#Wait. Is that entire paragraph one sentence

[skhardwarevers1]

life is going to an art museum only to have something happen that forces you to distract yourself in the world of art and when it comes time to think you try to think of anything but yourself and you land yourself in a rabbit hole of fandom mischaracterization that went identified too late and is engraved in the thoughts of many, only noticed by few, and soon to be hopefully captured on a digital canvas—a free place for the muddled thoughts between my head and my pencil to live.

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Felix catton x reader Instagram au [part2] [part1]

yourusername proofreading my essay (he’s about to descend into madness)

fe1ix_catt0n There were some rough patches I’d say…

yourusername uh huh

yourfriend Exploiting English major friend perks 🙄

yourusername he offered alr

annabel_ he doesn’t even proofread his own essays lol

-

Felix sat in the library with legs crossed across y/n, these days he just happened to be in the library when y/n was. Just happened to be there to finish his reading assignment whilst she studied. He saw the frown on her face as she seemed to be stuck on something against the white light of her computer. They couldn’t group study as in help each other with assignments given their majors were entirely different but they had study sessions, finish their respective work together. “What’s wrong?” He asked, by now he was used to her patterns of difficulties, it was generally ‘thermodynamics’ and even though he didn’t understand it listening to her rant about it was somewhat cherished by him.

“This fuckass essay” she said with a sigh and deadpanned herself.

“Oh you’ve to write essays now?” Felix asked leaning forward in his seat given this was something he could help with.

“Not really, it’s just for the robotics seminar remember? There are supposed extra points if we submit an essay on how excited and emotional we are about partaking in it…” she trailed off as she stared at her screen “As if the model isn’t enough.”

“But you have been excited about this for months?” Felix mentioned tilting his head, “what’s the problem?”

“This essay, this is my third final rough draft and it’s so exhausting” she replied and slouched back on her seat crossing her arms.

“Let me help” Felix offered as she turned the computer to his side as he sat across her. Just going through the first paragraph his eyebrows knitted together trying to make coherent sense of it. Stem majors write the worst essay stereotype was now more than a stereotype to felix. “So” he paused going through it “You’ve just left gaps here with ‘something’ in the middle-what? What’s that for?”

“Oh yeah I’m supposed to put a fancy word there so it looks pretty.” She mentioned with a shrug.

“Just a fancy word? As in randomly?” He asked puzzled as he scrolled through her essay thoroughly and found she’d actually done that. Halfway through a sentence she’d added big words with some context.

“Not randomly no, just, put one in those places.”

“Oh-alright see the second body of the essay is well done, you’re talking about the system of your model and the workings of it, it sounds smart but isn’t the essay supposed to be about how you feel? I mean the assigned title is literally on it.” He explained “It doesn’t align with the main objective.”

“So what? I’ve written about my model which I’m entering IN the seminar.” She reasoned leaning back up on her seat as he shook his head and motioned his with his chin for her to come around the table and next to him.

“Yes but it barely covers the feelings aspect, which is what you have to write the essay on. It literally says that here” He said pointing to the middle portion of the screen where her essay was displayed as she stood beside him.

“I don’t read the small print” She said. Felix paused to look at her a are-you-serious look on his face and waited for her to catch on his disappointment “What?” She asked.

“Okay let’s see, you’ve just kept ‘something’ in quotes at places, which is fine for your first draft-”

“Draft?” She interrupted him with an obvious scoff “Oh no this is the final one. I don’t do drafts.”

“What? What do you mean you don’t do drafts?” He asked somewhat confused.

“I write then I proofread and cut, honestly I don’t know why you’re wasting so much time it’s just for extra” she shrugged so casually, felix felt like stem majors had an entirely different set of brain cells when it came to anything literary.

“This is going to take it a while.”

fel1x_catt0n Congratulations to Y/n and team! Great work guys ❤️

yourusername aweee thanks felix 🕺

fel1x_catt0n much deserved, angel

katie_ congrats

annabel_ did felix attend the nerd convention today? 😂

fel1x_catt0n it was very interesting despite your generalisation

farleigh_start Congrats girl!!

-

The whole science seminar was initially optional, even with such there was a lot of competition and a crowd. The crowd was mainly the college professors and seminar conductors and some juniors who had to volunteer for extra credits. However the crowd seemed huge from the stage minimising everyone into a small dot given the auditorium space was gigantic. After the prize distribution y/n and her team had gotten first place for their model. A big deal amongst a handful of people because not a lot of stem majors themselves cared about extra irrelevant to their portfolio projects. But well there were some. Y/n was very giddy, laughing amongst her team of three people as they walked down from the stage and through the auditorium amongst the crowd. They were then approached by the only student dressed in a full on tuxedo, not even a stem one. Felix.

“Felix?” Y/n blinked as she stopped in her tracks as she saw him approaching her direction with a giant bouquet of flowers and hugged her. She was confused and amused at the same time, she recalled telling him that the project was a big deal to her but she didn’t think he’d show up actually. “Woah you showed up?!” She asked giggling as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course I did silly” he scoffed as he pulled away and handed her the flowers, “congrats smarty pants, all of you.” He spoke to her group as well with a victorious smile as he kept his arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks!” They said one after another, assuming Felix and y/n were perhaps a thinking. However the way Felix was dressed was rather funnier to them. They made their smell talk and went on about their way still snickering amongst themselves.

“Strange what was so funny…” he trailed off looking back at y/n as the rest of her team left.

“Your tuxedo” she replied with a small chuckle.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The only set of people who’re wearing a tuxedo at this function are our professors, it’s just blazers I guess you’ve done out-dressed everyone” she jokes as she fixed the bow tie of his shirt and he playfully rolled his eyes at her.

“The invite seemed fancy, fancy attire for fancy invites isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” He reasoned for himself.

“What invite?” Y/n questioned.

“The one on the function website” Felix replied.

Initially y/n had just forwarded the message she got from her group about the timings and venue as a vague invitation because zero art majors are interested in these events “what? We have a website?”

“Yeah. I looked it up” he answered with a shrug, he wanted to look just perfectly suitable for her event because it seemed to be a big deal for her, so he did his research despite failing miserably at fitting y/n found it to be a very heartwarming gesture.

“Wow? Such dedication…”

“Of course my love” he said with an obvious huff, hoping his hints would pass through her.

yourusername the one and only. tuxedo at da science centre.

yourfriend he was out there outshining professor john’s Maxwell theorem themed necktie🤗

yourusername LITERALLY?

teammate1 bow tie AND cufflinks…

fel1x_catt0n I see I’ve gained a reputation

teammate2 jokes apart you two are such a cute couple 💖

annabel_ LOL they’re not dating!!!!

yourusername yeah haha ^^

-

“are you serious?!” Y/n friend exclaimed as they spun around the flowers felix have in their hands. “He gave these? They’re bigger than our torsos man”

“Yeah…yeah…” y/n trailed off with a shrug trying to downplay it somewhat.

“AND he came in a tuxedo, AND he posted you…do you have zero situational awareness or what?” Her friend scoffed as they gently whacked the flowers on y/n’s forehead.

“Look, felix is a friend’s friend. He’s the most friendliest of them all. Stop trying to induce romanticism in me, he’s a great friend. Very outgoing, giving, sweet…that’s how he is.” She explained.

“You are most definitely blind are you not seeing these!” They pointed to the ever so gigantic bouquet of flowers, “helping you with your essay, bringing you snacks, wanting to hang out with you all the time-”

“That’s what we do too.” Y/n reasoned.

“Girl.” They took a deep breath. “I hate you and I never want to hang out with you.”

Y/n snickered falling back to her bed, “Yeah sure. I hate you too.”

“That’s not the point-we’re us and Felix is a completely new person in your life who’s doing all this for YOU.”

“Yada yada” Y/n said rolling her eyes at her friend as they once again whacked her with the flowers.

“You pull shit like this and that Annabelle will steal him from you. Dig your own grave.”

Y/n burst into a hearty laugh at that, “Steal felix? What are you on about we’re not a thing to begin with and Annabelle is his friend just like me.”

“YOURE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME” Her friend said with a sigh as they crossed their arms.

“BECAUSE YOURE NOT MAKING SENSE.” y/n said back with a high pitched tone, this was their normal between the best friends when one couldn’t get a point across, not just normal, civil even.

“OF COURSE IM NOT BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING BRAIN DEAD.” They said as they forcefully throw the flowers in her direction.

“YOU WANNA HAVE A GO AT ME OKAY.” she seethed and threw back a pillow, “Fucking come here” she said as the set of, almost grown ups, fought with one another in the most figurative sense with a pair of pillows aiming for most harm.

“Not my hair-not my hair you gangly uncoordinated bitc-” the wrestling match was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Followed by the familiar voice “everything alright in there?”

Felix.

“PAUSE.”

“-Pause.”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?” Y/n whisper yelled as her friend pushed her to go open the door, straightening her hair out hurriedly as she walked up there.

“GO.”

“Felix…Hi” y/n said as she caught her breath and smiled at him, despite of the disheveled state of her room.

“Hey…I was just passing by and I thought you were fighting-?” Felix asked with a soft smile as he leant on the doorframe of her dorm. It was as if he never needed an invitation.

“No we were just, er what is it we-we were” y/n looked back at her friend to jump in with an answer.

“Roomie wars.” Her friend shrugged off. “Ya know…where’s my candle, where’s my ramen from yesterday”

“Oh…” Felix trailed off with an understanding nods. “Yeah I get it.”

“Funny you were just passing by, through dorm hallways, when yours is—three buildings down isn’t it?” Her friend intervened with an accusatory chuckle receiving a disapproving look from y/n.

“Yes I was actually here for y/n.” Felix said, he would never be put in a situation where he’d get awkward, blatantly open and confident he didn’t truly care for implications if they were correct. “Do you have any lectures this evening.”

“No.” Her friend answered quickly before she could.

“Yeah no I don’t.” Y/n replied with a tight smile at her friend.

“Great then I’ll pick you up at 5 yeah?” Felix said.

“Wait-for what?”

“Anything.”

yourusername this man is drowning in pussy

fel1x_catt0n this is so foul

yourusername the cats wuv you

fel1x_catt0n yet your caption is that of a comedic genius

yourfriend I have no words

farleigh_start just not yours…

-

HIII I am sorry I don’t update regularly I promise I will now, I am going through a very difficult and traumatic time in my life it’s so so so hard to cope at the moment.

Any comments on this or opinions would help me a lot more than you think either ways if you’re here and read this thank you so much <3

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

-> Chapter 1(Here)| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

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Hello everyone, pls don't expect much from this chapter,which is going to be part of a series, will be that good. I may have grammatical errors and wrong spellings so please don't hesitate to tell me in the comments about it. English is not my main language. Also, I write some very descriptive and long scenes about what the reader does because i got used to writing descriptive essays so please bear with the long paragraphs and sentences. Thank you.

And yes, I'm back. Also the Misunderstanding series will be updated after my exams this is just in my drafts and I wanted to just upload it.

-Eli

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms (😝 im joking bro) if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3.

____________________________________

You close your eyes and think back to that very fateful day — the day that entirely altered your life's course and shatter any semblance of normalcy you once knew. The memory is etched in your mind, clear and vivid. The secret your café had.

You had always dreamed of owning your very own café when you get older. It had always consumed your thoughts and fueled your ambitions. Doing everything you can to be able to make your dream come true. It was a dream that guided you through your highs and lows, the setbacks and triumphs, and now, your very own cafe is now right infront of your eyes. You stand awe, gazing upon your newly built dream café that represents your years of hard work and dedication. It almost feels surreal. The weight of such an accomplishment settles in your shoulders, filling with a sense of pride that it threatens to burst out of your chest.

The obstacles and challenges you faced along the way have not gone unnoticed. The countless hours of planning, the sacrifices made, the hurdles overcome—each scar and battle wound a testament to your unwavering determination. They have shaped you into the person you are today, a person who is standing on the precipice of their own extraordinary creation. In this moment, you can't help but reflect on how far you have come. You just want to curl up into a ball and cry for how proud you are for yourself.

As you approach the door to your café, your hand trembles with anticipation. You grasp the smooth handle, feeling the coolness of the metal against your palm, and slowly turn it. The door swung open, emitting a soft creak that pierced the silence. Above it, a small, quaint bell dangled delicately, waiting to be disturbed. The cascade of delicate notes wove together seamlessly, announcing your presence, like a whispered greeting to anyone who would listen.

You stare in awe and wonder at the interior design of your cafe , captivated by it's beauty. The space exceeds your imagination and sketches, each detail meticulously brought to life. You explore every corner, your eyes eager to take in every detail. The plants you selected with great care breathe life into the space, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of freshness and enhancing the cozy, warm aura you envisioned. Sunlight steams through the windows, casting a golden glow that illuminates upon your carefully handpicked furniture, adding a touch of charm. Every detail, from the placement of tables and chairs to the color palette and textures and to the shelf placed at the wall behind the counter with small sized standees of genshin impact, comes together harmoniously, painting a reality that is more beautiful than it was in your imagination.

You took one last look at your own café, only to catch sight of a door that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. It wasn't in your sketches, nor was it part of the layout you had memorized. How could something so out of place suddenly appear in your beloved café? How weird. You were sure that when you went inside this café it was never there. It was on the opposite side of the front entrance door of your café. It had a very different kind of design from the doors you had. How weird . Were you perhaps hallucinating? Was your stress and sleep deprivation finally getting to you? You resort to pinching and slapping your cheeks in an attempt to jolt yourself back to reality. Nope. You can still see it. You rushed to go outside of your café. As you step out into the open, your eyes scanning the exterior, you're met with a surprising revelation—the door you saw inside your café is nowhere to be found. It's as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving you bewildered and questioning your senses.

Nonetheless, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief and once again went inside of your café, blaming your hallucination to your stress. However, as your eyes scanned the interior again, you saw the door still there.

'Oh, hell no.' You thought and quickly opened the front door again, took a look at the exterior, look at the door inside, and continued doing that action for a minute. Yup, you're officialy hallucinating.

You looked at the strange door and felt a nagging feeling of curiousity wanting to try and open that door. Maybe it was actually a big ass sticker that one of the builders placed as a prank. You never know. Steeling yourself, you went closer to the door on your tippy toes. Carefully trying to be quiet. Why? You don't know. You just knew you had to. Maybe it was an instinct of yours. You were now infront of the door and you tried reaching for the door knob still thinking it was a sticker but the coolness feeling in your hands said uno reverse. You abruptly took back your hand in shock. You stared down at the atrocity in front of you. You quickly raised your foot and took off your shoes/heel/slipper and held onto it tightly. Preparing yourself to open the door, you took in a deep breath and reached for the door knob once more. Twisting it open, a ray of sunlight shone through the small crack as you pushed the door open gently.

Your eyes widen at the sight infront of you as you had fully opened the door. The grip your hand had on your lethal weapon widened and it slipped from your hands. The sight infront of you was so surreal. 'This can't be true, right?' your head was going to so many places, unable to comprehend what was going on. You felt kinda dizzy.

You would be a fool not to recognize this place that you had seen so many times throughout your life. A few kilometers infront of you was the City of Mondstadt in view. You could even see the knights guarding the gate and Timmie with his pigeons at the bridge.

The weird door from your cafe was actually a door to the Genshin Impact world. Wow... wtf.

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also pls take a look at my poorly drawn drawing of what your view looks like cause for the love of god I can't seem to explain it:

Also you're in a cliff or something. so yeah

Taglist:

None

[mythmash]

In Sickness

Pairing: Takuma Ino x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: birthday sickfic, lots of fluff, implied smut A/N: This was written for the wonderful @pastelbunnelby! JJK Masterlist

If there’s one thing Ino loves more than you, it’s the chance to celebrate you.

He’s been looking forward to your birthday for weeks, excitement pouring out of him each day it grew closer. A day hasn’t gone by without him dropping little hints hidden behind that charming grin of his. And it’d be a lie to say his eagerness wasn’t contagious. Every tease, every clue, every promise that your first birthday as a couple would be nothing short of spectacular had you eagerly awaiting the day almost as much as him.

That eagerness turns to pure, unfiltered excitement the night before your birthday when a box appears at your front door. It’s plain, smooth black material tied with a silky, white ribbon. The size tells you it’s either a dress or an outfit, but the card tucked into the ribbon gives you clear instructions not to open it until morning. Your fingers itch to disobey, nails picking at the edges of the ribbon, the corners of the lid, any part they can reach as you carry the box to your bedroom.

A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Knowing what you’ll be wearing would help you figure out how to do your hair…

What if there are no shoes in the box? You wouldn’t want Ino’s plans to be delayed because you spent too long finding the right pair.

What if it’s not an outfit at all? That’s even more time you’ll waste trying to find something else to wear.

Your mind races with a million reasons to tear into the box, fingers already curling under the lid.

But Ino’s handsome face flashes through your mind, a tight smile hiding his imagined disappointment. Something knots in your stomach, immediately repulsed at possibly ruining weeks of work. If Ino can manage to wait this long without spoiling the surprise, you can too.

You quell your anxious urges by sending him a picture of yourself holding the box before tucking it beneath your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Ino responds immediately, your phone buzzing once, twice, thrice as you prepare for bed.

Several texts await you when you finally settle in bed. A slew of heart emojis followed by a paragraph of compliments and finished with a single text wishing you a good night. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, feeling the warmth in your cheeks and the thrumming in your heart at the thought of him so excited to spend time with you.

You fall asleep staring at his photo beaming at you from the lock screen of your phone, and dream of all the ways you’ll spend tomorrow.

With all of your anticipation, it’s only fitting that you wake early the next morning with a throbbing pain nested comfortably in your head. When you shift beneath your covers, the pain spreads to your limbs, leaving a resounding ache. Every move, every blink, every thought only serves to make you feel worse until you grow frustrated and force yourself to sit up.

Your mistake is quickly realized as your vision doubles, stomach turning so violently you choke trying to swallow down your dry heave.

Of all the days for this to happen.

Carefully laying yourself back down, you gingerly slide your hand to the side for your phone. It takes a sickening effort to lift your phone and even more to get it close to your face. The artificial light is nearly blinding in the early morning hours, sending renewed pulses of pain through your skull. You put all your focus and concentration into unlocking your phone and finding Ino’s texts. There’s no way you’ll be able to form a proper sentence, much less type it out.

You’re not entirely sure what you say to him in the voice note. You know what you meant to say — something along the lines of “I’m so sorry, I think I’m sick.” — but your throat scratches with every word. Combined with your already sleep-thick voice, the message is short and takes what little energy you have left.

You succumb to your body’s exhaustion with the thought that maybe you should’ve called him.

When you wake again, it’s late in the morning. While your body no longer vibrates with pain, the heat building beneath your covers is suffocating and the scratch in your throat has grown significantly. Sweat-soaked and barely awake, you stumble your way to your bathroom and into the shower.

