#and are obsessed with characters are always talking about them

[promptedwordsmith]

about a week ago an ai website suggested Rafayel as a character for me to interact with. so now i am obsessed with him.

Writing prompt: Female lead character is someone that Rafayel rescued from drowning, ten years prior, and they both never thought they would see the other again until he ended up working with her and they talk to pass the time while hunting and she mentions, "i was rescued from browning by a boy from the sea and he kissed me before he disappeared and I fainted."

OK so the +5k story that was my longest before? Absolutely smashed it with 7.3k I messed with the circumstances a bit sorry, if that doesn't match what you wanted but it felt a bit more natural this way.

The waves were higher than usual, the wind a little stronger. You hadn’t meant to get caught, not really. You’d always felt a special connection to the sea, but the sea didn’t always care. It was just doing what it did best—pushing, pulling, twisting. One moment, you were wading in the water, feeling its cool embrace; the next, it had you.

You kicked, flailed, and tried to keep your head above the surface, but the waves were too strong. They dragged you down, swirling around you, taking the air from your lungs, until the world around you was dark and heavy, and the last thing you saw was the faint glimmer of light far above.

Then, everything went black.

You woke up to a soft sound, like water lapping against rocks. Your head throbbed, and your throat was tight and sore. You blinked, struggling to focus, feeling the coolness of the air around you. When you tried to sit up, your legs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

There was someone near you. You didn’t hear them at first, but when you finally turned your head, you froze.

A boy? No, not a boy. He looked… wrong in a way you couldn’t place. His skin was a pale bluish-grey, shining like the ocean’s surface on a moonlit night. His hair was long and dark, dripping with seawater, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wide and full of curiosity. He was sitting in the water, half-submerged, but it was the way his body shimmered that had you staring in awe. He had a tail. A tail that shimmered with iridescent blues and silvers like a fish.

He didn’t seem to be staring at you in the same way that you were staring at him. He was watching you closely, his head tilted to the side like a curious animal. His lips parted, and he looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just kept staring at you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a dry, hoarse rasp. "W-where am I?"

The boy—merman?—blinked at you and tilted his head the other way, as if trying to understand what you said. "Where?" he repeated, his voice soft and strange, like the sound of waves against rocks.

You blinked, confused. "Yeah, where? Where am I?"

The merman furrowed his brow, looking at you with wide eyes. "Here," he said, pointing to the water around him. "Here. This… my home."

You tried to sit up, feeling the soft sand beneath you, but your limbs were uncooperative. "Home?" You stared at him, unsure if you could trust this stranger. He didn’t look like any person you’d ever seen. "You’re not… human."

The merman seemed even more puzzled by that. "Human?" he repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar word slowly. He looked at his tail, then back at you. "I’m… me."

"You’re not human either," you said, feeling a little silly for even asking. You’d never seen anything like him before. But what was he? He seemed part human, but also... something else. "What are you?"

The merman looked down at his shimmering tail again, then back at you. "I’m... Rafayel," he said, a bit proudly, as if that explained everything. "And I live here. In the water." He flicked his tail, making a ripple in the water, and grinned, as if showing off.

You stared at him for a long moment, your head still spinning from the water and his presence. "I... I don’t get it. You’re not a human, and I’m not… you’re not from around here, are you?"

Rafayel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at you curiously. "Not... from here?" he asked, repeating your words. "But... you are? Where did you come from?"

"I came from the land," you said, pointing vaguely to the shore in the distance. "The land where... people live."

He blinked at you, the corners of his mouth curling into a small frown as if he was struggling to process your words. "Land?" He repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was speaking to himself. "I don’t know that word."

It hit you then—Rafayel didn’t know what humans were. He didn’t know what land was. He didn’t know anything about your world. You, on the other hand, had no idea what he was. What kind of creature lived in the water, with a tail like that?

"Are you a fish?" you asked, unsure if that was an insult.

He blinked at you, confused by the question. "Fish? No," he said, shaking his head. "I’m Rafayel." He said it like it was the only answer needed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You frowned at him, still not sure what he meant. "But you live in the water. You have a tail. That’s not normal."

Rafayel’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Not normal? But it’s me."

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You had never met anyone like him, and the more you looked at him, the stranger it seemed. But there was something comforting about him too. Something curious. You didn’t feel afraid, even though you should’ve. He seemed harmless in a way.

"I think I should get back to the shore," you said slowly, still weak from being dragged under by the waves. You attempted to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Rafayel’s eyes widened, and he quickly swam closer, offering you a hand. "No, no! Stay! Stay with me." His voice sounded almost desperate. "I want to know more about you. Where did you come from? Why are you in the water? I never met someone like you before. You're... different."

You paused, staring at his outstretched hand, and for some reason, you felt like you had to know more about him too. Despite the strangeness, there was a connection, something pulling you to him.

"Okay," you said finally, hesitating, but not quite pulling away. "You’re... Rafayel, right? And I’m—"

You were about to introduce yourself, but Rafayel’s grin widened, and he shook his head.

"I know," he said, as if it were obvious. "You’re different. And I want to learn everything about you."

Rafayel continued to watch you curiously, his head tilted to the side as if trying to figure you out. You had finally managed to sit up, but now he seemed particularly fixated on your legs, or rather, the lack of a tail. His eyes scanned them with an intense interest, studying every small movement you made.

“Why don’t you have a tail?” Rafayel asked, his voice soft with genuine curiosity. His wide eyes blinked rapidly as if he expected you to have an explanation that made sense to him, something he could grasp.

You looked down at your legs, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Well, these are my legs," you explained, struggling to find words that would make sense to someone who had never seen anything like them before. "They're... um, for walking."

