hurt his baby sister. He takes out his rage on the mother fucker, punching him, delivering hefty blows with the toe of his boot to his face and stomach. Sadistically, he toys with his prey before finishing him off.

Dabi wraps his hands around the bitch’s neck. “Is this how you did it? Is this how you fucking did it, you little pussy? Made you feel like a big fucking man to do this to her?” Dabi squeezes harder and harder until his eyes begin to flutter shut. “Oh no, don’t you die on me yet, cock sucker.”

Standing over the bastard, Dabi lights up his hands with blue flames. “This is for Y/N, you piece of shit.”

The screams of your abuser are music to his ears.

It doesn’t matter what his name was. It doesn’t matter how old he was. All that matters is that he’s a pile of ash now.

Hey, at least nobody has to pay for the cremation.

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere big brother #yandere brother #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader

[cabinofimagines]

Last Christmas

First holiday fic coming up! Pairing: Platonic! Bianca and Nico di Angelo x reader Request: Reader showing Bianca and Nico their Christmas traditions? Also yes ik Bianca's not alive, but in this she is (if that's alright ofc) Warnings: None! Ig slight spoiler for the beginning of The Titan's Curse? Word Count: 1.2k - Asnyox

Ever since Bianca and Nico arrived at Westover Hall earlier this year, you’ve slowly been befriending them. Bianca was a little on guard at first, but as soon as you asked Nico to explain the rules of Mythomagic to you he loved you. And Bianca commended you for listening weekly to the multiple hours long explanations that Nico had. Eventually, she had let her guard down enough to talk about her and Nico’s past. 

Whenever she brought up that they came from Italy (how cool is that?) Nico grew quiet. He once admitted he didn’t remember a lot from those times, and got fascinated with what Bianca had to say. It was sort of a story time, you learned more about the Di Angelo siblings as time went by, and sure, sometimes things didn’t line up (how could they not have known of the Cold War? The Berlin Wall? They have lived here for a few years now according to Bianca!), but that could not quell your fascination. 

That’s why, on December 8th, Bianca sat both you and Nico down to talk about how Christmas in Italy used to go. 

“Today is also known as Immacolata Concezione in Italy,” Bianca smiled, “Nico, do you know what that is in English?” Nico squinted his eyes, hesitating a little bit. 

“Immaculate … conception?” He asked and Bianca nodded, a proud glean in her eyes. 

“Exactly. It’s a celebration of the birth of the Virgin Mary, without original sin.” Bianca nodded, “Normally this is when you would put up the Christmas Tree, and when the Christmas Markets would start.” 

“Here some people put up their tree in November,” you sighed, “some even earlier. It’s kinda fun how Italy has a specific date for it.” You smiled, “Did you guys have a specific tradition while putting up the tree? Hot chocolate and peppermints?” 

“I’ve never had Christmas peppermints.” Nico looked at you, “What else do you eat for Christmas? Can we get some?” 

“I don’t think you need more sugar, Nico,” Bianca interrupted him. 

“What do you guys mean? No Christmas crack? Reindeer Chow?” You asked exasperated, “You Christmas must have been subpar. I mean, you never made a gingerbread house? Do Italians hate architecture or something?” You sat up straighter, “That’s it, we’re going to have to break into the kitchen and bake you guys a Christmas.” 

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You thought it would be harder to get everything ready for baking. Heck, you even thought you would have to be sneaky about it! Instead, you mentioned it to Grover, a new boy, who had seemed intensely interested in Bianca and Nico, yet scared to approach them. Poor boy, you hoped he would gather the courage soon. As you asked his opinion on escape routes, so you could get the ingredients, he stood on helping instead. And so, two days later, Grover led you to the kitchen. 

“How did you manage this?” You asked, amazed at all the ingredients that were present.  You even spotted three ugly, holiday themed aprons amongst the food. “A favor here and there,” Grover nervously looked around, “Just try not to leave the building, it’s dangerous.” he looked at you pointedly, until you reluctantly nodded. 

“Of course, uh,” You saw Nico and Bianca approach from the end of the hallway, “Do you want to join us?” You offered. Grover quickly shook his head. 

“No I uuh-” he stammered, “I have duties- deadlines- uh, yes.” and he took off into the other direction. 

“Who was that?” Nico asked, bouncing on his feet.

“Just a friend who helped set this up,” You opened the door and Bianca and Nico gasped. 

“What is all this stuff?” Bianca looked at the table, slight wonder on her face.

“Hopefully enough to make gingerbread houses!” You smiled, elated to find pre-baked gingerbread house kits in the middle of the table, “Let’s get the holidays going!”

After you explained the steps of making a gingerbread house, and assuring Bianca that glue would not make the process easier (it would but where is the fun in that?), you got started on the houses. Throughout the decorating you would talk about different holiday traditions you used to have, elaborating there where it was necessary. You supposed they hadn’t celebrated Christmas after getting to the U.S.A., which was kinda weird but you shrugged it off and kept talking. 