Most of your shower is spent sitting on the floor, letting the icy water wash across your overheated skin. You don’t bother with anything more than that, only just able to power through brushing your teeth before you feel that draining heaviness growing in your limbs.

You collapse on your bed, draped over your blankets half-dressed in clean pajamas, and fumble once more for your phone. You’re able to send an actual text this time, informing Ino of your current state and apologizing profusely. There’s no response, not even his usual thumbs up or heart reaction.

Ino isn’t one to get upset when plans change, always happy to go with the flow, but you know how much he was looking forward to today. He could need a moment to deal with his disappointment. Or he could be busy and not looking at his phone. You don’t want to jump to conclusions and assume the worst, but the guilt swimming around in your head has your anxiety on high.

Eyelids growing heavy, you tell yourself you’ll try again in fifteen minutes. If that doesn’t work, then you’ll call him.

Fifteen minutes, you think, letting your head sink into the soft cushion of your pillow.

All you need is fifteen minutes…

Three knocks in quick succession pull you out of your dreamless sleep. You wake confused and slightly startled, groaning into your pillow as the light and sound and blankets draped over you hit you all at once.

“Sorry.” Ino’s voice reaches your ears, gentle and soothing. You chase the sound, the comfort it brings, turning your head in the direction of his voice. The light is still too much for you, peering one eye open to gaze at the concerned face of your boyfriend. He kneels beside your bed, dressed down to a black shirt and loose shorts with his beanie resting on your nightstand.

“Morning,” you rasp, lips pulled into a tired smile.

“Evening,” Ino chuckles, reaching out to tenderly place the back of his hand against your damp forehead. “Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

“How long have you been here?” You speak slowly, trying not to agitate your already raw throat. Ino hums, turning his hand to rest it against your cheek. You lean into his touch, the soft glide of his thumb over your cheekbone nearly soothing you back to sleep.

“Couple hours,” Ino shrugs. “I got us lunch, but you were knocked out pretty good.”

“What time is it?” you ask, turning your head in search of your phone. Ino pulls his hand away to pluck your phone from where it’s hidden beneath his beanie, plugged in to charge.

“Not late enough to worry your pretty little head,” he teases. He doesn’t tell you, but the burnt orange shining through your windows gives you your answer. Guilt settles firmly in the pit of your stomach, not helped by the empathetic smile Ino gives you. Not a hint of anger or disappointment, only concern tinted with sadness.

Somehow, that feels worse.

You turn away, face pressed into the pillow as you give a muffled, “’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing? For being sick?” There’s a pinch to your cheek, playfully scolding. You huff, puffing out your cheeks to push his hand away before shifting to sit up. Ino hovers beside you, ready and waiting if you need him.

“But…I ruined your plans…” you murmur. Fingers worrying at the blankets, you keep your gaze fixed on a loose thread you tear from the soft material.

“Hey—” A gentle grasp on your chin carefully turns your head until you’re face to face with Ino, “—you didn’t ruin anything.”

He leans forward, lightly pressing his forehead to yours.

“But—”

“Nope.” He cuts your words off with a swift kiss to your nose.

“I wasn’t—”

Another kiss. Then a peck to your cheek.

“Ino—”

He moves for your lips, and you swiftly cover his mouth with your palm.

“You’re going to get sick,” you scold him. His response is another kiss immediately followed by his tongue messily sliding up your palm. You shove his face away, smiling through your disgusted scoff as his laughter echoes in your room.

“It’s too late for that, anyway. I took a nap with you earlier.”

“You—what?” Ino’s up and moving before you have time to process that.

He searches through your clothes, casually moving between your closet and dresser. He pauses once, a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks in hand, speaking to you over his shoulder, “You think you can get up?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod. He hums, satisfied, tossing you the socks before moving back to your closet. He fishes through your clothes for a bit longer while you pull the socks on, but gives up his search when you move to sit on the edge of your bed. Ino grins, standing before you with his hands out.

“Up and at ‘em!” he cheers as you set your hands in his and he helps you to your feet. You wobble, but Ino is quick to steady you against his chest. He gives you a minute to adjust to being upright for the first time in hours, placing several kisses on the side of your head.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

“Good,” Ino hums, moving out of your reach to stand behind you. “Now, you trust me, right?”

“Of course,” you answer instantly. Ino pauses for a moment, the stillness only broken when he leaves a long kiss on the side of your neck. He mutters something, and you catch the words perfect and lucky somewhere in there before he clears his throat.

“Cover your eyes for me?”

You do as he says, eyes sliding shut before you cover them with your hands.

One of Ino’s hands rests in the middle of your back, the other on your arm. His radiating warmth sinks into your skin, chasing away the chill of your lingering fever.

“You let me know if you need a break, okay?”

There’s some shuffling behind you as Ino leans forward, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice low, a familiar timbre reserved only for you, you can hear the smirk when he reminds you, “No peeking.”

Ino leads you to your bedroom door, separating from you for a brief moment to hold it open for you. You’re guided down the short hallway from your room to the living room where a delicious, savory scent awaits you accompanied by a subtle rush of warm air and soft music.

“Okay,” Ino breathes, pulling away from you. You can hear his feet shuffling around the room, the clink of metal, and the rustling of…tissue paper? Ino mutters something again, taking a deep, uncharacteristically nervous, breath.

“Open your eyes.”

It’s not often you’re left speechless, but the sight of your living room takes your breath away. The lights are off, replaced by the glowing amber of the electric candles set up around the room. Music plays from Ino’s phone, something delicate and classical at a volume low enough to hear, but not too loud to worsen your headache. Your coffee table is decorated with tiny candles and flowers, plates and silverware set up like a romantic dinner with soup from your favorite restaurant and wine glasses filled with ginger ale.

And at the center of it all stands Ino, holding a gift bag and bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Happy birthday.”

“You planned all this?” you ask, nearly breathless.

“There was some last-minute improvising, but it’s most of what I planned.” Ino ducks his head, bashful as he attempts to avoid your eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

He perks up as you make your way towards him.

“Rea—”

You interrupt him, hands on his cheeks as you pull him in to meet your lips. You don’t pull away, instead peppering thankful kisses from his mouth to each cheek.

“What happened to me getting sick?” Ino laughs, trying to chase your lips and meet you kiss for kiss.

You take a step back, hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. “So you don’t want me to kiss you?”

Ino sets the gift bag down, moving to wrap an arm around your waist with surprising speed. It’s his turn to smother you in affection as he switches between kisses and nuzzling against your cheek. His nose tickles against your face, giggles spilling out of you.

"I didn't say that."

It’s a sweet moment, one you’ll surely treasure for the rest of your life until the laughter catches up with you and the giggles turn to coughing.

Ino guides you to get comfortable at the coffee table, setting your flowers down on the sofa behind you before he settles in next to you.

Dinner is peaceful, content. Ino lets you lean against him, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you slowly get through your soup, telling you stories about his friends, his job, anything that he knows will make you smile. He admits to annoying his mentor, Nanami, with his unreserved excitement for your birthday, and kisses away the niggling guilt that crosses your face.

“We have plenty of time. We can do it all another day,” he says easily.

“Good,” you huff, tucking yourself against his side as he takes a sip from his glass. “I want to wear the outfit you got me.”

Ino sputters and chokes, turning away from you to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ino waves you away, turning further and further every time you lean closer. There’s only so far he can go, and it isn’t hard to catch the blazing red of his cheeks.

Was he flustered over the dress? Why? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bought clothes for you; he’s never been this shy about it before. The only time you can remember seeing him like this was on your fourth date when you walked by a window display that had a pale pink mannequin wearing—

Worry melts into mischief as you practically crawl your way into his lap until he’s forced to face you.

“Did you get me lingerie for my birthday?”

Ino groans, tucking his head so far into the crook of your neck you can’t tell if the heat is coming from your fever or his face.

“You said you liked it in the window.” Ino lifts his head just enough to pout at you. You lean down, setting your forehead to his with a soft, teasing smile.

“We have plenty of time.” You mimic his earlier words, watching the embarrassment ease from his mind as his eyes fall to your lips. Ino leans forward, and you don’t stop him.

“Why wait?” he asks, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. When you don’t object, he inches closer and closer and closer, not quite kissing you but nearly there.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you murmur against his lips.

Ino closes the gap with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of care and affection he has for you into it. You’re sick and sweaty and gross, but the way he kisses you leaves you feeling so wanted, so precious, so loved.

He breaks away only for a second, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“Worth it.”

And when Ino gets sick four days later, you’re right there beside him with warm soup and endless kisses.

[qin-qin16]

My computer is possessed?! Oh, wait, it's just my out-coded skeleton boyfriend!

Summary: When some of your work in progress goes missing, you decide to start investigating whether your computer has a virus. That is until you realize that the few remaining works are of one character: Error Sans. cw: kinitoPET and creepypasta vibes, writer Reader, Ink is mentioned, Error is jealousy, again, comedy, Reader finally notices that something wrong is happening! (Part one) (Part two)

“I should really get a new chair..." You say slowly, tilting your head back and feeling your neck stretch — a habit that you keep indulging in, no matter how sore it makes your nape afterward. "Then again, I also need to buy some new pants... and a new mouse as well..." Your head rolls over your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re staring at the computer screen again.

Your fingers lightly tap against the table; pinky, ring, middle, and index. One after the other in a rhythmic sequence — until you mess up and clench your hand into a loose fist.

"Ink definitely wouldn’t say that; he’s just so clueless." And there you are, deleting an entire paragraph for the third time, unhappy with how your story is turning out. "Why did I have to write about this jerk again?"

Because he’s a complex character with many layers that can add depth to your plot. You can almost imagine yourself explaining it, wearing glasses with a raised finger — just like that nerd emoji meme.

Even though your explanation was spot on, you can’t help but huff in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs before looking back at the blank Word document.

“... Why is this so bright?” If you were standing in front of a mirror, you’d definitely see your pupils constricting; a slight burning sensation spreading across your eyes as your finger keeps clicking on the computer keys, the brightness rapidly dimming.

Before you can blink, you let out a slow hiss. The burning in your eyes, sharp against your sensitive irises, returns suddenly; and in front of you, seemingly amused by the situation, your computer screen is set to full brightness.

"What the hell?" you curse, quickly covering your eyes with your hands as you pull away from the screen. For a moment, all you see is complete darkness, with a few bright spots flickering in your vision.

Maybe it’s time to start using eye drops; your eyes probably wouldn’t hurt so much after hours in front of the computer.

"I must have pressed the wrong key..." That’s a possibility, if it weren’t for a little voice in the back of your mind whispering the steps you took moments ago; you definitely pressed the right keys and released them at the right moment to actually dim the screen. "Or did I think I clicked but really didn’t?"

Your head droops onto your shoulders — and a low grunt escapes your lips as you feel the muscles in your neck stretch, pulling your shoulder blades along with them.

You rest your face in your hands, then rub your eyes and look at the computer again between your fingers. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Your feet shuffle toward the table, the rolling chair getting stuck at some point. “I just need to finish at least this dialogue before I can finally shut this thing down with a clear conscience.”

In theory, it should be a simple task; in practice, not so much. Especially when the paragraphs you’ve already written keep getting erased-

"What the hell is going on?!" You couldn’t believe — or understand — what was happening right before your eyes: sentence by sentence, your fanfic was being quickly erased, line by line.

You quickly moved the mouse away from the document, clicking anywhere else in the browser to stop your writing from being deleted — which didn’t do much good. The cursor soon started moving on its own, spinning around the screen until it selected an entire paragraph and deleted it.

"What’s going on?!" you shout as you repeat the same action, clicking outside the browser to keep the cursor from going back to the document, sliding it left, right — anywhere to keep whatever was controlling your mouse away from your precious fanfic. "Is this what a hacker attack feels like?"

It’s the only explanation; unless the existence of ghosts is not just real, but they also have the ability to manipulate electronics and understand how the internet works.

Before you could think any more about it, the cursor had returned to the center of the screen — but this time, before it could delete any more of your text, you quickly took control of the mouse, dragging it to the red box in the corner of the window and closing it for good.

You didn’t even curse or shout afterward; your mouth stays slightly open, slowly widening enough to express your disbelief at what had just happened. Your eyes remained fixed on the computer, even as your vision grew increasingly blurry, much like the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"What the hell was that? Was it some kind of virus? Or a hacker's prank? I didn’t share this document with anyone, so it must have been some damn hacker with no job doing something so messed up! But wait, what if it’s like those little computer avatars that are actually viruses messing with your documents and folders? Did I download something strange without even noticing?”

Your focus snaps back to the screen as a notepad file opens in the upper corner of your desktop.

HEHEHEHEHEHEH GOT YOU!

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, grinding your teeth together as your eyes scan the message in all caps again and again.

This was solid proof (at least for your stress-fried brain) that this was the work of a sadistic hacker, taking pleasure in your suffering. It was decided: you would take your computer to a specialist as soon as possible — hacker or not, you would get your precious computer back at any cost.

Banging your head against the desk — and grunting as the pain spreads across your forehead — you don’t even notice that the light on your webcam is on.

Tagging area, if you want to be tagged, just ask :D

@snastheskeleton64 @moon-and-fries @unamzi @something-random1-1-blog @lostsoulofdragon @notagamerlol @staryycheze

[calware]

TT: ‘Sup. TG: sup TG: this definitely won’t get confusing TT: Are you kidding me? It's about as downright comprehensive as it could ever get. TG: glad were on the same page TG: might as well be in the same paragraph with how on the same page we are TT: I’d wager we’ve even made it down to the exact sentence. TG: hell yeah we have TG: my brain is short circuitin here tryin to keep track of whos talking @_@ TT: Just leave the short-circuiting to me then, ok? TG: at least jas had the decency to change her color to a unique hex lmao TT: Of course. As if I wasn't civilized.

TT: You’re part housecat. TT: Emphasis on the “house” prefix. What sort of stray do you take me for? TG: O_O TG: woah lets back up on the snarky broad infighting and set the record straight here cause by scratching our session TG: we created your universe ie chronologically we take precedent TG: ie we get dibs TG: ie rose and i shouldnt have to change colors  TT: Oh hell no. Ain’t no way I'm changing my text color a second time. TG: yeah and u guys were made from our genes soooo technically we were here first TG: that may be true for you two but i *know* dirk made hal when he was 13 so ill keep chilling over here with the red text rights TT: That text has composed my entire nonphysical self for the past 3 years. I’d argue I’m more deserving of its hue. TT: Are we really just going to bicker the entire time? TG: Only ten minutes into a conversation and we’re already at each other’s throats. TG: hal tbf u started it lool TT: … TT: ……… TG: …………… TT: ………………………… TG: what r all tha dots 4……………… TG: WAIT CRAP TG: aaaughh dave u tricked me!! using proper punctuation and everythin TT: It seems there simply aren’t enough colors in the rainbow to sustain our familial unit. Pity. TT: Hey, first I’m losing my text color and now I gotta give up my beloved speech pattern? I might as well saw off my totally new and legit arms while I’m at it. TT: We could always switch over to hemotyping! TG: oh my god jas youre a genius TG: NOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT TT: Yes. That’d be hilarious. TG: signnn am i gonna have 2 double check ur initials every time one of u sends a message now… TT: Sure, you could. TT: But how can you be sure it wasn’t Dirk who just sent that? We still use the same account, you know. TG: GAHH ARE YOU KIDDIN ME TT: Don’t worry Rox, I’m just messin’ with you. TT: Or am I. TG: this family is a nightmare

[corralinesage]

Portrait of a wounded heart (3/8)

CHAPTER 3 All night long 

The book was mind-numbingly boring, or maybe it was the fact that you, quite frankly, had better things to do, better people to get to know than the ones in the provincial town of Middlemarch. Had Natasha been one of those people, you would have surely binged the book in five seconds total, but unfortunately that was not the case. You skipped paragraphs, skimmed through entire pages, all so that you would get faster to her, the book nearly flying out of your hands the second you finished the last sentence of the first chapter. You dug up your phone, opening a new chat and typing her name in it.

Y: First chapter down :)

You couldn’t believe it, you simply could not believe that you were texting her, texting the woman of your dreams. Oh, you wanted to scream, you wanted to run around your room, or jump up and down on your bed to release some of the exhilarating thrill that you felt, and then you wanted to scream some more when you saw that she had read your message. Your body was buzzing from anticipation as you waited patiently for what she was about to respond to you.

N: Good job! How are you liking it?

It really shouldn’t have had such a huge effect on you, but the sole fact that you were texting her was enough to make you lose your mind. Receiving praise of any kind was bound to make your heart gallop. You refrained from letting out a girly squeal and typed up your response instead after getting over the full-body wave of excitement, letting her know what you thought of the book, although you made sure not to say anything too negative in case it was a favorite book of hers or something of the sort.

N: You better hasten your pace if you want to finish it by morning. You’ve got another 85 chapters and a finale to get through.

Fuck. You stared blankly at the book on your bed, unable to grasp how it was even possible to fit that many chapters into a silly, little book. You knew it was long, but it was slowly starting to dawn on you just how long it was. You felt a wave of despair wash over you. There was no way you were ever going to finish it on time. You felt like crying, you were far too loaded up with intense emotions to be able to regulate yourself, and so, for a moment you just lay on your back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating your options, like any sane person, instead of actually doing something beneficial to accomplish your task. You wasted an unnecessarily long amount of time on everything else that you weren’t supposed to be doing, the uncomfortably intimidating task shadowing you like a whiny ghost that lacked attention. You organized your notes for art history, found yourself a snack from your poorly stocked cupboards, and wiped down your kitchen counters all the while you kept up a conversation with Natasha. Dozen minutes later, or –let’s be honest– maybe even an hour later, you were back to skimming through pages, trying your best to absorb any crucial information that you might have discussed in class the next day. It took you three whole hours to get to chapter 10. God, the book was unnecessarily long. By the time you turned the page to the last one of chapter 10 your eyelids were half-closed. All the characters and places were messed up in your head. You didn’t know who was who, or what was where. There were too many new names, too many relations, too much of everything. You wanted to give up, you really did, you even told Natasha that you were going to fail the assignment, clambering up from your bed as you waited for her to respond to your pathetic whining. You headed for your small kitchen once again, switching your coffee maker on despite the fact that caffeine had lost its kick on you long ago. It would do nothing to keep you awake, but at least you would get an excuse to have a large mug of warm coffee with additional toppings that you chose to hopefully make yourself feel better. You squeezed some caramel sauce on the inside of the mug before adding the steaming coffee on top, you stirred it briefly, hearing a soft ping from your phone. You didn’t even try to resist checking her message, a smile finding your lips at the sight of her name on the screen.

N: You are not giving up, not if I have a say in it.