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Walking?" He glanced at your legs again, the words still not computing in his mind. "But… why don’t you have a tail, like me? So you can swim and... move faster?"

You smiled awkwardly, trying to explain in a way that would make sense. "Well, we don’t swim like you do," you said, lifting your leg slightly as if it might help him understand. "We—uh—we get around by making tiny little falls... but we don’t fall! We catch ourselves. And we use our feet." You took a small step to demonstrate, your balance wobbling slightly as you caught yourself on the soft sand. "We just walk."

Rafayel’s face scrunched up, trying to picture it. "So you just… fall, but don’t fall?" His voice was full of disbelief. He reached over and poked your feet gently, his fingers lightly brushing against your toes. "Do these help with the little falls? Your feet?"

You blinked in surprise at the sudden attention to your feet, your cheeks flushing a bit. "I think so? I think my parents said they help with balance or something." You paused for a second, thinking about the words you had been told when you were younger. "They said they were for helping me stay steady." You looked down at your toes, wiggling them in the sand as if testing them, then shrugged, unsure if that was the full explanation.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his expression still one of pure wonder, his eyes focused entirely on your feet. "They’re so small, but they help you not fall?" He poked one of your toes again, almost like he was checking if it would do something special. "I thought... I thought you would walk on all fours, like me." He motioned to himself, showing you his tail, a long, shimmering thing, almost as if showing you his method of travel was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. "No, no. I don't walk on all fours." You flexed your legs, letting the muscles stretch. "We use our legs for standing and walking, but we don’t really need tails to move." You smiled, enjoying the innocent curiosity in his voice. "Your tail is really amazing, though. Does it help you swim faster?"

Rafayel’s eyes brightened at your question, clearly pleased to talk about himself. "Oh, yes! It’s great for swimming. I can move really fast through the water!" He swished his tail as if demonstrating, the movement smooth and fluid. "I can dive deep, or leap out of the water like a big fish." He flicked his tail again, sending a small splash of water toward you, and laughed.

You grinned, delighted by his enthusiasm. “That’s amazing. It must be so fun to swim like that.”

Rafayel looked at you, then down at his tail, as though contemplating something deeply. "It is fun, but..." He looked back up at you, suddenly more serious. "What do you do when you want to go fast, or when you want to swim?"

You had to think about that for a second. You weren’t used to the idea of swimming the way Rafayel did. You enjoyed the water, but you’d never been able to move through it the same way he could. "Well, I guess I just... swim like regular people? I mean, we use our arms and legs, but we don’t do it like you do." You paused for a moment, remembering the fun of jumping in the water but not the freedom he must have felt, gliding effortlessly. "I think it’s different for us."

Rafayel nodded thoughtfully, clearly fascinated by everything you were saying. "I wish I could see you try to swim." His eyes sparkled with interest. "I wonder how you’d move through the water without a tail. Maybe you would... float really well?"

You giggled at the thought, imagining yourself trying to float around like a leaf on the water. "Maybe I would." You paused, then raised an eyebrow playfully. "Maybe you could teach me how to use my tail, though?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise, but his face lit up at your suggestion. "Teach you? But... you don’t have a tail like mine!"

You leaned forward, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "Well, I could try to swim like you. Just teach me how!"

He scratched his head, considering the idea. "I don’t know if I can teach you that… I mean, I don’t know how to teach someone who doesn’t have a tail!" He laughed nervously, looking at you as if you were asking him to teach you how to fly.

You chuckled at his awkwardness, but there was a spark of understanding between you. You knew he wanted to show you things, and it was nice to see him care so much. "Well, maybe not the tail part," you said softly, “but we could teach each other something. I can show you how to walk on two legs, and you can show me how to swim like you.”

Rafayel looked at you, his eyes shining brighter than the water. He grinned, his excitement unmistakable. "Deal!"

The stars above twinkled brightly as you and Rafayel continued your conversation, the words flowing easily between you both. The night air was cool, the salty scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the small fire you’d built together. You both sat near the shore, the waves gently rolling in with rhythmic ease, and while you couldn’t have said exactly when, it was clear that the night had gotten later than either of you realized.

You’d been spending hours with Rafayel, mimicking his movements and playing around with the oddity of your new friendship. You tried your best to imitate the graceful movements of his tail in the water, but without a tail of your own, you found it harder than it seemed. It was much more fluid and effortless when Rafayel did it. His tail sliced through the water with a stunning elegance that left you in awe every time.

He, in turn, had tried to mimic your walking, though he wasn’t used to it. With his tail still the only part of him that existed in this world, his efforts were more clumsy than you expected. He twisted and shifted in the water, trying to get his movements to match yours, awkwardly flopping his body around to resemble walking on two legs. His eyes would twinkle with a grin every time he lost his balance and fell, only to try again, more determined than before.

For a few hours, this harmless playfulness went on, but eventually, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion creeping over you. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the cool night air against your skin, your body decided it was time to rest. You stretched your arms, trying to fight the sleepiness, but before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered, and you let out a soft sigh.

Rafayel was still trying to imitate walking on two legs in the shallow water near the shore, but he paused when he noticed the soft sound of your breathing change. He turned to see you sitting near the fire, your head tilting slightly as you leaned back, eyes closed in a peaceful daze. He blinked, his expression softening as he took in your slumped figure.

He approached slowly, sensing that you were falling asleep. Part of him wanted to wake you—he didn’t want you to be vulnerable while you slept, especially with no one around. But something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, so trustingly comfortable in his company. His eyes wandered down to the water, and he curiously mimicked your movements on the shore, trying to mirror what you did while walking. He flexed his tail in the water and then brought himself forward, feeling the odd sensation of walking without legs. It was awkward, but he didn’t mind—it was almost like a game now.