“I mean, Santa Claus delivers presents all over the world!” You announced giddy, only for Bianca’s eyes to widen as she quickly spoke up. 

“Yes, but he gets help by La Befana in Italy, for example,” she laughed awkwardly, “Of course, the whole world by one person would be too much!” You eyed Bianca in surprise, but before you got interrupted before you could ask about it. 

“That is so cool!” Nico jumped up, “I had never heard of Santa, but it makes sense!” He smiled widely. Ah, Nico must still believe in Santa, or whoever the Italian Santa Claus is.  Nico turned around his gingerbread house, “(Y/n), I already made la Befana but can you make Santa too? I want them both in my house, so I get more presents!” 

You looked at Nico’s house, noticing that he made a lady (?) with what is probably a broom. She was standing next to a snowman made out of icing, and there were the smallest penguin looking creatures too. The true stand-out creation was probably the guy, made fully out of yellow icing, holding a staff and having wings on his head. Nico saw you looking, and smiled. 

“I also added Hermes! I mean, the messenger god must have been helping with delivering presents too, right?” His excitement was adorable, and you nodded in agreement. 

“Of course, how else would anyone manage to deliver millions of presents?” You laughed. You grabbed a peppermint and red icing and went to work on adding Santa Claus to Nico’s house. 

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It was getting late, and Nico had already dozed off, half laying on the table. Bianca and you were quietly cleaning up the mess together. As you were leaving, Bianca carrying Nico on her back, Bianca turned to you. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Her eyes looked sad, but she smiled, “Adjusting has been hard for us, and I’m really happy that we’re friends.” You smiled back at her. 

“It’s a delight knowing you and Nico, Bianca.” You petted the boy on her back, “I hope we’ll be friends for many years more, maybe make some Christmas traditions ourselves!” 

Bianca smiled, and Nico stirred a little on her back, urging you both to keep walking. Maybe, if things had turned out a little differently, you would have had traditions with the Di Angelo siblings, but as they disappeared from Westover Hall only a few days later, you would never know. You hoped they were alright.

#requests #request #xmas 2023 #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #x reader #readerinsert #gn reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #cabinofimagines #x you #platonic #nico x reader #the titan's curse #admin asja #admin asnyox

[erizia]

some hcs for the sins as a group pre-banishment

a lot of them didn’t really get along at the start - i think merlin probably found ban really difficult just because of their different (and both quite strong) personalities, i think king and diane never really got along that well with gowther because of the whole memories thing.

meliodas is surprisingly mature in his captaincy - the reason he made the 7th rule was to attempt to overcome these personality clashes. having to deal with the ten commandments, who were probably even more difficult, he had a great grip on activities they could do to get to know each other better. i think meliodas has a good understanding of how a team needs to work in order to get shit done and he leads to the best of his ability

the seven rules that meliodas came up with, while they are good, he was completely drunk when he made them

i think merlin would have been surprisingly immature all things considered. as we know from her past, she grew up quite sheltered and never really got the chance to really develop her personality. despite being incredibly smart i think she’s somewhat socially unaware.

everyone (except meliodas and merlin) assumed gowther was this really buff dude because of the suit of armour. imagine the surprise.

gowther (and sometimes merlin) casually bring up events from 3000 years ago just to stir the pot a bit, and to piss off meliodas to some extent

they totally fought over which sin each of them was going to represent. they don’t talk about them after this because they had a plan to get drunk one night and decide, so gowther could remember what they’d chosen in the morning and erase their memories of the others telling them about what their sins were. of course gowther already knows anyway :)

on that, they are all locked in a room (maybe by zaratras) until they can sort out what sins each of them were going to be. some were obvious, some less so. some were stretches to some extent. meliodas claimed wrath immediately and gave no explanation, everyone kind of just went with it

i completely hc that merlin and ban fought over who was greed and who was gluttony because they’re a similar concept. just,,, screaming at each other, ban threatening to fight,

meliodas got PISSED

they were all pretty on board with the matching tattoos idea bc they thought it would be fun

they came up with their own lore “seven dAnGeRoUs criminals brandished with the mark of the beasts”, and everyone in liones took that a bit too seriously

ban is a little shit - i think this is implied but like yeah

meliodas forced them to go camping together a lot- which prepared them pretty well for when they were actually on the run from the law and had to find food and stuff

as time went on their relations improved pretty drastically… merlin and ban learned to respect each other, meliodas was still a great captain

thanks for this yall

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #7 deadly sins #sds #7ds #nanatsu no taizai incorrect quotes #nnt incorrect quotes #nnt headcanons #nnt hcs #ban nnt #meliodas #gowther #escanor #merlin nnt #king nnt #diane nnt