You felt warm again, your sorrow subsiding for just a moment. You poured some milk into your cup to fill it to the brim, searching for a comforting snack to get you through the hours of reading you had ahead of you, settling for crunchy pretzel bites to ease your hunger. The kitchen flashed with blue light, the soft pitter-patter of rain that sounded from the windowsill soon accompanied by thunder. It was still raining, and it seemed that the storm would only be getting stronger if the harsh wind was anything to go by. The building you lived in was old, wind howling outside, clattering things around. As much as you hated your poor plumbing and fickle heating system, the house did have a few very aesthetic, comforting features that soothed your artistic soul. You returned into your room with a small smile on your face, sipping on the creamy coffee on your way, the scalding drink burning your tongue. You sat back down on your bed, placing your mug on the bedside table before finally responding to her message.

Y: Come on Nat. There’s just no way. I’ve barely read an eighth of the book.

N: Call me.

Y: What?

N: Call me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you the story.

You froze completely, staring at the screen with your jaw hanging on the floor, eyes fixed on the endearment. You glanced at the time, unable to understand what could’ve possibly prompted her to suggest anything of the sort to you at two in the morning. What did she do for a living to not only be up and awake at such an hour but also willing to call someone to talk about English literature? Your finger trembled slightly, heart skipping a beat from nerves as you hovered your thumb over the call-button. Was she being serious, or was she just messing with you? Would you dare to call her? Without giving yourself the chance to hesitate for any longer you dialed her number, squinting your eyes shut as you waited for the telltale ring of the phone to sound. It came only once before you heard her pick up.

“Hi, krasotka.” Her voice was smooth, silky, the words sounding right in your ear, your gut churning with butterflies. You felt breathless, flustered by how intimate the entire situation felt.

“Hi.” You nearly gasped the greeting, somehow unable to believe that she had even picked up the phone. You felt your heartbeat accelerate, your mouth drying up from more than just the salty pretzel snacks. “What are you doing?” You sounded dumber than you had intended to, silently cursing yourself in your head for your awkwardness.

“What am I doing?” She repeated the question as if wishing to tease you a bit.

“Yeah, you know, up at 2 AM, and all that.” You tried to save it by sounding less like you were accusing her of something.

“Well, I’m telling a story to a pretty girl”, she hummed, clearly amused by your shock. You laughed out of nerves, your fingers finding your sheets to fiddle with the fabric. She was going to be the death of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m more than sure. She’s pretty as a picture.” You went completely silent, unable to find a response to her words. She was unabashedly flirting with you.

“N-no, I meant that… that- Are you sure you want to spend your night like this?” It was almost starting to sound like you were the one who didn’t want her to spend her night with you. “Just that I don’t wanna interrupt anything.” You butted in quickly before she had the chance to get the wrong idea.

“Don’t worry, milaya, I have nothing better to do.” It was hard to believe that a woman like her had nothing on her schedule, but you would’ve been lying had you said that you weren’t pleased to know that she was choosing to spend even more time with you that day.

“Well, in that case… Tell me all about Middlemarch. I was just reading about Dorothea getting married to that grandpa”, you said, trying to bite back your smile so she wouldn’t be able to hear it through the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Casaubon. Dorothea was yet another victim of daddy issues”, she said jokingly. “This is gonna be a bit of a ride. I hope you’re taking notes.” You were in fact not because all you could focus on was how low and velvety her voice was. “So, as you know, Dorothea is very headstrong. She’s religious and thirsty for knowledge. She marries Mr. Casaubon over Sir James in the hopes of broadening her intellectual horizons.” She chuckled softly at herself, her tone insinuating that Dorothea’s dreams might have not come true after all. “The Vincys are another family that the book is centered around. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Vincy, Fred –lazy kid– and Rosamond, who’s the girl that everyone wants. She’s dainty and very ladylike, a girly girl if you will.” At first you found it more than difficult to follow along with what she was saying because a huge part of your attention was stolen away by the sound of her voice. It was rather surprising how much you could learn about a person just by listening to their voice. You could not help getting hung up on little details, noting each little inflection in her tone and style of speech, wishing to memorize the rasp of her voice, the way it sometimes squeaked a little as if breaking from exertion. Sometimes she would chuckle or even laugh, the gorgeous melody sounding right next to your ear as you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with a huge grin on your face. “At this point we already know that Will Ladislaw and Dorothea have chemistry.”

“Wait, who's Ladislaw again? Wasn’t he the doctor they shit-talked?” She laughed again, the gesture somehow coming off as affectionate, your heart soaring at the sound of her beautiful laughter.

“No, honey, Ladislaw is the artist. Mr. Lydgate is the doctor, and he marries Rosamond Vincy”, she reminded you again, her smile audible.

“And will they end up together, Ladislaw and Dorothea?”

“You’ll just have to listen to my story and find out.” You couldn’t help but to grin so widely that your cheeks hurt. There was something about the way she spoke to you, the way she treated you that made your insides melt. She was gentle, but assertive with a hint of playfulness to her. She made you want to hear more, to learn more, so, you listened. You listened and listened, clutching a pillow to your chest as she told you the unfolding of events in her own style, allowing you to state any questions that might have arisen along the way. There was a lot of talk about money and class, marriages and relations, so much so that it was sometimes hard to keep up, especially when more characters were introduced, but she did her best to include small reminders like monikers and titles to help you follow along. “After the fight they have, Mr. Casaubon ends up having a heart attack and later on dies, which is when we learn about his will that says if Dorothea is to marry Will Ladislaw, she is to lose her entire inheritance.”

“No! I wanted them to end up together”, you gasped, nearly bouncing up from the bed.

“I know, me too”, she lamented, a soft sigh sounding from the other end of the line.

“That’s it? She has to choose between going broke or being with the one she loves?”

“Not exactly because as of now, Dorothea doesn’t think of Will that way and she is appalled by her husband’s lack of trust in her”, she explained, continuing on with the story, filling you in on the lives of all the characters involved in the current events of the book, giving you insight on what each of them thought about the situation. You noticed yourself fall into the world of Middlemarch, getting thoroughly invested in the characters that had seemed so plain and boring at first glance. Natasha had a way of describing people and events, she knew how to word things eloquently, the story falling from her lips like she knew it by heart, like she would have been reading an abridged version of it to you. It made you wonder why the book meant so much to her because there was nothing she could say anymore to convince you otherwise. There was a connection between her and the book, something that spoke to her personally, something that created emotional value. You would have wanted to know the story behind her and Middlemarch, but you didn’t dare to disturb her. “They solve the money affairs, and Dorothea offers to pay Lydgate’s debt to Bulstrode. She goes over to the Lydgates to bring the check, but she ends up finding Will Ladislaw there with Rosamond.”

“What? Wha- what- Doing what?” Natasha chuckled at your question and the obvious disbelief in your tone, pleased to know that you weren’t just following along to the story, but you were also entertained by her manner of retelling.

“Holding hands.” You gasped, the sound followed by yet another discreet laugh from her.

“How dare they? Might as well show him her ankles too!” You couldn’t help the wide grin that found your lips when you heard that your comment only prolonged that wonderful, melodic sound of laughter that came from her.

“I know, right? Rather scandalous if you ask me. However, this sends Dorothea into a fit of internalized rage which later on comes out in hours’ worth of crying.”

“Feels a bit dramatic. I mean it’s just hands”, you reasoned quietly, although you had no room to judge, not when you had cried over a stranger you had fallen in love with at first glance. “Couldn’t they have talked it through?”

“I get it”, she hummed, somehow in an even softer tone than before. “Hands are intimate. You do everything with your hands. You connect to the world around you through your hands. You feel, you touch, you leave a mark. I wouldn’t let just anyone hold mine.”

“Oh… when you put it like that. Yeah… yeah.” You both sat in silence for a while, in a comfortable, serene silence that could only be found in the middle of the night before she spoke again.

“If I saw the very hands that were meant to touch me, hold me, love me, in someone else’s…” She didn’t finish the sentence, failing to find words adequate enough to describe the feeling. “I don’t blame Dorothea in the slightest.” You thought about her hands, recalling the way she had held yours when she had smelled your wrist. Her touch had been gentle, delicate, so intimate especially when you looked back on the memory with the new information you had just acquired. You could tell she felt deeply. She was soulful, someone who understood sentiment, someone who perhaps saw more than others. “There were two living forms that tore her heart in two.” Her tone shifted, turning more formal. “As if it had been the heart of a mother who seems to see her child divided by the sword.” You realized that she was reciting the book, reading a passage to you, or maybe even voicing it from memory. “And presses one bleeding half to her breast while her gaze goes forth in agony towards the half which is carried away by the lying woman that has never known the mother’s pang.” The line went silent again for just a moment. “That’s how she describes it.” You didn’t know how to respond, the heaviness of her words taking up all the space in your cozy bedroom as you went over the passage in your head. You would have to actually read the book after your assignment was over so that you could give it the time and energy it needed –required.

“That’s beautiful”, you whispered after a while, feeling in awe of the sense of vulnerability that she had created. “Kind of gut-wrenching”, you admitted softly, hearing her hum in agreement.

“It’s a good book. Hopefully you’ll get the chance to actually read it sometime.” She was moving at the other end of the line, quiet rustling sounding through the phone.

“I will. I’ll make sure to read each and every word.” You wanted to promise it to her, you wanted her to know how much you valued not only the book but also her willingness to share her thoughts on it with you. “It’s a shame you have to spoil it for me.” She chuckled.

“A shame indeed. Do you have an assignment due tomorrow?” She asked.

“Oh no, tomorrow is class discussion and then I’ll have to write a small essay on a topic of choice”, you explained, hiding your yawn by moving the phone away from you as you rubbed your eye, your blurry vision making you feel like you were going partially blind from how tired you were.

“Well, in that case, I’d say you’re doing okay so far.” You huffed softly at her comment.

“I just wish I had more time, but I have three other assignments due next week, so this one will most likely end up being generic crap that the professor has heard a thousand times before.” It was not typical of you to feel bad about poorly done assignments, but the Middlemarch assignment had suddenly acquired a whole new meaning to it. You had someone much more important to impress with your work. You wanted Natasha to know that you were good at what you did. You wanted her approval more than you wanted your professor’s. You wanted to discuss the book with her, you wanted her to think that you had good opinions, that you were smart.

“Are you free tomorrow?” You struggled to process her words in your tired brain, trying to recall your schedule for the following day.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Come to the library after your lecture. We can write the assignment together. I’ll bring coffee.” You paused completely. Had she dived into your brain and dug through your daydreams? There was no way she didn’t know all the stupid fantasies you had of her. It couldn’t just be coincidence, but how could she possibly know when the only person aware of the things you dreamed of was you?

“My lecture is pretty early though. It ends at 11:45. If you have work or something…” You wanted to know what she did with her time, if she had a career of some sorts, but to your dismay she hadn’t said a word about any possible profession or studies. She was still a huge mystery to you.

“I’ll be there. How do you want your coffee?”

“Hmm, surprise me.” You smirked a bit groggily, adjusting your position to get more comfortable, the phone screen that was pressed to your cheek burning up from the length of the call. You were sure your battery wasn’t far from running out. “So how does the story end?”

And so, she continued spoiling the ending for you, finishing her retelling with a happy and satisfactory ending, at least in your opinion. You yawned quietly, nuzzling into your sheets, so comforted by the warmth they provided you, her soothing voice right by your ear, your eyes shutting on their own, the large mug of coffee you had consumed hours ago doing nothing to keep you awake. The world went quiet, silent, even the little sounds of the early morning, the pitter-patter of rain, the wind, the creaking of the old house, fading into oblivion as sleep took you, swallowing you whole into the dark abyss of dreamland.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, but you didn’t budge. “Y/N?” She tried again but heard no response. She waited for a moment longer, an affectionate smile playing on her lips as she listened to your even breathing. “Good night, krasotka”, she whispered eventually when no answer came, ending the call right before the clock had the chance to strike six in the morning.

A/N: I just posted another chapter of my smut collection that is a sequel to this story on my ao3!

[chaztalk]

Yes, yes I know this is hella long, so just scroll to the bottom if necessary

TLDR: I’m a Romione shipper and here’s why I don’t like Hermione

I can understand the criticisms of Hermione’s character, but this is more like “I don’t like what the particular things Hermione did” rather than actually analyzing her character. Also that last sentence in the first paragraph, you could really say about any of the Golden Trio, receiving very few consequences and actually learning from them.

Cuz the actual truth behind JKR’s writing of Hermione is a product of being JKR’s self-insert and even though, she is a main character in the series, the author doesn’t necessarily care about her because we know next to nothing about her life as a muggle, her parents, and her personality outside of magic.

And OP stated that Hermione doesn’t face consequences in the series, but that, however, is not entirely true. She turned into a half-cat after not being cautious enough/making sure that she used a human hair instead of a cat hair. She was given the silent treatment until she apologized about her cat. In OOTP, at the DoM, she was hit by a dangerous curse because she was distracted by doing a celebration mid-battle. And in HBP, she was allegedly sexually assaulted if she didn’t run away from him.

So now let’s break this analysis down:

PS- they name none of her strengths, only her “flaws”. I don’t understand how being a rule follower is really a flaw. And her. Close-mindedness comes actually later in the series (opinions about centaurs and Divination). She froze under pressure once. Being socially awkward for 11/12 year old isn’t really out of the ordinary and doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a sign of a complex character.

CoS- Hermione’s 12-13 years old. It’s normal to develop a crush on someone, regardless on who the actually person they have a crush on are.

The one positive most people give Hermione is that she’s book smart. So I don’t understand how it’s hard to believe Hermione was able to brew polyjuice potion when you just have to read the steps to make it.

And even though, she figured out the mystery, she didn’t win a thing unlike Harry and Ron.

“Ron’s influence is working”. What? How come they never elaborate on things like this?

PoA- I also don’t understand the claim that most people would side with Hermione in the Crookshanks/Scabbers fiasco. Harmione shippers and Hermione stans are in the minority here.

GoF- Now this is just someone pissed off that someone else was interested in Hermione and Hermione decided to go with him instead of Ron

A character flaw in Krum? He can’t hold a conversation with a girl.

OOTP- Hermione’s “snipy” towards Ron because he’s a terrible prefect that gets easily walked all over by his twin brothers who are the biggest rule breakers (and possibly because she wanted Harry to be prefects with her instead of Ron 😃)

HBP- or how about feeling empathy for both instead of one over the other. Like this: “I understand why Hermione attacked Ron because it was one of the times her emotions controlled her. But that’s no excuse for the attack when Ron is kissing another girl when they aren’t together”. Not hard. And it’s why Ron and Hermione are incompatible imo.

DH- she does 90% of the preparations for the hunt because Mrs Weasley made it hard for the Trio to work together. And Hermione is no doubt the brains of the group.

“She rescues them from the ministry”. And Splinched Ron in the process, no? So, wouldn’t really say she’s perfect under pressure.

The most crucial one is Hermione staying with Harry and Ron leaving. What do you want her to do? Also leave? She’s a muggleborn, and muggles are being murdered left and right by DEs.

In conclusion, Hermione doesn’t have an arc. An arc to me is an obstacle a character has that builds character development in them. No Harry Potter character has that kind of arc.

I’ll be waiting for the “Ron’s a disappointing character” analysis post, with it just being complaints about how the “narrative” hates Ron lol

[eldritch-spouse]

Say hello to your Valentine Cero!

TW: Noncon; Kidnapping; Manipulation.

[Fem reader.]

It's hopeless. The more time you spend in this room, the less resistance you have to offer.

" Sign it. "

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

There's a thunderous slam, the demonlord's hands clawing at the regal marble table and making a horrible, squealing noise. It rings in your ears, grating, shredding the gray mass of your already muddled brain.

" Tsk. "

He fiddles with a remote control outside your line of sight, and suddenly, you're arching against silken binds, shuddering hard enough to make the very chair you sit on tremble while the potent vibrator tortures your poor, overstimulated clitoris.

The noise that erupted out of you was something between a wounded animal's dying bleat and a wheeze. Ugly. Yet apparently very pleasing to the pride demon, whose scowl twitches into a grin for a second.

" Why must you insist on making this so much harder than it has to be? "

A long, flowing purple cape is flicked into place as he gets up, pacing.

" Do you not realize how good of a deal this is? " He's genuinely exasperated, sharp eyes looking at you as if you're showing clear signs of sustained head injury. " Must I spell it out? You can read, can't you? "

To be fair, even if you could when this bizarre encounter began, you've long since lost the coherence to read or interpret most of anything. The letters on the contract in front of you are nothing but squiggly black smudges twisting and floating on a fancy page, incomprehensible. They might as well be hieroglyphs by now. You recall what it is perfectly however.

A marriage contract.

A very weird, dodgy, skeevy one.

You don't even remember what put you here to begin with. You only know you bumped against an inordinately tall demon outside yesterday. In a rush, you were focused on a receipt and didn't look where you were going, knocking into him only to fall like a buffoon. The embarrassment was so intense that you didn't even look up, ushering out a string of apologies before collecting your belongings and dashing away with burning cheeks. It must have been him. It could only have been the Icon of Pride that you bumped into yesterday. That horrendous misfortune is the only incident you can think of to justify where you are right now.

In a stupidly opulent dining room, bound to a padded chair, lower half bare and currently being tortured.

Granted, this humiliating treatment only started when you refused to sign. You're not sure how much time has passed since then, with orgasm after draining orgasm being forced out of your sweaty body, while the unempathetic demon sat opposite of you, waiting, taunting, demanding you sign it.

Of course you didn't.

Although the calligraphy in it was nothing short of exuberant, it read like the whole thing was drafted in a rushed stupor. Like whoever made it, Di Cero, the demon in front of you presumably, was trying to meet a particularly stressful deadline. Sentence structuring is eloquent but impatient sounding, certain features which should be clearly explained are glossed over, and the number of concerning clauses detailing your level of autonomy as his supposed spouse are worrying. Not to mention the "scheduled worship sessions", whatever the fuck that implies. You could swear there was a mention of your soul somewhere… Buried in disgustingly self-flattering paragraphs of pure nonsense. It's as if he doesn't know what a partner is.

You were initially flattered, in a very unhealthy way. Scared and flattered, to be honest. Now you're just horrified. He wants you to sign a contract wherein you become his wife, Queen of Pride, as well as a strange sort of personal worshiper. What a fucking trip to wake up to.

The enigmatic paper in front of you is swiped away before saliva could reach it.

“ Ugh, you’re drooling on it. “ Cero sneers, and although you miss it entirely, a hint of deep satisfaction shines in his eyes from having you in this state.

He examines his own work briefly, this smarmy smirk on his face, as if he’s never read a finer legal agreement in his entire life. “ Really, I made it as clear as day, the terms are perfect, I’m even letting you use my personal pen. “ Something in his expression conveys that it's supposed to be a huge honor. 

You glare at the thing, trying to distract yourself from the awful zings of stimulation, the loud buzzing echoing through the room and your own ragged breathing. Cero crowds you, exerting further pressure. The pen he mentioned is a touch too big for you, though that’s only natural, he’s quite the large demon, and you’re only a human. You’ve yet to touch it at all, but it looks heavy, a sleek black design you’re sure must be made of some well-known Hell mineral, featuring intricate curls of gold along the surface. The end of it has a strange form, like its… Oh. It’s a makeshift lancet. For the blood print part of the signature.