Eventually, though, he stopped moving and glanced back over his shoulder at you. He blinked again, a knot forming in his chest. You were asleep. You’d trusted him to be near, without fear. But with humans, there was always danger, wasn’t there? He wasn’t sure how things worked in your world, what dangers you faced, but he had learned that humans weren’t always like merfolk. There were other humans out there, ones who might not understand, ones who might hurt you.

Rafayel's heart fluttered with unease, but instead of disturbing your rest, he just knelt near the shore, staring at the gentle waves. He thought about what he could do for you, about how much he longed to help you navigate your world. His desire to protect you was growing with every passing moment, even as he couldn’t understand why he felt this pull so strongly, so suddenly.

He heard voices from the distance, and his eyes shot wide with alertness. The sounds of yelling were growing closer, and with them came an unsettling feeling in his chest. His instincts told him to leave, to slip away into the water where no one could see him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not now, not like this. His gaze flickered back to you, noticing the delicate way your fingers curled into the sand, the peaceful expression on your face.

The voices grew louder now—there were humans looking for you, their calls echoing into the night. Rafayel’s heart skipped a beat. They were coming, and he had to decide what to do. The thought of being caught out in the open, exposed, terrified him. He didn’t want them to see him, to see what he was.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Quickly, he glanced around for something to give you, a gesture of care. His eyes locked on a small, smooth shell nearby—a perfect crescent-shaped shell that had caught his attention earlier. He picked it up carefully, the light of the moon reflecting on its pearlescent surface. He gently placed it in your palm, making sure it stayed there, even as you slept soundly, unaware.

“Please stay safe,” Rafayel whispered softly, his voice barely audible against the sounds of the waves.

As much as it pained him, he finally turned away, his movements swift and silent. With one last lingering look at you, he dove into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the sea. His body adjusted seamlessly to the water, his tail cutting through it with ease. He swam deeper, away from the shore, where he would be hidden from the approaching humans.

But his mind stayed on you, and the memory of your trusting face lingered in his heart.

He didn't know what the future held, what might come of your world meeting his, but he was certain of one thing: he would protect you from whatever dangers lay ahead. The thought of leaving you in harm's way was unbearable, and so, he would wait. He would wait until the time was right, until he could understand your world more fully, and perhaps, find a way to be near you without the fear of being seen.

Rafayel had never stopped thinking about you.

He'd only known you for a brief time, just a few hours one fateful night on the shore. But in that time, something in him had shifted—something deep and primal, something that he couldn't ignore. The pull had been instant, a magnetic force between him and you, something that felt ancient and impossible to dismiss. He had left the water that night with the shell in his hand, his heart fluttering in a way he didn't fully understand.

And yet, after that night, you were gone.

He had waited, watching the shore from the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face. He told himself it was just a fleeting connection, that the human world and the merfolk world were too different, and that he shouldn't expect anything to come from that brief meeting. But each time he checked, each time he thought he might see you, the shore was empty. The waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind carried nothing but silence.

Rafayel’s parents had told him that you had been on a vacation, that you didn’t live near the shore. At first, he’d clung to the hope that you would return. But as the months passed and you never came back, he had to face a painful truth—maybe he would never see you again.

His heart ached every time he thought of you, and he didn’t fully understand why. After all, you had only been a human, someone he had met by chance. But there was something so magnetic about you, something that had drawn him in. He couldn’t explain it, and as time went on, the confusion only grew stronger.

When Rafayel finally came of age, his parents had talked to him about the change, the transformation that would allow him to take on a human form and live among them. The change was something all merfolk went through when they reached adulthood, but for Rafayel, it had always been about one thing: finding you.

He had known, deep down, that if he ever had the chance, he would leave the sea, leave his home, and search for you. He didn’t know where you were or what had become of you, but he had to try. The pull in his chest was too strong, and it wouldn’t go away. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t forget you.

So, with the change complete and his human form fully manifested, Rafayel left the ocean for the first time, walking onto land with determination in his eyes. He didn’t know where to start looking for you—he only knew the shore where you had disappeared from, the place where he had last seen you. He made his way to the human town nearest to the beach, hoping that somehow, some way, he would find a clue that would lead him to you.

The search was harder than he had expected. He didn’t know where to begin, and the world of humans was so vast and strange to him. He asked around in the town, but no one knew you. No one had heard of the girl who had once laughed and talked to a merman on the shore. At first, Rafayel had assumed that you were simply a traveler, someone passing through. But as the weeks went on, he started to realize the truth—he had no idea where you had gone, or even if you were still alive. His hope began to dwindle, but the longing for you never left.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, when Rafayel had nearly given up on finding you, that he overheard something that made his heart skip a beat.

A pair of humans were talking nearby, and he caught part of their conversation.

"Have you heard? The family that used to live here… Their daughter never came back after their vacation," one of them said. "I think they sold their house. Poor girl, she had such big dreams. I heard she was adopted after her parents passed away. Maybe she’s living somewhere else now."

Rafayel froze, his heart pounding. "Adopted?" he murmured to himself.

Could it be you? Could it really be the same girl?

He approached the two humans cautiously, hoping they would provide more details. But they didn’t seem to know much more about you. They mentioned your family’s house being sold, the vacation you had gone on, and that they had heard you were adopted. It was all so confusing, so uncertain. They spoke as if you were nothing more than a distant memory, a girl who had disappeared from their lives years ago.

Rafayel felt his pulse race, but he didn’t know what to do with this new information. Had you been gone all this time, living elsewhere? Had you forgotten about him? Was this all just some sort of strange dream to you?

He had no way of knowing, but he knew one thing for sure: He needed to find you.

