#also I’m SO EXCITED TO SEE THE CHARACTER CREATOR

[recordingmae]

JJK men x reader

you do the ‘calling my ex to say goodnight’ trend and see their reactions!

characters; Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen.

Might do another version!

Author; I’m actually so excited about this little Drabble! I think the trend is actually so cute and it definitely brings relationships back together😭 also this is a lil test for my writing for Megumi! let me know what your think and my Requests are OPEN!! Also sorry but yes this took me 3 freaking days to write

Satoru, G.

being a Tik tok creator was rather easy- but sometimes it did lead you to make some nerve-wracking decisions.

You propped your phone up against a small stack of books on the coffee table as you leaned back into the leather coach.

Your hands gripped a bit tighter around the home phone as it Rang. Holding back your shy giggles in front of the camera.

after about 2 more seconds you hear a voice, his voice, and your stomach slightly drops as he answers.

“Heyo!”

you stay silent for a moment before taking in a deep breath. A little scared to find out if he sounded so normal because he didn’t remember your home phone number, or if he knew it was you calling.

“Hey um what are you up to?”

a pause hanged in the air.

and your heart skipped a beat as your audibly hears his breath hitch.

“Ummmm im sitting on the coach right now’ was about to watch a show or something…what about you?”

his voice was calm but to you- you noticed how his voice only sounded like that when he was nervous or taken off guard.

“oh I was just calling to say goodnight”

You muted yourself as fast as you could and let out the heaviest sigh as you look at the camera mouthing a ‘imsoscared’

“…YOUR CALLING ME TO SAY GOODNIGHT???”

you hear gojo practically yell into the phone and you just unmute yourself.

“Yeah is that bad or something?”

“NO- I mean no it’s fine just…unexpected”

“yeah well I just felt like calling you and saying that”

holy shit you were fighting every urge in your body to let out a shriek as you heard his next line-

“You should’ve called earlier now I’m gonna stay up all night thinking about this”

He also didn’t mean to tell you that, but everything felt surreal. As you looked over at your still recording phone you watched as the video was about to end so you rushed your next sentence out.

“ok good! Think about me all you want! BYE!!”

you pushed the hang up button before launching yourself towards your phone, laughing hysterically.

he hand his mouth wide open as he ran a hand through his hair. God really did answer his prayers.

Toji, F.

it was late at night when your ‘son’ , Megumi had been bothering you to give a certain someone a call.

Despite Megumi not being your biological son, you helped raise him for a good 5 years, which made you play a pretty big part in his life while you were dating his father. Toji.

being there for the two of them, helping both of them resolve conflicts between each other, and healing parts of them that they didn’t even know were broken were just a few things you did for them. Until you started to get busy with school and Toji was getting more busy with work.

Neither of you made time for each other and ultimately that led to your divorce. Now you just have Megumi every other weekend, and are more than welcoming towards him- after all, serving as a mother figure to a boy who relied on you came with its responsibilities.

with that, you saw how megumi had a fight with his dad over something stupid. Like always. So now you have to be the middle man and try to resolve it.

However instead of being serious about the situation you told Megumi about a prank you saw on Tik tok that you’d want to do on Toji. Surprisingly, Megumi was rather supportive of the prank and urged you to do it.

Megumi sat on the other end of the coach watching the phone as it rang from your hand. You nibbled on your lip as you watched your dim screen light up once he answered.

no hello came from him, but a hum instead.

“oh hey Fushiguro”

his heart strings tugged as you called him that, remembering how he’s no longer your ‘Toji’.

“why are ya’ callin’”

“oh I just wanted to wish you a good night!”

Your eyes darted to Megumi for a reaction- hoping he was satisfied.

“….do ya’ know who your calling???”

“Yes! I literally said your name in the beginning”

“o—kay but I mean ya’ never call me to say that sorta stuff”

You heard the tension in his voice. You also saw Megumi’s averted gaze.

“well I kinda felt like it. Matter fact, me and Meg’s both wanted to wish you a good night!” You said cheerfully as you moved closer to your ‘son’.

throwing an arm over his shoulder as you held the phone between the two of you.

Toji sighed, but the type sigh you let out when you have a huge ass grin on your face.

“I wish the two of ya’ a good night too.”

“yeah…we’ll sleep well! Right Megs!”

“sure” Megumi spoke softly but a small smile was evident in his face.

“Oh an ma’— call me once the kids asleep.”

with that Toji hung up, probably feeling prideful and giddy.

Megumi was confused yet was eager to oblige in order to see what would happen.

and you were left wonder if this silly prank could just bring your family back together- especially after he called you ‘ma’ again.

God it felt good.

Ryomen, S.

how it happened you didn’t know.

one moment, all of your friends are talking about how weird each of your exes were.

one saying that ‘mine was way to clingy’

the other saying ‘mine was a scrub’

However before you could talk for yourself both of your friends had already been looking at you- “yeah yours is a fucking asshole and he’s insane”

you just looked down and sighed.

before you knew it, all three of you were taking turns calling your exes.

and soon enough it was your turn.

You were all laying down on your stomachs in your bed, your phone leaned back against the pillow as it vibrated.

ringing sounds passed and you were about to hang up but then a gruff and annoyed voice was heard.

“what?”

your heart skipped a beat for a second before looking at your friends only to see them exchange glances.

“heyyyyy Im just calling you to say good night!”

“….the fuck???”

you almost blew your cover by snorting.

“you heard me! I said-“

“I heard what you said but are you on fuckin’ acid???”

“WHAT? NO!”

“you know who’s number you called right?”

He knew if you were calling anyone else to say this to, he would go out of his way to find them.

“yes I know this is you Sukuna.”

The annoyance seeped throught your tone.

“Kay’….why are you wishing me a good night??? You fucking told me you wished I’d rot in hell last time I saw you”

both of your friends threw a hand over their mouths trying to contain their laughter.

To be fair you and your ex used to argue a lot. Thought you also made up…a lot.

“I still stand by that statement”

“Yeah sure…….im coming over in half’ hour.”

With that he hung up and you face palmed.

However both of your friends eagerly grabbed their shit and left excited to hear what happend once he got there.

yk damn well what happened

[ljubimaya]

SLUT ME OUT𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

SYNOPSIS: Does fucking your bratty girlfriend into oblivion help her fall asleep even when her sleep shedule is shit? Draken says yes! C/W: fem! afab! Reader, established relationship, aged up characters (20+ years old), brat! reader and brat tamer! Draken, pussy spanking, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), tummy bulging, cervix fucking, reader doesn't have a great sleep schedule/implied insomnia, mentions of social media (tiktok, Instagram, etc.), no prep, Draken has a big dick, rip your pussy, MDNI!!!! W/C: about 3k A/N: this is super self indulgent and has been on my mind for the longest time :,)) I won't lie, this particular fic took me a while to write for some reasons, but I guess not every fic can just flow out of my brain directly into my google docs. Also, not proofread and kinda chaotic (?)

DRAKEN had enough. He’d toss and turn, unable to get a wink of sleep. Next to him laid, or rather sat, you, staring at the bright display of your phone watching the newest videos of your favorite creators. You’d scroll, switching between Instagram Reels to Tiktoks to Youtube shorts, trying to get your nightly dose of entertainment before you’d cuddle up to your boyfriend and fall asleep. Insomnia was a bitch and Draken knew that you did your best not to disturb his sleep, but it became glaringly clear that your sleeping habits impacted his. So really, it didn’t do much for him when you lowered the volume as much as you could, or the way you’d try and stifle your laughter at a particularly funny Reel. He was wide away at an ungodly hour with you, but unlike you, he had to go to work in six hours. 

“Babe, you should go to sleep now” Draken grumbled as he turned around to face you “Phone-time is over” Draken reached and grabbed your phone from your grip before turning it off and placing it on his night stand. Once Draken turned back to look at you, the street lanterns barely illuminated the dark bedroom from outside. The blonde’s eyes quickly adapted to the dark, and all he saw was your pouty face glaring daggers at him.

“You can’t just take away my phone like that” you scoffed at your boyfriend “You’re acting like my dad. I’m a grown woman, and I’m more than capable of making my own decisions” Huffing, you tried to reach over the broad man to get your phone back, eager to return to the story time you’ve just watched. But you’ll soon come to find out that your boyfriend is not the right man to disobey. 

Draken caught your hand before you could even touch your phone “Oh yeah, a grown woman? You?” He looked at you with his sharp onyx eyes. You saw an all too familiar dangerous spark in his eyes, a spark that challenged you to defy him. Fuck around and find out.

“Yes, me. Believe it or not, but I’m my own person” you exclaimed, trying to sound as firm as you can. This was dangerous territory, but you’ve walked that path numerous times and oh boy, did you want to fuck around and find out. Not that you didn’t know what would follow - you were certain about what would follow should you keep being difficult. 

You pressed your thighs together, clit throbbing at the vicious glare your boyfriend threw at you “Who are you to even think you can boss me around?” That sealed the deal, you concluded from the way Draken leaned in closer to you. His gigantic form blocked out the window, the only source of light. You weren’t able to see much, but you didn’t have to. Draken was so close to you that you heard his even breathing, smelled the faint smell of the shampoo he used when he went to shower prior to joining you in bed hours ago, but most importantly, you felt him. You felt his rough hands on your thigh underneath the blanket, warm fingers pressing into your soft flesh. But most importantly, you felt his breath fanning  against your lips. 

“Yeah, you are your own person” His deep voice rumbles through the darkness of your shared bedroom, sending a shiver of excitement over your body “But I think you’re giving yourself way too much credit. You may look like a somewhat reliable, mature person, but you’re a brat through and through”

His grip on your thigh grew tighter. A mewl almost escaped your lips, but you didn’t dare make a noise. You didn’t want him to know that you got off to this, at least not now.

“And you know damn well I don’t like being disrespected. I’m not your father, but I am your boyfriend and I won’t tolerate this level of disrespect” Draken’s voice rumbled lowly, his grip on your thigh as firm as before “I’m gonna give you one chance to look me in the eye and apologize, brat” He spat out. The way your boyfriend put so much emphasis on “brat” made you feel tingles inside your stomach. 

You leaned closer to him, looked him in the face - even when you couldn’t see well in the dark, you still knew where to look - and told him with the sweetest voice “No. I’m not gonna apologize for anything. I said what I said” You were about to ask for your phone back, hoping that would make him snap but you didn’t get the chance to. A yelp left your mouth at the stinging sensation you felt on your thigh. You were no longer able to contain your excitement; a lewd moan left your lips as his palm made impact with your thigh. Draken was on top of you, yanking your legs apart harshly, before your mind could even register it.

“Should have known you were being difficult on purpose” Your boyfriend grumbled into your ear, his fingers tracing lines over your clothed cunt “Could have just told me you want me to fuck you to sleep. Would have saved me my nerves”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not being difficult” 

“Liar” His fingers slipped past your panties. A sinful moan left your lips as Draken teased your clit, rubbing agonizingly light strokes over your throbbing bud. His fingers barely touched you where you needed him the most. A part of you wanted to drop the bratty act and ask - no, beg -  him to fuck you, but you already knew that it was far too late to act like a good girl for him. So you committed to the bratty act. 

“I’m not a liar-”

Gasps and moans left your lips as Draken slapped your clothed pussy, making you unable to finish your protests. The stinging pain aroused you even more. You wanted more of him. 

"What was that? Didn’t catch that” Draken grinned wolfishly at your attempts to seem unfazed, but your squirming beneath his calloused hand and the embarrassingly big, wet spot on your panties told him everything he needed to know.

“I said I’m not a liar-” His hand landed on your pussy again. The hard slap sent a jolt through your body, slick seeped out of your pussy and soiled your favorite pair of panties. 

“Hmmm, apologize for lying to me, and I’ll take off your panties for you” Draken’s deep, rich voice rumbled “If I like your apology, that is. Better start begging if you want them off” 

“N-No, I won’t apologize” the words stumbled out of your lips, unable to come up with a snarky comment. Your refusal to beg would have to do for now. 

Another hard slap landed on your pussy once Draken heard your whiney stutter. You mewled at the impact, loving the pleasure you feel from the pain. Your clit throbbed against the fabric of your heavily soiled like a second heartbeat, waiting to be touched again; but as if reading your mind, Draken his assault on your poor pussy. Instead, he roughly yanked your panties off your body, so much so you feared he ripped the fabric. You yelped as he manhandled you, pressed you into the mattress and took your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. 

You could feel his bulge pressed against your thigh as he yanked your legs apart, making sure to position himself between your trembling legs.  Anticipation washes over you; you felt so excited to feel his fingers stretch you out nicely, preparing you to take his thick cock. You’re already imagining his long fingers pumping in and out, middle and ring finger setting an unforgiving pace as his thumb would be teasing your clit until you’d cream around his digits. 

Instead of thrusting in and out of your weeping hole, his fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down. Draken’s rock hard dick slapped against his toned abs. Your eyes have adjusted to the little light coming from outside, the cheap lantern lights illuminating the best parts of your boyfriend as you moved your head, desperate to catch a glimpse. 

Veiny, girthy, with a big, angry red tip, leaking precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. Oh, what you’d do to have him down your throat��

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Draken give his cock a few, firm pumps before his hand moved back to the base, guiding his leaking tip between your folds. The thought of your boyfriend fucking you without preping you beforehand felt both daunting and arousing to you. Remembering the previous times he took you, you vividly remembered the way his dick would stretch you out uncomfortably despite him eating you out and fingering you beforehand. You could only imagine the damage he’d do if he didn’t prep you. So, your bratty act faltered as you opened your mouth, and hoarsely asked “Baby, what are you doing?”

Lust filled, onyx eyes met yours as Draken heard your small protests, a scowl adorned his handsome face “Teaching you a lesson” He groaned as he teased your folds with his tip “Since you wanted to be a brat about it, I’m gonna put you back in your place like one” Without warning, Draken pushed his bulbous tip inside. 

Tears shot up in your eyes as you bit back a scream, feeling as if you were being impaled by him. You struggled beneath him, struggled to take him fully while he mercilessly forced himself inside you, and struggled to contain your moans bubbling out of your sealed lips. Despite the stretching, burning pain you felt the deeper Draken pushed himself between your walls, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. Your clit throbbed as you got stuffed full of cock, begging to be touched, pinched, slapped.

Sweat collected on Draken’s forehead. He felt somewhat conflicted about not loosening you up properly, feeling that he might be doing too much this time, but the grip your gummy walls had on him made it impossible for him to pull out. He didn’t know if it was either the lack of prep or you loving it that made you so damn tight - almost too tight- for him. Draken was sure of one thing though: he physically couldn’t pull out. He lacked the will power for it.

Lost in his own pleasure, your boyfriend glanced at your face. The nagging voice in his head demanded to know if you were doing okay. Below him, you were a shaking mess. A thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, lips plump and bruised from you biting them, eyes rolled back in sheer bliss and tummy bulging. If heaven was real, it would face in comparison to your blissed out expression, a sweet combination of pained and aroused. 

“Oh, why so silent, brat?” Draken huffed “Where did your smart mouth go?” He groaned as he harshly thrusted the last remaining inches inside your weeping cunt, attentively watching your face. You weren’t able to hold the nasty, loud moan anymore. You tried to hold onto the pillows for leverage, but Draken’s tight grip on your wrists didn’t falter. Panting, you made eye contact with Draken. His scowl has warped into a cruel grin; he looked down on you like a wolf would look at a wounded sheep, ready to devour it. 

“You’re so filthy” Draken mused, chuckling darkly when you turned your face away in shame. His free hand took hold of the bed frame, an action that caught your attention. You squeezed your eyes shut, anticipating a hard thrust out before he’d plunge right back inside you. But he didn’t. Instead, the grip on your wrists grew tighter, making you squeal in pain and look at him, glaring daggers at your boyfriend. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to, brat” Draken growled “This is your last chance. Beg me for forgiveness, and I might be nice” 

And despite his threats, he still saw a flicker of defiance in your eyes. He knew that you’d always be bratty to him, and you knew he knew. 

“F-Fuck you” you meekly replied back, your voice faltering and shaky. You knew you were screwed when you saw the dark glint in Draken’s onyx eyes. 

Wordlessly, Draken pulled out and rammed back inside. The first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, the ones that followed after knocked your soul out of your body. Draken didn’t hold himself back, the might of his thrusts shook the bed you two shared. The old mattress that you two have been meaning to replace for ages let out loud, squeaky noises with every movement. The thudding, the squeaking, your loud sobs and Draken’s low groans were a guarantee for getting noise complaints in the morning, but neither of you cared; your brain fuzzy from the painful yet delicious stretch and Draken too focused on the grip your pussy had on his dick. 

Draken’s balls smacked against your ass with each merciless thrust, heavy and full with his cum. His tip continuously kissed your cervix, which ended up heightening the pain and pleasure you felt. Feeling overstimulated, you knew you wouldn’t last any longer and come soon. While drunk on your pussy, Draken was still able to think somewhat clearly. He felt the way your walls grew tighter around him and heard the frantic moans that escaped your lips. 

So he stopped right before you could come. 

You whined desperately once Draken stopped moving, trying to grind your hips against him, to create a friction that could satisfy the overbearing heat you felt in your tummy. Much to your dismay, you weren’t able to move a lot with your boyfriend pressing down on you. 

“Stop moving or I will pull out” Draken warned you sternly. He didn’t like having to postpone his own orgasm for the sake of teaching you a lesson, so he hopes he has cracked you down enough to drop your stubborn, bratty attitude. 

A wince left your lips as you heard Draken, your hips stopping their movements. You looked up at him, teary eyed and frowning at his sudden stop.

“You didn’t actually think I’d let you cum after all the badmouthing you did” He scoffed, trying to suppress a grin. Oh, how he loved seeing you so needy. He absolutely loved seeing the real you, the desperate you. 

You’d be embarrassed by the way your resolve broke so quickly, but you couldn’t think straight anymore. All thoughts in your head revolved around cumming on his cock. 

“Please” you whimpered out “Please, I wanna cum”

“Nu-huh. You’ll have to do better” Draken rolled his eyes at you “And you better be quick. I don’t have the whole night”

And just like that, the dam broke. Beginnings and pleadings and empty promises bubbled out of your mouth, each word sounding more desperate than the previous. Music to his ears. 

“I will never disrespect you like that again” You promised, sobbing as you ran out of anything to make him reconsider “I will always listen to you, I will always be obedient” 

Of course, Draken knew that you were throwing everything and saw what stuck; he knew you would go back to your antics as soon as you wake up in the morning. To say he was unimpressed was an understatement. 

“I’ll be good. I-I will fix my sleep schedule” you stuttered out, growing antsy at the lack of a reaction. You’ve run out of what to say to him to appease him “You wanted me to fix it, right?” 

Draken could only scoff at you. What a pathetic thing to say “We both know that’s a lie. You know I hate lies” Draken could see the disappointment in your eyes “And to top it all off, all of those things you’ve said are lies as well”

“But that’s fine. I’m gonna make an honest person out of you” With that, Draken slammed his hips against yours, picking up right where he left off. Screams and cries left your lips as your boyfriend drilled inside you. 

“If fucking your brains out every night is what will make you be good, I will do it” Draken grunted between thrusts. Draken’s pace was unforgiving, his thrusts angled to hit all the right spots. The sudden switch up on his demeanor left you confused, but who were you to question your boyfriend while he’s balls deep inside you?

Draken’s hips repeatedly crash against yours, chasing after his orgasm. He was usually so patient and kind with you, making sure you’d cum before him. This time, Draken prioritized his own high. So he fucked you like a dog in heat until he emptied his balls inside you with a groan. He shut his eyes tightly as he fucked his cum into you, trying to extend his orgasm as much as he could. 

His cum shot inside your womb, filling you up nicely; so much so that the tight knot in your tummy broke. You mewled out his name as you came hard, your legs trembling and your back arched at the aftershocks from your intense orgasm. Your eyes felt heavy, and before you knew it, you passed out from sheer exhaustion. Sleeping soundly, you didn’t notice Draken pulling his dick out. He could only imagine the divine view of his cum leaking out of your pulsing pussy if it was brighter inside the bedroom. 

Despite feeling tired himself, Draken pushed himself off your shared bed and went to the bedroom quietly, making sure you wouldn't wake up. After all, he gave it his all to put you to sleep. He returned -womewhat clean himself- with a wet towel and carefully cleaned you up. Your boyfriend silently watched you sleep, letting the previous events replay in his mind before he laid down and covered the both of you with a blanket. As Draken fell asleep, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph swell up in his chest. He finally knew what would get you to fall asleep, and he was very much intending at fucking you to sleep every night.

[sepublic]

OH FUCK????????? NEW SHOW BY DANA TERRACE!!!! WITH OTHER HEAD WRITERS JBO AND ZACH MARCUS FROM OWL HOUSE!!!!!

I’d known for a while that Dana had some project in the works, based on her Patreon ramblings but her own show? An indie show she’s in charge of again?! With the same guys she wrote TOH with, holy crap! And released by Glitch, of The Amazing Digital Circus fame!!!!

It’s glorious. It’s already got gore and cursing. We get to see these writers go unhinged. This is like a gift for me! And it’s surreal that we’re really going to get another story from these writers after all, and without the limitations. I’m really glad to see that less than two years after TOH’s ending, Dana and JBO and Zach are already working on another cartoon that they’re in charge of! I’m really happy to see them get to still create, and on their own terms. Where will they go with this…?

Also I gotta say that the princess’ idyllic dreams contrasting with the gorey reality of her body… Reminds me of this YouTube comment I saw once that really stuck with me, about a skinned frog corpse still making leaping motions, as if it still believes its happily jumping through the lily pads. I REALLY dig that.

There’s not enough to really speculate but if I had to guess, it’s about some fantasy medieval characters being reanimated in the future with technology and grappling with their past lives’ conflict with their current undead existences, and the change and existential horror of death. Like the Homunculi from Fullmetal Alchemist 2003. Yeah…!

I gotta add; I can see a bit of Dana’s art style, as well as the other features of her typical body horror, in this as well! When she said she’d been really looking forward to this year, HOO BOY… I never really imagined how much we’d be getting!

I want to give this project respect as its own thing from TOH as well, but I also gotta acknowledge that I can see just a bit of Collector vibes from this character. But also the juxtaposition of her sleeping pose feels very much like that WAKE UP gag with Hunter, which had been one of the first bits ever written for the show! I’ve looked at Dana’s past artwork too and there’s been a recurring theme of cutesy magical stuff contrasted with an unflinching brutality. Glad to recognize marks of a creator as they create!

[pemiski]

CUPID’S COMPULSION DISORDER FT R. ITOSHI

Summary Healing isn’t always just physical. As a resident, you’ve always been taught that recovery isn’t only about stitches and surgery— it’s about the mental and emotional journey too. Being prepared to accompany your patient through said recovery has never been a problem for you; not until Rin Itoshi, anyway.

Tags fem! surgical resident! reader x pro player! Itoshi rin, corse language, meet-cute, medical lingo, making out, slow burn (hopefully, i tried my best), use of the metric system, character death (not reader or any main character), in depth description of surgical procedures, lots of medical inaccuracies so pls let’s not talk about that, reader wears a dress, mentions of marriage and children (only at the end, you can skip it if it makes you feel uncomfortable), Oliver aiku is a warning in itself, some good old sibling angst bc character development is just as important as romance, lots of fluff, lots and lots of Greek mythology because i just can’t help myself i love it too much

Word count 24.3k words. That’s 60 pages!

Author’s note however much you think I’m excited and also scared for this to get published you can probably multiply by one zillion. I have spent months writing this, editing over and over and over to gather the courage to finally publish this!! I love this fic with all my heart, particularly because it is home to many firsts of mine, and I sincerely hope you will too! I have never written a fic this long, and even if it might not seem like much to you, this is truly colossal to me. I devoured so many books, watched so many videos and overall learned so much about writing just to make this as entertaining as possible for you to read, and for me to write, and seeing it finally finished is so so bittersweet to me. This is so sappy but I had to say it lol.. Lastly, before you hit read more, happy reading! (+ disclaimers are down below, please read!)

I am not a doctor, nor am I currently training to be one. Any and all surgical talk in this fic is an unfortunate result of me binge-watching greys anatomy. I did use quizlet and books, but I doubt it makes me legitimate in anything medical lol

Speaking of greys, there are a few Easter eggs from the show in here, couldn’t help myself huhu.. tell me if you can catch them!

Not a disclaimer, but please make sure to reblog and/or comment! Not just for me, but for all content creators on this app :) That’s it! Enjoy!

It’s just like one of those stories hospitals collect over the years— two years ago, a first-year surgical resident fell in love with her patient. The kind of love that had no business in an OR. Everyone remembers how it ended— her hands slipped, he bled out, and she crumbled right there on the floor. This resident, whoever she was, bright and promising, became a legend for all the wrong reasons.

For the next years of her residency, she was a social pariah. Now, her name floats through the hospital like a ghost story. Don’t get attached. Don’t lose focus. And for God’s sake, don’t be like that one resident. Her name has long been forgotten, and no one really talks about her anymore, but her mistake still lingers, a quiet warning in every scrub room and hallway.

Just like any big time gossip in any workplace, they all fold into routine, cautionary tales buried under new scandals. And while everyone remembers what happened to this surgeon, it hasn’t stopped some residents to follow in her footsteps anyway.

The cafeteria buzzes around you, trays clattering, voices blending into a dull hum— mere background noise to your exhaustion. Your focus drifts in and out as you pick at what’s left of your meal. Rounds were a blur, the same routine: tired interns, tired cases, and you, running on fumes. Your ears only caught about half of what was said this morning anyway. Something about a necrotic bowel. Or maybe it was an obstructed one. Whatever it was, it wasn’t interesting enough to wake you up.

You sigh, letting your head fall back slightly. You’ve been in this hospital for nearly 47 hours. Your brain feels like it’s wrapped in cotton, sluggish and heavy. The only thing keeping you going is the promise of that surgery board staying blissfully clear after this one case. If all goes well, you might even get home for a few hours of real sleep.

The interns were amusing at first. Eager, wide-eyed, practically tripping over themselves to impress you. You’d send them on wild goose chases, toss them paperwork, maybe throw one a bone and let them assist a minor surgery. And the coffee was borderline endless. But now? They’ve gone stale. Less enthusiasm, more sulking— especially Frederick, who’s been moping for weeks because he hasn’t touched an appendix.

You shake your head, muttering around a spoonful of almost stale, hospital food. “Seriously, it’s just an appy. It sucks. It’s not like he’s missing out on a heart transplant. Get over it.” You sigh again, pushing the tray away. Even your complaints feel half-hearted. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation.

“Tell me about it. You know Vaughn? Blonde, huge stick up her ass? I really struck gold with that one,” Livy says, leaning back in her chair, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “Talks all the time. She can’t stop!”

“Nice ass though,” Oliver adds with a chuckle, spooning some frozen yogurt into his mouth. His eyes crinkle with mischief, his expression somewhere between casual and amused.

Livy shoots him a sideways glance, clearly unimpressed. “Sure, if you’re the hospital whore. Hey, maybe we should start giving you away to sexually frustrated patients,” she muses, tapping her chin, then gesturing vaguely in the air. “You know the guy in 408? Saw him watching something called ‘Naughty Little Nurses’ on his phone. I’m sure he’d love a naughty little resident.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow, looking less than amused. “He? Forget it.” He grabs his tray, standing up with a frown.