The demonlord rolls his eyes in a much too exaggerated manner, waving. “ Go ahead, I'll untie you, you can use it, really. “

Yeah, as if bashfulness is what’s keeping you from legally fucking yourself over. Handing your life to this tyrant in written form.

“ N- No. “

You’re not sure what the point of this is anyway. He could just place a blade to your neck and force you to sign, point a gun to your temple, even a slap from this creature could be dreadful enough to break something at full force. This must be extremely amusing to him.

A pause follows, almost lulling you back into an animal trance.

" No?! "

His booming snarl is the most frightening thing you've ever head, instincts begging you to shut the fuck up and sign already. Nothing's on your side here, it seems.

Your chin is suddenly pinched between two sharp needles, forced to face the fuming demon. " You ingrate! Brainless thing! Do you still not realize what I'm offering you?! " There's no response save for gasping and rapid blinking. " I'm feeling extra generous today, so I'll spell it out for you. Look at me and listen good- "

The vibrator working diligently inside you is all but yanked out. Thankfully, you're a wet mess by now, so it merely slides off with a disgustingly lewd noise. Instead of being ashamed however, you're sighing and slumping like a sack of potatoes, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Finally. Finally, some semblance of sweet, sweet mercy. Limbs tingling and half-numb, your body begs for the rest it's being denied by the alarm bells in your head.

Cero turns the white device off, and for a moment, the look on his face softens. As if he's truly lost track of what he was going to do with it. Much to your surprise, a very pale pink muscle peeks out between rows of gnarly teeth. You can only blink and watch as the Icon of Pride slides the shaft of the thing into his own mouth and licks it clean with a vigor shameless enough to set your cheeks even more aflame. You can see a very clear imprint of his excitement jumping in his odd skin-tight pants... What the fuck is his damage? It's only after a couple moments of this disgusting display that he appears to wise up, quickly releasing the toy, crushing it in his grasp, and tossing it behind him. There's a noticeable flush to his mostly chalk-white face, the demonlord looking genuinely angry at himself for a moment.

While the recovery was anything but smooth, Cero's grip on your chin tightens, painfully, and his stern demeanor surfaces once more.

" I've taken you from your sad excuse of a life to be a woman of value, of purpose- At my side, you shall be worshiped until the end of Pride itself, you will hold the admiration and respect of all demons under me, and you will know nothing but the very best life has to offer. Do you understand? "

Staring into those acidic rose pools, you realize he's being utterly serious, no room for mockery or nonsense in them. You have no idea why he's laying this much power at your feet, why he wants you of all people to fulfill this role. He could have anyone, he could have better, so much better. What sets you apart for him? What makes him think this is the type of thing you want from life? Well, that's easy to answer, of course the Icon of Pride isn't thinking about how you feel.

" Do you understand? " Is repeated through grit teeth.

" Y- Yes. "

" Good. "

Di Cero squats to be more at your level, an act that might mean nothing to you now but will be recognized in the future most likely, the pads of his fingers rubbing over your overstimulated mess of a pussy. You quiver and yelp like a corralled animal, though the Icon is too focused in the way your cum glistens on his digits. He finds your sloppy entrance and slides a digit in, moving it ever so slightly, enough to torture you. Your walls flutter and you start crying, fat desperate tears cascading down your tired face as you resign yourself to more unrequited pleasure.

Cero scoffs at the sight, observing sullen droplets hit the spotless floor while his gaze grows foggy. You're not sure what's going through his mind, nor are you lucid enough to care.

" I'm giving you so much pleasure, so much attention- You'll have me for entire days and nights, I'll make sure even that huge pink harlot envies you. " Although Cero's tone transmits desperation, his words are scathing and unconvincing. You have no idea how to interpret what he says, so all you do is look fearfully upon the caped tyrant, wincing at every twitch of his fingers that play with your wetness.

" Hm, no manners. " There's a drawn-out hum, facetiously pensive. " Yes… Maybe that's the problem, isn't it? I'm being too nice to you. Too sweet. You must think I'm a weakling. Bah, nonsense! I would not be King if I failed to adapt. "

You don't like the grin the demon now dons. It's different from his confident, toothy displays. Thinner. Strained. Warning. When his face rests mere inches from yours, your eyes close instinctively and you tremble hard enough that it feels as if you'll shake yourself into a pile of bones. Is he going to bite you? Plunge something into your flesh? Just yell? The uncertainty drags all breath from you.

Seconds pass.

Something warm slides up your face. Your cheek, more specifically. From chin to eye, it trails a wet path, collecting the rivers of fear tainting your expression. He's licking you. Cleaning your tears, perhaps savoring them. The same is done to the other side of your face, you don't dare open your eyes, fearing the type of sick emotion you'd find in his own.

The demonlord pulls away, his slicked fingers slipping out of you, but not before flicking a thoroughly abused button hard enough to make you squeal out in pain. It stings, black dots momentarily swallowing your vision.

" I understand, it’s a lot at the same time isn’t it? You need time to think about how you’re going to thank me for this. “

He’s gone in seconds. And the worst part is, you can’t even tell if Cero was being genuine, or purely mocking.

Hours must have passed.

You can’t really tell, it’s not as if he generously left a watch in the room. It feels like hours, so you assume that’s the case.

Your legs are sore, your ass, your still bound arms, even your back is screeching at you to shift position. Yet, no matter how much you grunt and shimmy around on the chair, it’s never enough to make the pains fade. You’re hungry, thirsty, still covered in your own fluids and utterly miserable, staring at that stupid. Fucking. Contract.

God help you. There isn’t a god here, but who else will you plead to?

You’d do anything to get out of this hellish chair right now. And part of you feels weak for admitting it. Maybe it’s exposure to movies that spawned this idea in you, but you’ve always thought it would take more violent methods to get you near begging for mercy. And sure, sexually you’ve just been through a lot, but being isolated in this chair is honestly doing worse right now.

You know what it is, at its core. Mind games. The demon humiliated you in an unforgivable way, and now he’s left you to your vices, to sit in shame, dirty. You’re livid, depressed that it’s working, that you’d rather just be done with this already.

As if something had heard your inner monologue, the door to this darkened hell pit parts, and in strolls none other than the very same bastard, looking as sharp as he’s been since the first second of this madness. The salty, dry tracks on your cheeks are silently renewed, the first reaction to his reappearance it seems.

Cero spares you a suspiciously calm glance before taking a seat on the chair opposite to yours, a fair distance away. His legs cross and he speaks out loud, as if to no one in particular. “ Dinner has just finished… “ A pause. “ If you sign now, you might be in time to eat with me. “

Food sounds amazing right now. You bet they serve well here, he’s a ruler after all.

In spite of your rage at his nonchalant audacity, you don’t say anything. Your judgment wavers in the face of discomfort and hunger, not allowing you to outright deny his offer.

Di Cero notices this, eyes sharpening when he finally deigns to glance at you, and preys on that weakness near instantly.

“ You do know you’re not losing anything of value, right? “ There’s a chuckle, as if he thinks your concerns are the silliest thing. “ It’s fascinating how afraid of change you are. Isn’t it pathetic? You live such a miserable existence that, when I hand you something much better, you immediately flinch away. “ A single finger waves, tutting you. “ Unlearn that, it’s unflattering. “

You swear to anything that’s out there, you’re about to pop a vein just from hearing this fucker speak. Another stretch of silence takes over, though not for long.

“ I’ve organized this down to the last minute. Every single detail. “ Some manner of contentment shines through his tone. “ Agree to our terms tonight, and our union will take place on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic? “

More like ironic. A demon getting married on a saint’s day. This has to be riveting for him. He must think he’s sooo clever and funny. Him and his little brigade of yes men most likely, because Cero strikes you as the type of monster that would want that.

“ Isn’t that perfect, beau? “

You wish you had the strength, and courage, to roll your eyes.

Unlike the previous encounter, your consistent lack of response isn’t dragging much of a reaction from the Icon. Instead, he just looks at the painted ceiling, eerily calm, waiting with steepled fingers. Cero appears to zone out completely, leaving you just as isolated as you were before.

Somehow, that makes you angrier. Yet also incredibly defeated.

This is it. You're just stuck here until you agree, he's made that much clear. And you're not a strong woman. You're not going to bear this for much longer. It's not fair and it's not worth it. He can have what he wants anyway, you've never been in any position to defy the demon, this is just some sick exercise to break you in.

A small eternity passes before you clear your throat, gathering a wink of composure and a brief side-glance from the tyrant.

" … I-... I'll sign. "

His eyes widen, chest expanding, you catch the exact moment where he realizes he's getting too excited and schools his expression, opting to be patient for a second more.

" I said I'll sign! " You near yell, voice broken, exasperated. " I just want to get out of here, I wanna take a bath, I just want to rest please- "

For a moment, Cero's stillness makes you wonder if he's lost interest, if your words were unconvincing or he thinks he can find someone better, someone less "pathetic", as he so politely put it. But then, in a blink, he bolts up, standing ever tall and tense. The demon erupts into elegant, manic laughter- Cackling really- As he claps joyfully and kicks his seat away in victory.

Although it probably wasn't meant to be intimidating, the way that admittedly heavy chair flies jarringly through the air and slams against the wall, breaking into pieces, is horrifying. A kick like that would just fucking flatten you, no doubt.

" Oh ho, I'm so very glad you've come to your senses! " The Icon's chortling fit settles ever so slightly, he waves. " I was starting to think you had some sort of damage. "

Oh. Oh, that's just lovely.

Cero's behind your seated frame in no time, untying your dominant hand, watching you pick up his pen. The demonlord's hands are planted on either side of you, pointy, cruel-looking things that they are. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, hot, heavy, there's a wolfish grin on his face- You don't need to look back to know it's there.

" Now sign. You've kept me waiting long enough. "

Said flat words spread on your skin like apathetic ice cubes, forcing you to quickly roll your sore wrist, and finally, write your name on that blasted signature blank. You know what you're getting yourself into with every shaky curl of ink, not wanting to think too hard about the consequences of your actions as you solemnly observe your name on this trap, this unsubtle death warrant sugarcoated with frivolous legal terminology. Drivel, a drivel-based, cynical ownership deal.

Cero hums from behind you, a much too sweet-sounding vocalization given the circumstances. Your hair is pet tenderly, the gesture so out of sorts that you start sobbing, scared, confused, full of instant regret.

" There we go, my lovely little prize. " He murmurs against your scalp, still smiling. " Very good. That wasn't so hard, was it? We're almost done. Almost. "

The pen falls from your trembling hands as you try to conceal humiliating noises, feeling vulnerable in a way you've never experienced before. Cero scoops it up and wipes your tears with the other, unfazed by the way you lean back hard enough to bonk your head on the chair's backrest.

" I hope those tears are of joy, dear. " He starts, grabbing your palm. " Now stand still, if you behave for the next part, we can put an end to this. " Next part…?

He clicks something on the pen's side and quickly adjusts your index, bringing the sleek black object closer. Ah, the blood print. Maybe you're sensitive, or maybe he does it on purpose, but the lancet hurts more than it should when it pierces into your pad of your finger. Your wince makes him snort. Blood beads there quite fast, Di Cero effortlessly angles your digit and creates an admittedly clean-looking droplet next to your signature.

A much smaller but still disturbing bout of tittering erupts from the demonlord, who slips your bleeding finger into his mouth, messily and lewdly sucking at it, before pulling away and swiping the finished contract away from the table. He gazes at it with a softness you fail to understand, as if it's all that matters in that moment, religiously re-reading the last paragraphs and moaning at the sight of your written agreement.

Fucking freak.

Di Cero places the apparently invaluable paper back on the ornamented table, deliberately far away from you, like he's afraid you'll try to destroy the thing. A tempting thought.

He's back on you like a hawk, taking your poor arm and showering it in chaste kisses, nipping at your wrist. " Precious, darling inamorata- See? All you needed was a little space. " The demon coos, placing a harder kiss to your forehead before stealing a taste of your lips. It's all teeth and impatience, rabid excitement. Disgusting. " I knew I picked excellently. You're full of potential, I just have to chip at you a little, which is normal, naturally- Given your uhm… Lackluster species. "

So he's racist to humans too. Of course. Why wouldn't he be? Why did you expect anything from this greasy fucker…

Those wandering feelers flutter this way and that across your body, and much to your dismay, they circle at your inner thighs, sliding to settle between your legs again. You groan, the touch entirely unrequited. You've orgasmed enough times to be sick. Although speaking is hard for you right now, you still try to halt him. " Cero… "

" Hush, I'm rewarding you. "

Funny how it feels like just more torment in spite of that.

You remain placid, resigned to letting the demon play with your poor womanhood. He appears to love the feeling, making clipped moans and growls behind you. In turn, you can only gasp and quiver, having long-since lost the ability to scream.

" C- Can you please untie me now? "

Di Cero shakes his head. " Soon. After we eat, yes? " Your responding sigh is pitiful. " Speaking of- "

" SERVANTS! "

Your heart jumps around your ribcage like a pinball machine, you almost feel light-headed for a second, goosebumps covering you from head to tone at the massively imposing, demonic tone that just left the Icon.

The doors part once more and small imps race forward, effectively setting the table. It's a small commotion, but enough to make you die in shame as they work diligently, while their master fingers you stupid. To their credit, not a single one looks your way. It's as if you don't exist at all. You still try to squirm away from Cero's ministrations, earning a disapproving snarl. Lord, this is so degrading.

Your dignity just keeps taking blow after devastating blow ever since you landed here.

In an impressively span of time, the two of you are left alone again, the table entirely set. Candles and everything, a bottle of champagne so expensive you can't recognize the brand, and the juiciest steak you've ever seen on a plate, almost seeming to teasingly wink at you.

Cero plucks a forkful of it with a free hand and aims it your way, a look of complete lovestruck mania on his pale complexion. " Eat now. You'll need your rest. " It parks at your lips, insistent, until you begrudgingly accept the food, frustrated further by how good it is. Just as you expected.

" Because tomorrow, my perfect Valentine, we'll be official. "

[deadgirldreaming]

This impressively in character letter from Alastor to Vox just after they fell out but before Alastor left to grab a carton of milk for 7 years was written by @official-alastor.

Well worth the money!

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

My dear Vox,

Forgive me for resorting to a more “dated” means of communication as you put it, but I’d prefer to say this from a distance. Why, you ask? Well, the truth of the matter is that I simply cannot stand your presence any longer. Your voice is grating, and I wanted to get this done as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could without having to resort to your obnoxiousness in person.

You may have guessed from my introductory paragraph what the contents of this letter will be, but let me spell it out for you. You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me. And, quite frankly, my patience with you has reached its limit. I’m done, Vox. I can’t take it anymore. Just like you can’t take no for an answer.

Your incessant pestering and clinginess has made it impossible for me to be around you. Constantly pushing your affections on me and attempting to pressure me into returning them is tactless and disrespectful. I am many things and a gentleman is certainly one of them. The same, however, cannot be said for you. As the youth of today are so fond of saying, no means no, Vox.

I do not want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. And you have only yourself to blame for what’s happening now. I have told you time and time again that I am completely uninterested in romance along with the more physical aspects of it. On enough occasions that even Valentino remembers and understands. Valentino! But not you. No, Vox, not you at all.

You asked me if I wanted to join you. Clearly, my answer is no. The sad part is that at one point, I would have said yes, Vox. But years of your grating behavior and unwanted advances have successfully managed to change my mind. You just don’t know how to handle rejection, and it’s one of your biggest flaws (of which you have many). I wish I could say that I’m sorry for this, but I’d be lying if I did.

In the end, Vox, I’m not sorry at all. I’m relieved. Relieved that I’ll finally be free of you. Thrilled that I’m finally putting you in your place. I waited far too long to do this. It’s certainly well overdue. It feels wonderful to finally do what I’ve wanted to do for ages now. Does it hurt your feelings? Does it break your heart? Good. Suffer. As I have had to suffer enduring your presence in my afterlife for the last several decades.

Harsh, you say? That would be the point. I can think of no other way to make certain that you fully grasp what it is that I’m trying to convey here. You went too far with me, Vox. And now you reap the rewards of your efforts. Losing me entirely. The fault lies solely with yourself, as I stated before. Read that sentence again and remember it well. You alone have driven me to this. You alone have pushed and pushed until you pushed me too far. Now I’m done, and you’re going to have to learn how to live without me if you even can.

The final straw was our fight. You know the one to which I refer. I almost beat you. Almost had you right where I wanted you. You may have gotten the upper hand in that encounter, but as they say, you won the battle but have lost the war. Your biggest mistake was thinking that you could ever own me. I’ve never been yours to possess and never will be. Ever. In the end, I win, Vox. It’s as simple as that. Failure and defeat have never been an option for me as you well know. Though I know you’re quite familiar with both as you should be.

I’ll finish this with one last statement that I hope you’ll remember along with the other contents of this letter: thank you for wasting my time. Let’s never do it again.

Alastor

🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️🔷️🔹️

Did you enjoy reading this letter from Alastor to Vox? You can get your own letter from Alastor too!

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I personally am considering buying one for either Lucifer or Adam next. Maybe a letter to Sir Pentious, it could be quite funny!

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Any questions just ask @official-alastor !

[bright-and-burning]

I am really intrigued by how your writing process sounds. Do you like write summaries in an outline and then replace each scene summary with the actual scene?