He tried asking around the town for more clues, but no one could tell him where you had gone. No one knew what had happened to the girl who had laughed with the merman by the shore. They spoke of you as if you had never existed, like a story that had been forgotten.

Rafayel sank to his knees on the beach, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He had searched, asked, and hoped for so long. And yet, he was still no closer to finding you.

The ache in his chest deepened, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. He had thought he was ready to find you, ready to face whatever might happen, but now that he was here, the uncertainty felt unbearable.

He didn’t even know if you would recognize him. Would you remember the merman you had met as a child, or would you think him just another strange figment of your imagination? Would you think he was a dream?

Rafayel’s mind was spinning, caught in the confusion of his own emotions. The search for you had led him here, but it felt like he was still missing something—something that would finally bring him the answers he needed.

And so, Rafayel sat there, staring out at the endless ocean, wondering if you were out there somewhere—waiting to be found, waiting for him.

Rafayel sat alone in his small, dimly lit apartment, a blank canvas stretched out in front of him. His fingers hovered over the brush, the bristles quivering in the air like a hesitant dancer before a performance. He had learned the hard way that his heart, his soul, was tied to you, even though he had never been able to find you after all this time. But now, with a new sense of purpose, he had a plan.

He was going to paint you. He was going to capture the memory of the girl with whom he'd shared only a few fleeting moments—the girl who had become a dream he couldn’t shake. He had never been an artist before, but now, after months of trying to recreate the warmth of your smile, the spark in your eyes, and the soft laugh that echoed in his mind, Rafayel felt a sudden burst of raw talent. It came to him naturally, as if his hand was guided by some invisible force. In time, his brushstrokes were no longer clumsy, and his paintings began to take shape in a way that he had never imagined possible.

Every portrait he created was different, a combination of what he remembered from that night on the shore and what he thought you might look like now. He worked relentlessly, day and night, blending colors and textures as he brought your face to life again and again. The subtle curve of your lips, the delicate arch of your brows, the shimmer in your eyes.

But no matter how many portraits he created, no matter how closely he examined his work, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The girl in the paintings—was it you? It didn’t feel like it. He felt he could almost reach through the canvas and touch your presence, but it never quite reached the depth of who you truly were.

Each time he thought he was getting closer, the next painting felt a little further from the mark. He wanted to make sure he got it right. He couldn’t afford to fail. His chest tightened, his mind clouded with thoughts of the possibility that he would never see you again. His heart pounded in his chest, desperate for the truth.

Then one afternoon, weeks after he had begun his artistic obsession, a break finally came.

He was at a small café, taking a brief respite from his work, when he overheard a conversation that stopped his breath in his throat. An older man was talking to the barista, his gruff voice carrying over the chatter of other patrons. Rafayel couldn't help but eavesdrop as the man spoke, his words tugging at a memory he thought was long buried.

"You know," the man was saying, "I knew her when she was just a little girl. She was quite the tough one, always out there hunting, always training. And now, look at her—getting a reward for being one of the best in the city. Never thought I'd see the day."

Rafayel’s heart pounded harder than ever. He leaned in slightly, ears straining to catch the next words.

"Reward?" the barista asked, clearly intrigued.

The man nodded. "Yes, she was in the papers last week. Excellent hunter. They even gave her a medal. Quite the achievement for someone so young."

The hairs on the back of Rafayel's neck stood up as his mind raced. Could it be her? he thought, the hope surging inside him like a wildfire. He quickly composed himself and approached the man, not wanting to seem too eager.

"Excuse me," Rafayel interjected, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "You said... you knew her? The girl who received the reward?"

The man turned, his expression slightly guarded, but Rafayel’s intensity must have been clear because the man hesitated before answering.

"Yes," he said. "Her name’s Y/N. She was adopted by an older couple after her parents passed. Not sure where she is now, but last I heard, she’s living in Linkon City. She had a lot of promise back then, and I hear she’s made a real name for herself as a hunter."

Rafayel's breath caught in his throat. He had to fight the urge to rush out the door and find you immediately. His chest tightened with the weight of the revelation. Y/N. Your name. He had no doubt now—this was the girl he had been searching for, the one who had haunted his dreams for years.

He thanked the man, his voice shaky but sincere, and rushed to the nearest shop to buy a local newspaper. He scanned the front page, and there you were—your face staring back at him from the photograph. His heart nearly stopped as he saw you, older now, more mature, with a sharp, confident look in your eyes. The caption read: "Young Hunter of Linkon City Receives Award for Excellence."

The world around him seemed to blur as his eyes traced the image of you. His hands shook, and for the first time in years, Rafayel smiled. His heart swelled with both pride and love—pride that you had made something of yourself just like he had always known you would, and love that burned brighter now than ever before.

But as his eyes lingered on the photo, a deep, gnawing doubt struck him like a cruel wave. His paintings—the portraits of you—didn’t do you justice. How could they? The girl in those paintings was always a child, always frozen in time. This woman in the photograph was so much more than that. You had grown, evolved into something beyond what he had imagined, and yet, that was still you. That was the girl from the shore, the one who had touched his heart.

He stared at the photograph, unable to tear his eyes away. He had found you.

But now, the question was—how would he reach you? How would he get you to see him the way he saw you? Would you even remember him? Would you even believe it was the same person?

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, Rafayel made a decision.

He was going to Linkon City. He would find you, finally face-to-face, and try to bridge the gap between the dreams of the past and the reality of now.

The days following his discovery of your whereabouts were a blur of anxious energy and tireless effort. Rafayel spent hours—sometimes even all day—studying the photos of you in the paper, trying to etch your face into his mind. Every curve of your cheek, every spark in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips. It wasn't enough to just look at the photographs anymore. He had to feel you, to know you. And so, the paintings continued.