Livy, not one to back down, calls after him. “Aiku! If you bail on that laparoscopy like you did on that lap chole, I’ll kill you!”

Oliver waves her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, which only makes Livy’s teeth grit. “I’ll kidnap him and lock him in 408’s room. I’ll do it.”

You catch Livy’s eye, raising an eyebrow. “I think his name is Mark.”

Livy shrugs nonchalantly, like she hasn’t already planned every detail. “Well, that’s the least interesting thing about him, isn’t it?”

“It is a good idea though,” you shrug, still facing your half-peeled orange on your tray.

"Right?" Livy gasps, practically vibrating with excitement as she continues to corner you in the cafeteria. Her plan to kidnap Oliver Aiku grows more elaborate by the second, detailing every step of the process in a scarily precise, almost unnervingly detailed way, you start wondering if she’s genuinely thought this through. Would anyone notice? Surely someone would. You can practically hear the sirens in the background as she goes on. Regardless, you’re only half-listening, your thoughts wandering as the clock ticks down to the inevitable.

Before long, it’s time to return to work, and just as you’re mentally preparing for another round of exhaustion, fate intervenes.

“You, over there.”

You instinctively try to ignore the voice, slipping into the on-call room like you haven't heard a thing, but then, you see it: the dark blue scrubs. Something about them makes you freeze in place, and with a deep sigh, you reluctantly turn toward the source.

“I need you to round up your interns and send them away on other stuff,” the attending orders, breezing past you with barely a glance. “It’s a… special guest. Torres wants you on the case. It’s ortho.”

You blink, caught off guard. This wasn’t what you were expecting— not even close. Before you can protest, the attending is already heading down the hallway at a speed that defies the urgency of your thoughts.

“No, I—“ You try to call after him, but it’s too late. He’s already gone, vanished into the corridor like a phantom.

You glance around at the empty hallway, suddenly feeling a weight you didn’t ask for pressing on your shoulders. "I’m tired," you mutter to yourself, leaning against the wall for a moment. The thought of yet another case, another special guest, is enough to make you want to crawl back into the on-call room and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a few more hours. But, there’s no time for that now.

Time to suck it up, grab your interns, and pray you make it out of this shift without completely losing your sanity.

"You, um... Mc— McCallum? Yeah, McCallum and your posse, you can all go to the pit."

The group groans in unison, their collective frustration almost palpable in the air. Normally, you might take a second to sympathize, maybe toss in a joke to ease the tension, but right now, you’re not having it. The day’s been too long, your patience has been running too thin.

The next words come out of your mouth almost without thought, and they feel sharp, cutting. You can see the interns’ faces fall before they even register what you’ve said.

"And since you all seem to like it so much, you can stay there for the rest of the week. Have fun." You grunt the last part, grabbing the file for the so-called "special guest" and ignoring the sudden silence that falls in your wake.

The interns stare at you, wide-eyed. They’ve learned over time that, despite your grumpy exterior, you’ve got their backs— at least when it counts. But right now, you're too tired to care about who likes you and who doesn't. You just want to get through the day, and if this is how it’s going to go, you won’t stand in destiny’s way.

The remaining ones— still a little too wide-eyed— watch you like puppies waiting for a treat. It’s uncomfortable, the way they look at you. Like you're supposed to provide answers, direction, a path forward. You're about to speak when the thought of the attending's earlier words hit you hard.

You freeze for a beat, caught between the irritation of dealing with your interns and the looming responsibility of the surgery. You didn’t sign up to babysit, but that seems to be exactly what you’re doing.

"Errr…" You can feel your brain short-circuiting for a moment, then instinctively you start grabbing a pile of paperwork off the desk, pushing it into the interns' hands. "Post-ops," you mutter, waving your hand in dismissal, "You know the drill. Fill these out. Keep yourselves busy."

As they scatter to comply, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It’s not the most graceful order, but it’ll work for now. Now, all you have to do is deal with whatever “special guest” situation Torres has thrown your way— and pray you survive the rest of this shift without further mental collapse.

Either way, you suppose you shouldn’t be mad at Torres. Every surgery offered to a resident is a golden opportunity— a chance to beef up your surgical portfolio and make yourself a prime candidate for future fellowships. Especially since ortho is your endgame. You’d mentioned your interest to Torres once, in passing, not expecting anything to come of it. Yet here you are.

You should be thrilled. And maybe, beneath the layers of exhaustion weighing down your shoulders, you are. But right now, it feels less like a privilege and more like pressure— pressure to prove you’re worthy of the trust an attending has placed in you.

“Hope you’re ready for this one, L/N.”

You turn at the sound of Torres’ voice, catching her reflection in the scrub room window. She strides in just as you finish washing up, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

“It’s an ACL tear.”

Your brow furrows slightly. An ACL tear? It’s common enough— routine, even. Hardly what you’d consider high-stakes.

Torres catches your expression and smiles knowingly. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. You think this is gonna be easy. But, point number one: at your level, any work is hard work.” She fixes you with a pointed look, her tone leaving no room for argument. Then, she gestures toward the OR with a nod of her chin. “And besides, the guy in there? High-level footballer. Some kind of genius, apparently. That’s point number two: he’s still young, so recovery should go well, but for that, this surgery has to be flawless. Understood, L/N?”

Before walking away, Torres pauses, her gaze lingering on you as if sizing you up. Her voice cuts through the tension, calm but firm.

“This is your first solo surgery,” she says, her words heavy and her eyes gleaming. “How you pull this off is how people see you for the rest of your residency. Make it count.”

You glance around the room, your gaze landing on the senior orthopedic surgeon seated calmly at the foot of the table. It hits you like a freight train: aside from them, you’re the leading surgeon today.

A wave of nerves surges through you, spreading from your chest to your fingertips. You try to steady yourself, cycling through the breathing exercises you’ve practiced so many times before, but your heart isn’t listening, and neither is your brain. Your heart is racing, your thoughts spiraling.

Nobody told you this was going to be a solo surgery. Was it an oversight? Or worse— was it intentional? Some kind of test? The thought slowly wraps around your brain, your mind constantly conjuring up worst-case scenarios. Were they just waiting for you to mess up so they’d have a reason to kick you out of this hospital?

Despite your inner turmoil, you nod, pulling your mask over your face, steadying yourself. This is definitely a test, you sigh to yourself.

The door slides open, and you position yourself in front of the body, gathering the tools, the bright lights of the OR gleaming down as you make the incision, your hands steady despite the tension radiating through your shoulders. You’ve rehearsed this in your mind a dozen times, but the reality of handling a live ACL tear on a high-profile athlete feels different. Your focus sharpens as you expose the torn ligament.

“L/N, what’s your first step in graft placement?” Torres’ voice cuts through the hum of monitors, calm but firm. You feel like a squeaky intern again. Your attending’s gaze is sharp, and typically, you’re the one asking the questions. Nevertheless, you find yourself reporting for duty almost immediately like an old reflex.

“Secure the femoral tunnel first to ensure proper alignment,” you answer, carefully inserting the guide pin.

“And why is that important?” she presses, stepping closer to observe.

“To maintain knee stability and prevent rotational instability post-op,” you reply, glancing at her briefly.

Torres nods, her expression unreadable. “Good. Keep going. Remember, precision is key. His career depends on this.”

You take a deep breath and steady your hands, feeling the weight of Torres’ words linger in the air. You’ve answered her questions correctly so far, and you’ve only got another set of questions coming your way, but the gnawing voice in your mind won’t let up.

A few more questions— that’s all it is, you try and tell yourself, but another voice in your head sneers. A few more is also the difference between standing here tomorrow or being kicked out today. Between a career and a blacklist.

You scoff, trying to silence the thought. Blacklisted is for cutting LVAD wires to move your patient up the transplant list, blacklisted is for—

“Is there a problem, Doctor L/n?” Torres’ voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, sharp and pointed. Her raised eyebrows are a warning.

“No,” you blurt, feeling your face heat. “No, I just—I’m threading the graft through the femoral tunnel.”

She nods, her eyes drifting back to her magazine as if nothing had happened. “Good. Keep going.”

You force your focus back on the task at hand, trying to shake the storm of thoughts clouding your mind. It’s almost over. Just a few more minutes, and this patient will be transferred to recovery. He’ll heal. He’ll get back on his feet, back on the field—or maybe he won’t.

The thought creeps back in, insidious and loud. What if he never plays again? What if he sues? What if this ruins you?

“Looks good,” Torres says, her voice softer now, but no less commanding. The words slice clean through the noise in your head. “Close up, and let’s get him to recovery.”

You finish the last suture, your breath catching slightly as the weight of the moment settles in.

“You’ve done well today,” she adds, and the tension in your chest loosens just enough for you to finally exhale.

Relief washes over you, but you keep your composure, nodding as you finish the sutures. There’s still work to do, but for the first time today, you feel like you’re more than just a resident. You’re a surgeon in the making.

Just as you’re about to wash up and get rid of your gloves, your attending makes her way back to you, and hands you a chart.

“Post-ops,” She says. “He’s your patient now, so you do the checking up. Explain the surgery went well, keep him updated on the treatment that follows, and so on. We’ll keep him here for some time, so he’s your responsibility.”

Nevermind surgeon-in-the-making— you’re just a resident after all. Post-ops can easily be pawned off on your interns, but there’s no dodging this check-up.

———————————————————-

“So, first solo surgery, Y/n, how does it feel?” Livy elbows you with a teasing smile. The trauma of her own first solo surgery is long behind her now. She had hers months ago, and even then, you’re sure no one sprung it on her like a surprise birthday party.

“Awful,” you groan, rubbing your temples as if that might somehow alleviate the tension still coursing through you.

“Aw, did you flunk it?” she quips, her grin widening.

“No,” you admit with a sigh. “I don’t think so? I mean, I got through it, but I had no idea it was happening. Torres just walked up to me, told me I was flying solo, and suddenly, I was the leading surgeon. No prep time, no warning—just boom. Sink or swim.”

Livy winces in sympathy, toying with the rings on her fingers. “That’s rough. But, hey, she probably figured you could handle it if she threw you in like that.”

“Or she just wanted to watch me crash and burn,” you mutter, bitterness creeping into your tone. “It felt like walking a tightrope with no safety net.”

Livy raises an eyebrow. “But did you crash and burn?”

“That’s not the point. I could’ve.”

She shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “You could spend a lifetime obsessing over all the could’ves, would’ves, and should’ves, but it won’t change what’s already done.”

You turn to her, crinkling your eyes slightly. “You are such an existentialist.”

Livy crosses her arms defensively. “Am not!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” you tease, your lips quirking into a small smile.

She shrugs again, this time more nonchalantly. “I just think some things in life shouldn’t be written off as absurd.”

You snort lightly, curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

Livy’s smile turns mischievous, her eyes gleaming. “Like your patient chart,” she says sweetly, discreetly sliding her hand across the table.

“He’s a football player, apparently,” you mutter, grabbing your stale coffee and the stack of post-op charts. Before you can make your exit, Livy snatches the paperwork from your hands, her eyes scanning the pages with growing curiosity.

“Itoshi, Rin,” she reads aloud, sending a jolt of panic through you. You lunge for the chart, but Livy sidesteps you, oblivious to your distress. The attending’s warning echoes in your mind as nearby staff glance your way. Nothing fuels the hospital rumor mill faster than a name like that.

“Twenty-five,” Livy continues, ignoring your frantic attempts to grab the file. “ACL tear, blah, blah, blah…”

“Livy—”

“Oh! He’s 187 centimeters? God, this guy’s massive—”

“Livy, I’m serious. He’s supposed to be low-profile—”

“Hmm, 67 kilos? Lanky, but it could work… Oh! Do you think I can find his Instagram? Room 407! Right next to the naughty nurse guy in 408. Think they’ll watch together?”

You finally manage to snatch the chart back, your cheeks reddening and your hair sticking out. “No, you can’t find his Instagram. No, he won’t be watching porn with the weirdo in 408. And no, you’re not telling anyone what you saw in this chart. He’s a… a big shot, or something. I’m supposed to keep the people who know he’s here to a minimum. So if you could keep his personal info to yourself, that’d be great.”

Livy raises an eyebrow but says nothing as you toss your coffee in the trash. “I gotta go,” you mutter, storming off before she can get another word in.

By the time you reach Itoshi Rin’s room, your mood has dwindled to the lowest depths of hell. The day had already started on a bad note, but between the third part of your medical licensing exam, a certain football prodigy, and your stupid interns, your head feels like it’s on the verge of exploding. Still, you put on a brave face and brace yourself as you step inside.

“Itoshi Rin?”

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and the deep frown on his face warns you that this conversation won’t be pleasant.

“Do doctors have to crawl through tunnels to get to patient units now?”

“No,” you huff, mirroring his frown. “I apologize.”

“You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

You rearrange his chart on the bedside table, exhaling irritably. “You’ll spend the rest of your stay here the same way you did those ten minutes. You’ll be fine.”

As the words leave your mouth, they hit your brain like a delayed bomb. Realizing the sharpness in your tone, you scramble to recover. “Oh, I—no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“When can I play again?” he interrupts, completely unfazed by your backpedaling.

You pause, slightly taken aback by how little he seems to care about your apology. “I was trying to apologize.”

“I don’t need an apology you don’t mean.”

His bluntness stings, but you force a tight smile. “Well, I really am sorry. But for now, let’s focus on your check-up before we dive into questions, okay?”

“Don’t bother with the bullshit customer service act,” he retorts, his voice sharp. “Just tell me when I can play again.”

Your forced smile grows saccharine. Fine, you think, if he wants to play this game, you’ll play along no problem. “I would, but according to HPSO guidelines, I should let the aggravating patient calm down before proceeding.”

“Did you just call me aggravating?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

Before you can respond, his gaze flicks past you. A shadow looms in the doorway, and dread settles in your stomach. You turn slowly, heart sinking as you recognize the figure: the attending physician who assigned you this case.

Your mind races. One opportunity, blown in a heartbeat, all because you lost your cool with a difficult patient. The attending’s expression is a careful mix of disbelief and disappointment.

“I—” you start, voice faltering, “I didn’t mean—”

Before you can finish, Rin lets out an annoyed grunt, motioning for a nearby nurse to escort the attending out and close the door. You whip your head around to stare at him, stunned.

He shrugs, as though this is no big deal. Through the small window in the door, the attending looks half-convinced, suspicion lingering before they finally walk away.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Rin. You can’t decide if you’re more relieved or furious.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you mutter, picking up his chart from the bedside table.

“What the hell,” he mutters back, rubbing his forehead. “A normal person would just say thank you.”

“That’s funny,” you snap, flipping through the chart without looking at him. “Coming from someone who didn’t bother thanking the surgeon who just spent hours saving their career.”

Rin’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know that. What if I don’t recover well?”

“That’s on your physiotherapist, not me.”

“Aren’t you my physiotherapist?”

You roll your eyes, shutting the chart with a snap. “I’m your surgeon. I’ll monitor your progress for a bit, make sure everything holds up, and then I’m gone. Should be exactly what you want, right?”

“What I want,” he says, his voice clipped, “is to know when I can play again.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “That depends on a lot of factors.”

“When?” he presses, his tone sharper now.

“I can’t give you a definitive answer yet,” you reply, your patience wearing thin.

“Why not? Aren’t you a doctor?” He scoffs, picking up his phone from the nightstand. “I knew I couldn’t trust anyone with this. I specifically asked for someone competent.”

His muttering is loud enough to hear, and it pushes you past your breaking point.

“I am competent,” you snap, stepping closer to his bed. His eyes lock onto yours, and the tension between you becomes palpable.

“As your doctor, your surgeon, and considering all the variables you clearly haven’t thought about, I’m telling you—I cannot give you an answer right now. Are we clear?”

He doesn’t reply, but his glare doesn’t waver.

You push a stray strand of hair out of your face, steadying your voice. “In your case, we repaired the medial collateral ligament, which is a common injury in your field. Recovery typically takes six months, depending on how consistent you are with the rehab plan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and leave, the door clicking shut behind you. Rin’s glare follows you, but the silence in the room is louder than anything he could say.

As you disappear down the hallway, Rin glares at the door, his jaw clenched. Moody, stuck-up smartass. That’s all you are. A pretty face with an attitude sharp enough to cut glass. He’d stepped in, helped you out when you were clearly drowning, and all he got in return was indifference. Not even a thank you.

He huffs, crossing his arms tighter. Should’ve just kept my mouth shut. You weren’t worth the effort. Maybe he should pass your number to his brother. You and Sae would probably get along just fine—two arrogant know-it-alls. The thought makes him scowl even deeper.

Yet, as irritated as he is, he can’t quite shake the feeling that he’ll be seeing more of you than he’d like. And for reasons he can’t explain, that thought bothers him even more.

———————————————————-

As your keys jingle inside your apartment’s lock, you can already feel your body ready to faceplant you straight to the ground. You’ve never been as tired as you are now, even considering the hellish schedules you had to endure during your internship.

So much for a well-deserved break, you thought.

You ungracefully stumble onto your couch, and search for the TV remote to skip channels until you inevitably fall asleep. Your fingers continuously tap on the same tile, until a news anchor gets your attention. It isn’t her specifically that catches your eye, but more-so the familiar mop of black hair paired with those icy blue eyes in the background. Below his picture, a headline scrolls across the bottom:

”Prodigy Itoshi Rin to sit out for the rest of the season, PXG faces tough road ahead”

Well, if he wasn’t already in a bad mood today and yesterday, he definitely is going to be tomorrow. Only difference is, tomorrow, you’ll be able to pride yourself on a perfectly good night’s sleep, and you can only hope that it will make enough of a difference to hopefully enough to make that check-up go smoother. Or less disastrous, at the very least.

Your phone dings, and as you check it, you realise it’s nothing more than a link. You grab it, and make a point to sigh when you see it’s Livy who has sent said message.

The link takes you to Instagram, and you immediately dread what’s to come. There’s a mountain of possibilities, considering her personality. Either a hot nurse from the ER, a hot attending, a hot patient…

Just as you feel like you know exactly what you’ve stumbled upon, your worst nightmare has materialized right in front of your face.

His profile is exactly what you’d imagined it to be like. Cryptic, simple, with an embarrassing amount of effort put into a semblant of mysteriousness. His bio is made up of three letters spelling out his club, his username is a bland combination of his first and last name, and yet, he has amassed a whopping twelve million followers.

Twelve. Million.

You stare at the number, dumbfounded. You don’t understand how such a nasty personality could ever have people looking up to them, let alone twelve million.

You toss your phone onto the couch with an exasperated sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions. Twelve million people following that guy? You rub your temples, still processing the sheer absurdity of it. Rin Itoshi— who finds the grueling task of thanking someone he considers far below him absolutely insurmountable —has somehow captured the hearts of millions.

The thought gnaws at you. It’s not the followers, not really. It’s the disconnect between the person you met today and the public persona those twelve million people seem to worship. You can’t reconcile the icy glare, the condescending tone, with the polished, enigmatic figure plastered all over social media. Maybe they don’t see what you saw. Or maybe they just don’t care.

Your phone dings again, signalling another message from Livy:

"Told you he’s hot. Should’ve gotten that Instagram when you had the chance 💋"

You roll your eyes, tossing a quick reply:

"Not my type. Also, not yours. Stay out of trouble."

You don’t have a problem with admitting he’s hot. Really, you don’t. And maybe he could’ve been your type, if he wasn’t cranky and resentful as if you’d just shot his mom in front of him.

You drop the phone onto your chest, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. Rin’s mood will be even worse after the media circus surrounding his injury, and you’ll be right in the middle of it. Still, with a good night’s sleep, maybe —just maybe— you’ll have the patience to survive his check-up without losing your mind.

And if not? Well, there’s always coffee. Lots of it.

———————————————————-

The moment you had dared to step into his dark, borderline cavernous room —which had once resembled a proper patient unit— Rin was already glaring at you. Not one to back down, you glared right back, slamming his chart onto the desk at the foot of his bed with enough force to make the clipboard rattle. You flipped the pages with unnecessary vigor, regularly shooting him pointed looks over the top of the file.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rin finally snapped, his brows furrowed in what you could only assume was his default expression.

“I’m trying to anticipate the stupidities that are about to come out of your mouth so I can refute them before you even finish,” you deadpanned, barely sparing him a glance.

“How mature and diplomatic of you,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You didn’t miss a beat, and huff, ‘I doubt diplomacy was ever in your cards.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his face contorting into something caught between annoyance and borderline murderous intentions.

“Oh, yeah, that was very diplomatic,” you shot back, mockingly sweet as you continued flipping through the chart.

Rin rolled his eyes, leaning back against the pillows like your very presence was a personal affront. “Why do you even bother showing up if all you’re going to do is insult me?”

“Because I have this very unpleasant thing called a job, that causes me to have interactions with equally unpleasant patients,” you shot back without hesitation, jotting something down on his chart. “Though I’ll admit, it’s getting harder to tell if I’m here to treat your knee or your ego.”

“You’re hilarious,” he muttered, deadpan. Bitch, he thinks.

“I know,” you quipped, flashing him a quick narrowed look before your expression sobered. “Speaking of your knee, how’s the pain? Any discomfort, swelling, or anything else I should know about?”

Rin hesitated for a moment, his frown deepening. “It’s fine.”

“Fine isn’t a medical term, Itoshi. Try again.”

He huffed, clearly irritated. “There’s some stiffness when I move it, but it’s not unbearable.”

“Progress,” you said, your tone deliberately cheerful as you made a note in his chart. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, but the sharp glare he threw your way made it clear it wasn’t complimentary.

“Careful,” you hum, glancing up from your notes. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you actually enjoy these little visits.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he shot back.

You finished jotting down your notes and closed the chart with a decisive snap. “Alright, that’s enough verbal sparring for one day. Keep up with the exercises, and let me know if the pain gets worse. And, for the love of everything holy, try not to terrorize any more nurses.”

“I didn’t terrorize anyone,” he grumbled, eyes squinting at you, indicating he’d clearly found this conversation much less amusing than you have been these past few minutes.

“Sure,” you replied, clearly unconvinced. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

As you had turned to leave, you couldn’t resist throwing one last jab over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow, evil spawn.”

You chuckle to yourself. Evil spawn was a nickname you’d nicked from a show you were watching. You had congratulated yourself with how accurate it had been, and even more so with the way Rin would grit his teeth in anger at the sheer disrespect you clearly had no problem in displaying. Either way, it didn’t matter. There was no way in hell that Rin itoshi was gonna ruin your finally-back-to-normal sleep schedule by interfering in your late night thoughts. Or even daytime ones.

———————————————————-

“I feel reborn!” you announce, striding through the hospital’s main entrance, practically glowing.

“Is it because your patient is a good-looking football prodigy, and you’ve got the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to check up on him every single day?” Oliver’s gruff voice cuts through your euphoria, and you whip around to face him.

“Does everybody know about this?”

“God and everybody,” he replies, raising an eyebrow over the rim of his coffee cup.

You scowl, crossing your arms. “Well, I’m so glad everyone is so invested in my personal life.” Then, with a huff, you add, “But for your information, I was talking about the amazing amount of sleep I got last night.”

Oliver smirks. “He’s kind of like a sad German shepherd, isn’t he? All about being dark and twisty. That’s definitely a hit with the ladies.”

“What would you know about that?” you mutter, unconvinced, eyes fixed on the cuffs of your coat.

“Tried it out last night,” Oliver twists his pen around, “Chicks love it. I felt like poultry farming.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of that,” you slam your charts on the reception desk. Livy, who you hadn’t even realized was listening in on your conversation, falls into step beside you as you both head down the hallway. She leans in, her voice low but amused. “Poultry farming? Seriously?”

You shake your head. “Don’t ask.”

Livy snickers, glancing over her shoulder at Oliver, who’s still lounging at the reception desk with that smug grin plastered across his face. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing—him calling it poultry farming or the fact that it probably worked.”

“Neither,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “The most disturbing part is that I’m going to have to hear about it all day.”

Livy smirks. “He’ll milk it until someone gives him a reason to stop.” She nudges you playfully. “Maybe we can set him up with one of the weirdos in the pit. That’ll humble him.”

“I’m not sure I want to deal with the aftermath of that disaster,” you sigh.

As you reach the elevators, Livy presses the button and crosses her arms. “Speaking of disasters, how’s your ACL tear patient? Or should I say, your ‘mysterious football prodigy’?” She raises her eyebrows in a mock-serious way.

You glance at her, wary. “Why?”

“Just curious. I heard he’s already making a name for himself around here, and not just because of the injury. Apparently, he’s been giving the nurses a hard time.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “Great. As if dealing with him in surgery wasn’t enough, now I have to handle his attitude during recovery.”

Livy grins. “Well, you did sign up for ortho. All those high-maintenance athletes are part of the package. At least he’s not throwing tantrums. Yet.”

“Give him time,” you mumble as the elevator doors open. “I’m sure it’s coming.”

You both step inside, and Livy taps the button for your floor. “Good luck. Maybe today will be tantrum-free.”

“I’ll take ‘unlikely’ for 500,” you mutter, bracing yourself for another day of chaos.

It only takes a few seconds for you both to reach your floor, and as soon as your ways separate, you begin regretting not having taken Livy in with you to deal with the devil incarnate.

You slide open the door to room 407, and the scene that greets you makes your stomach churn. The room, usually neat and orderly, looks like the aftermath of an earthquake. A mountain of gifts is scattered across the floor, the vase of flowers on the windowsill has been shattered, and the bed is in disarray, blankets torn and thrown about. But most alarmingly, Rin is nowhere to be seen.

“Itoshi?” you call, your voice sharp as you scan the room.

“What?” His voice is gruff, coming from the bathroom, making you raise an eyebrow.

You step cautiously toward the bathroom and find Rin sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. He looks far from the composed, untouchable figure you’re used to—his gown is crooked, his hair is a mess, and there’s a sharpness in his eyes.

“Did you fall? Are you hurt?” you ask, your voice a mixture of mild concern and absolute confusion.

“No,” he snaps, not bothering to meet your gaze. “I’m fine. Just go do your thing.”

You’re not having it. “Are you kidding? I spent three hours in that OR making sure your ACL was repaired properly. I’m not leaving until you’re back in bed and I’ve finished my check-up. So, get up.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he drags a hand through his disheveled hair. “Are you always this charitable?”

You look around the room at the absolute mess. “You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “What happened here? Looks like someone broke into your room.”

Rin’s face hardens, and he straightens up, visibly frustrated. “They did break in. They wouldn’t leave, so I made them.”

You blink, confused for a moment. “You—what?”

“The nurses wouldn’t listen,” Rin mutters, gritting his teeth. “I told them to get out. They kept hovering, so I made them go.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow, surprised by his outburst. “You chased them out?”

He gives you a look that’s a mix of annoyance and irritation. “Yeah, I did. And I don’t want any more pity gifts or anyone pretending like I’m helpless just because I got benched.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’re not getting benched, though, are you?”

He shrugs, his eyes flickering briefly with a semblant of dejection, but he quickly hides it. You move to the broken vase, carefully picking up the shards of glass as a nurse cautiously enters to help clean up. She looks terrified at the mess but quickly gets to work, not daring to argue.