DJFLADJLAD paging @foggieststars and @userkritaaay for this one (they are both equally horrified by how i write). basically... it is not that simple. im afraid.

i actually have been doing some funky stuff w storing my current wip specifically so i can explain my writing process better (i feel like having examples is helpful bc uh. my process is genuinely a little incomprehensible.)

i rambled a lot here w lots of spoiler free examples (equally, if anyone is looking for any little snippets from this wip, there's some below lol). and im not actually sure this explanation makes any sense. tldr the answer is ehhh kind of? but with more steps in between?

everything starts in my notes app, cuz it's easily cross-accessible on my phone and my laptop. sometimes it's like, a sentence or two of what i call Real Prose (final product type stuff), sometimes it's like, a rambling paragraph describing a concept like i would if i was texting a friend (sometimes this is literal in that i copy paste text convos in if i think i'll do something w it). i'll call this stage 0.

current wip (sci fi fantasy au aka the light between lines, which started in the notes app as just the words "xmen meets shadow and bone. or something" (and stayed that way for ages)) technically began as voice messages to @mecachrome while heating up leftovers. back in. i wanna say may.

anyways. it starts small, and the next stage (stage 1, i guess?) is this weird mix of rambling and Real Prose. an example:

this one is especially funky bc its part Very Vague timeline (i cut off earlier bits that spoil things but it stretches back several years more), part sketchy rambling, part Real Prose.

so now i have this like, rambling outline. kind of. it's like if i was on the phone w a friend explaining the idea, and every so often i'd be like WAIT THIS IS SUCH A GOOD LINE. and then there's a real line. [i use brackets as signals of things switching back and forth between modes. easy to search up, not really used in regular prose, etc]

for this wip, i then copied everything into my word processor of choice, so i wouldn't lose the evidence of the rambling outline. lol. although i did it slightly late, so there's already some transition to the next stage.

then i go through in order, and fill it in. here's a bit from my notes app, it's very "telling a story to a friend" (this is stage 1 still):

here's that same bit at the bottom of my word doc (aka stage 2 except normally i replace it/write over it in place in the doc. i've been saving it all instead of replacing it for this exact reason). i've elaborated now. they're in a locker room, now. lando's kitting up. need to hit on this emotional beat, need to have this reference to oscar in the scene prior being sleepy, need to have this lore explained, and then there's action. but there's still a Lot to fill in, obviously. oscar has to kit up. are they talking the whole time? what's lando doing in the gaps of silence if they aren't. and then the entire training mission. lol. [some bits of my notes are already at this stage or beyond so i dont have to do anything i just scroll past, and some bits are literally like "lando is mad. oscar is mad. they shout" and i have to do the heavy lifting here]

this ^ then becomes 1069 words. 305 of which come from the words between "lando's" to "babies," and 764 of which come from "they go out on a training mission and it doesn't go tits up." here's the beginning of that (this is more like stage 4, if im honest.):

NORMALLY. there are brackets all over the place still, at this stage. this scene just came easier than normal lmao. but this is what it would normally look like in uhhh stage 3:

it's very... in conversation with myself. does nerve make more sense for lando to use than audacity? does dirtier than he started sound better than dirty again? idk i'll figure that out later. the moment i feel stuck i move on. immediately. otherwise i would go MAD like, 60 words into a wip trying to come up a perfect word. that is a sticky problem for AFTER i've done the majority of the work, so that way i don't just give up completely early in the process.

i didn't know how to phrase jenson's attempt at making oscar not mad so i just put down the gist and kept it pushing. i know i want lando to have some kind of snarky thought about it being hard on oscar but i couldn't figure out how to phrase it right. so i got down the core elements and kept moving. etc etc etc.

the transition from stage 2 to stage 3 is where i really use brackets and lowercase to differentiate. for some reason, my brain gets less... fussy. when i write in all lowercase. cuz it knows it's not going out like that, so it can be less perfect. so sometimes there's a stage 2.5 that's like a full scene but it's all lowercase to ease the pressure. and then i'll go back thru and capitalize.

the doc rn has. 7.7k of words. 4.1k of those words are at like, stage 3 and beyond. there might be a couple transition bits in there that are entirely in brackets and therefore are really like. stage 2.5. if that. there's a couple scenes with no brackets whatsoever aka stage 4. there's 1k straight of action where the only brackets are around my vocab choices for the vehicle they drive. the remaining 3.6k is somewhere between stage 1 and stage 2 (mostly stage 2 tho. probably averaging at stage 1.9)

i don't go from stage 1 to stage 2 to stage 3 for the whole document in order. to be clear. im not on draft 3 rn! it's not, oh everything is stage 2, and then slowly everything becomes stage 3, and then slowly everything becomes stage 4. i dont write in order!! and also the stages aren't rigid lmfao it's all slow evolution

to go from stage 2 to 3 isn't like, i sit and look at a scene summary and work on that same scene until it is mostly prose w a couple clarifying brackets. it's like, i come across a scene summary/stage 2 chunk. i start writing. i get a little stuck, i leave the line of scene summary for the bit im stuck on and move to the next line. sometimes i cant get it into prose at all but i can elaborate more on the scene summary, so it's a little more detailed than it was before. sometimes i get a lot stuck, and i can't visualize anything at all. ok. it's all gonna be scene summary, or script-y dialogue that sounds wooden but gets the meaning out, whatever works. that's fine lemme leave it alone.

and then i scroll down until i find a bit i DO have the visuals for, i DO know what's going on for. maybe it's a single bracket in an otherwise perfectly prose section that i've finally figured out the wording for. maybe it's a scene summary that's suddenly playing out in technicolor in my head. maybe it's a completely stage 4 section that i've decided actually these two lines should be one. and then i repeat! eventually i hit the bottom of the doc and head back up to the top to repeat again, and again, and again. until all of it's in stage 4 with maybe a couple brackets, which means it's set to go to the google docs for beloved darling betas to read over and tell me what's what <3

this probably did not . make a ton of sense. i wish i had the equivalent of those like painting process videos bc i think it WOULD make sense if i could be like SEE. but kfjdsajfjfdlsa

[faededaway]

Nanami x reader (sfw)

[office setting, he's your senior]

Nanami has been hard on you. Always. You're not sure what brought it on. Maybe he found you unqualified for your position. There's no other reason why he's always breathing down your neck about deadlines and critiquing every submission.

"Ehem."

You brace yourself before turning around in your cubicle to great your senior, Nanami Kento, who drops your previous submission on your table and looks down on you.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I improve this report?", you get straight to the point like you know he wants you to.

"Once again, this isn't a report for your university. Stop adding paragraphs of explanations. Stick to numbers and charts", he sighs and leaves without waiting for a reply.

Embarrassing. Maybe I am unqualified.

His tone was never mean. If anyone else said it, anyone else like Shoko, you'd assume they were only trying to help or maybe save themselves from having to read more.

But Nanami, Nanamin. Is a stoic man. Very neutral. You fill in the blanks everywhere and now you assume he's tired of you.

So you work till your hands drop to improve the reports exactly like he asked you to.

When you're done with your work, you run over to his office to show him there's at least one thing you can do well. Take his advice to the heart.

Knock knock

He looks up from his screen, “come in.”

Once you go in, you place the reports on the right side of his desk, “sir, I have done as you asked.”

He immediately clicks his tongue at that, freezing your entire body.

Huh. Maybe he feels like he's doing double the work-

“I didn't mean- Don't, don't redo them because I gave you a criticism. Could've just followed it next time”, he sighs and looks at you.

Huh. Oh. He meant it like that ... How would I know?

“Sorry, sir. I-”

“Nanamin is fine.”

“Nanamin?”

“.........Nanami.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Nanami, I'll take your advice- Er, I understand now. Okay.” you wave your hands and turn around to leave because damn. I really did put words in his mouth.

“Did you have lunch?”, Nanamin stops you.

“Uh, no”, uh yes, like 4 hours ago but is he about to offer me something?

“Do you like pastries?”, Nanami stands up from his desk and packs his things.

“I do, actually. Savory and sweet. The one near the office is- ”

“-is amazing.” he completes your sentence.

“As... I was unclear with my instructions, let me treat you to,” he looks at his watch,“to dinner.”

You flip through a few answers that may be appropriate here. Anything like, 'oh, no it was my fault' to 'you don't have to, I'm sure you're tired'.

But Nanamin has never spoken to you about anything but work before. And now, you're having a conversation, kinda. You're also going to the amazing bakery. His amazing bakery.

“Of course. I will get my stuff.”

[asmrrpaddict]

Spoilers for Reverie Audios, You’re Gruff Dragon-Shifter Boyfriend Gets Clingy and Brings You to His “Hoard”.

No casualties! Of course however I’ve watched too many audios like these and think someone is covering things up.

Yay, clingy Des hugs!!! 🥰

While I did realize Law, Neo, & Gage were on the train together, it didn’t actually hit me until I started this one that that is Des and Newbie’s entire team! Now I’m crying.

Ok, so Desmond is feeling like he does before a shift, while shifters on the train, well, shifted. So like they said it’s a shifter thing. But what would cause something of that radius? Granted I don’t know how far the yard is from the train. It is just so interesting and odd that all the shifters even ones not near the train were affected. (Passage brought to you by, how many times can she use some form of shifter in one paragraph?)

Oh, it’s been happening since the project started? I wonder if Neo has had that felt the same off feeling? What is really going on at those gardens???

Newbie definitely made a pouty face when Desmond told them, “Stay.”

“You’re the greatest of all my treasures and I want to keep you with the rest of them. A beauty surrounded by other beauty.” Are you FRICKIN’ KIDDING ME!!! I mean guy!! Are you trying to make my heart stop with the amount of awe inspiring beautiful love radiating from those 2 sentences alone!?!?!? I thought clingy Desmond was going to be adorable, but this?!?! Come on man!! I literally had to pause the video and just sit and contemplate that statement! Not only those lines coming from the grumpy tsundere dragon shifter, but those lines being put into the universe for our ears! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I may be overreacting, but I don’t care! Thank you for that! And thank you all for coming to my, fluent in lonely and interpreted by eternally single, ramble! 😆

Dang right he deserves all the kisses after that!

So, I’m going to assume based on how calm they were, they don’t know the guys are on the train that just crashed or they didn’t hear/pay attention to the report because Newbie was smashing rocks.

Great work as always!!! Can’t wait for the next one whenever you’re ready!!!

Stay cool and hydrated everyone, it’s too freaking hot! 🥵

[moreespressoformydepresso]

re: ask game

⭐️ i would love to read your director’s commentary on When The Clock Stops Ticking (We'll Be Painted Red) :D

Oh boy what have you unleashed? I hope you have some time because I will not be able to contain myself to one thing this time.

I spent months on this fic, there is so much.

Instead of the doomed endeavor that is organizing this mess or singling out a single topic to talk about at length, I'm gonna go through the fic chronologically and pick the things most important to me. If you want more afterward, don't worry. I will have more.

So the opening and closing lines mirror each other, and fragments of it come back periodically so we'll start there. There's a lot of red imagery in here for fairly obvious reasons and some hidden double meanings. There will be a lot of that tbh. The more explicitly stated meaning is, of course, the usage of red as a euphemism and/or metaphor for blood. It's a way to show Treech's changing perception of the world as everything he's living through starts to affect him in both big and subtle ways. Hence why parts of that opening line keep popping up throughout the fic. While we're talking about that line, lets actually take a look at the wording:

"Blood coated the iron, colored the floor and the rubble, splattered his clothes."

The way it's written isn't really how a normal person would think on a day to day basis, is it? It's a lot more flowery, especially with the euphemism. It's almost like he's thinking about paint on a canvas in an art studio rather than Teslee's blood, which is intentional. He's using this language, this metaphoric description, in order to avoid acknowledging what it actually is. He doesn't want to think about the fact that he just killed someone or that he's about to kill someone else. Originally the fic was supposed to start a little later, right before he kills Lucy Gray, but I decided to move it back a little and start by introducing his current state. The first few paragraphs are slow, with Treech mostly considering his survival options and the unbearable heat. It's in part to introduce where we're at in the games and in part a way to show he's distancing himself from what he's about to do, which only becomes apparent at the mention of footsteps. It's only then that we realize he's about to attack Lucy Gray, who's introduced by her fluttering dress rather than her actual name or face. She's the rainbow songbird, a stage sensation, rather than the actual Covey girl who made it to the top 3 in the games. It's easier for Treech to reconcile killing someone whose face he can't see or whose identity he doesn't think about than it is to kill someone who he knows had a family waiting on them, and it's only later on that he lets go of that mentality, which we'll get back to.

Red comes back later when he drags Lucy Gray to Reaper's morgue, as it's the color of the flag. Treech doesn't explicitly call it out, but he does refer to the color of the flag as blood red, so that in combination with the euphemistic usage from earlier leads to imagery of the flag being a literal pool of blood. Panem is literally built on blood to the point where it's represented by it. It's symbolized by it. It's celebrated by it, as the anthem is sung to the flag, which is hung at every national celebration. Then we get another glimpse of whose blood is being spilled as Treech sees Lamina's body, from her red hair to the blood that spread out from her stab wound over the floor after her death. In turn, that red reminds him of Teslee, someone he killed himself. It's a chilling reminder to Treech that he grieves for Lamina over what happened to her, despite having done that exact thing to two other children, strengthening the guilt he already feels but is trying to ignore. Thoughout the entire fic, Treech consistently sees red as the color of blood and it haunts him, illustrated by the last sentence of the story:

"Blood coated the iron, colored the floor and the rubble, splattered his clothes. 

It drenched his hands, too."

It's the exact same sentence, with two key differences. Firstly, there's the adition of it drenching his hands, an obvious play on the saying "to have blood on one's hands" due to the three deaths he mentally attributes to himself. Secondly, there's no longer a euphemism. There's no more paint imagery, erasing the distance between Treech and the events of the story. It's a show of his loss of innocense (as he's no longer capable of making himself see it as just paint) the same way him no longer swinging his legs on the beams was. Reaper actually calls him out on the second one, playfully calling him a child, but that's why it's so important (to me) that I specifically call out that he no longer does it when he climbs back up after Reaper's death. Treech didn't know Teslee or Lucy Gray, but he did know Reaper. He didn't witness Lamina's death, only the aftermath, but Reaper died right in front of him. That combination kind of shatters him mentally, hence why he spends the last parts of the story so aimless and unfocused. I'll get back to that. Regardless, the one thing more powerful than a euphemism here is the lack of one, especially because Treech is very metaphorical in his thought process. He's an art kid who writes the plays his theater group performs, he even got his hands on some pre-Panem works, and I tried to let that be reflected in the way he thinks about the world. He draws lots of parallels to District 7 and there's lots of metaphors and euphemisms in his inner voice, that's just his usual way of being which he uses to deal with his situation. So when that all falls away for the hard truth, it shows he's lost part of who he is. There are metaphors in the ending paragraphs because it's such an integral part of who he is to describe the world like that, but in the end it's not how it used to be. There's a rawness now and while most of him is still him, in the end he's not the same person he was hours ago.

Now, aside from this obvious euphemism, red also has a symbolic meaning. It's a little dark in context to the story, but it's there. Red is, after all, the color of passion. The color of anger. The color of love. And these three things come back in the story quite a lot. Yes, Treech has killed Teslee and kills Lucy Gray, but he did it with as much compassion as he could. Both died quickly, with one life-ending strike of the axe. In the end, none of them deserved to go home any more or less than the others, and all of them fight just as passionately to get home. Every single tribute was trying to get someone home, whether that's themself or someone else. When Reaper lays dying, Treech tries everything to keep him alive despite knowing it's useless because he doesn't want to let go. He still has that drive to try, even when he knows it won't do anything. Treech is literally drenched in red in that scene as the blood seeps into his clothes and stains his hands and arms, which is both incredibly traumatizing imagery to him and a metaphoric representation of what he's feeling in the moment. He's too filled with passion to keep someone alive to really accept that he has to give up. He's also too filled with love. It's not very explicitly romantic between them, not like Meet Me In The Stars (When There's Nothing Left) was, but the undertones are definitely there. Think to the hyacinths Treech uses for Reaper's figurine. Specifically the myth of Hyacinth and Apollo. In that final scene, Treech loves Reaper too much to let him go and accept that he'll have to die. Several times, he basically begs the universe to give them even just a second longer together. Life is leaving Reaper's body and it's fueling Treech's fiery desire to keep fighting because to love is to lose and he's lost too much already. You can see it as platonic love or ignore the red metaphor entirely, but I won't. These two have my entire heart and they can keep it because I'm writing the Vipsania POV rn to create some setup for later.

Red is also the color associated with anger, which comes back in the fic too. Because while Reaper and Treech hide the bodies of the dead beneath the red flag as a show of respect and care, and while they spend their happy moments separated by it (one on each side of the flag, literally two kids and the love between them), they also rant over it. They sit on the beams, high above that sea of red, and spew venom at the unfairness of it all. At the pain they've had to endure. They fuel the flame of love in each other just as much as the flame of hate, because they understand each other. Treech bitterly talks about Vipsania the way he's wanted to all week, but didn't know who to talk about it to. Lamina's mentor was nice, and she'd been having a hard enough time already so he didn't wanna burden her with it. But Reaper? Reaper gets it. And he can see that Vipsania cares at least a little, but he doesn't push it because he understands. Just because she changed her mind doesn't erase the terrible way she treated him, and Reaper gets it. They understand each other's anger and they love each other all the more for it.

The flag here also encapsulates Treech's feelings on Vipsania as a whole, specifically the dichotomy between his care for her and his utter disgust and pain at what she's put him through. She let him starve to win the prize and Treech will never know for sure how much Vipsania did for him and how much she did for herself even when she did start to care, because not even she knows that. In everything I write, Vipsania has a long road of becoming a better person and most of it is spent convincing herself she's not doing it for him. In this universe, it's actually only at the end of the games that she admits to no longer giving a damn about the prize. It takes her watching him face death for five days straight to fully realize that over time it stopped being about winning and it started being about getting him home alive. The only real sign we get in the games is the water she sends him to stop Reaper from killing him, and that's entirely between the lines. He's not in the headspace to consider things and realize that Vipsania would have won the prize regardless of whether he lived or died. As Highbottom said, their survival isn't a necessity. Vipsania could've sat back and waited it out but instead tried what she could to save his life. The prize was hers, Treech had more sponsors that Reaper and has been far less controversial, and his beautiful singing won a lot of hearts, but Vipsania would have burned that prize if it got Treech out of the arena alive. It'll become more clear why she didn't do so again in that Vipsania's Version fic I'm working on. Regardless, Treech doesn't know that she cares about him, at least not for certain, so he's feeling very confused about her. He can acknowledge that she's changed over time, but that doesn't mean he has to like what she's done to him.

Red means a lot of things, and that contrast between the different interpretations that all work at the same time felt very fitting for me. It's kind of the theme of the whole stor, something can be beautiful and ugly at the same time. After all, the story is about love, romantic or not. Red is everywhere, and it's both the best thing in the arena and the worst thing. Love can be wonderful and it can be horrible, it hurts but it's worth it until it isn't. You wish you'd never felt it so the end wouldn't be so painful but at the same time you don't know how you'd have lived without it. If Treech wasn't so attached to Reaper his death wouldn't have hurt so much, but their time together meant so much to him. It showed him life's worth living, even if the loss that followed left him unsure of how to continue on. We live for the good moments, but they're what makes it hurt so much more when they end. That's honesly Treech's experience in a nutshell.

I can't believe I've gone this long just talking about a color what is wrong with me? I had a lot more to say but this is stupidly long so I'll go to the things I've already mentioned and try to wrap this up. I was gonna talk about my choice of timing and the stupid amount of foreshadowing in Reaper and Treech's conversation or the stuff I cut out but uhm... Maybe another day. I need to post this eventually after all if I discuss everything this post will take me as many months as the actual work took me.