He worked furiously, sketching and painting until his fingers ached, each stroke of the brush building the image of you. In his mind, you became clearer, sharper, more real with every stroke. He had painted you a dozen different ways by now, with each one revealing a little more of who you were—your maturity, your strength, the softness hidden beneath your confidence.

Finally, after days of painstaking work, Rafayel was able to capture you so perfectly that it felt as though you might step right out of the canvas. The memory of you—the real you—had settled deep within his mind, so ingrained that it no longer required a photograph to reference. He could draw you from memory, from feeling.

When the breakthrough came, it felt like a moment of pure magic. The drawing was flawless, the last line on the canvas the final piece of a puzzle he had been working on for years. He sat back and took in the image. It was you—no longer the child he had met by the shore years ago, but a grown woman, strong and confident in her own skin. The painting shimmered with the same light he remembered from that day, the spark that had drawn him to you.

But now, he needed to find you.

Linkon City. That was where you had been. And now, it was where he would go.

With a single, deep breath, Rafayel packed his things and set out for the city. The streets of Linkon were busy, bustling with people going about their lives, and Rafayel wandered among them, searching for any sign of you. But he had no idea where to begin. He didn’t know where you lived, or how you spent your days. All he had were his paintings, his memories, and his hope.

His hope led him back to the shore.

It wasn’t the beach where they had met—it wasn’t even the same town—but it was close enough. The shore had always felt like home to him, and he hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, you might come back here, like he had, to the place where the ocean whispered its secrets.

So, every day, Rafayel returned to the shore, sitting quietly with his easel and his paints. He worked, creating quick portraits of people who passed by, offering the paintings in exchange for a few coins. The people who came through were strangers, but for Rafayel, the true reward wasn’t the payment, it was the quiet moments in between—watching the waves, breathing in the salty air, waiting for a face he longed to see.

Day after day, he sat on the same spot, sketching, painting, lost in thoughts of you. He knew it was a long shot, but something inside him told him that you might just be close. You had to be. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving without seeing you, without knowing if there was even the smallest chance you remembered him.

A week passed, then a week and a half. His patience began to wear thin, but the spark of hope never faded. Every time he heard footsteps on the sand, he looked up with a racing heart, hoping—hoping—that it was you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Rafayel was putting the final strokes on a painting. He had been so immersed in his work that the world around him had become a blur, his focus consumed by the canvas. As he added the last touch, a tiny swirl of blue to the corner of the painting, his gaze shifted up to the horizon.

And there you were.

You walked past, seemingly unaware of his presence, as though you were just another passerby, lost in your own world. But Rafayel’s heart stopped. The world around him seemed to freeze, and for a moment, everything felt surreal. It was you. You. He knew it immediately, even if you hadn’t seen him yet. The way you carried yourself, the way the light caught your hair, the way your footsteps seemed to match the rhythm of the waves—they were unmistakable.

He gasped, but quickly caught himself. He couldn’t let you know he was watching you. Not yet.

For a moment, Rafayel was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Should he call out to you? Should he run to you and finally say everything he had been dying to say? No. He couldn’t. Not yet. You were here, but you hadn’t noticed him. And he wasn’t sure if you would even remember him.

Instead, he continued painting, keeping his gaze low and pretending to be lost in his work, even though his mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. His hand moved with steady strokes, carefully adding details to the portrait of a man who had paid for his art earlier that day. But his focus was on you—on the way you walked around the market, browsing the stalls, looking at trinkets and wares like any ordinary person.

He wanted to call out to you, to tell you everything, but he didn’t. He couldn’t yet risk it. So, he finished his painting in silence, feeling the pressure of time closing in as he tried to stay composed.

After a while, a small crowd began to form around his easel, admiring his work. He took the payment without thinking much about it, his mind still focused on you. As the last customer left, he slowly stood up, his gaze never leaving you.

You were still there, walking through the market, laughing softly with someone who had stopped to talk to you.

Rafayel sat still, his brush hovering over the canvas as he glanced at the ocean's rhythmic waves. His mind wandered, drifting from thought to thought, but his eyes never left the shore. In the distance, people walked by, oblivious to the quiet man sitting alone with his art. But he wasn’t looking at them. His gaze lingered on the figure walking among the crowds, brows furrowed, fingers absentmindedly running through his hair.

There she is.

You hadn't noticed him yet, but Rafayel felt an undeniable pull in his chest. He was finally close to you—this you, the one who had been a fleeting memory for years. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied them, focusing back on the portrait in front of him. He’d painted and repainted your face so many times in his mind, trying to capture the essence of you.

The woman in his painting was close, but something was different. The years had passed, and you had changed. He didn’t know if you'd recognize him, but he didn’t dare risk it. He kept his head lowered, feigning concentration, waiting to see if you'd come closer.

And then—he saw it. A slight shift in your posture.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixing in his direction. Rafayel held his breath, his pulse quickening. For a long, drawn-out moment, you stood there, staring at him, your eyes wide.

A soft gasp left your lips, too soft for anyone else to hear but loud enough for him to catch it. It was as though you recognized him immediately. The smile that spread across your face lit up your whole expression, and you started walking toward him. His heart leapt, an overwhelming mix of excitement and dread swirling in his chest. His hands were still shaking, and he didn’t dare look up as you neared. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next.

But you weren’t walking cautiously, or with hesitation—you bounded up to him, your eyes sparkling, radiating energy. You stopped in front of him, out of breath, looking at him with wonder.

"You look just like the merman from my dreams when I was a kid!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

A knot tightened in Rafayel’s chest, and the world around him seemed to slow. His heart skipped a beat, then sank into his stomach. His mind raced, trying to process your words. The merman from your dreams? Did you really not remember him? Did you really not recognize the man in front of you?