Rin watches you in silence, then drags a hand over his face, muttering, “Great. Now even you know about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, gently removing the bandage to assess the potential damage.

Rin glares at you from the corner of his eye. “You ask too many questions.”

You can’t help the corners of your mouth that lift up, if only just slightly, shaking your head as you continue to examine his knee. “Ah, yes, that must definitely change you from your empty-headed teammates.”

Rin’s eyes narrow at you, the tension thick in the room. “What does that mean?”

Without missing a beat, you mimic his gruff tone, “You ask too many questions.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Rin’s expression darkens, but then—just barely—there’s a crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t smile, but it’s clear he’s not as offended as you thought. The little quirk in his gaze makes it obvious he didn’t take it as badly as he could’ve.

“Whatever,” he mutters, his arms crossing defensively, but there’s no real bite to his words, even if the blatant disrespect is still awfully obvious.

You glance up at him, your hands still busy with the chart as you make your final notes. You let a brief silence hang in the air before you add, “You’re not half as bad when you don’t act like the devil incarnate.”

Rin stiffens slightly, eyes flashing as he straightens up in bed, but the corner of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly. You can tell he’s holding back a snort, though he doesn’t fully let his guard down.

“Devil incarnate, huh?” he says dryly, arching an eyebrow as if he’s considering the statement. “You’re a real piece of work yourself.”

You meet his gaze, and mock . “I’m just here for the knee. And the attitude, if you’re offering.”

Rin shakes his head, muttering under his breath as you finish your notes. Maybe you’ve struck a nerve— just not the one he’s used to people poking.

———————————————————-

Weirdly enough, for a bar so close to a hospital teeming with exhausted interns, fatigued residents, and perpetually annoyed attendings, the atmosphere was surprisingly upbeat. It hummed with the chatter of people shedding the day’s weight, drinks in hand, laughter cutting through the tension they’d likely carried in with them. You suppose alcohol really does work miracles in times of need, and tonight, you desperately hope to be on the receiving end of those miracles.

“I really, really need to get off this case,” you groan, finishing off another shot and barely suppressing a wince as the burn claws its way down your throat.

Livy snorts from her perch beside you, her head leaning heavily against her palm. “Tell me about it. I’ve got a kid who’s juiced up on steroids because he thinks it'll get him a girlfriend.” She lets her head drop onto the bar with a dull thunk, her misery almost theatrical.

You cross your arms and rest your head on them, letting out a muffled laugh. “Sounds like a real catch. Maybe he should swing by the ortho ward. I’ve got a surly footballer who could use a few pointers on how not to scare people off.”

Livy lifts her head just enough to arch an eyebrow at you. “Surly footballer, huh? This the same guy who turned his room into a war zone?”

You nod, gesturing for another round. “The one and only. The mess he makes might actually rival his attitude.”

Livy chuckles, though her laugh is muffled as she lays her cheek back on the bar. “Sounds like you two are perfect for each other.”

“Perfectly incompatible,” you counter.

Livy sits up slightly, her interest piqued. “Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t tell me you’re actually into this guy?”

You scoff, picking at a napkin on the bar. “Into him?” You settle your elbows on the bar decisively, “I’m into complex orthological cases. I’m into passing all my exams and becoming an attending at a good hospital. What I’m not into is an emotional landmine of a man with an ego the size of his paycheck.”

Livy tilts her head, studying you like a puzzle she can’t quite crack. “Okay, but does he at least have the goods? You know, tall, dark, and moody kind of thing?”

“Tall, dark, and irritating,” you correct, leaning into the banter despite yourself. “He’s not bad-looking, but trashing the entire room? If that’s not a dealbreaker, I don’t know what is.”

“Hmm.” Livy hums thoughtfully, swirling the last bit of her drink in the glass. “So you’ve noticed he’s handsome?”

You give her a flat look. “I have eyes, Livy. Doesn’t mean I want to play house with him for the rest of eternity.”

Livy grins, clearly amused. “It doesn’t have to be for the rest of eternity. Could be a night in the on-call room. Or day. Doesn’t matter if you don’t like his personality, because his personality is in his wallet.” She sips on her alcohol like on a juice box, and looks at you with pointed eyes.

“I’m not looking for a transactional relationship, thank you,” you quip. “Besides, we’re stuck together until his knee’s functional again. That’s it.”

Livy raises her glass in mock salute. “Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when you start falling for your disaster patient. Happens to the best of us, you know.”

You roll your eyes, but the hint of a smile creeps onto your lips as you clink your glass to hers. “If that ever happens, I give you full permission to slap some sense into me.”

“Deal,” Livy says, downing the rest of her drink. “If you become a social pariah, I’d have to become one by proxy,” she sighs. ”I’m not letting you ruin my life.”

“Your sense of solidarity has always been your strongest quality,” you mutter, finishing off your drink with a frown.

———————————————————-

Another shift at this godforsaken hospital almost always means a trip straight down to Hades’ underworld. Some people call it Room 407. To each their own.

“Have fun, Persephone!” Oliver’s voice rings out behind you as you make your way to your personal hell.

Your so-called friends have been calling you that since the beginning of the week, after overhearing a nurse’s nickname for you. Apparently, your frequent trips to Rin Itoshi’s unit bore an uncanny resemblance to Persephone returning to the underworld every winter. At first, the joke had made you laugh, but now, the more you see the resemblance, the less amusing it becomes.

Unbeknownst to you, your grim expression only adds fuel to the joke that has spread like wildfire throughout the hospital.

“Persephone? I thought your name was y/n,” Rin remarks, his dark eyes flicking up from where he sits as you clip the chart to the bedside stand.

“It is,” you sigh, already feeling the wear of the conversation. “They call me Persephone because they call you Hades.”

His brow furrows. “Well, why?”

“Why what?”

His huff is almost audible, as if asking for clarification pains him. “Why do they call me Hades? And what does that have to do with Persephone?”

You scoff and gape at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You— You trashed the entire room! You chased out every nurse who tried to help you! You seriously don’t know why they call you Hades?”

He frowns, his jaw tightening as he mutters just loud enough for you to catch, “Just wanted some peace.”

“If you want peace, you ask for it! You don’t just go around terrifying people!” you snap, crossing your arms.

“I did ask,” he growls.

“Oh, did you?” you retort, leaning forward slightly, challenging him.

“I did.”

The two of you lock eyes in an intense, silent standoff, the tension crackling in the air like a brewing storm. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the chart and switching to the matter at hand.

“Whatever. Scar is nicely healed, no sign of tissue abnormalities—”

Before you can finish, Rin interrupts, his eyes widening slightly. “Yeah okay, whatever— what’s this Hades bull got to do with Persephone anyway?.”

His tone softens slightly toward the end, but it still catches you off guard. You lower the chart, tilting your head at him. “You— You want me to explain Persephone? Like, the myth? You don’t know it?”

His blank stare is answer enough, and he mutters, “People say shit about me behind my back, I wanna know what it’s all about.”. You blink at him, momentarily dumbfounded. “You’re serious. You really don’t know? What, were you too busy dribbling a ball to learn the basics of mythology?”

Rin looks away, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “No. I just didn’t have time to get to know stuff like that.”

You blink, genuinely taken aback. “Yeah, but how do you not know about Persephone? Did you sleep through literature class or something?”

“I had other things to focus on,” he says flatly, then glares at you. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

You sigh, setting down the chart. “Ugh... Uh— Persephone is the goddess of spring, but she’s also Demeter’s daughter.”

”Who’s Demeter?” Rin interrupts, and it takes everything in you to not snap. Instead, you grit your teeth; “I was getting to it.”

You take in a breath, and with a warning glance to Rin that he pointedly ignores, you start again. “So. Demeter is the goddess of, um, harvest, I think. Among other things. Whatever, it’s not relevant to the story anyway. So, the whole story is that Hades, the god of the underworld, kidnapped Persephone and dragged her down to his realm to be his queen. Her mom, Demeter, freaked out, causing eternal winter until Persephone was allowed to leave for part of the year. So, when she’s in the underworld, it’s winter. When she’s on Earth, it’s spring. That’s the gist of it.”

Rin raises an eyebrow. “And this has to do with me because…?”

You gesture vaguely at him and then the room. “You’re the brooding, moody god of the underworld who scared everyone off. And I’m the one forced to come down here every day to deal with you.”

There’s a beat of silence as he processes this, his frown deepening. “That’s stupid.”

“You think I like it?” you snap, crossing your arms. “I didn’t choose this nickname. Or this assignment, for that matter.”

Rin leans back against the bed, a soft frown playing on his eyebrows. “So, does that make me your husband in this scenario?”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “What?! No! Don’t—just—ugh, no. Forget I even told you the story.”

He chuckles softly, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. “Relax. I’m kidding.”

“You? Joke? Who are you and what have you done with my patient?,” you mutter, picking up the chart again, your cheeks warm. At this, the slight twinkle in Rin’s eye disappears as quickly as it came, and you can almost see the walls come up again. “Because the idea of marrying my most difficult patient is enough to make me want to quit.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rin says, his voice low and sardonic. “If anyone’s being forced into this situation, it’s me.”

You shoot him a glare but choose to let the comment slide. “Anyway,” you say firmly, turning your attention back to the chart, “your scar is healing well. No sign of scar tissue. You’re progressing as expected, so keep following your physiotherapy plan.”

Rin leans forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Does that mean I’ll get rid of you soon?”

“Not soon enough,” you mutter, though there’s a faint smile tugging at your lips as you scribble a note on the chart.

———————————————————-

“I don’t know why I have to be the one doing all of this. No, seriously, what’s the point?”

The hospital is full of mysteries. A storage room filled with forgotten keepsakes from surgeries. The infamous on-call room, where the stories alone are enough to keep anyone from asking questions. And, of course, the infamous patient room where a doctor cut her patient’s LVAD wire because she fell in love with him.

But the fourth mystery? That one is far more exclusive, and for cause. Room 239 is a quiet secret among your group that you’d stumbled upon as interns. You’d kept it under wraps, specifically because this room is home to what you call the perfect patient: quiet, cooperative, and perpetually asleep. In short, it’s a haven for a peaceful lunch break. No snark, no frowns, no superiority complex. Just pure, unbothered bliss. You’d had your fair share of theories about the guy (dead, in a deep coma, or maybe just asleep…), but ultimately, you’d just decided that as long as he was quiet, whether he was dead or alive mattered little to you.

“I mean, patient care was the first thing we learned in med school. I don’t need Itoshi Rin to teach me that,” you grumble around the salty cupcake you’d snagged from the cafeteria. You chase it down with a gulp of water, practically choking it into submission.

Oliver, lounging in the corner, watches you attack your second cupcake with a raised eyebrow of judgment. “He could probably help you out with that stick shoved up your ass,” he drawls, voice thick with mockery.

You scoff, swallowing another bite. “Right. Like he’s the one to help with that. If anything, I’d leave that room even more stuck up than when I went in.”

“I meant sexually.”

You pause mid-reach for your next snack, the word landing with a heavy thud between the two of you. After a beat, you mutter a flat, “Oh,” before turning back to your tray. Your fingers hover thoughtfully, then swipe up a cookie, as if nothing had happened.

You crunch into it, savoring the sweetness as if it could erase the last thirty seconds of your life. Oliver, of course, is still watching you like he’s just delivered the punchline of a joke he’s dying for you to laugh at.

“You’re quiet,” he says, smirking. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve.”

“You didn’t hit anything,” you mutter, brushing crumbs off your lap. “Unlike some people, I don’t make everything about sex.”

“Oh, please,” Oliver says, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “You’re just mad because I’m right. Admit it: you’ve thought about it.”

You glare at him. “Thought about what?”

“Itoshi Rin,” he says, waving a hand dramatically. “He’s what? 187 centimeters of pure evil brooding energy? Tell me you haven’t entertained the idea.”

“Not even for a second,” you reply, a little too quickly.

He raises a brow. “Sure. And I’m the Chief of Surgery.”

Before you can snap back, the door creaks open, and Livy pokes her head in. “Oh, good, you’re here. Room 407’s asking for you again,” she says, her voice pitched with barely concealed glee.

You groan, slumping forward. “Of course he is.”

Livy grins like a cat that’s caught a particularly annoying mouse. “What’s wrong, Persephone? Your Hades beckons.”

Oliver barks out a laugh, and you grab your tray, scowling as you shove the rest of the cookie into your mouth. “You’re all insufferable,” you say through a mouthful of crumbs, already marching toward the door.

“Have fun!” Livy calls after you, and Oliver’s laughter follows you down the hall.

As you head toward Room 407, you can’t help but think that, of all the things you’ve been called this week, “Persephone” is starting to feel uncomfortably accurate.

"Hey, you asked for me?" you say, slightly breathless as you burst into the room. One hand grips Rin’s chart against your chest, the other keeping the door ajar.

"Why did Hades want Persephone in the overworld?"

"What ?" You stumble over your words, completely blindsided by the question. Out of all the things you’d expected—questions about his recovery timeline, complaints about being benched, maybe a snarky comment about the staff—this wasn’t anywhere near the list.

"It's the underworld," you correct instinctively, recovering enough to squint at him. "And he brought her there because he loved her. Or… something like that. Look, I’m not a mythology expert. Is this seriously what you called me in for?"

He doesn’t stop there, of course. You’d underestimated just how persistent Rin could be.

"If he loved her, why would he drag her to the underworld?" he asks, heavily emphasizing the word “underworld” like it’s some alien concept. "Pretty sure that counts as kidnapping."

"Because it’s Greek mythology, and Greek gods were all a little off their rockers. I don’t know," you reply, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Why would the Greeks idolize gods if they were as batshit crazy as people say?"

"You— This is a hospital wing. There are kids here, so mind your language, would you?," you hiss, gesturing toward the hallway before continuing. "But I don’t know! That’s just how it was—"

"You don’t seem to know much for a doctor," he drawls, raising a single eyebrow with mock disdain.

You take a deep breath, visibly restraining yourself. "Alright, fine. People didn’t idolize gods because they were good or moral. It was about their power, their strength, their control over things humans couldn’t understand. Kind of like how people have favorite athletes."

His frown deepens, but you press on.

"Take football, for example. You probably admire someone for how they play on the field, right? Doesn’t mean you have to like them as a person. People separated admiration for what the gods could do from how they behaved. Same concept."

Rin doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond you. Finally, he mutters, "The gods were cruel. What part of that is worth admiring?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rin, it’s mythology. It’s not supposed to be a blueprint for good behavior— it’s symbolic. The gods were reflections of human nature: flawed, complicated, and sometimes cruel. People admired their power, their ability to control life and death, nature, and fate. It wasn’t about liking them; it was about respecting what they represented.”

He tilts his head, his gaze sharp but oddly contemplative. “So they were admired out of fear?”

“Not just fear,” you say, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, alright, maybe. They were storytellers’ way of explaining the unexplainable. Why the sun rises, why storms happen, why people fall in love or die tragically. The gods made sense of chaos.”

Rin crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. “Still sounds messed up.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But that’s humanity for you. Messy, complicated, and just trying to make sense of things.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, his eyes flicking toward the window as though deep in thought. Then, with a faint scoff, he looks back at you. “You talk too much.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the one who started asking questions.”

His lips twitch, forming an unimpressed glower, but he looks away before you can confirm it. “You still didn’t explain why he wanted Persephone with him.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe he thought she made the underworld less miserable. Maybe he thought she brought some light into his life. Or maybe he was just selfish. You’d have to ask him yourself.”

He leans back against the headboard, his arms still crossed. “Sounds stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Kind of like a certain someone I know who chases everyone out of his room because he doesn’t know how to ask for peace and quiet?”

Rin glares at you, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a walking storm cloud,” you counter, stepping back toward the door. “But at least we’re consistent. Let me know if you have any more deep philosophical questions.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he mutters, though his gaze lingers on you a second longer than necessary as you leave.

———————————————————-

Just like that, you’d somehow become the resident expert on Greek mythology within a matter of days. Every day for the past week, Rin had asked for a new myth. It wasn’t part of your job description, nor anything you’d ever imagined doing during a hospital shift, but there you were, recounting tales of gods, heroes, and monsters to an injured football prodigy with a perpetually sour expression.

When you’d finally worked up the nerve to ask him why he suddenly had such an appetite for mythology, his initial response had been dismissive, a casual shrug paired with, “Patients are entitled to whatever they want. You’re the one who said that.”

You’d raised a skeptical eyebrow, refusing to let him off that easily. “Nice try, Itoshi, but that doesn’t explain why you want them. Come on, I’ve been working my ass up to come up with the abundant demand. You owe me that. What’s the real reason?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the blanket as he muttered, “It keeps my mind off football.”

It was a surprisingly candid admission, one that softened your stance despite yourself. Football was clearly the center of his universe, his world, and now, sidelined by his injury, that world was out of reach. If listening to ancient myths helped distract him from the ache of being benched, then who were you to deny him that small comfort?

“Well,” you’d replied, sliding into the chair by his bedside with a small smile, “You’re lucky your doctor isn’t someone who goes by the book,” You swiftly check your watch, and continue, “I’m supposed to be filling in charts.”

For the first time, his lips had twitched—not quite a smile, but not the usual scowl either.

On Monday, he had reluctantly admitted to asking for a pick-me-up from the last time you’d told him a myth. He had claimed he didn’t like the first one, but by the end of your conversation, you could tell it had gotten him pretty down. You didn’t understand why, because to you, it was just a myth, but you had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t the myth itself that had bothered him, but something else among what you’d said had probably resonated with him a little too much. At the end of his request, he’d made you swear not to tell anyone, in consequence of which he would besmirch your professional career, and drag your name to the depths of hell.

As such, you did not question him further, and told him the tale of Perseus and Andromeda. You weren’t sure he would find it all that interesting, but you’d found it quite sweet anyway.

"Fine," you had said, pausing in the doorway. "The myth of Perseus and Andromeda is pretty sweet. You’ll like it, I think."

You grabbed a chair, plopped it down near his bed, and sat with an exaggerated sigh. Rin raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt as you launched into the myth.

"So, Andromeda was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, a king and queen. Cassiopeia, being, uh, very full of herself, claimed she and her daughter were more beautiful than the Nereids—you know, sea nymphs. So the sea god Poseidon? Not thrilled about that, you can imagine."

Rin nods slowly, as if urging you to continue, though his skeptical expression suggests he’s not sold on where this is going.

"So because he was pissed, Poseidon sent a sea monster to terrorize their kingdom as punishment. Naturally, the people freaked out, and the only solution the oracle gave them was to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster."

"So her own family left her to die?," Rin cuts in, his voice low and sharp.

"Basically, yeah," you reply, giving him a rueful look. "They chained her up to a rock, and waited for the sea monster to kill her. But then Perseus shows up, fresh off his victory against Medusa, and he sees Andromeda all chained up. He asks her a few questions, and decides to rescue her. Because, you know, he’s a hero and that’s what they do."

"And he killed the monster?" Rin’s voice is a little more interested now, his earlier skepticism fading.

"Yeah, Perseus used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. Then, as the story goes, he married Andromeda. There’s more, of course, but that’s the gist."

Rin leans back, his arms crossing over his chest as he processes the tale. "So Andromeda gets punished for something her mother did, and Perseus just shows up to fix everything? That’s not sweet. That’s fucking awful."

"That’s one way to look at it," you admit. "Another is that Andromeda’s story is about redemption. She starts as a victim of her family’s arrogance and ends as someone who gets saved and finds a new life. But I mean, yeah, it’s mythology. It’s not exactly known for fairness."

He doesn’t respond for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. Then, almost grudgingly, he mutters, "At least he fought for her. Took action. Didn’t just leave after making promises."

You study him for a beat, tempted to press, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you stand, brushing imaginary dust off your scrubs. "There you go. Storytime’s over. If you have more questions, I’ll bill you for them."

On Tuesday, you decided to surprise Rin with a new myth. He hadn’t asked for another one the day before, but you figured his curiosity wasn’t something that faded quickly.

To your surprise, Rin seemed distracted, staring at the bedside table and muttering something under his breath about how he didn’t want to hear about myths today.

"I prepared one for today!" you announced, holding the notes you’d scribbled down. "You can’t just blow off my hard work like this!"

His gaze snapped to you, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “You think I’m a child?”

“What? No, I�� Rin, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t need bedtime stories,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “They’re not bedtime stories, Rin. They’re Greek myths. Or do you often tell kids about violence and murder to help them fall asleep?”

Rin shrugged, unfazed by your exasperation. “My brother used to tell me horror stories before bed. Never stopped me from sleeping.”

Your face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and mild horror. “Your brother—how old were you when this happened?”

“Six or seven, I think. Can’t remember,” he said nonchalantly. For the first time since you’d walked in, his gaze met yours, holding steady.

“Doesn’t sound like the best brother to me,” you murmured as you began unwrapping the bandage around his knee, carefully checking for any swelling.

“He was a good brother,” Rin replied, his tone softer, distant. His eyes seemed to lose focus, and for a moment, he was somewhere else entirely.

You hesitated, unsure if pushing forward was a good idea, but you took the risk anyway. “Well, speaking of siblings,” you said cautiously, your hands massaging the surrounding muscles, “the myth I was about to share is about Pollux and Castor. Thought you might find it interesting.”

Rin grunted, his expression unreadable, but the absence of a sharp retort was all the permission you needed to begin.

"Alright," you begin, settling back into the chair you’d just vacated, bandages and medical treatment in hand, and beckon Rin to settle his leg near the chair. "Castor and Pollux were twins. Thing is, they weren’t exactly identical. Castor was mortal because he was the son of Tyndareus, a mortal king. Pollux, on the other hand, was immortal, being the son of Zeus, god of thunder, King of the Gods."

Rin raises an eyebrow. "Different fathers? How does that work?"

"I don’t… I don’t think that was the main focus when they taught the tale. Just go with it," you reply. "Anyway, the two of them were inseparable. They were called the Dioscuri— great warriors and super tight-knit. They did everything together: fought battles, raced horses… the kind of bond only siblings can share, you know?” For a moment, you let out a little laugh. Of course, he knows. He’s a sibling as well, isn’t he?

"And then?" Rin prompts, his tone less sarcastic now, leaning just a fraction forward.

"Well, like all Greek myths, things took a prett tragic turn," you say. "During one of their adventures, Castor was killed in a fight. Pollux was devastated. He couldn’t imagine life without his brother, so he begged Zeus to help."

"And Zeus actually did something for once?" Rin’s skepticism is palpable.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, yeah, surprisingly. Zeus offered Pollux a choice: he could either keep his immortality and live alone, or give up half of it to share with Castor so they could be together. Pollux didn’t hesitate—he chose to share his immortality with his brother."

Rin’s lips press into a thin line, but his eyes stay locked on you. "What happened next?"

"They became the constellation Gemini," you explain, gesturing vaguely upward as if the stars were visible through the hospital ceiling. "Zeus placed them in the sky so they’d never be separated again. Immortal in their own way, together for eternity."

Rin leans back, his expression thoughtful. "So Pollux gave up part of himself to bring Castor back."

"Yeah," you say, standing up again. "It’s a story about love and sacrifice. Not the kind of love myths usually focus on—no drama, no romance—just pure loyalty between brothers. Pretty refreshing, actually."

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze distant, as if searching for something you can’t see.

"Anyway," you add lightly, breaking the silence, "don’t go getting any ideas about asking Zeus for favors, alright? He’s got a worse track record than the hospital vending machines."

Rin snorts softly, the sound almost a laugh, and you take that as your cue to leave. As the door closes behind you, you can’t help but wonder what about the story struck a chord with him.

But as your own mind wanders places you’re not sure it’s supposed to, Rin remains still, staring at the ceiling. The story of Castor and Pollux circles his mind, clinging like an unshakable echo. He doesn't know why he'd let you recount it—maybe he was just bored, maybe it was something in the way you spoke about myths that made them seem less like ancient stories and more like glimpses into people’s lives.

But now, the tale won’t let go.

Pollux couldn’t imagine a life without Castor, Rin thinks. He gave up his immortality for him. That kind of bond... it hits closer to home than he wants to admit.

Sae flashes through his thoughts like an unwelcome specter. The older brother who had once been his everything—his Castor, his constant, the one he’d followed like a shadow. They’d shared dreams once, the same dream of reaching the pinnacle of football, side by side. But unlike Pollux, Sae had left him behind, choosing his path and leaving Rin to stumble through the pieces of their fractured bond.

Would Sae have given up anything for me? The question digs at Rin, sour and raw, though he already knows the answer. Sae’s actions had always been clear: ambition first, family second.

But Pollux didn’t care about what was fair, Rin reminds himself. He cared about his brother. He gave up half his immortality, even if Castor wasn’t perfect.

Rin’s jaw tightens, and he glares at the bandages wrapping his knee, the evidence of his own imperfection. Injured, benched, and stuck in a hospital room— Sae probably wouldn’t even know. Or care.

A flicker of resentment rises in his chest, but it’s dulled by something softer. Pollux’s choice wasn’t about pride or fairness. It was about love, loyalty, and the refusal to let the bond between brothers be severed.

And Rin hates how much he misses that. He hates that no matter how much he resents Sae, there’s still a part of him—buried deep beneath all the bitterness—that would give anything to have what they’d once shared.

The door creaks open slightly as a nurse peeks in, but Rin doesn’t even glance up. "I don’t need anything," he mutters, dismissing her before she can speak.

She leaves, and he’s alone again, the story still rattling in his head. Castor and Pollux were reunited, placed in the stars together for eternity.

———————————————————-

On Wednesday, you hadn’t told Rin a myth. Your schedule had been jam-packed, leaving you incapable of even swinging by his room for a check-up.

“I think it’s for the better, honestly.”

You turned sharply to Anri, a nurse you had befriended when she had helped you find OR 2 back in first year, who was buried in reviewing post-op files, frowning. “What ?”

She shrugged and swiveled her chair to face you.

“I’m all for a forbidden romance, but seriously, y/n, two weeks ago you were calling him a total asshat. And I overheard a nurse say he was calling you a ‘bitch on wheels.’ Now you’re… what? Inventing bedtime stories to tell him while you pull up a chair to his bedside table?”

There were plenty of things wrong with that statement, but you held back and let her continue.

“Look, all I’m saying is I’ve noticed. And I’m not the only one. Sometimes you’ve gotta swallow a bad pill to get better, and this”—she jabbed a finger at the desk for emphasis—“this is a bad pill.”

“It’s not romance, Anri, it’s—”

“It is romance, y/n!” she cut you off, her voice rising. “You like him. I get it, okay? And I want you to be in a relationship, I really do! But is it worth risking your medical license?”

“Who says I need to—”

The redhead raised a hand to stop you, her expression softening. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. But think about it. It’s a line, and crossing it? It’s not worth it. Not for anyone.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You opened your mouth to argue, to deny, but nothing came out. Instead, you picked up your charts and left, her voice still echoing in your mind.

"She’s totally overreacting," Oliver’s voice echoes through the hallway as he falls into step beside you. “You just gotta wait it out. That’s all there is to it.”

“God, not you too,” you groan, clutching your clipboard a little tighter.