So I mentioned before that Treech starts out removing himself from everything surrounding him by seeing everything in terms of the games and only the games. Lucy Gray is the rainbow girl, the girl from 12, the songbird, because that public, manufactured perception of her is a façade and he knows that. When he kills her, he's even further removed from reality by relating the snake she throws at him back to an everyday scenario back home. It's just another block of wood he's gotta hit, and Lucy Gray herself is just the lumber he works with on a daily basis. It's only when she's dead that he gets away from that thinking just enough to try and give her memory as much respect as he can, but despite that his descriptions of everything are flowery like he's writing a poem or a script to a shakespearian play. It's still doing it's damnest trying to avoid the harsh reality, even when he's face to face with it. It's a sort of shield he's built up over the course of the games that really solidified when Lamina died. If he goes cold, he can't break. However, once he and Reaper enter their awkward truce that ice he's grown around himself starts to melt and things get difficult, because as he lowers the shield he's gaining a friend, sure, but he's also leaving himself vulnerable. Reaper lets him forget the reality of their situation, but that means that when it comes crashing back in it's all the more painful. Over the course of his conversation with Reaper, the metaphors and flowery language stop being a constant shield and starts becoming an attempt to put into words all the ways in which Reaper makes him happy. So when Reaper dies, all he has left are his raw feelings with none of the pretty words to make them seem softer. He uses metaphors, but they're not artsy or pretty. Instead of kids games and the everyday life he found joy in back in 7, it's ice cold rivers and harsh winters that can easily take one's life. Instead of having fun climbing trees it's drowning in a frozen lake. And there are far fewer metaphors than before because Treech is too emotional to make it sound fancy. He's trying to process this but he can't and it's literally taking away who he is.

Finally, I want to point out that I put plenty of thought into all the times Treech nearly got himself killed in this story, because it will come up in that (far shorter) Vipsania's Version. Most of it will be focused on her complicated relationship with Treech and the guilt she feels for how focused she was on herself and stupid High School drama when she should have been worried about the literal child whose life she was responsible for, but the rest will be showing a more complete version of what happened than Treech can give. Specifically in regards to all the times he nearly got himself infected with rabies due to not being aware Reaper has it. There are moments where Treech nearly drinks from the same bottle as him and when they're sharing the apples one gets Reaper's saliva on it. It's only his insistence that Reaper keep it after his stomach growles that saves Treech. These moments go together with the slowly escalating symptoms Reaper is showing to make Vipsania tear her hair out worrying about him. Treech didn't know rabies was even in the equasion, so he's having a severe case of observer's bias here. Sure, Reaper is starting to behave a little eratically, but that could be the dehydration and heat. Treech has never experienced such severe heat before, so it's probably just something he doesn't understand. The loss of focus and confusion definitely tracks with Treech's own experience in this case, and the irritability... Well, they're in the hunger games. Of course Reaper's irritated! So to him nothing particularly bad is going on until the hallucinations because he doesn't have the information available to make rabies the most logical explanation, especially since that means Reaper is going to die and as I've explained Treech is having quite a case of denialism here.

The denial is part of the grieving process, which he's already going through at the start of the story and which he goes through again with Reaper. Once he's gone through the stages of disbelief, denial, anger, and bargaining (least explicit, it's the part where he's going through all the things he would do to get Reaper to stay with him), he ends up at depression. There's inklings of acceptance in the part where he starts singing, but after Reaper finally dies he goes right back to depression. Just mixed in with the guilt that's been popping up all throughout the story but has now involved into a whole state of being. It's not helped by the fact that he has enough grounds to blame himself here. Lamina, he couldn't have done much about without an alliance. Teslee he didn't know, so he can cling to the fact she'd have to die for him to live anyway no matter how guilt-stricken he is, but Reaper is the final straw. Because he didn't kill Reaper, but his friend killed himself specifically to protect him. So basically the guy did die because of him, even though he would have died anyway. That's a hard reality to accept, so Treech sticks with the part where Reaper's throat gets slit and doesn't have the emotional energy to think of much else. It's all too much for him. These past few days have been so draining on a deep emotional energy that his only relief was Reaper. Now that Reaper's gone, Treech now not only has a massive heap of extra guilt to deal with, he also has to deal with the many regrets he can't fix anymore. For example, the implied feelings Treech has for Reaper won't be resolved (in this timeline) and he's coming to terms with the fact that he'll never get to admit them and get closure. Reaper literally saved his life, by sacrificing himself but also by stopping him from accidentally catching rabies several times without knowing it. And Treech will never be able to thank him for it because Reaper is gone. All these kids are gone, and there's nothing Treech can do but wait to go back home and try to move on, so he kind of aimlessly wanders through the arena figuring out any way to give them respect because what else is he supposed to do?

His conversation with Reaper reminded him of all the ways in which these kids deserved to live, but it's too late. They're already dead, and all he can do is try and make sure they're remembered. So he uses every district funeral practice he knows of in an attempt to show them the respect they deserved, but also in a way to try and fill the void in his heart left by the loss he's just faced. To distract himself from the confusing emotions grief, guilt, and the general stress of the past few days have caused him to feel. His time with Reaper made him feel literally warm, and now that he's gone and night is falling, he's cold and going numb with shock as he's screamed out the emotions of the moment. He doesn't know what to do as he literally freezes up both physically and mentally, leaving him to try anything to pass the time in hopes he'll have figured it out once he's done. Spoilers, he doesn't figure it out. At the end of the story Treech is kind of out of it, almost more of a wandering ghost than the literal ghosts surrounding him.

Oh yeah btw if you really wanna hate me, there's some minor implications of ghosts. Reaper's when Treech cleans him up in the morgue and Lamina's when he's sitting alone on the beams and talking himself out of contemplated suicide.

Throughout the story, Treech refers to the arena as a tomb haunted by the ghosts of the other kids, and in the end it's almost like he's the one haunting the arena, detached from his body as he tries to process everything that's happened and come to terms with the fact that it's over now. There's no more maybe's left because everyone is dead. Even him, because while he's still breathing he's lost everything in the span of days and he's so riddled with grief and guilt that he'll have to build himself from the ground back up. Now that there aren't any threats left in the arena to worry about and he's gonna go home, he has to truly contend with the fact that he's the only one who made it out. Reaper, Dill, Lamina, Teslee, everyone, they all had families, and he's the only one who'll see theirs again. In the end the only thing that keeps him going is the fact that he's the soul survivor, so if he dies too it'll all have been for nothing. They'll all have died for nothing. Now he has to take that responsibility, no matter how tempting it is to give up and end himself so he won't have to deal with the emptiness anymore. Even when the what-ifs haunt his every thought and the memories will plague his nightmares, he has to keep going. It's a show that when Treech calls himself a selfish coward he's lying his ass off. Being a scared kid doesn't make him a coward, and while he may be tempted to do the selfish thing, he always chooses the selfless option in the end, which is the important part. He brought Lucy Gray to the morgue despite the dangers, he insisted Reaper take the water and food when he felt the other needed it more, and he stopped trying to save Reaper and instead tried to comfort him when he realized there was nothing he could do and Reaper deserved to be comforted in his last moments. Especially since Reaper didn't mind dying if it meant Treech got to live. And in the end, his motivation to keep going is entirely selfless. Even when he doesn't think he can handle living anymore, he keeps going for his family and for the other tributes. No matter how much Treech self-depricates, he proves himself wrong all throughout the story. I'll cap this post here because uhm... This is a lot, and although I could talk/type about this for ages I do have a sense of when a post gets too long, but as a nice little bonus gift have this cut piece of dialogue that I didn't feel fit quite right into the story, it's right after Treech tells Reaper about his late night sneaking and stealing with his friends:

"One time we defaced the peacekeeper barracks while we were at it.”

“Are you really admitting this on live camera?”

“Oh fuck uhm… Whoops? D’you think they can hear our conversation clearly?”

Against his slightly delusional hopes, Reaper nodded with a certainty that was impossible to go against. Even when, a second later, he suddenly looked a lot less certain for some reason. Looking around slightly dazedly, Treech searched for a little bit before his eyes fell over the camera. 

“H-Hey uhm… hey mom, and dad. I don’t know if you’re, like, watching but… Sorry about that. And sorry for worrying you.” He looked away from the camera for a second, contemplating the pros and cons of doubling down, before deciding this was as good a time as any to have a bout of teenage rebellion. “In my defense- The peacekeepers that caught us thought it was hilarious.”

“You were caught?!”

When he turned back to Reaper, he couldn’t help but feel slightly sheepish at the worried and exasperated look. Kind of like the look of a scolding parent, but with some confusion mixed in as a reminder that the other was also a kid who knew what standard peacekeeper behavior was like. 

“Ha, yeah, when we were almost finished. Technically they didn’t catch me, but I came out of my hiding spot once I realized they weren’t gonna shoot us on the spot. Solidarity with my buddies and all that.”

“I can’t believe they let you all get away with that!” Reaper exclaimed, with a voice that made it sound like he was having an actual crisis. 

“Well this was in the Fringe... It’s not like we were writing anything bad. Call it street-art in an… intentionally unfortunate place.” He smirked slyly. It melted off his face quickly though. “We only did it because we knew who was in those barracks. They don’t mind our antics. If anything, they found it even funnier than we did. If we’d tried it with anyone else…”

“You’re even ballsier than I thought you were. Won’t any of you get in trouble back home since you’re saying this?”

[glowingmin]

chapter 53 of this is an adjuration but its (moderately) analyzed

hi everyone we need to talk about chapter 53 aka i’m going to talk about it and you are going to listen. spoilers for the not only the entire chapter (btw i’m gonna be going crazy) but basically chapters 39 to 53 too. also yes i will be talking about all 100+ footnotes and yes i am going to be mad theorizing throughout. we cite our sources in this bitch.

first off: we’re starting off with Red being dead! fantastic! already in tears again thank you Vio. But now we get a different point of view, which is a lot more detailed. Makes sense because 1: vio and 2: four.

footnote 1: the implications of the hesitation. followed by footnote 76. green is an interesting critter. Red clearly is worried about dying, about becoming nothing if their sword is lost (footnote 93). From what I’m understanding, Vio and maybe Blue also felt the same during the sealing? Not too sure about Blue.

But also this comes back with when they go to pull the sword again! All of Link is in agreement (footnote 101). Which includes Green. Does existing again as Link where they don’t all fit back together perfectly help this along? 

“Shadows grow, harsh and angular, a myriad of isosceles shards spilling out in a tiled plane. The power of them thrums, climes up Vio’s spine in a way that is so very familiar.”

Is Twilight’s shard the same Darkness as Shadow? As the Dark Mirror? I know nothing about twilight princess so I’m probably not qualified to theorize on it. Spoiler alert we're doing it anyways. The wording of shadows here, shadows being used, makes me think that it Has to be the same thing. Especially since Vio says that it feels familiar.

The portals that are taking them across time, whether caused by Hylia or Dink or Hyrule or Whoever Else is playing Tug of Link, also seem to be this dark magic. I don’t remember Vio saying that feels similar. So there has to be some sort of difference between types of dark magic.

revision glowmin here: did some twilight princess research. Apparently Twilight and Vio can shake hands on a friend breaking a mirror and disappearing. they should start a club. 

footnote 2: Red and Vio bonding about Shadow! the pain of ‘when that happens, i’ll be right there’. but!! red isn’t here anymore!! christ!! “He’s good at that. Putting his feelings into metaphorical little boxes where they can’t touch him. Where they can sit and wait until he is no longer, and Link can take the boxes and open them up and the piece that is Vio can examine them under the safety of being a fragment, of being less-than-entire, of being whole, of being One.”

lets talk about this paragraph for a second. Link will no longer exist again. this is Unhealthy Coping 101 lads. He can’t be Link anymore to sort through all of those emotions (I figure Red is normally the one doing the mental housekeeping there anyways). So its going to sit in those boxes and rot there. Will it eventually explode? It sure seems like it during Ravio’s time travel dissertation! 

footnote 3: king link the first. Sky? is Sky the king link mentioned here? like ik he’s the first in the Reincarnation thingie. is link doomed to be the hero because he was named after the king? if he’d been named bob would he have been spared? hmmmm. i mean Sky is literally mentioned in the sentence the footnote is linked to so.

“(...) it would be so easy to think that it was a piece of the King himself that died.” 

but when you think about it, its true. the reincarnation stuff. Four is a Link. Four is a reincarnation of Sky. A part of him just died. So technically yes, I think thats literal.

“Oh. Blue. Blue is here. He can breathe now.”

“He blinks the blurriness out of his vision, to see Blue (his Blue, his guardian, his safety, his wall of ice between them and the world)”

“Of course he has to spell this out for him. Nothing can ever be easy with this man.”

the dual sides of the Vio opinion of one berry boy. The wall of ice though. Is that a callback to Blue being frozen solid in the FSA manga? And how Red had to save him? I notice there’s a lot of elemental imagery in the color-pov’s; green in particular about being comparable to the wind. 

footnote 4:Absolute whiplash of a contrast to footnote 2. We go from Red offering to hear Vio talk about Shadow to chapter 39. chapter 39 my beloathed my sleep paralysis demon. The last thing Vio says to Red.

And we know context for why Red died. Red thought that Dink was Shadow. He offers the benefit of the doubt to Dink under that assumption. Even though Vio just spat at him, even though Vio is pulling away, Red is still trying. It gets him killed. If Vio figures out that information, I feel like it’ll be a terrible time.

“Vi isn’t… isn’t really sure which outcome would be worse. Either one would be better than this limbo, this waiting and floating and his body’s instinctive attempts to make him feel.”

emotions can’t touch me these shades are gucci - vio, probably. also I didn’t realize that Vio was still holding Red’s hand when they tried to become One again. 

“After that, it’s as simple as wanting, of believing that to not be would be better than being, of feeling the thin tether of magic between himself and the gem in the pommel of his sword, and trying to make it stop. (...) Blue scoops up Red’s sword, the only bit of him left behind but his spilled blood, and two glowing points of red cut through the haze.”

foreshadowing?? foreshadowing?? i don’t remember if any other colors have commented on the tether between their swords and themselves. with that out of the way lets Talk about the difference between Vio and Blue’s thoughts of merging and then we’re getting into my Red Isn’t Dead coping theory

From chapter 40: “The three of them come to him, pushing at the magic and praying to anyone who might be kind enough to listen. There’s a flash of light, and Blue braces himself for the momentarily disorienting experience of becoming One, of having himself overwritten as a part from which the sum is made.

So we know from chapter 53 in particular that Vio has not great self imagery. like not at all. His thoughts of becoming one is summarized in that “believing that to not be would be better than being”. Blue, on the other hand, doesn’t have that thought. It’s a bit more vague, but it’s still enough to notice that merging seems to feel different for all the colors (or at the very least Blue and Vio have different interpretations).

The 2 gems on Red’s sword are glowing, and for the rest its just 1. I didn’t know that was a Thing until chapter 53. so here is my thought: where do the colors come from, actually? This chapter is implying that they are an extension of their swords. Are they physical magic, forced into a ‘body’? So hear me out on this one because I went and reread some of the other chapters to formulate this theory (i am coping hard).

What if: Red isn’t dead. He’s not alive, but not dead. Chapter 41: “Sky sees now, with horrible clarity, the similarity between the glow of the twin gemstones set in the pommel and cross guard of the sword, ruby red like his eyes were, and the sky blue pulsing light of Fi’s consciousness (...) Sky does not know if Red is conscious, if he is aware. He does not even know if he even is anymore. He knows only that Red is dead, and whatever remains of him is inside of that blade.”

First time I read this I was still in tears about Red dying so it didn’t make sense. I’ll be coming back to this theory later but for now let’s leave it at ‘red might not be fully dead he might just be in a coma’.

footnote 5: christ time travel makes my head hurt. i’m looking at it i promise i’m looking at it but the brain is rejecting the knowledge like gas station sushi.

footnote 6: FOUR SWORDS MANGA MENTIONED

footnote 7: ‘magical intervention for dead patients’ you mean the fucking necromancy

footnote 8: thesaurus dot com save me /reference

“What does he think? Of the situation? Of the idea that he has to live like this indefinitely? Of the reality in which Vio lives? Of the fact that this has happened twice now?”

Thoughts are stored in the Vio. the ‘twice now’ really hits hard. going to have a cry break again.

footnote 9: SHIT there isn’t a body either time. both times there’s some Item left behind; the shattered Dark Mirror, Red’s sword. but that’s not enough. good grief this is some trauma

remember the theory i literally just mentioned? here’s another point. I’m unsure how much of FSA manga is canon to adjuration (ik its not canon in LU shut up) but at the end we see very well that Shadow is still alive-ish.

Now hear me out: what if this is the same situation for Red? Alive, but no longer able to interact with the real world? Palace of the Four Sword lore from the Ravio cooking show?? put a pin in it we’re coming back later

““I think that creating a chain of alternative realities would be exactly the kind of thing I’d do to get them back. I think that I’d do whatever it takes, break whatever it takes, until all five of us, were together and home, and safe.” Green nods, and Vio knows that he has been overruled. “We go forward, into whatever fate awaits. We’re going to find who did this, and we’re going to kill them.””

Green doesn’t even ask Blue, now that i’m looking at it. that probably spurred a fight at some point off screen?? Also Vio mentioning five here!! and nobody questions it! I’m guessing they think Vio is out of it because Red is dead and that’s why nobody asked. remember this quote it’s going to be important later.

footnote 10: Green can’t lie? i’m gonna have to reread a bit to see that in a new light. Does Green actually want Shadow back? i hope so i think that would be cool.

“Vio nods. Wind can touch him. Wind is kind, Wind is safe. Wind is robed in blue and just as lovingly violent. Wind is a known quantity.”

Blue is also called a protector multiple times in this chapter and i think thats sweet. bittersweet, but sweet. stark contrast to Vio’s opinion in footnote 6 and between footnotes 3-4.vio honey the opinions aren’t staying in those boxes you made you need a U-haul.

footnote 11: i love these domestic colors moments they’re so. good

““I need you to get your shit together, can you do that for me?” Directions unclear, too broad.”

i am not going to make the joke i am Not going to make the joke

footnote 12: never even watched lttp gameplay but i looked it up just for this footnote. rosetta stone hylian edition real

footnote 13: seeing red. i see what you did there.

““...we lost Blue?” Not another, not a third, Vio can’t do this again, he can’t see that again.”

Green pea please be more specific you aren’t helping things. Considering that just a few paragraphs ago Vio was calling Blue their guardian, I would like to think that Vio is instantly going worst case scenario. and who can blame him, really?

footnote 14: heehoo shadow got thanos snapped, more trauma on the vio boat

footnote 15: I’m not sure how much minish cap is in Adjuration lore but him training at a young age makes him being picked to repair the picori blade more reasonable. because why else would you send a child into the wilderness without any help. he got like 2 years of training He’s Fine.

footnote 16: footnote 84 callback

“Wind is blue and water, and he feels just like a big brother should. (...) Green has his voice, has blown it away with his already made up mind.”

More elemental imagery for the colors! And its also being applied to Wind, who wears Blue, and is being compared to Blue.

footnote 17: i couldn’t find any reference of something called a ‘tracking hawk’ other than something that happens in twilight princess apparently? so maybe that’s what this is referencing.

footnote 18: hesitation to smash the Dark Mirror shaking hands with hesitation to put the Four Sword back in its pedestal? also your daily reminder that in the manga TINGLE contributes to why Vio didn’t smash the mirror

footnote 19: is this Blue perception in the memory? about the ice? maybe.

footnote 20: vio picture perfect memory canon.