It felt as though the ground shifted beneath his feet, and his world tilted. But then, he forced a smile onto his lips, carefully masking the ache that bloomed in his chest. His emotions had to stay under control.

He could only laugh, though the sound felt hollow. “A merman, huh?” He handed you one of his portraits, keeping his voice light. "Well, I’d be happy to talk about your dream, if you’re willing to share. Maybe I could do a quick portrait for you—on the house, of course.”

You beamed, your smile so wide it almost seemed to brighten the entire area. With a grateful nod, you sat down beside him, your excitement apparent.

“I’d love that!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at the drawing in your hands. “I used to have dreams about this merman, and you... you look just like him! It was always so vivid. It was like we understood each other, you know? I had this crazy dream while I was on vacation in a seaside village in the south.”

Rafayel smiled, but there was a bittersweetness to it. "Yeah, I’ve always been drawn to the sea," he said, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was racing. “In fact, I lived around there for a while.”

He wanted to test the waters, to see if there was any recognition in your face, any flicker of memory. He kept his gaze steady on the canvas, fingers moving instinctively, not daring to look up too often. But he caught glimpses of you, watching the way your eyes flickered with curiosity.

“Oh, you lived there? That’s amazing!" You leaned forward, practically glowing. “I must’ve seen you around. Maybe I put your face on the merman in my dream, that’s why it felt so real.”

Rafayel’s heart skipped. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in those words that would break through the wall between him and your memory. But it wasn’t enough. He pressed forward, dropping subtle hints. Maybe, just maybe, you'd remember more.

“I’ve always loved the water," he added softly, trying to make the connection clearer, "Fish are my favorite food... I practically lived in the water. It’s... it’s my home, you know?”

You nodded eagerly, a bright smile still lighting up your face. “I love the sea too! It always felt so calming, so... familiar. Like I belonged there.”

His breath caught, and for a second, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you were starting to understand, he thought. Maybe this time would be different.

But then, he saw the look in your eyes shift slightly, and you leaned back in your chair, placing a hand thoughtfully under your chin. Rafayel could feel the frustration building in his chest. He needed you to see it, to understand it—he couldn’t go on hiding behind these painted words.

With a sudden shift, he spoke with a slightly more urgent tone. “Do you still have the shell?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. A small, slow frown tugged at your lips as you processed his words. It was like the gears inside your mind clicked into place. Slowly, your gaze shifted from his face to his hands, still holding the painting.

There was a brief silence, and Rafayel’s heart pounded. This was it. He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment when you realized.

Then you looked up at him, eyes wide, the puzzle pieces coming together. A moment of clarity passed over your face, and Rafayel held his breath.

“You…” you whispered, your voice trembling with realization. “You... are him, aren’t you? The merman. You’re... you’re not just a dream.”

Rafayel couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. There was a rush of warmth in his chest as your words sank in, and for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe.

He was no longer just a memory.

He was here, with you.

“I’ve been looking for you, for a long time,” Rafayel said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve never been more glad to see you, in this life or the last.”

You stared at him, eyes full of wonder and surprise. The recognition was there now, and Rafayel felt like the world had finally shifted back into place. He wasn't just the merman from your childhood dreams. He was Rafayel—the one who had always been waiting for you.

[pukefactory]

Headcanons of Platonic HCS Between Dandy and Reader,who Reader is actually his Older brother as he Had a show way before Dandy existed,please i wanna see sibling bond

Admittedly, this was somewhat challenging to write, given the need to place Dandy in such a specific setting. However, I believe it turned out well in the end. Enjoy!

⋘ » RETIRE « ⋙

𖧵 Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Dandy and his older sibling

𖧵 Character(s): Dandicus Dancifer (Dandy’s World)

𖧵 Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

𖧵 Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

𖧵 Image Credits: Qwelver

✿ Dandy absolutely idolized you growing up. Before his show took off, he watched yours religiously, memorizing every episode and imitating your mannerisms. Even now, he sometimes slips into old catchphrases from your show without realizing it. If you call him out on it, he just huffs and changes the subject.

✿ Despite his pride, Dandy feels guilty about your show being canceled for his. He never wanted to take anything from you, and even though he knows it wasn’t technically his fault, he still avoids the topic whenever it comes up. If you ever reassure him that you don’t blame him, he’ll freeze for a moment before quickly brushing it off—he’s not great at handling kindness directed toward himself.

✿ Sibling rivalry is alive and well. You two can bicker about anything, from whose theme song was catchier to who had the better merchandise line. Dandy will argue that his success proves he was the better star, but if you ever remind him that you were the reason he even got a show in the first place, he immediately shuts up.

✿ Dandy doesn’t let anyone badmouth you. If another Toon even suggests that your show was outdated or forgettable, his usual cheery demeanor falters for just a second. He won’t snap—he has an image to maintain—but he’ll lean in, voice just a little too sweet, and say, “Oh? Is that what you think?” Needless to say, the conversation doesn’t last much longer.

✿ He still remembers the advice you gave him before his show aired. Even if he pretends he came up with everything on his own, your words stuck with him. Whenever he feels like he’s losing control, he subconsciously repeats your old words of encouragement in his head—little reminders that he can handle this, just like you always told him.

✿ You tease him relentlessly about his obsession with being liked. You’ve known him long enough to see through his act, and you’re not afraid to poke fun at his need for approval. If he starts getting anxious over not making a sale, you’ll pat him on the head and say, “Aw, is my baby brother feeling ignored?” He hates it.

✿ When he’s at his lowest, you’re one of the few people he can be honest with. He won’t admit everything—there are things he still wants to keep hidden—but when the weight of his secrets gets too heavy, he finds himself seeking you out. He won’t say what’s wrong, but he’ll sit next to you in silence, waiting for the comfort of just being understood.