“Yeah,” he begins, shrugging casually, “I mean, I’m a ladies’ man. I’ve been there before— And I don’t think you should listen to what some stuck-up nurse has to say. Take it from me” He glances at you sideways, his expression slightly comical, “The amount of twelve year olds outside of this hospital is lethal. You should get to him before they do. I heard they bite. And they use their signs to hit people.”

You roll your eyes, “Take it from you? Because you’re a so-called professional, I presume?” You pick up your pace, but he keeps up.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I mean, it’s tricky business. But I’d say, he probably doesn’t see a lot of genuine people walking around in his field. This can be good for you and him”, he takes a breath, and, looking you in the eye, he continues.

“I’m serious, y/n! If you blow it with him, you might never find anyone else again .”

You stop abruptly, turning to face him with a scowl. “Are you saying no one else will want me?”

“No, I’m just�� he’s the only guy on planet earth that can be potentially as stuck up as you are,” he says, gesturing vaguely as though it explains everything. “Just hold it in for this case, and when he’s not your patient anymore, you can do whatever.”

You turn around in retaliation, “Are you—” You whirl around to face Oliver, your voice laced with frustration. “If someone needs to hold it in, it’s you. You hooked up with 3 nurses last week. And 4 of your interns! You flirted with 2 attendings yesterday! ”

Your voice draws in a few unwanted stares from the nurses, causing you to quiet down, while Oliver raises his hands, palms out, but you don’t give him a chance to respond.

“I don’t like him,” you continue, you whisper firmly, “and even if I did, I would know how to hold it in without the help of a certified hospital whore! I’m an adult, not some teenage girl gushing over a hallway crush. I am fully conscious of my actions, and I am painfully aware of the rules set by this hospital because I'm not stupid!”

Without giving him another second to argue, you turn on your heel and stride down the hallway, leaving him standing there.

But of course, Oliver can’t help himself. His voice calls after you, accompanied with a frown.

“You know, if it comes down to it, I really prefer the word slut. Whore feels demeaning.”

You don’t look back, though Anri’s words linger like a weight pressing against your chest.

On Thursday, Rin found himself staring at the clock, wondering why you hadn’t come by yet. It had been two days, after all.

He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself— but the hours felt heavier in your absence. His time in the hospital was nearing its end, and the thought of leaving without saying something gnawed at him. You’d probably flip out if he left without a word, much like the time you’d discovered he’d removed his bandage and neglected the prescribed cream for two days straight.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts as a nurse entered the room, her demeanor cautious, as if stepping into a lion’s den. She carried a small card, her movements stiff and deliberate as she placed it on the bedside table next to the wilting flowers someone had left days ago. Without a word, she retreated as quickly as she had come, leaving Rin alone once more.

He sighed, leaning back into the pillows, and cast a glance at the card. It was pale blue, with a generic “Get Well Soon” emblazoned on the front. He didn’t even need to open it to know it wasn’t from you.

The thought made his chest tighten slightly. The nurses still scurried away from him, despite his recent efforts to dial back his temper. He’d stopped chasing them weeks ago— really, he had— but apparently, his reputation was following him around like a shadow.

What’s the point of trying if nothing changes?

He turned his head toward the flowers, the small card sitting innocuously nearby. His jaw tightened. For a second, he thought about crumpling it up and tossing it into the trash. Instead, he reached for the card and turned it over in his hand.

“...Probably not from her anyway,” he muttered to himself, as though saying it aloud would somehow make it sting less.

Rin hesitated for a moment before opening the card. The sharp edges of the paper felt out of place in his calloused hands, but curiosity won out. Inside, the neat, precise handwriting immediately caught his attention.

"Itoshi,

Rest up. The team needs you back in one piece. We’ll handle the field until then.

- PXG”

A faint grimace one could eventually interpret as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Of course, it was from them. PXG wasn’t exactly known for warm, heartfelt messages, but this was about as close as they got. They didn’t expect him to change, didn’t expect him to soften. They just wanted their star striker back, sharp and ruthless as ever.

The smirk faded quickly. He wasn’t sure why, but the card felt hollow. He glanced at the flowers again, brow furrowing. They were beginning to droop, petals curling inward like they were giving up. Rin’s fingers tapped idly against the card, his mind wandering.

This is what it’s always been. Keep moving forward. Keep winning. Anything else is just noise.

But lately, things felt… different. The noise had become a presence—an infuriating, stubborn presence that glared at him with just as much fire as he gave. Someone who dared to talk back, who rolled their eyes at his antics but still showed up anyway.

He clenched his jaw and tossed the card onto the bedside table. He wasn’t going to think about it. You were late for your check-in (inexcusably late, but if you made it today, he’d try to work up the energy to forgive you) and that was probably all it was. You were busy, and he was overthinking things.

Still, when the door creaked open a moment later, his head snapped up, his heart betraying him with an almost imperceptible jolt.

But it wasn’t you.

Another nurse entered, this one carrying a tray with his afternoon medication. Rin’s face hardened, and he leaned back into the pillows with a scowl.

“Medication time,” she said softly, keeping her distance.

“Just leave it there,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the desk.

The nurse hesitated but obeyed, setting the tray down and scurrying out like she couldn’t leave fast enough. Rin’s eyes followed her retreating figure, his mood souring further.

She’ll come by eventually, he thought, his gaze flicking back to the door as it closed. She always does.

By the time the sun rose on Friday, Rin was positively fuming. He couldn’t get over the fact that you hadn’t come to discharge him. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting some grand farewell, but he figured you’d at least show up. The guy from yesterday was competent enough, sure, but there was something grating about his overly cheery demeanor and his unsolicited stories about his son.

Rin scoffed at the memory. Calling someone a twelve year old genius didn’t generate much excitement when the statement itself came from a doctor of all people.

He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, feeling the ghost of a soccer ball’s weight in his hands. It was stupid to even be dwelling on it. He’d be out of this hospital and back on the field soon enough. That was the point of all this—healing, recovering, moving forward.

But his thoughts kept circling back.

The last time you’d come to see him, you’d been your usual exasperating self. Glaring, scolding, throwing medical jargon his way as though he’d ever care enough to remember it. Yet, between all the banter and the tension, there had been a sort of steadiness.

You were never one to sugarcoat things, and Rin had come to appreciate that. Maybe that’s why he was so agitated now. This hospital stay had been a drag, but you’d made it tolerable, even interesting.

The knock on his door broke through his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said gruffly, his eyes narrowing as he sat up straighter in bed.

To his disappointment— and growing annoyance— it wasn’t you. Another nurse entered, clipboard in hand.

“Itoshi-san,” she began carefully, “I’ve brought your discharge papers. You’ll just need to sign them, and then someone from the team can escort you out whenever you’re ready.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t expected to be discharged for another two days. After a long pause, he nodded curtly and took the clipboard, signing his name with quick, precise strokes.

As the nurse turned to leave, Rin finally spoke up, his tone sharper than he intended.

“Where’s Y/N?”

The nurse blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh… Dr. L/n is on a different rotation today. I believe she’s in surgery most of the day.”

Rin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away, dismissing her with a wave.

So that was it. You were too busy to stop by. Logical, reasonable, expected.

Still, as Rin swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to leave, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

———————————————————-

You couldn’t tell if getting pulled from Rin’s case was a good thing. On one hand, you wouldn't have to deal with his constant arrogance, permanent frown, or smart remarks anymore. On the other hand, the visits had become a routine, and getting pulled from a certain routine takes a toll on people. Especially when said routine has been replaced with something worse.

The sounds of clips and metal tools clacking against each other in the OR were unnerving. Being a surgical resident assisting in her first lung transplant ever was a far cry from dealing with an injured athlete.

“Suction.”

The attending's voice cuts through the tense air, commanding and calm. Your hands moved instinctively, grasping the suction tool and working to clear the surgical field. Every motion was precise, deliberate, and yet, your nerves thrummed like a taut string.

You kept your eyes on the open thoracic cavity. A part of you was in awe of the doctors working on the transplant— the way the attending's hands danced across the cavity, navigating the mess full of blood vessels and tissue. Another part of you was screaming internally, worried you might miss a step or fumble at the worst possible moment.

”Keep it steady,” the attending sternly said, as your instrument wavered for the briefest second.

”Yes, doctor,” you replied, voice tight.

In that moment, you realized something unexpected: the steady banter and sharp-edged humor of Rin’s room seemed almost... calming in comparison to the sterile tension of the OR. There, you could throw back a quip or roll your eyes without fear of dire consequences. Here, every move had the weight of life and death.

As the attending began the anastomosis, joining the pulmonary artery to the donor lung, your focus sharpened. There was no room for error. The room was heavy with concentration, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors the only sound besides the surgeon's measured instructions.

You exhaled slowly. Routine or not, this was a challenge you’d always dreamed of facing. And despite the anxiety, a spark of determination flared within you. You’d proved you could handle an ACL tear with no assistance— if a lung transplant was thrown your way, you’ll deal with it.

The first signs that something was wrong came almost imperceptibly—a slight falter in the rhythm of the beeping monitors, a whisper of uncertainty in the attending’s voice as he called for another instrument.

“Suture,” he demanded sharply, and you scrambled to pass it, your hand trembling ever so slightly as you did. The air in the OR felt thicker now, like it was closing in.

Then came the sudden, shrill alarm of the heart monitor.

“Blood pressure��s dropping,” the anesthesiologist announced, her voice calm but clipped. “Seventy over forty.”

“Clamp the artery!” the attending barked. The scrub nurse moved quickly, handing over the vascular clamp. You watched as the attending’s hands worked faster, his movements less fluid and more urgent than before.

“Heart rate’s falling,” the anesthesiologist warned again, her voice tighter this time.

Your breath hitched as you stared at the patient, your suction tool frozen mid-air. It felt like the world had tilted on its axis. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not here, not in this room with some of the most skilled surgeons you’d ever seen.

“Doctor L/N, focus!” the attending snapped, snapping you out of your paralysis. You immediately resumed suctioning, but the pit in your stomach deepened.

“I’m seeing a tear in the pulmonary artery,” the attending muttered under his breath. He didn’t look up as he issued the next command. “Get me more gauze—now.”

The nurse moved to comply, but it was clear that the bleeding was already too much. You could see the blood pooling in the cavity, no matter how much suction you applied. Your gloves were slick with blood, the sterile world of the OR dissolving into chaos.

“Pressure’s tanking—fifty over thirty!” The anesthesiologist’s voice cut through the room like a knife.

“Damn it,” the attending hissed, leaning closer to the patient. “We need to stop this bleed or we’re going to lose her.”

The seconds stretched into eternity. You felt helpless, your limited role as a resident confining you to the sidelines of a battle that was rapidly being lost. Every beep of the monitors seemed to grow louder, more frantic, until they finally gave way to a single, flat tone.

“No pulse,” someone murmured, though the words echoed like a shout in the silent room.

“Start compressions,” the attending ordered, his voice now devoid of its earlier sharpness. You stepped back as the scrub nurse took over, pressing rhythmically against the patient’s chest while the attending worked furiously to repair the damage.

“Adrenaline, one milligram,” the anesthesiologist called, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.

But even as everyone in the OR fought to revive the patient, a grim certainty settled over the room. Minutes passed, feeling like hours, and the flatline on the monitor remained unwavering.

Finally, the attending slumped back, his gloves and gown stained deep red. His voice was heavy as he spoke the words you’d never wanted to hear.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” Shooting a look at his watch, he quickly declared what you’d dreaded to hear the most, “Time of death, 10:47 AM”

The room was silent except for the hum of the machines and the shuffle of exhausted feet. You stood there, frozen, staring at the still figure on the table. You’d known, logically, that not every surgery ended in success. But knowing it in theory and experiencing it firsthand were two entirely different things.

“Clean up,” the attending said quietly, already removing his gloves and gown. He looked at you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. “There’s always next time. Dr L/n, you’re free to go.”

You nodded numbly, your hands shaking as you removed your own gloves.

As soon as you pushed the button and make your way out of the OR, the sobs wreck through your body like a storm, uncontrollable and raw. You press your palms against your face, as if that could somehow push the pain away, but it only makes the ache in your chest sharper. The hallway is lit with horrible, fluorescent lights, and offers little to no comfort, its emptiness amplifying the sound of your heartbreak.

The patient on the table was a thirteen year old girl with whom you’d worked with for two months. Leah’s laugh echoes in your mind, a cruel reminder of the life that was now gone. You’d made promises to her, assurances you thought you could keep. “You’ll be just fine,” you had said, your voice confident and steady, even when she’d looked at you with wide, worried eyes. But what was the point of words when they ended in this? When you couldn’t keep her safe?

She’d trusted you. Her bubbly little voice still rang in your ears, calling you “sister from another mother,” and now it felt like a dagger to the heart. You remember the games you’d played to distract her from the pain, the little jokes that always made her giggle, the way her face lit up when you walked into the room. How could someone so vibrant, so full of life, just be… gone?

Your hands tremble as you clench them into fists, your nails digging into your palms to ground yourself in something, anything, other than the overwhelming grief. But it doesn’t help. Nothing does.

The weight of the day crushes you. The guilt is suffocating, a vicious cycle of “what ifs” and “if onlys.” What if you’d caught something sooner? What if you’d advocated harder? What if you’d somehow done more? The logical part of your brain, the part trained to understand that not every battle can be won, doesn’t stand a chance against the emotions consuming you.

After what feels like an eternity, the tears stop, not because the pain has lessened but because your body has nothing left to give. You sit there, hollow and numb, staring at the sterile white walls. You’re not sure how much time has passed—minutes? Hours? It doesn’t matter.

The sound of distant footsteps pulls you back to reality. You quickly wipe at your face, though it’s a futile effort; your eyes are red and swollen, your cheeks streaked with tear tracks. You don’t care. Let them see. Let them know how broken you feel.

But as the footsteps grow louder, you instinctively steel yourself, pushing the emotions down into the deepest recesses of your mind. There’s no room for vulnerability here, not in this place where strength is expected at all times.

"Y/n?"

You quickly rub your palms across your cheeks, desperate to dry your tears and wipe away the redness in your eyes. Your attempt at composure is poor at best, and the sting of crying makes your face feel heavy.

"Uh, yeah, I’ll, um— I’m going," you stammer, avoiding eye contact as you push yourself up from the bed.

As you turn to leave, you collide with a firm chest. Startled, you curse under your breath and glance up, only to freeze when you meet Rin’s sharp, questioning gaze.

“Are you… okay?” he asks, his voice lower than usual, almost cautious.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is cold and distant, your gaze glued to the floor in a desperate attempt to hide the tears staining your cheeks.

Rin’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to speak again. “I got lost. Why are you here? What happened?”

“I’m here because this is my workplace. You’re not supposed to be down here. This part is off-limits to patients.”

“I’m not a patient anymore.”

“Fine, it’s off-limits to empty-headed footballers. So leave, will you?”

“I’m trying to be nice.”

“Genuinely nice people don’t usually tell others when they’re being nice.”

“Well, I’m not a genuinely nice person, am I?”

You try to deflect, forcing a weak smile as you mumble, "Are you really asking? Because I really need to talk about this." Your voice cracks, betraying your strong appearance you’d crafted, and you can feel your lower lip quivering as the tears threaten to spill again.

Rin takes half a step back, his brows furrowed in discomfort. "Well, now I’m not so sure I’m asking," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You lose the fragile grip on your emotions, a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek, and your lower lip wobbles again, and Rin stiffens. His eyes dart between yours and the tear as though it’s a puzzle he doesn’t know how to solve.

"No, um, joke," he blurts, his words tripping over themselves. "I was joking. Seriously."

But it’s too late. You close the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck in a sudden, desperate hug. His entire body goes rigid, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides as if someone has just activated his fight-or-flight response.

"You’re an asshat," you sniffle, burying your face into his shoulder, "but I really, really need someone right now."

Rin is silent for a moment, clearly at war with himself. Then, with an almost audible sigh, his arms hesitantly come up to rest around your back.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well, you’re a bitch on wheels."

You let out a watery laugh, your grip around him tightening. "I know," you whisper back, your voice shaky but lighter than before.

Rin relaxes, just slightly, his hold on you firm but careful. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but the warmth of his embrace feels genuine. For once, neither of you have anything snarky to say, and the silence speaks louder than any words could. His hand slips from your waist to find your own, and your breath catches as your fingers meet. Your eyes widen against the curve of his neck when he takes your hand and, with surprising gentleness, guides you toward the hospital beds near the wall. The fragile silence settles around you like a bubble, one neither of you dares to break.

Cautiously, you lean your head against his shoulder, half-expecting him to stiffen or pull away, or maybe to even drop-kick you onto the hospital floor. But he doesn’t.

Instead, the steady rise and fall of his chest is almost soothing, and the faint scent of muscade, rain, grass, and cologne weaves between you like an invisible blanket. It’s intoxicating.

Strangely enough, this feels about a thousand times more intimate than it has with any of your past relationships. Things get even more strange when you realise: you don’t want this moment to end. Ever. You start telling yourself you must’ve been around too many questionable medicaments when the only thought that echoes in your mind is the one that tells you that even forever wouldn’t be long enough.

“One of my patients died,” you admit, your words trembling as much as your hands. “I… I really liked her. She was so young…” You swipe a hand under your nose, sniffling as you try to keep yourself together.

Rin doesn’t say anything at first. His shoulders shift, and he glances at you briefly, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of such raw emotion. “Oh,” he mutters finally, his voice low.

“I’m not—I don’t want to seem pushy,” you add quickly, your words rushing out in an effort to fill the silence. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I just really need to talk.”

“Sure,” Rin shrugs, leaning back slightly.

You take a shaky breath, your voice climbing a pitch as tears threaten to spill again. “It’s just… people have been on my ass about everything. Torres is counting on me so much, Leah’s parents probably hate me because I told them she was going to be fine, and now she’s—she’s gone.”

Your hands fly up as you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning your head back against the wall behind you. You can feel the familiar sting of tears building again, but before they can spill, Rin’s elbow nudges you lightly, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Wasn’t your fault though, right?” he says, his tone almost casual. “You’re not a real doctor yet.”

You whip your head around to glare at him. “I am a real doctor. Just not an attending.”

Rin raises an eyebrow. “Don’t know what that means.”

Despite the tears brimming in your eyes, you let out a scoff, shuffling around to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Fine. I’ll explain it to you.” You sniffle again and swipe at your face before continuing.

“So… there are interns. They don’t do much unless someone decides to throw them a bone. Maybe an appy once in a blue moon if you’re feeling generous. Most of the time, they’re stuck filling out post-ops and running errands.”

Your voice falters slightly, and your mind flashes back to Leah. Her post-op report is probably sitting on someone’s desk right now, untouched. The thought makes your throat tighten, and you’re about to lose it again when Rin nudges you once more.

“But I know you’re not an intern, so what are you?”

“I’m a resident,” you manage to say after a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. “I’ve got interns to manage, but I’m also like my attending’s intern. It’s… complicated, but I’m somewhere in the middle.”

Rin leans his head back, arms crossed over his chest. “So what’s an attending?”

You let out a watery laugh, swiping at your face again. “You seriously don’t know? After being stuck in here for that long?”

A small smile draws on Rin’s face. This was pathetic. Pretending to be stupid just to keep someone’s mind off tough times is weak, and laughable.

“No, I don’t. I’m an empty-headed footballer, remember?”

You laugh, for the second time this evening. Too bad. It’s not like everyone would know he’d been weak and pathetic for you, anyway.

———————————————————-

To: yn.ln@orthopedics.hospital.org

From: sayuri.itoshi@outlook.jp

Subject: Thank You!

Dear y/n,

It’s been a bit of a challenge getting your name out of that stubborn, football-obsessed son of mine (I’m sure you’re well aware of this!), but I wanted to take a moment to personally thank you for all of your hard work. Rin is back on the field and his knee is performing miracles—thanks to you!

I couldn’t make it in person to express my gratitude, but I wanted to extend an invitation: in a week, one of Rin’s cousins is getting married. The entire family would be thrilled to see you there and offer our thanks in person, including the bride herself! I understand this is short notice, so please don’t feel pressured to accept. But if you do, we would be absolutely delighted.

Sayuri Itoshi, Ph.D.

Professor of Economics

Department of Economics

University of Tokyo

7-3-1 Hongo, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 113-8654, Japan

“Oh. My God.”

Livy is leaning over your computer, hands on the back of your chair, her eyes wide as she stares at the screen. When she speaks up again, it’s with an excitement that makes you wince. “You should go,” she practically squeals, spinning your chair to face her. “I can help you pick out a dress!”

Then, with a finger tapping the corner of her mouth in mock contemplation, she bemoans, “Well, now you have to go. If you don’t, the idea of helping you pick out a dress for your first date will be etched into my mind forever, tormenting me until the end of time. And it will all be your fault.”

Her theatrics reach a dramatic climax as she locks her arms around you, shaking you lightly while declaring, “But thankfully, my beautiful, smart best friend would never let me suffer this way. Oh, how grateful I am! How lucky!”

“Cut it out,” you grit through clenched teeth. “I’m not going.”

“What!? No, you can’t not go! Remember how you said you’d never torture me mentally? This is torture. You’re torturing me. Please stop torturing me.”

You’re about to retort when Oliver comes into view, clipboard in hand. His smirk almost makes you want to bolt from the hospital entirely, while Livy continues twisting her body as though in invisible agony.

“You should go,” Oliver says casually, leaning against the desk.

“I don’t take advice from whores.”

Oliver’s jaw drops in indignation. “No— I told you! You can’t call me that; it’s demeaning! There used to be a time where you respected my wishes. Now you just humiliate me in hospital hallways.” He spins on his heel dramatically, crossing his arms and it’s clear talking to you is no longer in his prospects.

You smile, turning back to your computer with a fleeting sense of victory— only for your heart to drop when you catch sight of the screen. The faint "Sent!" animation flashes in the corner, and dread floods you as you scramble to check your sent emails.

Your worst fears are confirmed.

To: sayuri.itoshi@outlook.jp

From: yn.ln@orthopedics.hospital.org

Subject: Re: Thank You!

Dear Mrs. Itoshi,

I couldn’t be happier that your son has regained full mobility. His physiotherapist certainly did an excellent job. As for me, I am deeply grateful for your kind words and could never bring myself to refuse such an honor. It was a pleasure working with your son, and I am glad to have been of help.

Sincerely,

Y/N L/N, M.D.

Orthopedic Surgery Resident, PGY-4

Blue Lock Medical Center

Department of Orthopedic Surgery

Your City, Your State/Country

You stare at the screen in horror, while Livy smirks in malice behind you. “I did tell you you were going.”

———————————————————-

"Okay, so. There are three checkpoints we need to go through," Livy declares solemnly, pushing her glasses up her nose with the air of someone about to deliver groundbreaking news.

"I need to go through," you correct her, not bothering to look up from your computer.

She glares at you over her papers. "Actually, I’ve decided that, considering the absolute disaster you are, you’re going to need me during the dress fitting, the flight, and the wedding."

You whip your head toward her so fast your neck twinges. "The wedding?!"

"Hm? Oh, yeah," she says nonchalantly, flipping a page like she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell. "I texted Itoshi’s mom. She loves me, by the way. Well, maybe not more than you, but she definitely loves me."

"You texted her?!" you screech.

"How else was I supposed to ask if I could come?" she replies, tone impossibly casual.

"Wait—hold on," you say, holding up your hand. "You have her number?!"

Livy smirks, leaning back in her chair. "You don’t?"

For a moment, all you can do is gape at her, your jaw practically hitting the floor. "Livy, how the hell do you have Sayuri Itoshi’s number?"

"Easy," she says, ticking off her fingers. "I’m charming, resourceful, and clearly the brains of this operation."

You bury your face in your hands. "You can’t just invite yourself to someone else’s family wedding!”

"Why not?" she asks, sounding entirely unbothered. "Mrs. Itoshi said it’s fine. She actually sounded excited. Something about the more, the merrier."

You stare at her, mouth agape. "You’re insane."

"And you’re welcome," Livy says with a smug grin. "Oh, and I told her I’d sit next to you at the reception. You know, to keep you from embarrassing yourself."

"Livy!" you groan, leaning back in your chair.

"What?" she shrugs. "She loves me."

Your eyes almost pop out of your sockets

#1 CHECKPOINT : FITTING

“Livy, I can’t move. This dress sucks. And it’s ugly. I feel like a geometry shape, the dress is actually made of metal. I cannot move.”

”It’s not ugly, it’s… special. I like the red, it’s very— joyful! You know, merry Christmas and all that. It’s cute…” at the frown on your face, Liv can only grimace. “— ish?”

“No, it’s not.” You draw the curtains harshly, and turn around to get this horrid dress off from you. “How did you say we were gonna get there again?” You grit your teeth as you attempt to open the zipper on the back.

“By plane. Sayuri sent me the tickets. We leave in two days by the way, so hurry up with the dress.”

You draw the curtain back, and show your horrified expression through the gap.

“What? You—” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your index and thumb, inhaling sharply in a desperate attempt to rein in your spiraling thoughts. “Two days? How is there going to be enough time to get everything done?” You shove a bright red dress back through the curtain, letting out an exasperated groan. “And this is too red.”

“No, I— Y/n, this is a Christmas wedding!” Livy huffs from the other side. “It has to be on theme. Red is on theme!”

“There are plenty of Christmas colors to work with that aren’t bright, in-your-face red,” you argue, already regretting your choice to come along.

This time, Livy groans loudly, the sound dripping with frustration. “White is out, green is boring, and that leaves us with red. I never said it had to be bright red anyway!”

Her words make you pause mid-turn in your cabin. You glance at the dresses she’s forced on you, a sea of reds ranging from deep burgundy to literal crimson that reminds you of your nephew’s fire truck toy. They glare back at you mockingly, each shade more vibrant than the last. Even with the heavy curtain separating you from Livy’s persistent presence, you resist the urge to roll your eyes— though you doubt she’d care if she could see you.

How did you even get here? You’d been adamant about not going along with this. Sure, you hadn’t sent that email, but you definitely hadn’t consented to being dragged to an impromptu shopping trip for someone else’s Christmas wedding. Yet here you are, drowning in an actual tsunami of reds, your fingers sifting through material and nuance options as your mind drifts somewhere you wish it wouldn’t.

The memory of that night creeps in, despite being as unwelcome as it is. You try to shove it aside, but the image of Rin lingers, sharp and intrusive. It had been after that god-awful surgery, when the stress and exhaustion had left you raw and exposed. You shouldn’t have hugged him. You really shouldn’t have hugged him, and yet you did.

And now, no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop replaying it in your head. Did he think it was more than what it was? Did you think it was more than what it was? And, more importantly, what was it, exactly? It’s not as if it was a kiss. If it had been a kiss, maybe you could justify this endless loop of overthinking. But it wasn’t. So why does it still feel like your heart is caught in a vice?

Your hand trails absently over the materials covering the cabin walls as you change again, and your thoughts spiral deeper into the memory, your focus completely stolen by questions you aren’t sure you even want the answers to.

“Hello? Can you hear me? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?” Your head snaps around so fast it’s a wonder you don’t give yourself whiplash. You yank the curtain open, annoyance radiating off you in waves.

Livy stands there, momentarily stunned, her eyes scanning the dress you’ve reluctantly put on.

“Never mind,” she says after a beat, a smile creeping onto her lips. “You look great!”