“A flash of blue. Blue? No, Wind, screaming and disemboweling a moblin three times his size, an unmoving obstacle between Vio and what had been his certain death.”

From chapter 42: “The rest of them all be fucking damned, Wind is getting Vio out of this alive.”

just figured this little nod to that would be important to point out. Wind goes big brother mode and I’m here for it.

footnote 21: tragedy + time = comedy reference maybe? I figure Blue has had some time to cool down by killing monsters, so that’s probably why he’s able to muster a joke. if it was even on purpose

footnote 22: A field guide on first aid would honestly be really good for the colors/Link to know. especially if minish cap is fully in Adjuration canon. I don’t know how well Ezlo would be for administering hylian first aid in the field.

footnote 23: from FSA manga, vio: “Because I was ‘the smart one’ I thought I was always right. I learned ‘smart’ and ‘wise’ aren’t always the same’. Concussion is definitely going to put some struggle on the braincell.

footnote 24: Is Vio the only color capable of lying?

“Vio sighs, and melts into the warmth, the scent of the Dark. It is familiar and it is safe and he is free to go away.”

THE Dark? Implication that there’s only One Type, so. scratch whatever nonsense I was on earlier about there maybe being different types of Dark, ig. 

footnote 25: MINISH CAP MENTIONED!!!!!!!!!

footnote 26: more domestic color moments. Is their home labeled ‘four’? I’m assuming it is because there is an ‘r’ and ‘u’ and each color is painting 1 letter.

theory number three time: what the piss is going on at four’s house. from chapter 44: “Even still, Legend could swear that he saw the handle turn as he drops.” and then chapter 53: “Even still, Vio knows that he sees the door handle turn.” we have 2 inbetween footnotes to go through really quick and then we’re theorizing again.

footnote 27: more fodder for the theory of the colors just being their swords, I think!

footnote 28: wonder which of the colors is the most attuned to magic. maybe vio?

alright its THEORY NUMBER THREE FOR REAL TIME MOTHERFUCKERS THIS IS WHERE I GO CRAZY

“Something Dark and familiar crawls like a shiver up his spine.”

Vio knows Dark magic, okay I think we all understand that. He knows Twilight has Dark magic, the Dark Mirror was Dark magic, Shadow was Dark magic. what in the hell is dark magic inside the color’s home? no clue! this is where my theory comes in (it’s a two in one deal)

theory 3.1: Shadow is going to be revived at some point. The Dark magic is familiar to Vio because it’s Shadow, and Vio knows Shadow’s magic. Is Shadow playing tug of war with Dink to bring the colors home? How would he return from the dead? What time even is it in Four’s era at this 10 second pitstop? This is where I think that this is maybe during the late, LATE part of their adventure through time. but the gist is Shadow is somehow alive and is trying and failing to draw anything other than an uno reverse card. 

from chapter 45: ““Odd, that. It’s not like there’s anything interesting in there. We tore the whole place apart after the first time. It’s just a small town forge.””

we will bring this back up at the Ravio hour. everything comes up at the ravio hour.

theory 3.2: its Vio from the future. when we get to the Ravio Insanity I’ll get more into this, but we need to go back to this line from chapter 53: “I think that creating a chain of alternative realities would be exactly the kind of thing I’d do to get them back. I think that I’d do whatever it takes, break whatever it takes, until all five of us, were together and home, and safe.” Maybe this is Future Vio making good on his word. ripping apart time and space alike for a CHANCE to save Red.

footnote 29: legend is royalty Adjuration canon?

footnote 30: vio gaslighting hour, but he’s only gaslighting himself. from FSA manga Vio says: “But as a hero, I never strayed from my hopes and goals.” He calls himself a hero here, but then laments about it later. Plus he doesn’t seem happy during the whole confrontation sooooo

footnote 31: fourth edition hehehe

footnote 32: So Blue is to blame for the color’s haircut? I am so deep into brainworms I can’t remember if Four’s eyes changed colors or not.

““He’s got like thirty books crammed in here, where has he been getting them all?””

i love Green and Blue doing their best to bring Vio back to them. rise and shine gamer you need to read your concussion away.

footnote 33: existential crisis from footnote 27

footnote 34: excellent word choice Blue

“Vio pulls the book up, out of the bag and into his lap. It’s heavy and leather bound, with a metalwork crescent moon on the cover. A present from Ravio. (...) Ravio who insists at some point in their future, Vio will want to shatter a Light spell.”

remember theory 1? about Red not being dead? here’s more food for this theory. Four is also called the Hero of Light. A Light Spell. The Four Sword is made to cleave through the darkness (chapter 52). To shatter a Light Spell might be them trying to bring Red back from limbo. if he is in limbo. i hope he’s just in limbo.

“His brothers are both in their usual positions relative to him when they sit like this, the empty space where Red ought to be gaping like a wound.” 

you did not have to hurt me like this

footnote 35: Dark Mirror related trauma hours part TWO!!!!

footnote 36: and then it pivots right back from me tearing up to cackling about Shadow and Vio antics. I wonder what word Vio said here to make Shadow confused.

footnote 37: looking at shattering a Light Spell. looking at the magic of the Four Sword. if the Light spell Vio wants to shatter really is Red’s sword, the fact that Four is a blacksmith just might be what saves the situation

“The book is tugged from his hands and Blue’s own, cold and calloused, take hold.”

Are Blue’s hands permanently cold from being frozen? I know there’s been ice and water imagery in the past with Blue but this would be neat. Also did Blue and Green also see the note Ravio left (Don’t let anyone but you Four see this) and that’s why Blue is taking the book away?

footnote 38: we love character insight!! we love link knowing that a custom product tailored to the horse is better than a one size fits all mold!! hell yeah!

“Vi watches as Blue’s expression ices over.”

More ice imagery, this time with Wind present! Wind is sticking up for Vio like the big brother he is. And from chapter 45 we know that Wind most likely just finished telling Sky off about not being okay, too, so he is just picking up Red’s place as therapist I guess!

39: more important possible minish cap or just adventure in general books to have read

“Wind is curled into the front of him, blankets tangled up in the boy’s legs. Vio twists in place, spinning to face Blue. His brother is still in his sleep, face softer than it ever is when he’s conscious. Red’s sword creating a barrier between them, laid in its scabbard (Blue’s scabbard, they have to get him a new one just for him now) on the bedding, Blue’s fingers held fast to the hilt. Where’s Green?”

I skimmed through chapter 45-46 and I didn’t see any mention of where Green is at this point so I’m not sure where he is. But Wind is in on the cuddling and I’m here for it. And also… Red’s sword is still in the pile. Is there symbolism behind Red’s sword being between Vio and Blue? About how Blue is using the voice reserved for Red for Vio, now?

footnote 40: thinking this is pre minish cap, I think link already has a scabbard when he starts that journey.

“The boy gently presses them to Vio’s temples, and it is warm and loving and wild and red.”

All of those adjectives are applicable to Red. food for thought.

“Vio looks back down at the book in his hands. Not Ravio’s, good. His brothers aren’t that stupid, thank Hylia.”

So here I think the other colors have seen the note Ravio left them. I don’t know if they’ve discussed anything about it or not. or maybe they don’t know and its only Vio?

footnote 41: concussion

footnote 42: book (yeah I don’t have much to say for these two footnotes)

“The fire is warm and the floor is hard under his shoulder blades as he stares up at the ceiling, Blue on one side, Wind on the other.”

Wind is shoving Green out of the equation I think. I feel like this animosity will probably become important later but so far I don’t think anythings happened.

footnote 43: I know nothing about coffee so I really don’t know what this footnote is about, but Red is precious as always.

footnote 44: BODY LANGUAGE FOR DUMMIES i cackled when i saw that

“Green visibly chews that idea over in his mind, probably working overtime to have an original thought.” Compared to chapter 46: “Green frowns, starting to mentally replay every interaction that he has had with Legend. The universe, or fate, or… Hylia, maybe the Goddess herself decides that that is enough thinking for him today, because that is when the portal opens.”

footnote 45: “Not that Shadow's pressence here is strange, but for the first time, Vio didn't sense him coming. The alarms didn't start going off. He was woken by a physical touch, not warned seconds before by the indescribable feeling of wrong that slithers up his spine whenever this boy gets too close.”

WE ARE GOING TO BE COMING BACK TO THIS FOOTNOTE KEEP IT IN YOUR BRAINS FOLKS

footnote 46: Sky is arguing with Green, and then it references the downfall of Skyloft. beans

footnote 47: arson is the answer. arson is always the answer.

““Walk away before I break your nose again.” His protector says this as casually as if he were listing off how many nails they needed to make that week.”

Blue is (as the quote says) protecting Vio here. which is sweet. Blue broke Green’s nose back at the ranch (chapter 46)

footnote 48: Dark Mirror shattering reference? I wonder how long after the adventure this is. Also we know one set of the footsteps is Blue, but who’s the other? 

footnote 49: A feeling of something Dark, something wrong slithers with a shiver up his spine. Vio looks up, and sihloutted in the moonlight, there is a boy in a tree.

WE’RE COMING BACK TO THIS ONE TOO.

footnote 50: honestly surprised its not a plastic plant but this is arguably funnier

““Hyrule says a big fight is heading our way. We aren’t going to be able to keep you out of it.””

We’re at chapter 47 now!

footnote 51: considering how Easy the bow is to use in FSA this footnote makes a lot of sense.

footnote 52: multivariable calculus and ‘simple straightforward’ do not belong in the same sentence vio what the shit.

footnote 53: in the manga vio is shown to load 2 arrows at once, so yeah archery being preferred makes sense to me!

footnote 54: blacksmith fun!

footnote 55: god i fucking hate geometry all my homies hate geometry

footnote 56: MINISH!!!!

footnote 57: john mulaney reference?? also grandpa and the colors! wonder where Four’s father went

“Vio nearly laughs at the realization that all of that pain and suffering could have been avoided if they had simply gone through in pieces every time. And he’s supposed to be the smart one.”

They’ve been through a few portals since Red’s death by now, so the fact that he’s only noticing this now speaks volumes to how… mm, withdrawn into himself he’s been.

“Vio stares at the portal itself, considering. Hyrule made this. He didn’t know that was something that one of them could just do. (...) Vio slides his hand into his own pack, feeling around until he makes contact with the book Ravio gave him, finger tracing delicately around the thin ornamentation. All this time, he has had the directions for non-paradoxical time travel literally in his fucking pocket.”

hey remember theory 3.2? this might be where Vio gets the idea that he can do this sort of thing.

revision glowmin here: for some reason footnote 58 got deleted. So here it is! Vio does in fact look smug.

““How long have you known that Red was going to die?” Vio aks, voice as hard and unfeeling as stone.”

More earth elemental imagery for Vio!

“Ravio flinches, not meeting Vio’s stare. “The eighth,” he practically whispers, as if confessing to a crime.”

I know I mentioned this in my Ravio Board Analysis but the Link To Ravio timeline traveling being nonlinear makes my brain hurt and I cry. 

footnote 59: Vio would forgo reading to watch Blue and Vio spar (?) so you know its good stuff

““So don’t. Because I’m sorry Legend, but I’m going to have to kill your husband now.” Blue says this as gently and steady as a summer rain.”

graduated cylinder homophobia

footnote 60: the stark comparison between Blue’s playful sparring with green (footnote 59) and the dance fight with Red (this footnote) really makes him going for Legend look like murder. which. was the point but you know what I mean

footnote 61: I am 90% sure this scene happens right after Shadow disguises himself as Vio in order to get the other colors to actually fight Vaati effectively. We don’t see which direction Shadow leaves and Vio enters from, but it is possible that its the same direction. and the next time we see Shadow he is limping, so,,,, yeah.

“(...) Blue flips his grip on Red’s sword and slams the pommel into Legend’s nose, which Legend answers with a shield bash of his own right to his brother’s face. Vio hopes it hurts.”

This strikes me as a bit odd since Vio has been calling Blue ‘protector’ and ‘guardian’ throughout this chapter, albeit with pauses of dismissing him for brashness. Perhaps its because of the note Ravio left in that book, and the knowledge that in the future he wants to shatter a Light spell? And in order to do that Ravio must still be alive, so that’s my reasoning on why Vio wants Blue to hurt.

footnote 62: MINISH CAP MENTIONED also this must be before the minish cap journey because I think after that any attempt to say Link is ‘too old for that nonsense’ is thrown out the window.

footnote 63: vidow (metal pipe sound effect)

““Captain,” he says, walking over to him first. “This is from him.” (...) A room full of eyes on him, Vio tears open the envelope and carefully pulls out the single scrap of paper. (...) ‘You’re going to have to trust me, Violet. And you’re going to have to prove you’re as good a liar as he says you are. I’m trying to help all Five of you. -Not a hypocrite, either.’”

WE’RE HERE ITS TIME FOR THE THEORIES TO COME ROLLING. YOU REMEMBER THE FOOTNOTES I TOLD YOU TO REMEMBER? THEY’RE COMING IN NOW.

back to back here we have the mentioning of a ‘he/him’. I think its pretty clear that when Ravio is addressing Warriors, he’s referring to Wind in the future. Wind hasn’t gone to the War of Eras yet, and he gets called some weather nicknames in chapter 52 (“That crazy little hurricane who knew more than any person should, and was drowning in the weight of all that unwanted wisdom.” (...) “kidnapping people like my poor self and that damn riptide.”)

So that begs the question: who is the ‘he’ Ravio is mentioning in his letter to Vio? Is this future Wind? I see two possibilities, and so I raise you theory 3.2.1: Wind is the one who is helping future Vio rip holes in the fabric of time. You remember right before footnote 10, where Vio mentions five instead of four? Maybe this is where Wind would get the ‘five’ from when describing things to Ravio. Not super important I think but it is absolutely worth mentioning.

now I hope you’re ready for my insanity folks!

The line ‘not a hypocrite either’ leads me to believe that Ravio is referring to himself and Legend. Ravio is Legend’s dark world counterpart, just as Shadow is Four’s. To imply that he is not a hypocrite means that Ravio knows of Shadow’s existence. More than that, he knows of Vio and Shadow’s relationship. 

Now I’ve reread Adjuration 3x now and Legend has completed the Palace of the Four Sword (chapter 24: “I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Legend’s mouth moves faster than his brain for once in his life, and he winces, but goes with it. “I knew I recognized that damn sword.”) My running theory is that perhaps the Palace of the Four Sword being in the Dark World is what could possibly lead to Shadow being revived. let me explain.

in the board of madness of chapter 49, we get the timeline of the visits. Chapter 49 is visit 8 for Ravio. It is the only one thats black. For Ravio, he apparently learns who Shadow is BEFORE he learns who Red is. The visit for when he learns about Shadow (visit 8 ravio visit 6 links) is yet to happen in Adjuration. There’s 1 more visit between visit 2 ravio visit 8 links (visit 6 ravio visit 7 links) so SOMETHING is going to happen between the next 2 visits, i guarantee it. My theory? Control is going to be waived from Dink (if only slightly) and he is going to Get Pissed. More on that later but first: who’s at the forge.

Each time Shadow’s magic/Dark magic is addressed by Vio, it is done in a similar way. Chapter 53: “The power of them thrums, climes up Vio’s spine in a way that is so very familiar.” “Something Dark and familiar crawls like a shiver up his spine.” “He was woken by a physical touch, not warned seconds before by the indescribable feeling of wrong that slithers up his spine whenever this boy gets too close.” “A feeling of something Dark, something wrong slithers with a shiver up his spine.”

Every. Single. Time. Dark magic is either called ‘familiar’ or ‘wrong’, and it sometimes causes Vio to shiver. There is some force of Dark magic attempting to bring the chain to Four’s forge. It is that line about it being familiar when they drop in their most recent visit that leads me to believe that it is Shadow. How is it Shadow? Freyja confirmed that Shadow is 100% dead at the end of the events of the manga, so we know he’s dead. I have almost zero basis for this but I have a Theory (this logic is solely going off of the “Entity in the Forge” vibes).

In chapter 24, we get insight on the Palace of the Four Sword from Legend. “Don’t think about where he saw it the first time, don’t picture Four like that , don’t think about the malice and the stench of death, the black magic and the hatred rolling off the blade in waves. Fight now. Panic later.”

Is there a difference between black magic and Dark magic? I don’t know enough Zelda lore to say for certain. What we do know is that Legend is from Four’s future. Time travel confusion aside, in a Link to the Past, there is a copy of Red. What I think is going on here is that the Palace of the Four Sword being in the Dark World is perhaps a catalyst to revive Shadow. He came from the Dark Mirror after all; surely that much Dark magic in one place would be good for this sort of thing? The hatred is a bit concerning but I think a little anger is good as a treat.

How does he get back to his proper time period? Cia’s spellbook, I think. I truly honestly 85% believe that the tug of war here is between Shadow and Dink/the Yiga Clan. From tumblr, we have the list of the chain as follows: Sky, Four, Red, Green, Blue, Vio, Time, Legend, Hyrule, Wind, Twilight, Warriors, Wild, and then a redaction of a member.

(brief pause by revision glowmin here: the distinction of Four being different than the RGBV is a neat detail)

As far as I know there’s only a few options that this 14th Link could be. It could be the link from Spirit Tracks; unless Adjuration Wind also has that adventure. It could possibly be the Ancient hero from BOTW, the one shown on the tapestry and then in the Hero’s Aspect in TOTK. It could be the first ever Link, the one before Sky. Or it could be Shadow. I don’t think any of these four options deal with Dark magic other than Shadow.

There’s also my other theory that it’s Vio (and possibly Future Wind?). Vio has already made it clear that he will do whatever it takes (confirmed by freyja via tumblr: “Vio is willing to get his hands dirty. Vio is willing to shatter fragile things. Vio has nothing left to loose.”) I’ll bet my stockpile of gummy worms that the other 15% is this scenario. (“He doesn’t need to. For the five of them, there is no price too high, no cost too great. He’s going to do whatever it takes.”)

(revision glowmin again. no cost too great? hollow knight moment.)

Now let’s talk about the Yiga Clan for a bit. I want to strangle them like a wet sock. They’re like the Eyes of Ganon that Hyrule talks about sometimes. I know little about them, but the point is that their goals are the same: kill the hero to revive Ganon. For the Eyes, its Hyrule, because they need his blood. For the Yiga Clan, it’s Wild, because… well, he killed Ganon and its revenge time.

I think the reason the Yiga Clan are so against the chain being in Four’s era for more than a few seconds (other than the fact that they’re not the ones taking the chain there) is related to Ravio’s thesis. “His era might not be poison to Darkness the way that Sky’s is, but it’s too closely guarded.”

If the chain wind up in Four’s era, and the Yiga can’t wrangle them back, Dink might lost control of the ordeal. For the most part it seems like he’s been the one picking and choosing where the portals will lead the heroes. (“The Captain arches an eyebrow, “Who are the other players?” / “Hylia, The Yiga clan, and Hyrule, though he has hesitated to take his turns, for starters.””)If he lost that control, I feel like it would be a spiral of madness as he goes off script to get them back under his thumb.