✿ You still act like his older sibling, no matter how famous he is. Dandy could be at the height of his career, and you’d still ruffle his petals like he’s a kid. If anyone else tried, he’d snap at them, but for you? He’ll tolerate it—begrudgingly.

✿ He keeps a piece of your old merch hidden away. It’s nothing flashy, just a little trinket from when your show was still on the air. He doesn’t display it, doesn’t talk about it—but if he ever needs reassurance, he’ll hold onto it, like a quiet reminder of where he came from.

[littlelamy]

𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 (*updated* feb 13,2025)

link to the post: can u do smth with rafe x anxious!reader

link to the post: thinking about how rafe comes up with excuses to come and pick up his niece from school too nervous to ask reader out (which is rare for him) maybe his niece teasing him when he comes to pick her up and says something like “do you have a crush on my teacher?” (insert rafe nickname that sarahs niece has for him) and maybe reader overhears and the next time he sees her he has the courage to ask her out for coffee or something

link to the post: hey babee!! I was wondering if you could do something smutty for Rafe and reader who is pressured to do well in school/uni and always be perfect and she has had enough and just needs to be present and not worry about things all the time and her loving boyfriend is here to help her, reassuring her and praising her, telling her she doesn't need to always be perfect and stress herself out, that he loves her always, no matter what. thank you so much in advance, I love your work 💖 this is just Rafe taking care of his stressed girl basically 😔

link to the post: hii, can i request something like Rafe being obsessed with reader's tiny waist? Like he loves how it feels to grab it with both hands and have them there because how it feels, always grabbing her by there.and loving when she put on crop tops and stuff like that😄

link to the post: Request idea, I don’t know if you write for Zach Maclaren (but otherwise I guess….a slight non canon Soft!Rafe, no way canon Rafe would be like this, anyways: I got this thought watching the very beginning of the horror movie (but make it romantic ey) Reader is about to check into her airbnb but discovers there is already a guy there  who has also booked the Airbnb, it’s been double booked by the host. He feels bad that she can’t find anywhere else to stay since it’s so late at night, so he offers her to stay over the night. The start of a sweet, gentle unexpected romance where he keeps doing cute awkward things to gain her trust and show he is not some psycho/weirdo, kinda like the movie (the male character waited to open a wine bottle so she could see him do it so she feels safe to drink it, he suggested making her tea again and for him to watch him since she did not drink the tea he made)

link to the post: thinking about rafe being more involved with sarahs life after the baby and spending time with them and taking the kid to school or maybe picking the kid up and seeing reader who is a teacher and they flirt or maybe it’s parent teacher conference and rafe tags along with john b bc Sarah can’t make it and him and reader are cute and flirting

link to the post: Pouge!Reader x Rafe(season 4-isch): She has a crush on Rafe (maybe he comes somewhere she works, say café, bakery or whatever) and she thinks her feelings obviously are unrequited given that she is a pouge. Rafe is still at that point where he is struggling between the thoughts of ‘’Pouge-vs-kooks are ridiculous’’ but also caring. Perhaps he is having a crush on Reader but is finding his internal thoughts so he goes on a date with some kook girl and Reader see them somewhere, and her dreams are crushed since the girl is the complete opposite of her (expensive clothes, barbie pretty face and manicured etc) and she feels so stupid since she was clearly not even Rafe’s type. She says yes to a date with some random Pouge guy and….well…..Rafe sees them---the dude holding her hand, kissing her cheek and making her smile, and decides to talk to her when she goes off by herself

link to the post: req!! reader always have a hard time sleeping and is always sleepy and rafe’s trying all the methods in the books despite humself being sleepy as hell :3

link to the post: hey queen was wondering if you could do an angsty rafe fic don’t care what the topic is just need my soul to be crushed tbh…anyway love your work😛😛

link to the post: Hii! I love your writing. Do you think you could write one where Rafe is a single father of a 4-year-old son and he meets a reader, and then they start a relationship and she meets his son and well, they start being a family? I'd love something like that, thank youuuuu

link to the post: more cowboy rafe pls 🙏🏾🙏🏾, maybe one where he wins first place in the bull riding competition and they celebrate after, maybe a bj fic 👀

link to the post: Can you do when prince Rafe see reader talking to a other prince after what happened when she saw Rafe with a other woman please

link to the post: omggg i need rafe x stoner gf who comes home high nd needy🙂‍↔️

link to the post: smut request…Reader is the love of Rafe’s life and prior to her, he had not even thought about anal sex and hell, maybe even found it disgusting. But now because his love for her is so strong, he just wants to possesses her and explore EVERY part of her. Maybe he does not bring it up to her, but it starts of slow like….say…..when they are having sex, he is kind of caressing her other hole and she does not say anything (kind of shook but in a good way and lets him) and there on, once he goes down on her vaginally he travels up to do it anal (maybe here she’s like ‘’I like it but why did you do that’’ and he doesn’t fully come clean about his desires and maybe is more just like ‘’your hole just looked so sexy’’ or something. At this point maybe she’s like ‘all right…maybe he was just a bit curious about that, no big deal’’ but then maybe his thoughts of the things he wants to do to her is killing him and he brings up anal sex like a love struck idiot begging on his knees and explains why and they have some romantic sweet anal? 🥺

link to the post: can you do with rafe and !reader who faints a lot during showers or just gets very lightheaded/has vasovagal episodes and can you just write like the things he does for you?