“It’s too tight,” you bite out, your tone as stiff as the fabric clinging to your body.

Livy rolls her eyes, completely unbothered by your complaint. “It’s supposed to feel tight, sweetheart. That’s how you know it’s doing something for you.”

Before you can argue further, she grabs the curtain and pulls it shut again with a dramatic flourish. “Now hurry up and get changed,” she calls through the fabric. “We still need to figure out accessories, and at this rate, we’ll be here all night!”

#2 CHECKPOINT: AIRPORT

You hated airports. No amount of martinis, gin, or whiskey in the lounge could ever erase the sinking dread of knowing you’d soon be thousands of miles above the ground, trapped in a pressurized metal tube.

“Isn’t it great he booked us business tickets? We’ll have to thank him somehow…” Livy’s voice broke through your sulking, her eyes peeking over the hem of her magazine. “Prada has nice ties. You could pair one with some flowers or something. Classic.”

You shot upright, abandoning the slouched position you’d melted into. “A tie? What does she need a tie for?”

Livy glanced at you over her glasses, unimpressed. “Are you listening to me? Not she, he. Ties are a pretty standard gift for guys.”

Your brows furrowed. “What guy?”

Her exasperation was palpable, her dramatic sigh echoing in your ears. “Rin. Obviously.”

“I’m not getting Rin a gift. He’s not the one getting married.”

“No, he’s not,” Livy said, lowering her magazine just enough to glare at you knowingly. “But he is the one who booked your ticket.”

You blinked, stunned. Your fingers curled into the armrest of your seat as you tried to wrap your head around her words. “How do you know that?”

Livy, completely unbothered by your growing suspicion, calmly removed her glasses and flipped another page. “Relax. I told you, his mom and I text.” She held up her phone as if that explained everything, the screen lit with a string of cheerful messages.

“And?” you prompted, your patience wearing thin.

“And,” she said with an almost mischievous smile, “he upgraded your ticket. Something about it being a thank-you gift. Although, if I had to guess, his mom probably forced him into doing it.”

Your hands were already itching to throttle her, if only to shake loose the full story you were certain she was keeping to herself.

“So,” she spoke up again, “Isn’t it nice, what he did?”

“Sure it is,” you shrug. “Did you change his diapers? Is that why he upgraded your seat, too?” You say, sipping your coffee.

“I have my ways. I don’t need to change anybody’s diapers,” Livy says, raising her eyebrows smugly over the rim of her sunglasses, “or read him bedtime stories to help him fall asleep.”

Your head snaps toward her. “How do you know about that?”

Her smirk grows wider. “You really did read him bedtime stories?”

Rolling your eyes, you counter, “No. They were Ancient Greek myths.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! You know Anri—the nurse? She called them bedtime stories, too. It’s ridiculous—”

“Y/n.” Livy cuts you off, her tone shifting slightly, almost as if she’s trying to ground you in the moment. “You know what I’m talking about—it’s not about Greek myths or bedtime stories. You’ve never put this much effort into anyone. Ever.”

Feigning indignation, you shoot back, “Yes, I have!”

“Last year, you gave me the exact same present you gave me two years ago. That’s the same gift. Back to back.”

Her words make you falter, the faintest trace of heat creeping into your cheeks. “That was… purely coincidence,” you mutter, your bravado waning.

Livy lets out a soft chuckle, but her expression remains sincere. “Look, none of us have ever blamed you for it. You’ve always been practical, and we respect that. But what you’ve done for Rin? That goes beyond friendliness, doesn’t it?”

You hesitate, your brows furrowing as you grapple with the idea. You’ve desperately tried to forbid yourself from dwelling on it for too long—brushing off the teasing and heat as inconsequential, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence has slipped past your defenses.

“No, it just… started once, and then we just kept going, but I never intended… I never…” Your words falter, tangling in your throat as your gaze drifts into empty space.

Livy sighs, realizing she won’t get anything more from you. Still, she knows you well—better than anyone else. You two had pulled through med school together, had snagged an internship at the same place together, and now, you’re residents together. She knows you like the back of her hand. She knows you’re logical to a fault, always weighing every decision with precision. And yet, when it comes to Rin, all logic seems to crumble.

She wonders if it’s because you see love as inherently illogical—a chaotic, uncharted territory where reason holds no sway. That might explain why you’ve let yourself become so tangled in something you can’t quite define.

But Livy knows more than she’s letting on. She itches to tell you about how Rin behaves when you’re not around— the cold, dismissive tone he reserves for the rest of the staff, the outright refusals to accept anyone else’s diagnostics or treatments. How he insists on you, and only you, for the massages and check-ins. How you’ve drawn more words out of him than anyone else in the entire hospital.

If only you knew.

Still, Livy knows you wouldn’t take this kind of conversation well in a calm, controlled setting. Perhaps a little nudge, a change in approach, is what’s needed to help you see what’s right in front of you.

Livy leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with a deliberate air. “Do you know the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea?”

You didn’t even bother looking up from your magazine. “Oh, this should be good. Are you seriously trying to use my own technique on me? I know what you’re doing.”

She rolled her eyes, tossing her sunglasses onto the table. “Well, do you?”

That made you pause. You raised an eyebrow, finally sparing her a glance. “Yes, I do. You can do better.”

“No I don’t think so,” she said, her lips curving into a sly grin. “So, Pygmalion was this sculptor, right? Crazy talented but kind of… emotionally constipated. He didn’t care about love. Thought no one was good enough for him, that most people couldn’t keep up with him. Then, one day, he sculpts Galatea, and she’s everything he’s ever wanted. Perfect in every way. And—”

You snorted, flipping a page. “and he falls in love with Galatea, prays to Aphrodite to help him out. She makes Galatea come alive, and he’s still not happy. I told you, I know the myth.”

“My point is,” Livy said, leaning forward as if she were about to deliver a groundbreaking revelation, “he didn’t realize he was falling in love while he was working on her. He just kept pouring all this time and energy into her, treating her like she was the most important thing in his life. Sound familiar?”

Your fingers froze mid-turn, and the page fluttered back into place. “What, so you’re comparing me to Galatea? You’re saying that I completely changed the rules of his entire world and am the love of his life?”

She threw her hands up dramatically. “No smartass, I’m comparing you to Pygmalion.”

“Livy, he’s a patient,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. “I’m a doctor. End of story.”

Livy’s grin softened into something closer to a small smile. “Sure. If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” She leaned back again, watching you with those too-perceptive eyes. “But think about it. You’ve gone above and beyond for him. You’ve put more effort into him than I’ve seen you give anyone else—ever. Not even me, and I’m your best friend.”

“It’s not like that,” you muttered, dropping the magazine entirely. “I’m just… helping him through a rough time. That’s all.”

Livy tilted her head, studying you. “And maybe it started that way. But Pygmalion didn’t know he was falling for Galatea until she came to life. So ask yourself this—what exactly are you sculpting here?”

#3 CHECKPOINT: WEDDING

“Woah.”

It was the only thing you could manage, and you knew it didn’t come close to doing the place justice. The venue was stunning—like something out of one of those glossy magazine spreads you always thought were too perfect to be real.

Right in the middle of the room was a massive Christmas tree, its branches dusted with snow and decked out in silver and red ornaments. The centerpiece served as a reference point for the tables, arranged in neat circles around it, each one set so perfectly it looked like no one had dared touch it yet.

The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in just enough of the snowy view outside to make you forget you were indoors. Garlands hung from the dark ceiling, their lights twinkling like stars in a way that felt straight out of a fairytale.

And then there was the snow. It was falling—inside, somehow—but frozen midair, like it was posing for a photo. None of it landed on the guests or the tables, just hung there, suspended in a way that made you want to reach out and see if it was real.

It was the kind of place that made you stop for a second, your brain scrambling to catch up with everything your eyes were taking in.

“This is so…”

“Magnificent? I sure hope so. I paid for some of it.”

The voice was unfamiliar, but the sharp tone—balanced with just enough amusement to keep it from feeling cold—made you freeze. You had a pretty good idea of who it might be.

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry,” the woman continued, her words breezy and direct. “I wasn’t alone. My sons helped. With all the money they’re raking in now, I’d be questioning my parenting if they didn’t chip in.”

And then you saw her. The blue eyes, the fierce, unreadable stare, the kind of eyelashes most people would kill for— it all clicked. Rin’s mother.

“Oh my God, Ms. Itoshi, hi, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” you stammered, your words tumbling out as your hands flew to smooth the fabric of your dress.

Before you can even try to respond, Rin appears at your side, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Mom, can you not?” Rin grumbles, clearly unamused.

“Can I not what? Make polite conversation with your friend?” she teases, swiping lightly at his shoulder. Rin straightens instinctively, his usual scowl deepening.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Go accompany her to the bar and introduce her to the family instead of saying something stupid, will you?”

Rin mutters something under his breath, but before you can catch it, he grips your wrist lightly and pulls you toward the bar.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension lingering in the air, you clear your throat and force a light tone. “So… your mom runs a tight ship, huh?”

“Not any tighter than how you ran that hospital room,” Rin shoots back, his sharp gaze flickering toward you.

You laugh dryly, shaking your head. “Please. It could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Could it?” he challenges, his tone skeptical as you both settle onto the barstools.

You shrug, taking a sip of the drink the bartender places in front of you. “If Livy were here, she’d tell you all about the time we had this kid that had been in a car crash. Total nightmare. Earphones in 24/7, wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t let us do anything. Her mom went along with everything she wanted— so when we had to pull her in for surgery and she refused, guess what? Her mom wouldn’t give consent either. We had to send her home. Now her room, I ran like a military camp. She called me sergeant and everything.”

Rin’s frown deepens, his fingers tapping against the bar. “Did the kid have a death wish? And was the mom having a brain aneurysm or something?”

You suppress a laugh. “Look at you with all those medical terms. Maybe you should’ve pursued med school instead of football.”

His scowl sharpens, and he motions with his glass for you to continue.

“Some people just…” You exhale slowly, your fingers brushing against the condensation on your glass. “It’s hard to explain. I see it every day, and I still don’t fully get it. But my best guess? The mom was afraid of her kid.”

“Afraid of her own child?” Rin says, his voice edged with disbelief. “That’s pathetic.”

“Not that kind of afraid,” you clarify, meeting his gaze. “It’s more… she was desperate for her kid’s love. Saying no—whether it was about a life saving surgery or a bag of candy—felt like a step closer to having her kid resent her forever.”

Rin takes a long sip of his drink before setting the glass down. “Still pathetic.”

You shrug. “Everyone’s different,” you say, as the liquor burns down your throat. You pull a grimace, and hum in discomfort.

“This burns.” You explain, and Rin sighs in subtle amusement, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, until the frown etched on his face earlier resurfaces again. “I get wanting your kid to love you, but letting them die because you’re scared to piss them off? That’s weak.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaning slightly against the bar. “It’s easy to judge when you’re not in their shoes. People have their own battles, Rin. Some are just… quieter.”

“Quieter doesn’t mean they’re not bullshit,” he mutters, taking another sip.

“You’d be surprised how fear can change people. That mom probably thought she was doing the right thing, in her own twisted way.” You pause, giving him a sidelong glance. “Kind of like how you think being an uncooperative patient is somehow noble.”

Rin shoots you a sharp look, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “You saying I’m as bad as her?”

“Not quite,” you tease, lifting your glass to your lips. “But you do have a knack for being stubborn when you think you’re right, even when you’re not.”

“I’m always right,” he retorts, leaning back in his chair with a hint of defiance.

“Mm, sure. That’s why I had to chase you down the hall last time you tried to escape physical therapy.”

“That was a tactical retreat,” he counters, deadpan.

You laugh, the sound light against the festive hum of the venue. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Itoshi.”

His gaze softens slightly as he looks at you. “You’ve got some nerve calling me stubborn when you’re the one arguing philosophy over a bar top.”

“I’m just trying to educate you.”

Rin tilts his head, considering you for a moment. “You know, you could’ve just told me I was a good patient and spared me this lecture.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You grin, nudging his arm lightly, as he leans over to you to grab a bottle of god-knows-what— and you stiffen. You stiffen, because when Rin leans close to you, you are transported back to the night of Leah’s death, and the scent of muscade takes over your senses, and realisations come to hit you like a truck all over again— and you don’t think you can handle them.

You think about what it would be like to kiss him, to rest your head on his chest, to—

“Oh, Rin! Is this the doctor you told us about?” A woman to whom you couldn’t be more grateful for interrupting your spiralling train of thought, comes up to you both and slaps a hand on Rin’s shoulder.

The black haired footballer only grunts in return, and you smile at the obvious display of familiarity between the two.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you never told us how pretty she is!” She smiles brightly at you, and settles her elbows on the mahogany bar top, nestling her face between her hands. “As pretty as a picture! Tell you what, you should take Rin out on a date—“

“Tsumugi, enough.”

“Oh,” she clicks her tongue in annoyance and lightly glares at Rin, before turning back to you, hushing her voice theatratically, “You know I have never seen him talk to someone for this long? You are a real sweetheart putting up with him for as long as you have, really-“

“Tsumugi.” Rin can’t stand it. Most of this conversation has been smooth sailing, until his other cousin (god, how come he has this many cousins in the first place?) came in and crashed said sailing like an actual tornado. Worst of all, Rin can’t seem to hide the heat creeping up his neck, nor his embarrassment at Tsumugi’s words.

Sure, he’s talked to you a lot. Sure, you had hugged, and he had, out of the graciousness of his heart let you rest your head on his shoulder for a moment. But, honestly, what was he supposed to do? You were crying, and you were dealing with… stuff.

“Yeah, thanks.” Your awkward smile and tone breaks him out of his reverie, and he almost feels bad for the predicament his cousin forced you into.

You are pretty, though, he thinks. It’s obvious. You’re more than pretty, even. And you’re smart. His mother likes you. His cousin likes you, too. Sure, your friend is a little over the top, and your other friend is kind of a slut, but you’re great. Rin wishes he could find another word, because he knows in the depth of his heart that you’re not just great, but the corners of his mouth only dip and his expression sours when he can’t seem to find one. Better you find someone who actually knows how to compliment someone without coming off as a jackass, he thinks. Better not be me.

“She’s great.”

The voice feels so familiar it bounces off the walls, and makes Rin’s heart heavy. He looks at you briefly to make sure you’re not listening in, and turns the other way when he sees you talking animatedly to Tsumugi, any and all awkward introductions seemingly forgotten.

“Who is?”

Sae only clicks his tongue, and nods at you. “Her. Doctor, wasn’t it?”

Almost immediately, Rin’s brain thinks up as many conversation starters to steer the conversation topic away from you like a dispenser pumping gas. If it won’t be him, it won’t be Sae, he thinks, hands clutching under the bar top. Anyone but Sae.

“She’s not single.” Rin blurts out, face composed.

“Who’s not single?” The black haired football player’s eyes almost bulge out of his eye sockets, and it takes him the strength of a thousand mountains to not spill the contents of his glass all over the place when you suddenly make your appearance, turning around, your knees knocking into Rin’s.

“You, apparently.” Sae says, voice smooth as he downs the contents of his own glass.

You splutter at the eldest’s words, eyes widening, and your hand covering your mouth.

“I— Excuse me?”

His older brother only grins slightly, leaning back against the back of the chair in silent victory. “Ah,” he starts, eyes riveted to the black haired player next to him. “Is that not the case?”

Heat slowly creeps up your neck and you have a hard time getting a sentence, let alone words, out of your throat.

“Have you finally found some other person to follow around like a puppy?” Sae wonders out loud, and the more he talks, the more you can see Rin’s eyes darkening. “I have to say,” The eldest turns to you, “I’ve never seen my little brother with a crush. ‘Suppose I should congratulate you for that.” He sips on his glass again, eyes seemingly faraway.

When you finally regain your senses, they rip out of your trachea like a rose full of thorns. Long, pointy, deadly thorns.

“I don’t— I gotta go. To the bathro— restroom. Sorry,” you quickly shimmy out of your chair in a hurried frenzy, eager to make your way out of this very unfortunately awkward conversation. Maybe Livy was right. Maybe you do need to figure out what exactly you were sculpting here, you reluctantly admit to yourself.

“I’m sorry, have you seen Livy? I mean, Olivia? Olivia Matsson, tall, blond?" You mimic her height with a hand above your head, and hope you’re not coming across as a coke addict with how energetic you’re being. “A little over the top?”

A woman tells you yes, and nods over to a direction near a table somewhere in the back. You don’t see her right away, but you take the hint anyway, and sprint over until you spot a head full of vibrant, blonde hair.

“Liv! Livy!”

Livy turns around, and visibly gasps at your state.

“Wh— How? What happened?”

“I think,” you breathe in, “I think, I know what I’m sculpting.”

Livy points at you, already reaching for a hefty bottle of whiskey. “You,” she declares, shoving a glass into your hand, “need a drink.”

You barely get a sigh out before she fills it to the brim.

“Bottoms up.”

You lift the glass, ready to down the whole thing in one go, but Livy stops you with a sharp gasp.

“No! You animal! This is whiskey, not a cheap shot. Sip it, savor it— God.”

You don’t question her very specific expertise or extensive knowledge on alcohol consumption, just take a breath and a small, slow sip before launching into it.

“Rin lied.” Another sip. “He told Sae I wasn’t single. Like I was taken.” You shake your head. “And maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but then they were both looking at me, and Sae was pointing at me, and you said Rin liked me, so I thought—”

“Okay, okay, slow down.”

“You said, that he—“

“That he liked you,” Livy finishes, and motions for you to keep going. You you turn your palm towards her to show your agreement with a small “Right,” and keep going.

“Well, I was— I did think about it, you know, I did, and you’re right, he is handsome, and we’ve had our moments, and he’s not, I mean it’s not like he’s my patient anymore, so who cares right? I can try something. And I think I want to, so—“

“Oh, honey.” Livy smiles fondly and hands you a napkin when a trickle of alcohol escapes down your chin after a few too many sips. “Take a seat and tell me everything.” She pats the chair beside her, urging you to sit.

You sigh, dropping into the seat. “I don’t know how to approach him. We’ve talked about my feelings, but never his. And I know, I know this probably sounds stupid and obvious to you, but I’m terrified this is all just—just a total misunderstanding. Because, oh my god, I really like him. And if I’ve been reading this wrong the whole time, I think I might actually die.”

Livy hums, swirling the drink in her glass. “I get it. It’s scary, but sometimes the only way forward is to throw yourself to the wolves.”

You snort. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.” You mumble against the rim of your glass, eyes locked on the mural across the room.

She laughs, nudging your knee with hers. “I’m serious! It’s nerve-wracking, sure, but it’s part of the process. And honestly?” She tilts her head, considering her next words. “If you saw the way he looks at you… If you don’t know how to go about this, what makes you think he does?”

You swallow, staring at your drink. “I just— I don’t want to ruin things.”

Livy sighs, leaning her elbow on the table. “You know, love isn’t about having all the answers beforehand. It’s not this neatly wrapped thing where you always know what the other person is thinking. It’s messy. And it’s— it’s, god it’s a great deal of awkward. And it’s a lot to stand in front of someone and hoping they don’t run in the other direction.” She smiles softly. “But when it’s real? You meet in the middle. You figure it out together. And, lovely, I think he’s already halfway there.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head. “And if he’s not?”

“Then you’ll survive,” she says simply. “Heartbreak isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. You know what is? Never trying. Spending forever wondering what could’ve been.” She reaches over and squeezes your hand. “You deserve to know where you stand. And if that means throwing yourself to the wolves, then at least you’ll do it knowing you were brave enough to want something real.”

A deep breath expands in your chest, and for the first time tonight, the panic quiets just a little.

“You make it sound so easy,” you murmur.

Livy grins. “It’s not. But love isn’t about easy. It’s about worth it.”

“You’re too good at this.” You frown.

“I know. I should consider a career change. You’re the only thing holding me back, hun.”

“Cute.” You grin, “I’m like your white knight in shining armor.”

“Ugh, no. You’re the reason I’m going insane.” Her face twists, and you laugh.

———————————————————-

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, you know that?”

For the first time, Rin refuses to let Sae walk away unscathed. Nearly ten years of pure resentment shoved into the deepest, darkest corner of his heart, boils over, and tonight, he’s finally gonna let his brother take the brunt of it.

Sae barely spares him a glance, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Hm?”

“You fucking—” Rin exhales sharply, fists clenched. “You arrogant, prideful, son of a bitch.” His voice trembles with barely contained fury. “When you came back from Spain, you ruined everything. Everything. I thought we were gonna do this together. I thought—”

“I told you,” Sae interrupts, voice maddeningly even. “You won’t get anywhere living in my shadow. I was right.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think was right!” Rin snaps. “When I met this girl, I thought I was done with all this brooding, dark bullshit. I thought I could finally get that goddamn day where you destroyed my entire world out of my head.”

His breathing is uneven, his pulse hammering in his ears. He’s seconds away from knocking that smug look right off his brother’s face.

“And so all that resentment, all those years of training and training and pushing myself past my limit just to surpass you—I was done. Fuck!” His fist slams against the bartop, rattling glasses. A few guests gasp. His cousin frowns. Their mother shoots them a sharp glare.

Sae doesn’t flinch. “Careful.” He takes a slow sip.

Rin’s vision blurs with rage. “You— you ruined my perception of football. You ruined my perception of relationships. I can’t even look Mom in the eyes anymore because they remind me of you.”

That gets a reaction. A barely perceptible shift, a flicker in Sae’s gaze.

Rin exhales shakily, his shoulders tight with exhaustion. Then, he looks Sae dead in the eyes.

“I hate you. So much.” His voice drops to something dangerously quiet. “And before I get up to go and salvage what’s left of what you broke, again, I'm gonna look you in the eyes, brother to brother, and say,” He leans in, the words sharp enough to cut. “I fucking hate you.”

———————————————————-

The next time you see Rin, he’s hunched over the balcony, his hands gripping the stone so tightly you half expect it to crack under the pressure.

“Heard you made quite the scene back there,” you say cautiously. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your nurse chasing days.”

He doesn’t respond, the only answer you get is the sharp gust of wind and the heavy silence stretching between you.

Don’t shut me out again, you think, watching the way his shoulders stay rigid, his expression unreadable. You need him to talk— need to gather all your strength for what comes next. His silence won’t do.

“I’m not—” he exhales, dragging a hand down his face before forcing himself to continue. “I’m just pissed. That’s all.”

He pauses, then mutters the name like it’s an open wound.

“Sae.”

You hesitate for a second, choosing your words carefully. “What did he do this time?”

Rin exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Nothing new.” But his tone betrays him, bitter and exhausted. “Just the usual bullshit.”

You don’t press him, not yet. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Rin, it’s that pushing too hard only makes him retreat further. So you wait, let the silence stretch just long enough for him to decide whether he wants to fill it.

Eventually, he does. “Remember Pollux and Caster?”

“Castor,” you instinctively correct, “Yeah, I remember.”

“They weren’t even full brothers,” Rin mutters, frustration threading through his voice. “And still, they sacrificed for each other, didn’t they? Pollux gave up his immortality. Castor—he—” Rin exhales sharply, fingers curling against the railing. “Sae didn’t have to sacrifice anything. What he did was so—so ridiculously unnecessary, and yet…”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. The feud between the two brothers has never been new, and yet, the details remain firmly sealed between the two brothers. You study him for a moment, the way his shoulders rise and fall with barely restrained emotion. You could tell him that he is enough, that his relationship with Sae— or lack thereof— doesn’t define him. But you know Rin. That’s not what he wants to hear right now.

“I’m sure you know this, Rin, but the Dioscuri are not something to compare real life to. They represent an ideal, not reality.”

Rin scoffs, shaking his head. “An ideal.” His voice is sharp, like he doesn’t believe a word of it. Like he wants to argue but can’t quite find the energy.

You tilt your head, studying him. “The Dioscuri were a paradox from the start— one mortal, one divine. They were never meant to exist in harmony, not really. But instead of accepting that, they kept trying to hold on, to fit together like they were made for it.” You exhale, glancing up at the sky. “And in the end, the only way they could be together was through tragedy. One had to lose everything for the other.”

Rin is quiet. His grip on the railing loosens, but his knuckles are still pale. You wonder if he’s actually listening, or if he’s just letting your words wash over him like waves against the rocks— present, but not really sinking in.

“Sae’s not Pollux, and you’re not Castor,” you continue, softer this time. “You’re not bound by fate, or the gods, or some tragic, poetic bullshit about what brothers should be. You don’t have to be anything for him, Rin. And he doesn’t have to be anything for you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to snap at you. Instead, he just mutters, “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Sure.” You shrug. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The wind picks up again, sweeping through the balcony, tousling Rin’s hair. He looks out over the city, his expression unreadable. Maybe he’s still angry. Maybe he’s thinking. Maybe he’s just tired.

You don’t expect him to say anything more. You’ve known him long enough to understand that silence is just as much a language as words. But then, after a long pause, he exhales, shaking his head.

“I just don’t get it,” he murmurs. “Why did he have to do it? Why does he always have to be—” He stops himself, like the words are caught in his throat.

You don’t ask what it is. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you. If not, well… some things are meant to stay between the Itoshi brothers.

Instead, you rest your arms against the railing, mirroring his posture. “Maybe it’s not about understanding him,” you say. “Maybe it’s about deciding whether it’s worth it to keep trying.”

Rin doesn’t answer right away. But this time, the silence feels different. Less like a wall, more like a door that hasn’t quite opened yet.

“You know, I—”

The words barely escape your lips before they’re swallowed whole, cut off by something firm and sudden pressing against them. It takes you a moment— one, two, three erratic heartbeats— to even register what’s happening. The warmth, the way his breath mixes with yours, the way his lips move against yours with a hesitant urgency, like he’s holding back but doesn’t want to.

Rin is kissing you.

The realization crashes into you just as quickly as the kiss itself, but your body doesn’t catch up. Your brain stalls, your muscles freeze, and before you can even think about responding, before you can even breathe, Rin is already pulling away.

“Figures,” he mutters, his voice low and tight, like he’s trying to sound unaffected. “First time I actually show a girl how I feel, I get rejected.”

Your heart lurches, a sudden, frantic thing hammering against your ribs. The air between you feels charged, humming with something unspoken, something fragile.

You can still feel the ghost of his lips against yours, like an imprint burned into your skin, and it’s almost overwhelming how fast everything unraveled. You had thought about this, hell, you’d imagined it, even hoped for it, but now that it’s happened, it feels like the entire world has tilted off its axis.

You should say something. You need to say something.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, your thoughts tangled in a mess of shock and disbelief. Rin shifts beside you, jaw tightening, hands flexing at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to clench them into fists.

“…Forget it,” he mutters after a beat, turning away slightly. His voice is quieter this time, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to bury whatever flicker of hope had been there just moments ago. “Should’ve known better.”

That snaps you out of your daze. “Wait—”

You reach for him instinctively, fingers brushing against his wrist. He stiffens but doesn’t pull away. Your pulse is a wild, erratic thing, drumming against your ribs. Your fingers weave into his hair, sliding through the soft strands at the nape of his neck, and you feel him stiffen beneath your touch. For a split second, he’s completely still, as if the air has been knocked from his lungs. Then, against all logic, against all sane judgment, you close the space between you and press your lips to his.