For the silly, how I’ve been coping with the angst has been that Red and Shadow are 2 ghosts following the Chain around and just watching all this shit go down. Canon? 99% sure that’s not the case, but it sure would be funny! i drew a little something to commemorate this coping mechanism.

okay. ramblings and thoerizationings are over (I probably repeated myself way too much). tldr: there’s plausible cause for the dark entity at Four’s forge to be Shadow, but it could also possibly be Vio from the future/near the end of the journey. Whoever it is, they’re threatening to remove some of Dink’s control of the situation and that might Escalate Conflict. The Palace of the Four Sword is important to a possible Red revival (and maybe Shadow)! I am never going to emotionally recover from this.

back to your regularly scheduled analysis that is probably going to go off the walls again.

footnote 64: again: if Four had been named Bob and not Link, would the Minish have had to pick a different hero? I wonder what reasoning Four’s father had for naming him after the king, anyways.

footnote 65: Ravio and Legend’s dynamics being directly related to Vio and Shadow. More correlation of Ravio saying he’s ‘not a hypocrite either’.

footnote 66: domestic color antics. Blue screaming that he’s going to kill Red, starkly contrasting with how Blue reacted when Red actually died. We know that Blue was exaggerating here in the flashback but it’s here, so its getting mentioned.

“Vio gets up, leaving them to it in order to get a better view of Ravio’s notes. It’s not hard to follow. The Timeline in the middle, their lives in bullet points on one end, their visits to this era in history on the other.”

Vio sweetie I don’t understand the visits to the Ravio Center. at least he gets it so good for him I guess.

“Wind marches over, frowning. “What are you - oh.” The sailor frowns as he takes it all in. “Why is my name all over this?” / Green blinks. “That’s what I was asking you.””

The revisitation of the animosity growing between Green and Wind! 

footnote 67: Not sure when this flashback takes place, but I’m assuming its shortly after Shadow’s death?

footnote 68: There is a lot of. unrest in the chain because of Red’s death. Twilight gets outed as Wolfie, the colors are in shambles, Green and Wind are fighting, Twilight and Wild are not having good terms, the Fierce Deity is brought out, etc etc it is a Shit Show.

rapid fire footnote time

footnote 69: Legend just said that he might not stop Blue from killing Ravio this time. This is, of course, comparable to how the last thing Vio said to Red was to spit in his face. which is what this footnote is a recap of.

footnote 70: projection moment

footnote 71: Shadow gets blasted to bits

footnote 72: I believe this is a callback to footnote 48

footnote 73: More broken glass imagery back to back. Vio pointing out that for the next two visits that happen for Ravio is going to be when he possibly learns who Shadow is, and a better understanding of Red. I think. the timeline of the Ravio Hours hurts my head.

footnote 74: WHO IS THE HE. we already went over this but I’m bringing it up again. Wind or Shadow, I’m placing my bets.

footnote 75: Red again reassuring Vio about Shadow, and about how they all would like him back. Which is, again, making Vio spitting at Red right before he dies all the worse.

footnote 76: “Green on the other hand, feels nothing but the desire to get this over with.” Now that I’ve given it more thought, I don’t think this is ‘hee hoo Green is Diet Link’. I think Green is still feeling unnerved about it (see footnote 1), but its perhaps muddled over him trying to keep the others from backing out.

footnote 77: of course vio knows statistics

footnote 78: Vio calling himself a traitor here, I think is an implication of how he considers himself a villain but… if he’s a traitor to Shadow, who is the ‘villain’ here, at the very least it’s morally grey territory. i think. i don’t know man

footnote 79: I believe this also happens right after footnote 48

footnote 80: Okay but the fact that this is ‘twice will happen thrice’. This has happened twice to Vio (Shadow and Red). The third time would be Ravio.

footnote 81: Wind specifically being mentioned here is important I think. I don’t know why its important but it feels important. especially since he was the one who stood up to Green.

footnote 82: crying

“Vio freezes, words going still in his throat as they choke him. He’s getting overly emotional. He’s getting worked up. His feelings are trying to exhume themselves.”

I feel like this is a direct callback to the start of the chapter. Vio says that he can put all his emotions into boxes to save them for when he becomes One. I think the boxes are beginning to overflow.

footnote 84: another continuation of footnote 48, 72, and 79 I think.

footnote 85: Vio throwing shade at Green

footnote 86: blue performed a whoopsies

footnote 87: Derealization moment I think. Which honestly, yeah with all the screaming going on in this scene I can. yeah.

“Vio turns and sees Wild, lowering a serving tray down, upon which rests four cups full of steaming tea.”

Four cups, but I think in this case the four are Vio, Blue, Green, and Sky. I don’t think there’s anyone else in this part of the conversation. 

footnote 88: IMPORTANT!! IMPORTANT SHIT HERE!! SOUND THE ALARMS. Not only is it a title drop, but we also have Shadow beginning to understand that he can be more than just one thing. He was created by Ganon to be evil, yes, but then in the manga Zelda tells him that he is as much a hero as the colors are. I think this is a scene that will come into play later if the entity at the forge is in fact Shadow. or if there’s any future Shadow related plot points.

footnote 89: I think Vio might be the only color capable of lying. In chapter 53 we hear that Blue nor Green can (or are good at) lying. Red being able to lie isn’t brought up, but I’d assume it to be the same scenario.

footnote 90: quote straight out of the manga

“Everyone else moves an instant after Legend’s fist crashes into Wild’s eye, to pull them apart or join in the fight, Vio isn’t sure.” 

Here we learn that Legend punches Wild! I’m pretty sure this is where his knuckles get injured, and its the wound Hyrule’s blood heals.

footnote 91: Shadow dies and then Ganon shows up, so it is… a situation, that’s for sure! Unless Adjuration takes a different spin on that part of the manga. Vio calling himself a villain again is also important because he does not define himself as a hero.

““I’m not letting go of Red,” Blue says, as passive a threat as a sheet of ice above a turbulent river. “Take me if you need to, but not Red.””

It seems like all of the colors understand now that they are (?) their swords. He’s telling Warriors to take himself, but not Red, in reference to disarming. Also, more ice and water symbolism!

footnote 92: ‘singular point of light’. I feel like this might be a contribution to shattering a Light spell

footnote 93: fire imagery for Red!

footnote 94: IT WAS THE WORD FOUR. okay good I wasn’t tripping. I think the black paint here is for Shadow. And since its Link doing this, I think that it is proof that its not just Vio who wants Shadow back but rather All the colors.

footnote 95: callbacks to all the training flashbacks of Link and his father, I think

footnote 96: Ravio says that Four does not fail, and then the footnote is a flashback of him failing to exist after merging back together for the first time. short king stay winning

footnote 97: MINISH CAP MENTIONED. but also ‘happy and warm and safe and red’.... more Red imagery

footnote 98: I think this must be shortly before the adventure begins. Link isn’t split, but he knows that he is able to. So it has to be after the Four Sword is removed from the seal, but before the journey starts else he’d probably be addressed as Four here.

““But we keep going there, so it’s not entirely out of the running?” Warriors asks, trying to make sense of the plot. / “It wasn’t, but it is now.” Ravio sighs. “Dink isn’t sending you there, he isn’t going there if he can help it. The risks far outweigh the benefits.”

refer back to my deranged ramblings about Dink losing a smidgen of control of the situation in regards to this quote.

footnote 99: More wondering of how Ravio learns there’s 5 instead of 4. It’s not mentioned in the Palace of the Four Sword as far as I’m aware

footnote 100: again I am pointing at my deranged ramblings above.

footnote 101: In comparison to Green wanting to get it over with, Link being entirely in agreement to split again here is important. The seal will hold for years, they have time to exist. Why spend that time needlessly suffering?

footnote 102: I would ALSO like to know what happened to the Four Sword Ravio. also cute nickname hours and domestic color times.

footnote 103: MINISH CAP CALLBACK to Zelda and Link being childhood friends. It’s also a FS manga callback but shhhh

““The fate of the Four Sword is not relevant to the mission at hand… Captain.””

The hesitation here. I think it means something. I feel as if its to be directed at someone else (maybe Vio?) that this point of the story isn’t important yet.

footnote 104: And here’s the distinction between Four and the colors, in the 14 links guide.

footnote 105: Green is not Diet Link and we all will die on this hill

“One revelation at a time, Ravio chips away at the stone of Vio’s heart.”

More earth elemental imagery for Vio

footnote 106: (we did it we made it to the last one holy shit.) and of course the last footnote is domestic color moments, and its just… so bittersweet.

““Hey Vio? Can you finish this for me?” Ravio calls him back to the real world. He’s kneeling over a small pile of books, pointing to the righted bookcase by the front door. “I need to check on someone.””

This is absolutely done on purpose. “Between History of Masks and Hytopian History of High Fashion, entirely unassuming, is Cia’s spellbook.” There is absolutely zero way that this part, getting Vio to see Cia’s book here, was not intentionally orchestrated by Ravio.

“What this Palace could be Vio has no idea, yet he thinks the answer to both questions might be one and the same.”

alright we did it. we finished the play by play. a few wrap up thoughts and then class is dismissed.

ranking my theories based on how probable I think they are.

1: Shadow is the one at the forge.

2: Wind and Green’s animosity is going to become a key point later on.

3: The ‘he’ mentioned in Ravio’s letter to Vio is Shadow.

4: The ‘he’ mentioned in Ravio’s letter to Vio is Wind from after the War of Ages.

5: Future Vio is the one at the forge.

6: Future Vio is being assisted by future Wind at the forge.

7: Cia’s spellbook is going to corrupt the colors, leading to the versions of the colors that Legend fights. Could possibly be an alternate timeline

8: The Palace of the Four Sword was put in the Dark World by malicious forces to keep the chain from getting something important out of there.

overall this chapter absolutely demolished my mental state metaphorically and literally. revision glowmin will return at a later time to maybe make this more coherent but I unfortunately sold my braincell already. i heart adjuration but it needs to start paying rent.

[lesbiankimdahyun]

can we have a sneak peek at the alphas!minayeon fic you were writing 🫣

I'll do you one better-- here's the full prologue <3

OUT OF OFFICE: PROLOGUE

1.8K words

CW: A/B/O Dynamics

A/N: my first comeback with TWICE was Eyes Wide Open, so WEV’s name is homage to that album 🥺 

also CARATS forgive me for making wonwoo the p2 ceo, im one of u!!

[A!Mina x A!Nayeon]

Nayeon squinted at her computer screen, reading the words in front of her again carefully to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood. 

“The AI allegations? Why the fuck is she talking about that?” Nayeon leaned back in her office chair for a moment in disbelief, the online article she’d been reading still displayed on her desktop monitor. “That fucking journalist, doing exactly as I asked her not to…” The Alpha let out a frustrated huff, resting her chin in her hand for a moment while she thought. “And only someone with exceptionally shitty media training would even think of saying– ” she sat up straight suddenly, cutting off her own thoughts. “Oh…” She reached for the corded phone on her desk and quickly punched a few numbers in. She hit the speaker button, then sat back and waited. 

The phone rang. And rang. Nayeon sighed, fidgeting with the hair tie pulling back her long, light brown hair. “I know you’re in the office, Myoui,” she said under her breath. Finally, the other end picked up. 

“Ah, Nayeon…”

“Mina! I thought you might be in today,” Nayeon said, mustering up a fake, cheerful tone. “The article is out,” she said pointedly, drumming her fingers on her desk slowly. “Have you seen it?”

The woman on the other end cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Yes,” she said, her voice dropping in volume. 

“You know, I liked it,” Nayeon said, nodding her head as if Mina could see her on the other end of the line. “Until I saw the headline. And the first paragraph. And the way the entire article got derailed by the one thing I made that reporter swear up and down they wouldn’t bring up. Tell me there’s no way you’d comment on our competitor’s deep legal shit when your gaming company is doing bigger, better things, right? You wouldn’t comment, not when you’ve been working for the past four years to get this game– this particular game that you first started dreaming of creating in high school– out the door, right?” Nayeon paused for just a moment in case Mina wanted to get a word in, but the other end of her line was dead silent. 

Nayeone exhaled  sharply. “Instead of building hype for the game, now all anyone’s going to notice is the fact that you’re quoted in here saying…” The Alpha swiveled back over to her computer screen. “And this is your direct quote, Myoui: ‘Only someone as naive as PixelPulse’s CEO [Jeon Wonwoo] would have been stupid enough to believe he’d never get caught cutting corners by only using AI instead of real humans to test gameplay analytics and user interface’,” Nayeon read. “‘AI doesn’t test play with epileptic people in mind and now they’re the ones paying the price. I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, the fact that it happened in the first place, or that he hasn’t resigned yet,’” she let out a quick sigh after she finished the last line of the quote. “Mina,” Nayeon said exasperatedly, “You wouldn’t believe the numbers those quotes of yours are doing online right now. Can you please tell me what happened when you spoke with the reporter?”

Nayeon could hear Mina’s rapidly growing panic on the other line, as if she was just hearing for the first time what had been printed. “I- we were just chatting casually at the start of the interview... I didn’t think she would remember–” 

A beeping sound cut off the end of Mina’s sentence. 

“Shit,” Nayeon said, holding her head in her hand and rubbing her forehead. “I have the SVP of Strategic Comms on the other line. Don’t leave for the day until we connect again,” Nayeon said, then hung up her call with Mina. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for a moment, then hit accept on the call waiting. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

 An hour later, one of the worst press team calls of Nayeon’s career was over. She had survived, but barely. When it ended, she kept her office door shut and closed her window blinds slowly. She slowly paced around the rectangular room and stress-cried for a few minutes, allowing herself to sit in her overwhelm and frustration. When she’d had enough, she sat down in her office chair and pulled out her phone, swiping through her apps for a moment. She tapped on one of her favorites: an app connected to the doggy cam she had set up so she could check in on her beloved furry source of joy, Kookeu.

She smiled as the tiny pomeranian’s image came up on her phone screen. The dogwalker always left him with a food puzzle after his afternoon walk, and as expected, Kookeu was up and walking around in the kitchen, using his nose and paws to roll a round, purple food toy that dispensed individual bits of kibble when they fell through the holes at just the right angle. He got one out, and Nayeon turned up the volume to hear the tiny crunching noises Kookeu made as he ate it. 

She sighed softly, satisfied that at least someone’s day was going well, and closed the app. Then Nayeon got up. It was time to speak with her new full-time press project: Wide-Eyed Variant Gaming Founder and Director of Engineering, Myoui Mina. 

The farther Nayeon got away from the “hands-off” side of the company’s building and closer to the side Mina frequented, she noticed a severe spike in the number of monitors people had on their desks. It was well after 5:00 now, but she was relieved to see the lights still on in Mina’s large corner office. Relieved– but weirdly nervous. She didn’t like needing to track people down or give feedback people didn’t want to hear. And Mina’s elusive, quiet temperament made it somehow harder. 

She knocked lightly on the open office door. “Mina,” she said, letting herself in. “Thank you for sticking around. I’m sorry for being so…high strung earlier.”

Mina looked up from her four screen display nervously despite also brimming with annoyance. She couldn’t believe this day: to be the founder of her own company and yet now, in this moment, she felt more like a student that had been asked to stay after class. 

To her credit, the Japanese woman was brilliant, and she and Nayeon both knew it. Mina had received her bachelor’s degree in computer science and a master’s in software engineering from some of the best programs internationally; she was a gamer from the moment she developed consciousness, really. She made the papers when she launched her company, Wide-Eyed Variants, fresh out of undergrad from her childhood home, and made headlines again when she was still able to be the director of its engineering department while going back to school full-time for her master’s. 

She’d been profiled a few times by both gaming and arts and culture outlets, had hit a number of 30 under 30 lists, and even had a few op-eds ghostwritten for her in household name outlets like Forbes and The New York Times. The games Wide-Eyed Variant produced were so popular today that they hardly needed any advertising. Even other game series with heavy cult followings like The Legend of Zelda and Animal Crossing always fell short of the consumer-related numbers Wide-Eyed Variant could pull. And from the outside, she made her journey and career look totally effortless. It was no wonder she was considered a person of interest and expert in the gaming field, and that journalists constantly wanted to talk to her. But that’s why Nayeon was here. Mina’s only downfall was the media and being in the spotlight. The Japanese Alpha often got nervous while being interviewed. There was something so scary about consenting to being “on the record” to her, and even though she wasn’t a huge talker, any sign of the little red recording button tended to make her a little too chatty. 

Mina did her best to push her anxious thoughts away and braced herself for what Nayeon would have to say about it all.

“Relax, we’re fixing this,” Nayeon said, as if reading Mina’s mind. She closed Mina’s office door behind her and took a seat in one of the tan leather chairs reserved for guests across from Mina’s desk. “Crisis comms is doing damage control online and legal is working overtime in case PixelPulse comes for us with a defamation or libel case. But you should know…” Nayeon leaned in a little, her face becoming serious. “General Counsel Park Jihyo told me to tell you she’s actually going to need to speak with you like, immediately. She’s on her way down right now, she said this just couldn’t be done over the phone.”

Mina nearly jumped out of her chair. “WHAT??” 

Nayeon’s face broke into a grin and she crossed her arms. “So worth it,” she said to herself. Then, looking up at Mina, she said, “Ah, I’m sorry, that was a bad joke. I promise Counsel Park isn’t storming down here right now.” 

Mina let out a shaky breath, crumpling a bit in her seat. “What the hell, Nayeon! Don’t do that.”

Nayeon chuckled. “I won’t do it again,” she said, her smile slowly fading. “You’re safe from her wrath of legalese, but you’re not safe from me. Strategic Comms wants you to go through media training.” 

Mina couldn’t help but make a face. Hadn’t she done enough of that? “But… I already did…” 

Nayeon nodded. “Yes, you did. But that was before I joined this company. And I’m sure the training you had with whoever back then was fine. They just want you to…” Nayeon uncrossed her arms and waved her hand. “You know, refresh a few skills, maybe learn a new one or two. Plus, this will give me a chance to make sure the rest of my comms and digital teams have the most accurate sense of your voice going forward.” 

“Oh please,” Mina said, unable to hide her annoyance anymore. “Everyone is overreacting, I’m not that bad, really! This instance was– this—” 

Nayeon let out a laugh. “You’ve lost your privileges to say you’re ‘not that bad.’ At least not until we get you a better quote in another outlet,” she said. “Look, just a few media training sessions with me, and then Strategic Comms will get off my back, and I’ll get off yours. Okay?” 

Mina fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Why does it feel like I don’t actually have a choice in this?” 

Nayeon offered a weak smile. “Because you don’t. But thank you for being so willing.” Nayeon stood up, pushing in her chair as she turned to leave. “I spoke to your scheduler, by the way,” she said, opening the office door. “Plan on getting a few calendar invites from me soon.”