It’s not careful. It’s not hesitant. It’s an answer, a contradiction, an undoing of every doubt Rin had just had mere moments ago.

His hands find your waist, gripping like he needs to anchor himself, like he doesn’t quite believe this is real. The fingers at the back of his neck curl slightly, and when you tug just barely, he lets out the quietest sound, almost a sigh, almost a groan.

And then he’s kissing you back.

The world narrows down to the heat between you, the way he angles his head to deepen the kiss, his nose brushing against yours, and the heat between you only intensifies.

One of his hands slips up your back, pressing against your spine, pulling you closer— like the mere act of kissing you isn’t enough, like he needs more, needs you. His other hand stays firm at your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your clothes, grounding himself in the moment.

Your heartbeat thrums wildly, matching his, a silent rhythm only the two of you can hear.

When you finally part, your lips are tingling, your breath unsteady. Rin doesn’t move far— his forehead rests against yours, and his warm breath fans over your lips, like he’s not ready to let go just yet. His fingers linger at your waist, hesitant now, as if waiting for you to pull away, to take it all back.

You don’t say anything. You just smile, brightly and effortlessly, bathed in moonlight that kisses your skin, making you look almost unreal. Breathtaking. And for the first time, Rin swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Yes, he’s sure. He’d rather die than ever let you go.

EPILOGUE

The roar of aircraft engines filled the air, blending with the faint hum of chatter in the lobby. Behind the desk, the flight attendant lets out a sigh, her exhaustion evident. Her shift had been a parade of entitled demands: three Economy Plus passengers insisting on lounge access, half a dozen unbearable business types, and two spoiled rich kids throwing around lines like, “Mom said…” or “Do you know who my father is?” She didn’t, nor did she care. Her patience, much like the coffee machine nearby, was running on fumes.

Leaning on her elbow, she swiped her hand across her forehead, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Just as she began to relax, a tiny hand appeared on the desk, clutching a shiny card.

Peering over, the attendant saw a little girl, who couldn’t be over five, balancing on her toes to peer above the tall white counter. Her small fingers gripped the edge of the desk for support, her toothy grin revealing a few gaps.

“It’s from my mommy,” the girl announced, her lisp soft but clear.

The flight attendant picked up the card, the gold lettering catching the light. She looked down at the child, leaning closer to meet her gaze.

“Your mommy gave you this?”

The little girl nodded with the determination of someone delivering very serious business. “I want a—”

Her request was cut short as a tall figure swooped in, lifting her off the ground. The man, presumably her father, cradled her in one arm while addressing the attendant.

“Mommy didn’t give her anything,” he said, giving his daughter a pointed look, a mix of stern exasperation in his tone. “She snagged it from my wife while we were going through security. She thinks it’s a credit card—”

“Magic card, Daddy!” the girl corrected, wagging her little index finger as if to scold him. “It’s called a magic card!”

The father chuckled softly, his expression softening despite the situation. “Right, magic card. My bad, baby. Sorry.”

A woman entered the scene, walking briskly toward the desk. She gently plucked the card from her husband’s hand and handed it back to the flight attendant.

“Sorry for the trouble,” the woman said, her shy smile matched with an air of calm as she rummaged through her bag.

The flight attendant waved her off with a practiced, polite smile. “No harm done, really,” she said, sliding the card back across the counter after checking its validity.

“Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi, this way please,” the attendant declared, gesturing toward the nearby doors. “The car taking you to your plane will be waiting downstairs in just a moment. Welcome to the HON lounge.”

As the little family moved toward the designated lounge, the little girl clung to her father’s neck, her face nestled against his shoulder. “I told you it was a magic card, Daddy,” she mumbled, her tone brimming with childlike triumph.

Her father shook his head with a grin. “I know. Almost forgot. Thank you for telling me sweet girl.”

“You’re welcome,” the daughter babbled, pride shining through her words.

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[aventurineswife]

so i know you don't want to write for sahsr right now so may i request a sagau where creator (also artist reader if you are ok with that) reader basically just adoring all the kid playable characters cause they think their just the cutest like the reader cheering on kachina as she makes her way through the night warden wars or the reader could name ingredients that diona could use for her drinks

Welp... 🧍‍♀️

I love that idea so much! It's really cute to think about the creator being absolutely enchanted by the kid characters in Genshin Impact, especially since a lot of them are so precious and funny.

As the creator, you are a being of incredible power and influence—yet at times, you can’t help but be utterly charmed by the smallest things. And nothing melts your heart more than the precious little ones of Teyvat, who always seem to be ready for an adventure (and often, mischief).

Klee

It all starts when you watch Klee during one of her explosive missions. She’s running around, her small feet taking her across the battlefield, her cheerful giggles trailing behind her as she launches bombs in every direction. And as much as the others cringe, you can’t help but adore her.

You find yourself cheering her on from your place above, your voice soft yet full of encouragement:

"Go, Klee! You’re doing great! You’ve got this, just a few more bombs and you'll show them who's boss!"

You can practically see her face light up, as though she’s hearing your words, her giggles growing even more infectious.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she cheers, as the explosions continue, and you think, maybe I’ll draw her with all those sparkles around her next time—oh, how fun it would be to make her look like a literal firecracker in my painting!

Diona

Then there’s Diona, your favorite little bartender, who may look small but holds her ground with her ferocious attitude toward anyone who dares to doubt her drink-making skills. You’ve seen her concoct all sorts of strange but (somehow) delicious potions, and you're there, in the background, naming all the ingredients she might use for her drinks.

"Hmm, Diona," you muse from your corner, a grin spreading across your face, "How about you add some mint leaves for a refreshing taste and a splash of lavender for a calming effect. A little honey wouldn’t hurt either!"

She pauses, glaring at the air for a moment, as if pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she huffs, shaking her head. “Hmph. You think you know better than me? Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s still gonna be better than anything that idiot swillmaster makes.”

You laugh, quietly, adoring her tenacity. You can’t wait to paint her, maybe with some of the fresh ingredients floating around her, her tiny arms crossed in that cute, pouty manner.

Kazuha and Sayu

Kazuha and Sayu often wander the lands of Inazuma together, sharing stories of the world. But you can’t help but notice how small and innocent they both look, especially when they get caught up in their small adventures.

Kazuha, while wise and calm, becomes this beautiful and somewhat soothing sight as he plays his flute while Sayu, despite being a ninja, tries to keep up but always ends up sleepy or distracted by the clouds.

“Hey, Kazuha, you should totally give Sayu a ride on your back,” you suggest with a soft chuckle, watching as Sayu tries to climb up Kazuha’s back and ultimately just ends up lying down instead.

You adore their dynamic. Kazuha always smiles when you’re cheering them on, and Sayu often gives you a tiny wink as if saying, “I know, I know. I’m cute.”

Nahida

Nahida, the archon of wisdom, might be incredibly powerful, but she has a youthful curiosity that’s completely contagious. You find yourself constantly beaming as she gets excited over learning new things, always running around with a little notebook, jotting down facts about the world, or chasing after butterflies in the fields.

"Look at her go," you muse as you watch her from afar, your heart swelling with pride. "She’s so curious, so full of life. You can do it, Nahida! Keep chasing that butterfly! It's yours!"

She looks up from her butterfly chase, beams with her bright, warm smile, as if hearing your praise. There’s a part of you that can’t wait to draw her—capturing her joyful energy, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her little hands reaching out for the world.

Meanwhile, the characters who watch you interact with these little ones are torn between being endearingly amused and very confused.

Albedo, who sees you painting these adorable scenes of the children, may quietly ask, “Are you sure you want to paint them this way? They’re… quite a handful, aren’t they?”

Zhongli, ever the calming presence, merely chuckles, his hands clasped. “Let them be, my friend. You’ve captured their true nature in your artwork, as always.”

Diluc, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow when he overhears you cheering for the kids. He can’t quite decide if it's adorable or baffling, but he keeps his opinions to himself, lest you get any more ideas to paint him in some weirdly soft light.

Before long, you find yourself starting an entire gallery dedicated to your love for the younger characters. Klee’s explosive adventures, Diona’s sassy bartending, and Nahida’s innocent curiosity are now immortalized in stunning, vibrant colors. Every character is fascinated by your works—some even request copies.

And you know what? It doesn’t matter that you’re the creator, or that your abilities stretch beyond the limits of mere mortals. For these small, lovable, and endlessly adorable children of Teyvat? They will always have your heart.

[cececat]

STH FanStory Recommendations:

As well as writing, I have found myself also reading an awful amount of Sonic-related fanfiction and comics recently… So, I thought I’d share a few of my favourites in case anyone else has found themselves hyper-fixating over this fandom like I have recently 🦔

I’ll try to put them in sections but please note that quite a few of the topics tend to overlap. Oh and also, there happens to be an awful lot of Sonadow shipping too, because even if it’s not always the key focus in the story, it always seems to make its way into the things I consume now apparently 😅 So I’ll be sure to tag with 💙🖤❤️ if that’s relevant.

I hope you like this list (it took quite a while to put together) and be sure to show all of these stories and creators some love! 👇👇 👇

And obviously I had to start this list by plugging my own fanfiction stories, because I've been putting so much work into them and they will be updated regularly, while also making lots of other stuff as well... So please follow and/or subscribe for that... 😉 archiveofourown.org/users/cececatcreates

Live Action Universe:

Concord by EvieNyx (@evienyx) - [Complete] 💙🖤❤️ Focuses on Shadow after the third SCU movie. It’s really cute, and I feel like it accurately portrays movie-Shadow’s thoughts and memories, mixing together elements of the films with fan theories and other STH media canon.

Project Guardian by AealZX @aealzx - [Ongoing] Again, after the third SCU movie (there’s quite a few of them 😅) but Shadow is taken in as a fourth Wachowski sibling, who has to recover from severe injuries. Some art is included, and it’s just really sweet all-in-all.

Secrets In Our Quills by @nebrasska-alasska - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ I’m sure many of you are already aware of their amazing stories, but this one is the longest so far, and also the closest to being completed. But if you like Sonadow slowburn and plenty of gay fluff, you should definitely read all of their incredible fanfics.

A Junk Yard Of Possibilities by CrazyForClones (@crazyforclones) - [Complete] This story looks at what happened to Agent Stone after Dr Robotnik’s death and focuses on the potentially adorable friendship that could blossom between him and Tails.

Family Loading… Please Wait by Humanities_Handbag ( @humanityinahandbag) & Invader_Sam (@smerfols) - [Ongoing] This quickly became a favourite, as it did with many others. 💕 It starts all the way back with the Wachowski’s adopting Sonic and then Tails and Knuckles and eventually Stone and Shadow, and it’s just the biggest, cutest family dynamic.

What Makes Us Who We Are by EmmaSmoke ( @emmasmoke8) - This is about the Mobians doing certain things their Earth animal counterparts would naturally do. My favourite parts are definitely Tails doing adorable fox things and Tom and Maddie trying to figure out what the heck all their anthropomorphic alien children are doing. 😅

Suspended by CheetahBoy (@90sfr3sh) - This looks at what could have happened if Sonic and Tails didn't get rescued by Maddie and Rachel during the second film. It's such a cool concept, I'm very excited to see what happens next! 😁

General / Alternate Universes:

Sonic Wave by Sharp_Silver (@sharp-silver-fanfic) - [Ongoing] I really love this story! 💕 It’s basically a full retelling of the STH universe lore, taking elements from all different bits of media. It’s been crazy good so far, so please give them your support!

Weird Science by satan_official - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ This one is really interesting and it sort of makes me think of Equestria Girls (for any MLP fans out there!) but instead it’s Sonic and Shadow who are stuck in human bodies on the human world. It’s a bit different but really great so far 😁

Fixing Fractured Worlds We Briefly Broke by TheLittleStar_tm - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ This is a fellow Prime fanstory, focusing on the trauma of all the Green Hills characters we already all know and love in the aftermath of season 3. 💔

Boom To Another Dimension by Gamerblade - [Ongoing] Explores what could happen if the SCU Live Action film characters were sent to the Sonic Boom universe, with pretty regular updates being uploaded so far. 😊

Into The Tailsverse by TheCatCacoon - [Ongoing] This one has a bunch of my favourite little two-tailed foxes, and, as someone who is also exploring bringing different Miles Prowers together, it’s intriguing to see how someone else writes these characters 🦊

Culture Shock by foggystarrs (@foggystarrs) - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ Purely a Sonadow fanfiction, but it looks at hedgehog / Mobian courting behaviour and is just really cute 🥰 If you are a fan of oblivious gay and alien hedgehogs, you’ll probably love this one.

Others / Comics:

Sonic Desolation by Wren Rivers (@sonicdesolation by TrenchCoatGecko) - [Ongoing] This is a crazy detailed comic set around the events of the Sonic Forces game where Sonic is struggling with PTSD from what Infinite did to him during his imprisonment.

Heart Of A Monster by SuperEmeralds (@the-heart-of-a-monster by @superemerarts) - [Ongoing] Another insanely detailed comic, which is a retelling of Sonic Unleashed. Its so well done, plus there's a gentle sprinkling of platonic Sonadow.

Team Dark Supernova Odyssey by @sharpedgedfool (@teamdarksupernovaodyssey) - [Ongoing] This is a space opera comic revolving around found family and adventure themes, set as a hypothetical spin-off to the Shadow the Hedgehog video game.

Sonic Boom Revisited by @multiisketch , @mama-qwerty. & @star-stages (@sonicboomrevisited) - [Ongoing] This comic is amazing. A bit darker than the original series, but has just been so gripping so far. Regular updates too! Definitely recommended! 👍

Second Chance by @sumju - 💙🖤❤️ - Who doesn’t love a Sonadow comic?? Plus Tails is adorable as usual (and reminding Shadow of Maria 😭) so that’s an added bonus 🧡

Infested by @flightyalrighty - [Ongoing] Viewer discretion advised for this one, it seems pretty dark...

Ask the Sonic Verse by @verizzafai (@asksonicverse) 💙🖤❤️ - [Ongoing] This is a fun, silly ongoing series which focuses on different versions of Sonadow all being stuck in the same room and getting sent questions from the audience.

Low Light by @verizzafai (@soniclowlightau) 💙🖤❤️ - Only a few pages so far, but looks very promising!

Broken Future by @teamchillidogs 💙🖤❤️ - [Ongoing] A tragic re-telling of an alternate ending of Sonic Adventure 2.

Silver's Parent Trap by @evilgenius-prower 💙🖤❤️ - A silly AU where Silver is actually the adopted future child of Sonadow and goes back in time to try and save his dads lives.

Eggsperiments by @prince-less - This is a new concept so there's not much content about it yet, but I really hope it becomes either a proper comic or fanfic or something similar, because I'm such a sucker for alternate stories of Sonic and Tails being the best brothers, and this a really cool idea 🥺

Sonadow Future by @torusonicpilled 💙🖤❤️- [Ongoing] Another newer one, with a few fanfic chapters and a few comic pages, but they've already got me interested from the idea that Tails can be resurrected, so I'm excited to see where it goes next ☺️

Sonic & The Olympus Heroes by @miitarion - Not sure if this will be continued as it was only shared quite recently, so might just be a one-off, but the art is incredible; Definitely worth a read! ✨

@mercurio-shadowz - They've not been following a particular storyline, but their art and short comics (especially about Shadow being a closeted gay disaster) are awesome. 🤩

Incomplete / Unfinished:

These are a bunch of stories that I really grew to love but they either stopped too long ago and so are presumably forgotten about, or may have been abandoned entirely and will likely never receive any conclusions. I’ve included when they were last updated, but only read these at your own discretion! ⚠️

• Can’t Defeat A Genius Without Taking His Brain by xenoon [4 months] • Deepest Desire by Tirainy [5 years] 💙🖤❤️ • Mad About You by Cherivide [1 year] 💙🖤❤️ • Sonic The Second Speedster by ItsZaira [1 year] • Sonic the Vagabond Hedgehog by @trekkerac (@tatck) [1 year] - This quickly became a favourite; Sonic and Tails' relationship is so adorable 😭 But you might only want to read the first issue and think of it as complete, since the second issue isn't complete and hasn't been touched for a year or so... 😔

I've tagged as many people as I can and might come back to this list later if I find more that I enjoy, but for now I think (hope!) it's mostly up to date 💖

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[voidsuites]

MULTI BOT RELEASE !!! (1/31/25) ⌢ ✨ .ᐟ

art donaldson ・゜゜・．noid. tennis has given art everything anyone could ever want— a fulfilling career, you and lily, and countless influential titles and wins— and with him getting closer to becoming a household name, art’s more than aware of his luck. he’s beyond grateful. however, fame’s a double-edged sword and it’s getting harder to both play into the paparazzi and their mind-games and also protect his family, so it’s not a surprise that art loses his temper when those lines finally get crossed. (based off “noid” by tyler the creator!)

bruce wayne・゜゜・．billie bossa nova. underneath all the sneaking around hotel rooms and charity galas, both you and bruce long to be understood for more than just your family names and your money. whatever’s going on between the two of you is merely putting a band-aid on another issue, you’re aware, but there’s something about bruce that helps you rationalize the less-than-ideal circumstances. a lot can change in twenty seconds… a lot can happen in the dark. (based off “billie bossa nova” by billie eilish!)

jim hopper ・゜゜・．you’re a fighter. in one moment, all hop had to worry about was you slowly growing more independent and mike wheeler’s insufferable attitude, but now the mind flayer’s set its sights on you and you’ve seemingly lost your powers. setting the mess with the russians beneath starcourt mall aside, hopper’s main priority is making sure you’re safe and away from any more danger. you may be a fighter, but you’re his kid first. (based off “you’re a fighter” by kyle dixon and michael stein!)

joel miller ・゜゜・．western nights. joel knows you’re not supportive of the violent ways he provides for you, but in a post-apocalyptic world morals are put on the back burner while he concerns himself with keeping you both fed, housed, and taken care of. you’re stubborn, he’s stubborn, but you’d never think of taking off and leaving him behind. this time’s no different. (based off “western nights” by ethel cain!)

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．part of your world. mermaids were nothing but a mere children's bedtime story— they weren't real. that’s what patrick’s father had told him since he'd been a boy; that the wondrous creatures he believed in with all his heart were nothing but tall tales meant to put the children of new rochelle to bed with little fight. that’s proven to be false when you rescue him from swimming with the fishes for eternity, and now that he knows your kind is real, patrick just has to learn more. he’ll bring you as many human trinkets for your collection as you’d like if you’d let him be part of your world for a moment. (based off “part of your world” by jodi benson and disney!)

tashi duncan ・゜゜・．bodyguard. wlw. tashi’s always been protective of you since you started seeing each other, but it’s always amusing to see just how worked-up she gets when you’re the center of attention. stanford’s hosting a concert in the park, art and patrick are nowhere to be found, and tashi’s left to keep herself in control lest she “accidentally” scare people off because they’ve looked at you too long. she’ll protect you in the mosh pit, no doubt— but she’s still working on keeping that territorial nature of hers in check. (based off “bodyguard” by beyoncé!)

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH FOR FOR 10.4K! so excited to get started on my celebration requests— you guys once again are the BEST!!!! i hope all of these are to your liking… but do forgive me if joel is a little too ooc lol i’ve only seen bits of tlou but i tried to capture him right. hehe. i also made a tumblr community for all things voidsuites-oriented 🤭 join yap city if you dare (i’m still figuring out what i’ll post on there but think of it as a communal close friends story on ig haha) anyways i love these characters and i love these songs and i love you all!!!! thank you for making this so much fun for me i’m so grateful <3

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 24/May/2024 

Well, I should probably start the update by saying that the first demo section will be released tomorrow for the $5+ tiers on Patreon and publicly late next week! :D

It is a short section, only being Chapter One, but a lot of the work went into the behind the scenes and coding stuff, so hopefully it will be running super smooth! It’ll be a good thing to see if this new editing system is working, and also if all that intense work that went into the cleaning code, changing character creator, etc has paid off, hehe!

While I was waiting for the readers’ comments to come back in, I really went hard on Chapter Two this week. This new keyboard has made the world of difference, and I’ve been able to type pretty much back at the speed I was before. It feels soooo good!

I am getting tempted to go back to a bit I’ve already written and add in a Unit Bravo POV section though. It’s not a planned scene, but I think it would really fit in well. It’s just that it’s already quite a linear chapter (A LOT of setting up the story for what’s to come), so I’m not sure about adding in another section where the reader can’t pick a choice.

I’m definitely back and forwards on adding that in at the moment.

There’s something about Book Four that is feeling…different. Not the way it’s written or anything, just, well, I always put everything I am into all my works, but Book Four is drawing even more from me, and I’m pushing myself and digging deeper than ever before to really put my all into it. It’s feeling really special in many ways already!

Next week, I’ll be working on getting all the text and graphic assets Hosted Games needs for putting Book 4 on the Steam wishlist. Seems good timing with the first demo release!

I’ll also be pushing on with Chapter Two. I’m really hoping to get it finished next week. It’s a big one with a lot going on which will really make for an exciting next demo section… ;D

I can’t wait for you to try out the demo! It’s like Book Four is really coming to life now I’m finally getting to share it with you all, hehe! :D

[ducktracy]

PIG AND DUCK MANIFESTO #1: Intro to the Classics, Bob Clampett

WELCOME TO MY LATEST OUT OF CONTROL PROJECT! read this ask for context! this is going to be a very long post--one of many--and i want people to read it, so let's just dive right in.

The Classics

THE CLASSICS ARE WHERE IT’S AT. nothing will ever top them in my opinion. you’re getting the characters and their intentions straight from the source. these characters were made up of the life experiences and sense of humor and and contexts of their creators and directors, and everything that has come after that has just been a game of telephone… and not always a very good one. i’m a purist for the classics, i know and don’t even care how snobby that may make me sound. there’s nothing better than seeing these characters in their proper context. they are products of their time, and not even in the typically negative connotation that seems to come with (but it can certainly apply… sigh). i always have and always will be unflinching of this opinion.

but that’s the exciting part: they vary from short to short. with TDTEBU being your gateway, i’m going to lay some things out just as security because I LOVE GETTING TO EDUCATE NEW PEOPLE AHHHHH!! so i’m sorry if this is stuff you already know, but you can never be too careful (and i can never be too eager to play teacher AHHH I’M SO EXCITED.) BUT. 

Porky and Daffy are unique in that they’re some of the only characters who receive the benefit of being passed from director to director. most of the time, a director who debuts a certain character will be the only director who works with that character. Yosemite Sam was Friz Freleng’s creation (and modeled after himself!), and there are only two or so shorts that feature the character that weren’t by him… and one of those was directed by an animator in his unit. same deal with Bob McKimson and Foghorn Leghorn–Foghorn’s a McKimson exclusive. same with Chuck Jones and Marvin the Martian. by the time of the ‘50s or so, everyone kinda kept their own characters to themselves. the mix and match nature of the ‘30s and ‘40s was no longer really present

Porky, Daffy and Bugs are happy exceptions to this rule. it’s amusing, too, in that Porky and Daffy have both sort of been “abandoned” by their “fathers”--Tex Avery, who made Daffy, only directed three shorts with him. Friz Freleng directed a considerable amount of Porky shorts, but the last time he touched him was in 1952–Porky’s last short in the golden age was released in 1965 (1966 if you wanna count reused footage). likewise, Porky and Daffy have long been established as a pair essentially since their conception (which’d be 1937; Porky’s Duck Hunt, the first Daffy cartoon made, was obviously the first to have the star together, and they were recurringly established as sidekicks as early as 1938). they often travel together! so, because their dynamic was so set in stone, this meant that many different directors got to lend a hand in showing us how they portray Porky and Daffy. some directors portray them as best buddies, whereas others portray them as mortal enemies. sometimes they’re like a vaudeville act, with Porky playing Daffy’s second banana. sometimes they’re buddies who wanna kill each other! there are so many unique flavors and variations of their dynamic, and that’s also why i’m so huge on them: through them, we get to see the individual identities of the DIRECTORS, how THEIR individual voices compare… and considering my favorite thing about the franchise is its history and the people behind it, well, i love it HAHA. 

SO LET’S EXPLORE THOSE DYNAMICS! let’s put some relationships to some names.

Bob Clampett

Bob Clampett is my greatest artistic inspiration of all time, so this PROOOOBABLY isn’t a surprise to most of my followers HAHA. he’s always been my favorite director–i find our sensibilities are very similar, his shorts elicit these visceral and emotional reactions out of me like nobody else, and i love his stuff. i very much gravitate to his portrayal of the characters. 

it’s almost unfair to nominate him as #1, because he has the benefit of having so much history with the characters. i mean, ALL of these guys do! but he was really the first to consistently pair them together and establish them as a dynamic duo. much of the understanding of Daffy and Porky as characters, together or separate, were helmed under his direction in the late ‘30s. it’s genuinely very sweet getting to watch them “grow up”--in any sense, but, again, this was largely felt under his shorts. 

i love both the early and later Clampett pig ‘n duck joints for different reasons. the early stuff, i love because there’s such a fondness and innocence about them! which seems REALLY funny to say, because some of the shorts i have in mind when referring to this are about “Daffy tries to cut a very conscious and unwilling Porky in half with a handsaw to prove that he’s a reliable surgeon” or “Daffy gets so drunk that Porky has to save his kid in part due to Daffy’s negligence”. 

but there’s such a sweetness about these early shorts. i always point to the opening of Porky & Daffy as an example; Daffy is still at an incredibly early stage of his lifespan and is still rather incoherent. at this stage, he’s moreso a bundle of nerve endings and noises–very out of his gourd and juvenile. but whereas most modern interpretations have Porky being annoyed by this, he’s ENDEARED by this! he radiates this fondness for Daffy and it’s the sweetest thing ever. you get the sense that he just sees him as his silly little friend who can do no wrong–aw, shucks, sure he’s a bit out there, but isn’t everyone? (mentally ill duck breaking things in the background) < i stole a friend’s wording on this because it’s just stuck with me for years at how correct and true it is.

and it’s funny, Porky’s a bit of an enabler even in these shorts!! in Porky & Daffy, he’s Daffy’s manager and signs him up for a boxing fight in hopes to get some prize money. he enables a lot of his esoteric behavior, and it actually leads them to victory–i love it because it’s very cute in a funny way, it’s nice that we get to see Daffy and his daffiness celebrated rather than shamed. it reflects an innocence on both characters that’s very fitting for the time and i just… i love it! in a world of shorts that are most well known for their adversity and cynicism, there’s something so special about seeing these two goofballs join up and enjoy each others’ company, even if it’s for the use of the very warped context that they may be put into. i still like thinking that Porky was the one who decided to stuff Daffy full of bags of flour to make it seem like he’s more muscular than he really is, sort of hinting at this bit of doubt towards Daffy’s capabilities (that isn’t entirely unwarranted) and it’s just such a funny little commentary, y’know?

the opening of Wise Quacks also really scratches this itch of demonstrating a similar fondness. as alluded to earlier, Porky actually refers to Daffy as his childhood friend (“why, we were kids together–!”) in this ADOOOOORABLEEEEEEE monologue that i think about all the time. again, there’s just this… innocence feels wrong, but it is kind of innocent! compared to how their dynamic would get later on! warmth, maybe? there’s a clear kinship between the two characters, and this is unique WHOLLY to them in how genuine that kinship feels. you have characters like the Goofy Gophers or Ralph and Sam who are friends (more, in the case of the gophers lol)... but that’s the whole joke of their existence. the whole joke is that they’re buds in a world surrounded by murderous, cynical cretins who want to kill each other. which Porky and Daffy can sometimes fall into as well, though this is largely on Porky’s side… 

GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. anyway, i love the earnest of the early Clampett pig and duck shorts because no other character dynamic or even characters, period, have that benefit. it offers a very unique glimpse to these characters that gives them some versatility and room to work with. and i just really love how they play off of each other! i like that Porky is probably way more fond of this clearly unstable and not all there duck than he probably should be. and in these shorts (Porky’s Last Stand specifically), you get the feeling that he doesn’t really fully… understand him? and he doesn’t try to? because he just assumes him to be this silly little guy. AND, again, like in the case of P.L.S., that ends up having dire consequences (Daffy tries to warn him against a raging bull approaching him, but Porky is still stuck in “this is my silly friend who is crazy and can’t think for himself so he’s probably just up to his tricks. he’s silly” mode, is COMPLETELY oblivious to Daffy’s frantic gesticulating and pointing, and just assumes that there’s a salesman at the door. as if this is how Daffy would react to a salesman). 

this sense of innocent condescension on Porky’s part is still even present in some of the more “transitional” Clampett pig and duck shorts, like the end of A Coy Decoy–this is a short that debuts a bit of a more fleshed out Daffy. trying not to go into the entire history of the characters here–i’m sure i’ll fail–but he’s become quite a bit more lucid at this point; still hasn’t really entirely hit “puberty” yet, but he’s close to it, he can show a wider breadth of emotions and this short rides out on a lot of what P.L.S. establishes, but was limited by Daffy still being a bit more incapacitated by his neuroses. so, basically, it’s PORKY who’s in the wrong and has underestimated him! Porky basically says to his face that he’s an idiot for falling in love with a duck decoy and that he’s wasting his time. and then we see that Daffy has gotten busy in his spare time and proven Porky wrong. i love when Porky has a bit of an innocent ego like this–it’s Porky’s world and we’re all living in it, his obliviousness can often result in some unintentional condescension and i LOVE this about Clampett’s pig, and it’s just so funny to watch paired up against Daffy. especially in these moments where, for a change, he’s actually in the right! you get the sense that Porky is still stuck in the days where he’s Daffy’s boxing manager and having to sneak his robe full of flour bags to make him seem stronger, and not in the current where we now grapple with the horrifying possibility that DAFFY is the one making the most logical sense! horrid!

i’m about to move onto the later Bob Clampett pig and duck shorts (not very many 😢) but going back to my previous points about the fondness and innocence of it all… i mean just c’mon. this is cute. what other LT characters have this benefit. AT ANY POINT IN THE FRANCHISE! played completely straight too!!

WELL… it is LT, and LT is bent on cynicism and violence, and these guys certainly have it. the arrival of the war prompts these shorts to become a lot more brash and raucous, as these cartoons reflect so much about their current eras. and, with it, the characters adapt! everyone is made a bit more abrasive, bold, perhaps mean and fierce. the innocence of the ‘30s is pretty far gone… but not completely. and that’s again why i love Clampett’s pig and duck so much. they have balance.

and that’s why Baby Bottleneck is my all time favorite pig and duck short. directed by–you know who–Bob Clampett!

it’s the perfect short to me for their characterization because it has both sides of what i want from them. it has them working as an established duo, it still has those little subtle, funny themes of condescension from Porky in the tasks he assigns Daffy and way he regards him, and, most importantly, it has them trying to kill each other. 

it’s just such a great escalation and sampling of everything you could want from them. i love that they’re working together as a partnership, i love the history that it implies. there’s also a great subtle commentary of Porky giving the unceremonious task of answering all of the phones for their bottlenecked delivery service–i can just so imagine him thinking “well, Daffy never shuts the hell up, so he’ll be perfect for the job of answering all these phones while i go do my quiet, secluded job elsewhere. this’ll keep him occupied”. like having the talkative never-shuts-up guy in charge of answering all these lines.. it’s so funny at how backhanded it is!!

or Porky’s reasoning that ends up being the catalyst for the short’s conflict: there’s an unhatched egg that needs to be hatched so they know who to send the unclaimed egg to, as they run a baby delivery service. Porky’s thinking is simple: Daffy = duck. Duck = hatch eggs. Daffy = hatch egg. 

and he just asks him to do this so courteously, he’s so confident in thinking that Daffy will OF COURSE hatch out the egg because he’s a duck!!! it’s just simple facts and logic! not at all processing how unintentionally patronizing and even offensive that can come off, like “hey you’re a duck, you’ll hatch this out without objection. do this for me, egg-hatcher” LMFAO. 

and, of course, Daffy takes GREAT offense to this (despite agreeing to it at first), and Porky gets. So. Pissed. no escalation, one shot he’s smiling, seems to vacantly register Daffy’s refusal, and in the next shot he grabs him by the neck and yells at him to sit on the egg. and when he won’t he just immediately starts shoving him. no tact of any kind from either party.

AND I LOVE IT! because these guys are immature pissbabies. said lovingly. at their best they are immature pissbabies. or maybe not. i like when they’re immature pissbabies. and it’s especially made funny because we’ve seen how smiley and happy they were to work together JUST MOMENTS BEFORE. Porky is batting his eyelashes at Daffy and Daffy’s all quick and subservient, appearing at a moment’s notice… and all of the sudden they’re literally wrestling over this stupid egg. at one point Porky grabs Daffy’s hand and tries to force it on the egg–what kind of warmth is a hand gonna give the egg??? it’s not about the hatching of the egg at all, but getting to prove Daffy “wrong”, winning this pissing contest by showing “haha you touched the egg, now you have to sit on it, nyeh nyeh”

and you may be thinking, Eliza. i think you’re going a little far with this. Porky is a sweet and kind little gentleman. maybe a bit esoteric perhaps, but surely he’s not that petty, right?

WRONG! the first short they directed together, What Price Porky, literally has Porky sticking his tongue out at Daffy and going “NYEHHH” in the most wonderfully juvenile way after he “beat” him (got him to stop leading a ducktatorship–sorry–against his hens and stealing their corn). and so Porky’s behavior here is just such a wonderful little callback to that. it’s the last short Clampett directed with them, but a lot of the back and forth fighting and pettiness parallels the first short he directed with them, and there’s just something about that that gets to me!! 

and the best part of Bottleneck is that THERE IS NO WINNER. they’re both petty little idiots who brought this upon themselves, and that’s represented by having them get lodged into their own deathtrap inventions and smushed into this awful, horrifying, disgusting and wonderful pigduck baby hybrid that a mama gorilla immediately adopts without question. at least until we get a Classic Clampett “Innuendo” (in quotes because his sophomoric sense of humor is not subtle at all. i would say 60% of his shorts AT THE ABSOLUTE MINIMUM have some sort of dick joke in them, this being one of them) where the mama thinks Porky is Daffy’s talking genitalia and freaks the hell out. understandably so. they both are at a tie and doomed to live this horrible pigduck baby life for the end of time… or at least until the iris closes out. and i just love how balanced that is. we’ve gotten so many shades of their dynamic, packed in 7 minutes of mayhem, and it’s just. AUGH. a little taste of all their different shades and capabilities. also, i should mention that TDTEBU references this short very heavily–everything with the factory is a reference to this short! so, all the more fuel to the fire!

i also feel it necessary to reference The Great Piggy Bank Robbery–the source of my username! and online alias! and icon! and also my favorite cartoon of all time! it’s a Daffy short, but Porky makes a brief cameo in it as an inconspicuously disguised trolley driver and just. HOW I LOVE THAT. 

the context for the short is that Daffy accidentally knocks himself unconscious, thusly dreaming about being Duck Twacy–”the famous duck-tec-a-tive!”. and Porky showing up, i’ve always thought was so cute–like a friend of yours showing up in a dream! it implies a history with them! it’s a testament to their dynamic that they’re good enough buds for Porky to show up in his dreams. i just love how casual and real that feels, very observational and gives their dynamic and history a nice bit of depth to it. 

considering it’s the last time Clampett would work with either character, it feels like a very fitting send-off to all the years of service he put into working these characters from the ground up. i really think he was hugely influential to the trajectory of their dynamic. all of the directors were–it’s a collaborative effort! but Clampett definitely worked with them very frequently at some of their most amoebic(?), doing a lot to establish their dynamic. Tex Avery was the first to pin them together, but Clampett was the first to establish it as a running dynamic.

and that’s why his interpretation is my all-time favorite. i borrow my interpretation and understanding of these guys from ALL the directors, as we will see in coming posts, but his hits a lot of what i want out of these characters. i wish he did direct more shorts of them paired together in the ‘40s, as i’d love to see what he would have done with a more mature and perhaps explosive Porky and Daffy (a la their dynamic in Baby Bottleneck, though they’re kinda anything but mature in that, aren’t they…?). but he is largely responsible for the friendship angle and giving them an exceptionally unique dynamic that no other LT character can live up to, full stop. there’s a lot to treasure about the way he portrays them. and that’s why i’m so adamant about advertising his earlier shorts, as his black and white cartoons seem to get slept on compared to his later works… they’re so charming and formative! you can feel the history! and most importantly, you can just… feel the fondness. fondness for these characters, their dynamic, these cartoons. 

and fondness is important. i’ll probably get into this more in another post (likely the LTC or TLTS post), but a lot of modern adaptations miss that Daffy has a genuine fondness for Porky. even when Porky is shoving a gun in his face and saying he’s gonna blow his head off (real quote! real happening!), there’s this sort of infatuation from Daffy with his persistence in following Porky around–even if it’s just to heckle him for his own satisfaction. if he was that disinterested, if he really hated or was annoyed by him like so many modern adaptations can have a tendency to show, then he just wouldn’t stick around and be as persistent as he is! he could just amuse himself elsewhere! because that’s all he does–tend to his impulses! but i think there’s a real sort of infatuation–even if it doesn’t manifest in him being super smiley or happy all the time about it–he has with Porky, and this is often very misunderstood or overlooked and breaks my heart. “Daffy hates Porky like he hates Bugs” should be on Mythbusters, because not once in the originals is this ever true. i can say that with my full chest. 

and yknow? typing this, i’m realizing Clampett never did a “Daffy heckles Porky” short, maybe beyond What Price Porky. there’s The Daffy Doc, where he tries to perform non consensual surgery on him, but there’s no malicious in his intentions. he’s just batshit insane. he thinks he’s doing a good thing and is following a very warped, but nonetheless present logic. he’s not trying to hurt Porky, but thinks he’s doing him a favor. i LOVE the shorts where Daffy heckles Porky. this is why Bob McKimson is right behind. but i love that, even if Porky doesn’t understand or may very fleetingly get annoyed with Daffy in these shorts, Clampett is maybe the only director (next to Frank Tashlin, who only directed one–but a holy grail of a short, which i’ll mention later–short with them together) who doesn’t have Daffy heckling Porky. there’s a real unity with their dynamic and, well, partnership, that’s unique to Clampett’s direction. i genuinely find that touching and perhaps a little necessary. 

WHEW! AND THIS IS JUST PART 1. thank you for making it this far! i’ll be ending off each post with a list of recommendations: shorts (or episodes, for modern stuff) from each director/show that i think would be good homework viewing to get an understanding of how they’re portrayed. i’ll also be linking my in-depth analyses to each short that i’ve written one for, so if you want to learn more and dive even deeper, you can.

BOB CLAMPETT PIG 'N DUCK SHORTS YOU SHOULD WATCH (links included):

Baby Bottleneck

Porky & Daffy (CLICK HERE to read my breakdown!)

The Daffy Doc (CLICK HERE to read my breakdown!)

Wise Quacks (CLICK HERE to read my breakdown!)

Porky’s Last Stand (CLICK HERE to read my breakdown!) < this is one of my favorite reviews i've ever done, so... worth a read!

Tick Tock Tuckered (so this is actually a remake of Porky's Badtime Story, the first Clampett short he directed--this isn't one of my go-to's since Daffy's role was originally for another character, all hail Gabby Goat, but it's a rare '40s Clampett color cartoon pig 'n duck joint and i think is still nicely indicative of their dynamic. it's not one i watch often, but first timers will likely appreciate it! i've grown to take it for granted, admittedly...)

and if you still want more.. these aren't great, like, at all, but i did some commentaries on the fly of Baby Bottleneck and Porky's Last Stand back in March 2022. i highly recommend reading the review for Last Stand since there's SOOOO MUCH i packed in there that i couldn't in this, but since i haven't been able to do a formal writeup of my favorite pig 'n duck short of all time, hopefully this is a good little substitute.

ideally, my answer is ALL OF THEM, but that seems like a cheat. there's only one Clampett pig 'n duck short i'm iffy on, Scalp Trouble--can probably assume from the title it's troublesome, but, also, Porky and Daffy are incontestably the best part of the short. the gif of Porky holding Daffy comes from that short. i'll also drop a link to my analysis so you can read and enjoy the good pig 'n duck bits and ignore everything else. but they really are all worth watching!

[adragonsfriend]

Ways to Write a Meaningful AO3 Comment…

…or frankly, a comment on any writing or artwork where your primary goal is to encourage and appreciate the creator.

It occurs to me that comments are a mini writing task, I have been a writing tutor, and if I’m going to ramble about how not to form communities and have meaningful interactions on the internet, I could maybe also help make it a little easier.

This post is written on the assumption that people want to interact, but struggle for whatever reason: nervous, tired, didn’t realize comments meant that much, can’t think of what to say. I myself spent years at a time on ao3 not commenting on literally anything—something about stones in glass houses. But in my experience, while getting comments on my own fics is kind of my favourite, leaving the kind of comment I know I would cherish—and sometimes getting replies from authors replying to my comments and actually chatting with them—is pretty damn magical too.

In that spirit, this post is henceforth a how-to, not an argument, and I’m not going to address anything to do with bad faith comments. I’m gonna try and provide some structures and simple formats to start comments from. I cannot emphasise enough, these are all intended to be used from a place of sincerity. Tools for finding and formatting the appreciation which is already in your brain, just hiding from you.

That said, we’re gonna take this in stages—

1. The Chapter Kudos

“Chapter kudos,” a little “<3,” an “I loved this,” or similar simple expressions of warmth and enthusiasm, slapped on a oneshot or each chapter of a long fic. These are a nice small gesture that lets the author know you’re here and you’re still loving the fic. Not every author is in love with the these type of very short comments, but unless they have a specific note about it, they’re almost certainly glad for the knowledge you’re still reading. This is minimal—great for days or weeks when you’re tired, low effort, can’t think of shit to say about a particular chapter, and so on. Comments, like all tasks, must be allowed to vary in intensity with available energy and time.

2. The 1-2 sentences

A one or two sentence comment. Here, a combination of a general compliment: “this was amazing,” and a specific compliment: “character A’s dialogue felt so realistic” works really well.

General compliments are typically easier to come up with:

What an awesome chapter!

Wow ok I did not see that coming—

I fucking. Love. Your writing.

This was so exciting!

I screamed when I saw this updated

Maybe a little over the top, but you get the idea—it’s hard to go wrong with these.

Specific compliments are often a little harder to come up with, but they generally fall into two categories which are both wonderful: content and writing.

Content includes things like:

I love [character] so much, seeing them in [particular situation] was so fun

Wow there’s so little content for [niche fandom/character/ship/trope] it’s great to see it here

Your idea about [authors headcanon] is so smart—that makes [weird element of canon] make so much sense

I didn’t used to be into [trope/ship] but holy fuck am I convinced now

The point being you’re noting a particular element content of the fic—what and who it’s about—that you loved. These are great because getting really damn excited about a character/trope/headcanon etcetera, really is the heart of fandom.

Writing takes a slightly different tack, and talks about the author’s writing skills—what they do well:

You write such good dialogue, it feels really realistic

Your action scenes are so exciting!

The tone of this chapter was so perfectly creepy—the way you describe [setting/character] gave me the shivers

The spacing you used really fit the piece—it’s a neat way to show the character’s mindset there they’re struggling to think clearly

The combination of a general and specific compliment can make it easier to start writing your comment, while giving you a second to think of your specific thought. It’s simple, but it means a lot to get any kind of specific comment, because it shows the author that you are paying attention to their writing and that you appreciate or relate to them, specifically. These comments are fairly quick to write, but can mean so much.

3. The paragraph

Several sentences long, with a bit more room to explain what you loved. Everything from the 1-2 sentence section applies here too. A general compliment is still a great starting point, and specific compliments are still where we want to end up. The main difference is you’ve got a little more room to talk, and you can take that in a few different directions.

You can talk about one specific compliment for a bit:

I love the way you write dialogue—character A saying “[quote]” was exactly what they would say in that situation. And their banter with character B was incredible, i laughed out loud. The way they both use cursing, but in slightly different ways is fascinating. The way character B does it is…

Or you can go through several different ones quickly:

I love the way you write dialogue—character A saying “[quote]” was exactly what they would say in that situation. The fast dialogue kept the pace up and the whole chapter was so exciting—I loved that you brought up character B and character C’s relationship too, it gets so little attention but I love it…

There’s also room for wider observations and questions (these can also totally go in 1-2 sentence comments, it’s just easier to have a little more substance around them):

Your writing always makes me feel so [feelings]

Wait I’m a little confused did [event] happen the way I think it did, or am I being silly?

Your ideas about [character] are awesome, I love everything you’ve written about them.

I’m so curious, what’s your specific lore on [character/event]?

4. Multiparagraph

Several paragraphs, or a very long paragraph. Hot damn, the author is in love with you now. Either you’ve got a whole lot to say about one specific topic of writing or content, or you’ve got a couple of different topics you want to pay some attention to—as you start writing your comment, you’ll probably discover a few more. Let yourself ramble, make bullet points, just get your thoughts out, if you have this many. All the principles from before apply: general compliments, specific compliments, wider observations, questions—all of these can easily feature in a long comment.

5. Fuck Formating

Write comments in whatever format works for you. Bullet points, google translated into the necessary language, rambling, well organized, short, long, emojis, copy-pasting your favorite quote from the fic with an exclamation point, pre-formatted general compliments, whatever will get your thoughts and enthusiasm down.

If you are communicating, the format doesn’t matter all that much. The same information from a multi paragraph comment can be done in bullet points or by quoting. Whatever communication you do will be meaningful to the author.

It’s hard to go wrong—

Like most writing, making meaningful comments and picking out those specific compliments gets easier with practice. There’s no need to write multiparagraph comments all the time. Those 1-2 sentence ones can be full of so much love, and chapter kudos are sometimes all there’s energy for.

The most important writing advice ever in my opinion is this: you have interesting things to say. About yourself, about the world, about writing, about that damn fanfic.

Go forth and use the structures above, or come up with comments I couldn’t even dream of. Whatever you do, you will find fic authors are probably the most willing and grateful audience in the whole world.

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than - Public Demo Update

Happy full moon everyone! I’ve had a really good month and got a ton of writing done (almost 50k!) which you can read right now for free here:

Thicker Than - Updated Demo

I really hope you like it.

Side note: I also announced a book deal for a not-interactive novel I wrote back in 2022 this month. Of Monsters and Mainframes is going to be published with Bindary in 2025!

I'm ridiculously excited. I'm also going to be a bit busy next month editing that, so the vampires are going to have to take a bit of a back seat. I hope that's okay.

In regards to Thicker Than, I have finished Chapters Eight, Nine, and have started Chapter Ten. Chapter Ten and Eleven are both much branchier chapters, so may take a little longer to write than Chapters Eight and Nine did.

There’s a few fairly major plot points/twists in this update, and I’m a wee bit terrified to hear your reaction to those.

In Chapter Ten, the romance scenes are mostly unfinished with the exception of Marcel’s (totally finished) and Tracy’s (half finished).

As always, thanks for your passion and enthusiasm (and fanart! It's been so motivating to see so much love for these characters!).

Double thank you to the people who've supported me over on Kofi. I couldn't do this without you. I couldn't do this without you. 💙

-----------------------------------------------

Thicker Than as of the 23d of April 2024

Chapter Eight and Nine are complete

I’ve begun work on Chapter Ten

Additional Words: 48,897 (excluding commands)

Current Word Count: 294,010 (excluding commands)

[sasheneskywalker]

star wars fic recs

happy may the 4th! in honor of star wars day, i’m sharing a rec list of some of my favorite star wars fanfics. star wars was my first fandom, and after more than 10 years, it still holds a special place in my heart. hope you find something you enjoy! <3

Queen's Gambit by bedlamsbard Civil war threatens the galaxy. Hundreds of star systems have declared their intentions to leave the Republic and form a Confederacy of Independent Systems.

In the hopes of securing a quick peace, the Jedi Council has dispatched two Jedi to capture or kill the leaders of the separatist movement, Queen Amidala of Naboo and her lover, the former Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Into this period of conflict have come four refugees from another universe, fleeing a devastating massacre triggered by the death of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, secretly the Sith lord Darth Sidious, at the hands of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker…

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker | 354k words

Walk a Different Path by alexjanna91 Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi did not take Master Jinn's last rejection lying down. With the Force whispering gleefully in his ear he decided to make his own way through the wide unknown galaxy. He wasn't afraid, though. No, in fact he was a little bit excited. After all, if he didn’t want to be a farmer and couldn’t be a Jedi, maybe being a pirate was his path in life. Either way he knew he was heading for an adventure.

T | No Archives Warnings Apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jaster Mereel, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Jango Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi | 139k words

walk by faith/tell no one what you've seen by Killbothtwins After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he's psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he's sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It's not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order.

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi | 39k words

What Lurks in the Dark by DragonflyonBreak A simple mission to check out an abandoned weapons factory turns into a dangerous fight for survival. Trust is broken, loyalties will be tested, and dark secrets are brought to light. Because sooner or later, the truth always comes out.

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Wedge Antilles | 155k words

Like Fire in Our Bones by acuteneurosis With all of the most important things in the galaxy literally exploding around her, Leia is given the chance to go back and help keep a promise she never personally made.

But then, for Skywalkers, saving the galaxy was always a family matter.

T | Major Character Death | Leia Organa & Shmi Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Leia Organa, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker | 153k words

Ad Utrumque Paratus by obeyingthemuse It's hard to bring balance to the Force when the only method you've seen is your black-cloaked psychic cyborg sorcerer dad with a severe breathing problem throwing an old man down the Death Star reactor shaft. As much as Luke would like to see the not-yet-Emperor dead, he doesn't want to be arrested by his unusually attractive(?) war-hero dad and spend the rest of his indeterminate time in the past dropping Ewok beats in a jail cell. Also Leia would probably kill him. But not before breaking him out of jail.

So when the twins wake up on Tatooine decades in the past, they play it safe. They take over a planet, reconnect with their adoptive and real parents without weirding them out (too much), and accidentally cause the Chancellor perpetual near-death experiences.

Nailed it.

G | No Archive Warnings Apply | No Relationships | 44k words

War Drums by intermundia In 4 ABY, Darth Vader lies dying, overwhelmed with regret at the impossibility of atoning for all that he’d done—it was impossible to fix, to undo; no apology would ever be sufficient. But nothing was impossible for him, merely difficult.

In 32 BBY, ten-year-old Anakin Skywalker wakes up as Darth Vader, his mind overwritten by the consciousness of his future self. In one day, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi loses his Master, gains the confusing and concerning friendship of a 46-year-old (ex-)Sith Lord temporarily trapped in a child’s body, and is pulled along on his desperate mission to save the galaxy.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker | 91k words

Blackbird by ThereAndGone Hera and crew are sent on mission to recruit Kanan and Ezra, who operate as vigilante assassins fighting the Empire, into the rebellion. But Kanan’s dark past and darker tendencies make the chances of the mission’s success slim.

It’s a good thing Hera, Ezra, and the crew don’t give up easy.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla | 249k words

i loved rome more by nymja “What’s your name again?” He asks, after she’s suited up, after they’re running.

“Sola,” she says.

She is so very good at lying.

-- AU where Revan knows she's Revan the Whole Time.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Alek | Darth Malak/Female Revan, Canderous Ordo/Revan (one-sided), Carth Onasi/Female Revan (one-sided), Alek | Darth Malak/Revan, Jolee Bindo & Female Revan (bffs 5ever) | 61k words

Divergence by mylordshesacactus In another world, another life, the moment of hesitation goes no further. Bastila Shan, consumed by fear, raised from birth to place utter faith in the Council’s judgement, keeps her silence.

Lie feeds upon half-truth upon lie and each careful sidestep only adds fuel to the smoldering, bitter contempt. Shown no honesty, Revan offers none. Secrets and fears are entrusted to a woman with no reason to treat them as anything but weapons, twisted to pierce the hearts of those who pressed them into her hands. The last hope of the Jedi, used and discarded one too many times, kneels on bloodstained marble at her feet. The once breaker of chains, turned in rage to bind the galaxy, returns. The Dark Lord rises from fury and flame and it is as inevitable as the death of stars.

In another world, another life, the Republic falls.

This is not that story.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Bastila Shan/Female Revan (Star Wars) | 12k words

Under the Cover of Darkness by randomlyimagine Being pulled back through in time, getting to see the Old Jedi Order, Ben, even Anakin Skywalker, before he Fell…it was an opportunity Luke had never dreamed he’d have.

If only he and Mara hadn’t been pulled back in the middle of a mission where they were undercover as Sith.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker | 57k words

Will Save the Galaxy for Better Credit Ratings by zuzeca In which Darth Maul applies for a loan, discovers a forgotten heirloom, experiments with space drugs, complains about his nemesis to a captive audience, and learns the value of bank fraud. Also love and friendship, but mostly bank fraud.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Darth Maul & Darth Plagueis, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul | 19k words

Sticky Fingers by phoenixyfriend In which Hondo Ohnaka (accidentally) saves the galaxy far, far away.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Hondo Ohnaka, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Past Quinlan Vos/Asajj Ventress | 8k words

the kenobi conundrum by tennessoui Acting as Anakin Skywalker's confidante is probably the most painful aspect of pretending to be kind and sympathetic Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine. It seems that every other week, Skywalker is in love with another paramour who will leave him heartbroken within months. And as Skywalker's mentor and father figure, it is Darth Sidious' job to pick up those pieces and lend a compassionate ear to Skywalker's suffering. Every. Single. Time.

It's only after several years of this routine that Sidious realizes that he can solve two of his problems in one fell swoop: if he can convince Skywalker that he is in love with his old Jedi master, Kenobi, then Skywalker will inevitably have his heart broken by the man when their relationship fizzles into nothing. Then his strongest tether to the Light will be severed, and Sidious can claim Skywalker as his apprentice.

Because surely Skywalker's feelings for Kenobi are not returned. Surely Kenobi has more sense than to be enamored beyond reason with his former padawan. Surely all Sidious has to do is push Skywalker in Kenobi's direction and then watch the fallout.

Surely. Surely?

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker | 11k words

[thoughtfulchaos773]

The Bear Is a Love Story: Told by Richie, Directed by Storer

Also told through pasta

This is just me piggybacking off @outmakingmoonshine's amazing meta add on of sydcarmy romance being planned since the beginning and goddamn do I see it during my rewatch.

From the outside, The Bear is about grief and food and Carmy trying to keep The Berzatto Family restaurant going. But underneath, it’s a love story, and the person telling it?

Richie.

Richie is the surrogate observer, and in many ways, Chris Storer’s emotional stand-in (Currymungese genius brain was the first to theorize it—R.I.P. to the blog). Also shoutout to @whenmemorydies.

If Storer was influenced by Alfred Hitchcock’s romantic irony, then Richie would be both an emotional witness and a narrative guide. He doesn't know everything, but he feels everything—and we, the audience, experience the love story through his point of view.

A Quick Note: Romantic Irony & the Director Surrogate

An Alfred Hitchcock Film cameo in 3x09 Apologies, which seals the deal of Storer's inspiration.

(Romantic irony is inspired by insights from Offscreen and CineVerse)

Romantic irony is when the audience sees the emotional truth of the love story before the characters do. Romantic Irony is also a way for a director put in their own view on rkmance in the story through the surrogate character

With Romantic Irony, the audience and director are in on it, but the characters involved haven’t caught up yet.

A director surrogate is a character who reflects the creator’s emotional voice. Think Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby. In The Bear, that’s Richie. He’s not the lead, but he emotionally frames what we see. Richie is Storer’s way of telling the real story—not just how to run a restaurant, but how to live.

"This is your brother's house, remember?"

The Beef belonged to Mikey. He ran it with chaos and love, and Richie was there for all of it. Carmy was pushed away—working in fine dining, so when he comes back, he brings restaurant experience to the table, but Richie remembers the soul of the place.

That’s why in Season 3, we get this subtle but essential detail: The Bear was Carmy’s idea, not Mikey’s. Mikey didn’t want Carmy to take on pressure. He wanted him to experience love. That’s why he was so excited about Claire. He wanted Carmy to live. But now that Mikey’s gone, Richie tries to carry that forward through food, family, and more specifically, by wanting Carmy to "make the pasta".

Pasta is Romance

More on what @outmakingmoonshine explained-

In 2x02, we get that apartment scene. Just Carmy and Syd. She opens up. He’s making pasta. There’s no touching, no flirting but intimacy is building and Carmy is loosened up and he’s kneading dough while she talks about her past. And as Carmy told Marcus—maybe he does know how to make a fucking pasta.

But here’s the thing: the pasta doesn’t turn out right. Because it’s not time yet.

Later, he reconnects with Claire, and yeah—he tells Richie she’s his girlfriend in the bolognese episode. But let’s be real, I’m pretty sure he’s using store-bought pasta when making Claire dinner. It’s convenient. It’s not handmade. The metaphor couldn’t be louder.

Sydney is who Carmy should be making pasta with—and Richie is (subconsciously) aware of that as early as Season 1.

Which brings us back to the ending of Season 1.

In 1x08, Sydney comes back. Carmy is lovestruck while Richie director—invites her to open the cans. That’s huge. It’s a symbolic gesture: she’s welcomed into the kitchen, family, and story.

Carmy, meanwhile, tries a different approach. He brings in fine dining. The world he knows (tabletops? booths?) and he hopes it’s enough to keep Sydney there.

But fast-forward to Season 2 and especially Season 3: is that way of “wining the girl” working? Absolutely not.

Because it’s not fun anymore. The joy is gone. The soul is missing. Richie sees it. And the magic? It disappeared when Carmy stopped trying to make the right pasta with Sydney. It also left when he pushed Richie away at the end of season 2, and continued in season 3. But Richie still plays director, writing notes, character analyzing Carmy, getting closer with Sydney (I believe if Mikey were still alive, the dynamic would have been Carmy-Claire-Mikey, but now that Mikey is gone, the family is repurposing- it's Carmy-Sydney-Richie dynamic).

Which is why Richie will be there when Carmy and Claire fall apart—and why he’ll be there when Carmy and Sydney figure it out. Because he’s the director, after all.

TL;DR:

The Bear is a love story.

Richie is telling it—even if he doesn’t realize it.

Pasta = love.

Claire was fine and convient. Sydney is the real connection.

Richie’s arc is about helping Carmy love—and live.

This fandom is honestly genius. The layers being pulled from this show? Insane. I love it here.

By the way, for Season 4: do you think they’ll finally make the perfect pasta dish in Carmy and Sydney’s vibrant collaboration? (In the Network Sunday script, Sydney thinks of a short rib pasta. 👀)

[fanfoolishness]

Here’s a lovely article summing up some of the conversations that happened at last week’s PaleyFest Severance event in Los Angeles, which I attended. However! I also took copious notes because I figured a news article wouldn’t post everything. Here’s what I got, largely paraphrased because I couldn’t write fast enough to get verbatim quotes. Buckle up, this is going to be long!

Watching the finale on the big screen? Utterly insane. Every shot was gorgeous. We had screams almost every time a new character showed up for the first time; uproarious laughter at almost everything Milchick did; shrieking when Lorne kicked Drummond’s ass; howling when Mark Scout accidentally kills Drummond because of the severance transition or when he and the nurse had a screaming match. I know it must have been so gratifying to the cast and team to hear us all losing our minds, especially since they never got to do any premieres between covid and LA fires.

Ben Schwartz (Jean-Ralphio Saperstein from Parks & Rec) was the moderator for the discussion after the episode. We had in attendance Adam Scott, Ben Stiller, Dan Erickson, Patricia Arquette, Tramell Tillman, Britt Lower, Dichen Lachman, Sarah Bock, Zach Cherry, Jen Tullock, Michael Chernow, Ólafur Darri Ólafsson, and Gwendoline Christie. How insane!

Ben introduced each person, but when he got to Tramell Tillman no one came out. “Uh, bathroom?” Ben asked. The other Ben (Stiller) shrugged and said maybe, then mentioned that Tramell had a hard time coming out of being Milchick at the end of S1 and they found him working in a shoe store. (What the hell?) So he warned us Tramell might not be joining us.

Of course, like 10 seconds later Tramell Tillman snuck out into the audience accompanied by like. A 60-person marching band playing the Kier hymn. Because OF COURSE HE DID. He twirled with his baton and white gloves in and out of the aisles while all 3300 of us gave a standing ovation and cheered and shouted our heads off.

Ben Schwartz had a massive stack of prepared questions. He’d toss a paper aside once he was done with it. Of course, being a huge nerd sitting in the back I’d brought binoculars and could see what they looked like. Each page had a massive Lumon logo on the back.

Q: How does it feel to have the episode out in the world without having to keep it secret?

Dan: I don’t know who I am without secrets.

Patricia: I don’t know, I almost preferred the secrets. I liked you all being confused and afraid.

Dan mentioned that Drummond’s accidental death in the elevator had been pitched as a joke when they were all exhausted at the end of the night, and everyone was like “that’s what we’re doing.” Ben Schwartz: “hell yeah!”

Ben Stiller loved hearing and seeing our reactions in the theater. Watching it with us was so special — “to hear real laughs! It’s so exciting for us!”

Q: What was a small writing choice that wound up having a big influence on the show?

Dan: Milchick appeared in the pilot and we weren’t sure about him. We knew he would be like Cobel’s right-hand man, but weren’t sure if he was going to have much of a role after that…

Tramell Tillman got up and stalked halfway off the stage, then came back and sat down, giggling.

Dan (continued): But then he read the line for “You and Petey were one of my favorite office friendships,” maybe in the audition? And it was so good we knew we had to do more.

Dan started talking about the boring basement job he had at the door factory that inspired the idea for severance, but then got a wary look, casting his gaze over the massive theater and its box seats. “I’m worried my old bosses could be here… they might cap me like Lincoln.”

Ben Schwartz’s eyebrows flew up. “Like, Lincoln? Abraham Lincoln? That is too soon, man!”

Q: Are there things on the show you’re planning but haven’t done yet? Like seeds? Don’t tell me what they are, just if they are.

Dan: YESSSSSS. Multiple.

Q: Adam, how did you prepare for… you know… the defiant jazz dance party? You go from Milchick dancing as smooth as silk, my man is going for it, and then… you. What is the thought process?

Ben Schwartz said he was blown away by Adam’s acting in the scene with the Marks conversing with each other. “You had me. How did you prepare?”

Adam made tapes with his phone at home at first. He was dreading the scenes somewhat because there was a fear it might not work. He was most excited for the part in the conversation where oMark “kinda fucks up, gets a little condescending — he gets her name wrong, pushes too hard.”

Ben Schwartz pounced on Britt with a super complex question that could be summed up as what is her process for getting into each character — Helly, Helena, Helena as Helly, Helly in the OTC? Britt got a look like a deer in the headlights and said Zach was gonna answer for her.

Zach: Shrugs. Says for Britt it’s all about vibes. Pulls a pack of trail mix out of his pocket and starts eating it. Then reads off the ingredients and nutritional information. WHY I don’t know but it was cracking my shit up! Britt and Zach then said they had their own podcast starting up about food.

Britt pointed out that Helena hates eggs. However, Helly says the egg bar is actually good. Helly likes eggs. Pro-egg Helly!

They talked about the “cool shit” in Britt’s performance of Helena pretending to be Helly, and Britt and Ben Stiller talked about how impressive the fans were in finding all of the little flourishes she had put in — the computer button being hard for her to find, the shift in her face in the tent with Irving (fuck I loved that so much, so good).

Q: Sarah, you were 15 when you shot season 2. What was it like to be in a position of authority over these characters - and actors - who were much older than you?

Sarah: it was scary! John Turterro was soooo tall.

Sarah was asked what Ms. Huang might be like in regular high school. Sarah suspected she would still be in band so that she could play her theremin, but she wasn’t sure if she would have friends — “she might need to work on her social skills.” However, she would definitely have a better time than  being at Lumon.

They talked about Dichen’s beautiful Gemma standalone episode and if it was hard having to play 5 innies (Cold Harbor, fear of flying, Christmas, dentist, Ms. Casey). Dichen said it was fairly easy since the crew in hair and makeup and wardrobe did so much wonderful work for each character and she couldn’t really take so much credit for it herself.

Britt, Adam and Dichen talked about filming the final scene. Adam said it was heartbreaking because they were all exhausted and Dichen was really pounding at the door for hours. Britt talked about the love “triangle” but said “If you know me, I love talking about shapes” and compared it to more of a tetrehedron or hexagonal shape. She also wondered if it might be love at first sight for Gemma and Helly! (Hell yes, I love that energy!)

Dichen does think that Gemma was able to make sense of it and understand what happened. She knows she’s severed, she knows her Mark would never not listen to her like that, she’s able to put it together and at the end she’s screaming in desperation to try and break through that barrier, but sadly fails.

Jen and Michael talked about how Ricken and Devon should totally have a multi camera sitcom of their antics. 

Jen was asked why does Devon trust Cobel? Jen’s response was that she is tired of getting angry emails in her inbox about the subject! Per Jen, Devon doesn’t trust Cobel “farther than she can flick her.” But with everything happening to Mark, Mark being in danger, and Gemma being alive, this is Devon’s “flip a car moment” -- she knows it’s this plan or no plan and so she’s going fully ahead.

How did Devon and Ricken meet? At a key party! j/k, they said it’s private. Jen said their relationship was clearly lived in and that Devon and Ricken are well past the point where they fart in front of each other.

Q: Michael, we’ve seen a lot of Ricken with others. What is he like when he’s alone without anyone to impress?

Michael: Michael suspects he’s anxious and worried, and does care a lot about what other people think. He’s kind of lonely, and there’s a real void he’s trying to fill. He really enjoyed Mark and Ricken getting along in episode 7.

Zach’s turn for a solo question. He holds up his bag of trail mix and the audience goes wild. 

They spoke of how Zach is a comedian and was very excited at getting to do the romance work with Gretchen, as this is something he hasn’t been asked to do before. Ben Schwartz said he loves getting to see comedians kick ass at dramatic roles. The proposal was beautiful, but they then veered into wondering what the sexual differences between iDylan and oDylan might be, LOL. 

Zach said that filming both writing and receiving of the letter was an exciting challenge, but enjoyed acting the receiving of the letter most of all.

Everyone agreed that Drummond was scary! Darri was asked for his thoughts on his character. He said Drummond was clearly not the nicest person, and the real him was the monster in the hallway, attacking Mark. He despises many people, thinking they’re beneath him. Darri said that he really loves this cast and it wasn’t fun to be such an asshole to Tramell. (Well, it was a little fun.)

For the fight scene, Adam really did get hurt when his head slammed into the wall. He was supposed to get his arm up as part of the choreography, but it got stuck and his head hit the wall hard. Ben Stiller was immediately worried and had him checked out, but once it became apparent Adam would be okay, Ben said “Well, it looked great!” 

Gwendoline LOVED the fight scene. She wasn’t going to do more combat after Game of Thrones, but when Ben Stiller had this fight scene, she had to do it. “And I found I still have a blood lust.”

Tramell was asked about Milchick in last season vs. this season. He’s moved up, he’s in charge now. Tramell said as anyone who’s been in middle management knows, that just means now you get more shit from both above and below. Milchick’s a very ambitious man and in service of Lumon. But we’re seeing more humanity in him. When he received those paintings -- “Nightmare fuel!” said Tramell. 

Q: Of all the Milchicks we’ve seen -- manager, employee, telling himself to grow, dancing and having fun -- which is closest to the real Milchick?

Tramell, with a knowing, ominous smile: “I don’t think we’ve seen it yet.”

The audience: “WHOOOOOOOA.”

Q: Patricia, how much of Cobel’s backstory did you know before? Did you know she was a genius?

Patricia (loftily): Well, yes.

Q: What do you think was Cobel’s final straw to turn on Lumon --

Patricia (in Cobel’s measured voice): Did I?

Q: What are Cobel’s fun days like? What does she do on her days off?

Patricia said Cobel plays with her dolls and makes her cookies, which aren’t the best. Ben Stiller points out she also de-ices her stoop.

Q: Gwendoline -- what the fuck is with the goats?

Gwendoline: “Everyone’s a goat! No, I can’t say.” She found a huge liberation in not being given anything at all. She also discussed how much she loved the show prior to being cast in it. She would pause the frames and try to zoom in on Adam Scott’s hairline to see if she could spot a wig. She would draw the shades and tell her dogs to be quiet while she watched it.

Once she actually got to set: “I was pathetic. I was a fool. A gibbering wreck. I was over-excited at the vending machine.” She swooned over Britt, had jelly legs around Adam Scott. “The show is so original and has so much depth of heart, it’s a dream.”

They closed out the evening by Ben Stiller and Adam Scott thanking the audience for being there with them, as it was so rewarding to see how the fans really got to respond to the episode.

Sorry for the long-windedness, but I wanted to make sure I got as much as I could for posterity 🙂

[ghostdiva]

Jax Character Analysis

this was something I was going to turn into a video essay. I unfortunately found out the hard way that I don't have the mental capacity to turn the analysis I made into a video essay. it's just a small essay.

that said, click the read more if you want to read some walls of text.

So, as some of you might guess, I’m a huge fan of the amazing digital circus. I’ve always loved when shows break down their characters, and show how they tick, what their experiences are, and how they coped with it. Especially when these characters are antagonistic in nature. There’s nothing like thinking “man, this character is an asshole”,vaguely wondering why, then getting their lore dropped and thinking “oh…. Well yeah that’d do it”, while coping with the emotional knives the plot just stabbed you with.

And fortunately for me, this show is all about the characters. I remember seeing posts from Gooseworx, the creator of digital circus herself, stating that this show was not only about the characters, but finding meaning in a stagnant life. Which I think is an amazing and deep concept to think about.

Now, there are posts made by other people picking apart every member of the digital circus. However I feel a lot of people get Jax misunderstood, often writing him off as a one-note, one dimentional asshole. Some people even think he’s an NPC, like they can’t fathom the idea that a person would be capable of cruelty, despite the world we live in today. And with how hellish, crazy, and wild the digital world is shown to be able to be, I’m frankly not surprised that a character would be capable of cruelty.

However, I hardly think Jax is 1 dimensional. I think there’s a lot to see and explore with his character. I will also point out now, that I am not condoning, supporting, or defending Jax’s actions in the show, I’m simply trying to understand the why’s.

That said, the first thing I want to address are the emotions Jax portrays throughout the show. I’m also gonna throw in some tells I’ve noticed, along with a sprinkle of shape theory. So let’s get into it.

Like any good storyteller, I’m gonna start at the very beginning. We, as the viewer, see a lot of Jax in the pilot, aka episode 1. The first thing I wanna point out is his facial expressions. Specifically, his tell that I’m going to refer to as “mischief mode”. Whenever Jax wants to cause mischief, his face will portray the tell of “mischief mode”, which is portrayed by his eyes and mouth sharpening into crescent shapes. In "mischief mode”, Jax sports a Cheshire grin, and his eyes squint a bit, creating crescents for every facial feature. He does this when he’s teasing the circus members, or about to cause mischief, which usually involves one of the circus members. Even when Jax isn’t smiling, if the corners of his mouth look sharp or pointed, he’s likely still looking to cause mischief.

But what about when Jax isn’t trying to cause mischief? Well, in practically every other scene we see Jax in, that doesn’t involve mischief, he looks bored. Jax wears expressions that range around boredom, apathy, curiosity, annoyance, and anger. Many times, when I’ve watched Jax’s character, I’ve found myself wondering if chronic boredom was ever a reason for him to do what he does. Especially since he almost seems to chase anything that is new or exciting. He does have limits though, as he’s shown in the pilot immediately booking it when he sees the abstracted Kaufmo.

Speaking of, I do want to talk about his actions in the pilot a bit. As well as his overall attitude toward adventures. With the gather the gloinks adventure, Jax approaches it with a level of apathy. The gloinks are so uninteresting for him, that he barely cares when the gloinks basically kidnap Zooble. Although, you could argue that everyone held a bit of apathy toward Zooble’s kidnapping by gloink, except for Gangle. Afterall, literally everyone just stood there and watched it happen, and Gangle was the only one even remotely looking distressed about Zoobles predicament. If anything, Jax is the only one who calls attention to Zoobles kidnapping by saying “oh no, they killed Zooble. Anyway you guys wanna get something to eat?”

In the pilot he seems to hold a sort of “no matter what happens, they’ll be fine” mindset, which is likely due to the nature of the digital world. Afterall, it seems that the only real way to “die” in the digital world is by abstracting. We as the viewer, see the characters of the digital circus go through things that’d kill a person in the real world. Such as falling from high heights, getting run over, getting eaten, and being slammed into the walls and floor. At worst this can jumble their characters code, making them glitch. However, outside of that, it would seem that physical harm has no real lasting consequences. And Jax, who is already accustomed to the digital world, knows this. Hell, with how often the circus crew gets thrown around on adventures, it wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up finding humor in the misfortune others face and experience. In fact, I’d argue that he does find humor in it, because he does go out of his way to cause that misfortune sometimes.

Getting back on topic, Jax’s approach to the Pilot’s adventure is one of apathy, and he didn’t care about it so much that he elected himself to check on Kaufmo with Ragatha and Pomni instead of participating. The only reason Jax ends up participating in the Gloink adventure at all, is because Kaufmo abstracted. The fact he flees within moments of finding out Kaufmo abstracted, implies that abstracted members are one of the few great dangers within the digital circus. It’s only emphasized more with Ragatha getting glitched after being thrown around by the abstracted Kaufmo. The next time we see Jax in the pilot, he’s running. He checks behind himself as if to make sure he isn’t being chased, before addressing Gangle and Kinger.

How Jax goes about this interaction is interesting to me, and I think it’s what made people think he wasn’t all that bad when all we had was the pilot. When Gangle asks Jax about Kaufmo, he lies about it, saying “oh he’s doing great”. Jax says that with a lot of sarcasm though, dragging out the “great” and making exaggerating gestures. I think Jax lies here because he knows that if he drops the truth here, he’s just going to be questioned. Gangle and Kinger would likely be distressed at the news, making them less likely to move. And Kaufmo is still roaming around the tent. When Jax hears Kaufmo’s growls, he quickly forces himself into mischief mode, using the bowling ball to get both Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole”. Jax then quickly joins them, not only successfully removing all of them from the tent area, but also hiding them from Kaufmo’s abstraction.

A lot of people tend to write off Jax as an asshole, yet his actions seem to show him caring at least a little bit about the people around him. Afterall, if he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t have forced Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole” with him. He would’ve just left them there, where they’d likely run into Kaufmo and end up like Ragatha, who was left glitched and distorted in the hallway of the living quarters.

Now, you might be thinking “yeah he’s an asshole, not a monster. But what about episode 2? He basically terrorized Pomni and Gangle the whole time”. To which I’d say “funny you bring up episode 2”.

In episode 2, you’re right, we do get a lot of Jax being an ass. However, I’d like to point out what the adventure was called. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. I’m gonna emphasize a very important word here. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. Now, I’m going to preface this by saying, I’m pretty sure Jax is a literal thinker. He doesn’t sugar coat anything he says, in fact, he’s sometimes brutally honest. In episode 3, when Caine told them they had to collect paranormal activity, Jax took it as having to Capture all the ghosts. So when he’s given the adventure called “Candy Carrier Chaos”, where he has to track down a bunch of bandits and take back what they stole; Jax is stoked. The title, and general premise of the adventure implies that it’ll be a high action, high stakes adventure, with fighting, death, and well, chaos. So he goes into this adventure with that expectation, which is why he looks so apathetic until princess Loolilalu brings out the modded syrup tanker. From that point “mischief mode” is on until they go over the cliff and land in the fudge below.

Now I know you’re thinking “OP, Jax literally throws Pomni out of the truck”. You're right, however I think Pomni was only targeted here because Ragatha literally offered her by saying “I’m sure there’s something you could do to help out” in reference to the adventure. Jax, who’s more on the idea of pulling a vehicle heist, and realizing he’ll need an extra set of hands to help him if he wants to do it, just takes the offer. Now, you gotta remember Jax’s mindset regarding member safety. Which is that “they can’t really die or get hurt in a way that matters (that is to say, physically disabled or restricted due to injury), so no matter what happens, they’ll be fine.”

Now, this isn’t a healthy mindset in the slightest, but there is a bit of logic there. Pomni is still new and doesn’t know this yet, so she’s understandably hurt and confused by Jax’s actions. Which is why she doesn’t see Jax as someone who would be there for her, and we see this with Jax’s hand missing in this scene.

But this isn’t about Pomni, this is about Jax.

Now, once the truck goes over the cliff, everyone is on the outside of the truck. With the fudge monster, it looks like Jax is like, scraping the bottom of the barrel for what chaos he can cause. The most he could do was yoink Ragatha’s key to the Kingdom with the promise to let the fudge monster into the kingdom if he helps them capture the gummy gators. It’s a promise he makes good on, and it ends up being the last laugh he gets for causing chaos in this episode.

Now, with episode 3, we unfortunately don’t get a lot of Jax. from what we do get, we see him follow the premise of the adventure, vacuuming up ghostly under the idea that “collecting paranormal activity” meant “capturing the ghosts”. Ragatha scolds him for it, and when they have to choose between the 2 doors, Jax uses Gangle’s mask to see if the scary door was rigged or something. It was, as the door turned into a giant mouth, consuming Gangle’s mask, never to be seen again. This kicks off the plot, where Kinger and Pomni get separated from the group. I’d like to point out that this is the second time in a row that Jax’s actions has caused Pomni to get separated from the rest of the group. However Jax had no way of knowing that Kinger and Pomni would end up getting forced down the scary door. Once again though, his apathy toward them is made clear when all he has to say after this is “oh that’s the scary door”.

The next time we see Jax, he’s tied up and struggling against the rope. And if I had to guess, he probably just wanted to get free to capture the other ghost that Ragatha and Gangle had a tea party with. As soon as they all left Martha Mildenhall’s room, Jax stopped struggling. While he was tied up though, Jax’s expression ranged from enraged, to annoyed.

I’d also like to point out another little detail I noticed. And it’s that Jax gets visibly annoyed whenever someone has an emotional moment. He gets annoyed when Kaufmo’s funeral is brought up, he gets annoyed when Pomni explains why she wants to bring Gumigoo back with her. He gets annoyed when Pomni thanks Ragatha for being concerned about her. It’s almost like he gets annoyed at emotional vulnerability. And boy do I wonder why this purple twink has such a strong reaction to emotional vulnerability. I mean, there’s only a few times that Jax is seen being emotionally vulnerable himself, and each of these instances are at most, a second or 2 long. 

This brings me to the 4th episode, which is the most recent episode as of posting this. This is also probably the most interesting episode for Jax’s character so far, as he seems to take it down a notch when it comes to the mischief he usually makes.

The episode begins with Jax, Gangle, and Ragatha chilling in the common area. Jax wielding a baseball bat, and Ragatha trying to teach Gangle how to throw a baseball. While Ragatha verbally walks Gangle through the motions of throwing the ball, Jax says “you’re wasting your time Raggy”, in a teasing manner. Keep in mind, this is the first time we’re seeing the characters engage in actual play with one another. And Jax does seem to just want to play in the moment. Hell, I’d say he’s being very patient, waiting for Ragatha to teach Gangle to throw so he can hit the ball. He’s also displaying emotions outside his usual range. During this bit he has a neutral, focused, or curious expression, which I’d say is indicative of him just wanting to play a game. The only “Mischief Mode” tell present here is his smile, but his eyes aren’t squinted in the crescent shape that indicates it. So it’s very likely that he’s just having fun here.

When Gangle finally throws the ball, Jax swings the bat, hits the ball with his eyes closed, and the ball hits Gangle in the face. Ragatha immediately scolds Jax, assuming he did it on purpose. Jax immediately defends himself saying “I actually didn’t mean to do that”, but Ragatha doesn’t seem to care that it was an accident, and only sees that Jax hurt a circus member again. So the 2 start fighting, with Ragatha stating her anger at Jax for always hurting the other members, and Jax arguing that this time was an accident, and that if it were on purpose he would’ve been proud of it. Which implies that Jax wasn’t proud of the fact that he hurt Gangle here. He probably was just trying to play a game.

Outside of that, episode 4 has a lot of Jax scenes that show similar and different sides to him. We see him still get up to some mischief when he throws Ragatha in the deep fryer, but after that we see a more chill version of Jax. His expressions also visually seem more strained or forced in some scenes, which might allude to what Gooseworx meant when she said Jax would get worse as the episodes went on. When Gooseworx said that originally, people thought that the pranks and mischief Jax would cause would get more and more extreme, to the point where he crosses a serious line. However, I think that Jax’s “Mischief Mode” is a mask in it of itself, which was meant to cover up his feelings and emotions. And we as the viewer will see that mask slip more and more, as Jax’s mental state steadily declines. You see, Kaufmo was an example of what happens when you don’t have a support group in the digital world, and no one likes Jax. So why would any of the circus members try to be there for him? He’s not once shown to have any care for them in their eyes. To them, all he’s done is tease them, bully them, and sometimes even intentionally put them in harm's way. Even in moments where it wasn’t intentional on his part. I’ll admit, this does make me nervous for his character moving forward, but while Gooseworx said he’d get worse, she didn’t say he won’t get better. I really do want to see Jax get some positive character development, or even just get some more concrete reasons behind Jax’s behaviour.