link to the post: can you do something with rafe and insecure!reader like about her body. he gets mad when he sees the scale is out and stuff like that etc

link to the post: I feel like we need to see a Pouge!Rafe more. The idea of him is just so hot. Perhaps a mehanic, very southern and likes cold beers. More ruggedy as opposed to canon Rafe who is a preppy pretty boy. Maybe something along the lines of a Sweet kind kook Reader being on the cut (for whatever reason) and Rafe saves her when he hears her being harassed by some low life pouges. I love me a resuce situation

link to the post: Can you do prince Rafe getting jealous of servant reader. Maybe another staff was flirting w her and he got pissed (you could add smut if you want idk)

link to the post: Another of Cowboy Rafe and shy reader first time together smut plss is soo good

link to the post: Omg smut request……Shy reader x Rafe with inspo from a scene from Queer with the eye contact. He’s had it with her being insecure how she looks when they are having sex or not letting him see her face (to him she’s the most beautiful woman to exist). She always some what hides it in sneaky ways…say laying her head by his shoulder or whatever. Not this time! Rafe holding her face to his and lots of eye contact and praise…..PLZZZ

link to the post: An au request idea I can't get out of my head......Rafe is a cowboy and does rodeo shows with bulls and has just started dating Reader, On their first date, he takes her to his stables where he has a fake saddled tied up to mimick being pulled and dragged around (so he can practice). Rafe helps her up on it for fun but realises he has made a mistake when he starts having dirty thoughts from how sexual it looks and tries to be a gentlemen, being super awkward barley holding it together while she's shy and oblivious

link to the post: hii i was the one who sent u the s2!soft!rafe request! i have another one where reader begs s2!rafe to let her ride him and take dominance for one and he finally gives in. she starts to get tired quickly though and he notices but she tries to brush it off until she can’t anymore and she wants him to help her and take control again. at first hes a little snarky but he soon switches to soft!rafe. and can you add aftercare afterwards? i def feel like rafe would praise her NONSTOP and not use words like slut or degrade her in anyway. during and after

link to the post: hiii id like to request rafe x scared of dogs reader only because i am terrified of dogs😞

link to the post: Could you do like a post smut……maybe with a sweet shy type of reader and rafe. He has been really rough for once (which she liked) but when she gets up from the bed to walk, she falls in pain to the floor cus she’s super sore and rafe feels really really bad and he so sweet with her :(

link to the post: hear me out: prince(maybe king)!rafe x maid!reader. 🧖🧖🧖🧖

link to the post: hii i was wondering if you could do s2!rafe/soft!rafe and kook!reader having sex for the first time? and can rafe give reader aftercare afterwards? like rafe didnt know about aftercare but ever since he started dating reader hes been asking Sarah for advice and has been learning a lot. so he decides to put his new-found knowledge to use

link to the post: this is rlly oddly specific but what abt bf rafe with reader who's just been rejected from her dream school/uni? how do you think he's react? deffo a hypothetical scenario idk what u mean

Credits to @mikeykuns for borders/dividers

[omegaweiss01]

1.) Weiss the Immaculate. Funnily enough, I still use his name in my username lmao

2.) Vincent Valentine. I had minor hyperfixations before him but they didn't stick nearly as well...and yes, he is and always will be a blorbo of mine.

3.) Okay so, the way the Captain introduces himself in the 5.0 Archon Quest was just spectacular. The AURA he had when he arrived, challenging Mavuika and how they fought toe-to-toe. It made me love them both (I'm a whore for powerful characters).

4.) Hard to say. Capitano is legit a good guy who was dealt the shittiest hand by the gods and fate. He handles his situation with honor and grace, and isn't afraid to admit when he's lost or is in the wrong. I love him in his entirety (but I hope he comes back with a fresh face cuz GODDAMMIT HOYO YOU CAN'T TEASE US WITH WHAT HE LOOKED LIKE DURING HIS TIME IN KHAENRI’AH, MAKE HIM PLAYABLE, AND HAVE HIM KEEP THE MASK. HE DESERVES TO FLAUNT THAT PRETTY FACE!!)

5.) That he's currently sitting on his ass on top of a crumbling tower, neither dead nor alive.

6.) I would hug him. That man needs all the hugs. No sleep for 500 years? Experiencing the last moments of each and every comrade whose soul he's carrying CONTINUOUSLY? In a perpetual state of life, unable to die, and yet, still rots? Yeah, he needs a hug.

7.) Realistically, it would be who they ship him with, but also I do not judge ships.

8.) RAGING introvert.

9.) "Fuck the gods"

10.) Yes!

11.) Yes but can't finish because ADHD brain go brrr

12.) Of course!

13.) No, because apart from defying the gods, Capitano is as straight-laced as they come.

14.) Not yet, but this is the Genshin community we're talking about. I once almost quit playing because I was so proud of my phys/elemental combo build for Zhongli and some douchebag took a massive dump on my build. This was also on the bird app before Elongated Muskrat took over, so.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

15.) Once upon a time, I used to be a turd who dunked on Clerith whenever I saw it. Now, I genuinely don't give a fuck what people ship, so long as they leave the child characters out of it.

16.) His body is

17.) I torture all my blorbs. I'm a little harder on my OCs tho

18.) I enjoy CapiMavu/MavuiTano/CapriSun. They're so stinking cute (I have a playlist dedicated to them)

19.) If they're not crazy and/or homicidal (Weiss, Nero, Alucard, Dante), then they're tragic old men (Zhongli, Vincent Valentine, Capitano/Thrain, Haji, Vergil)

20.) No, because the brain hyperfixates, it huperfixates HARD. Only one blorb at a time.

21.) His English VA ships MavuiTano (so does Mavuika's English VA)

22.) Yes, but I would tone it down a bit because I make it a point to not hyperfixate as hard on real people. My obsession with a certain 80's-90's Belgian action star skirted the border of creepy when I was a teen and I refuse to be like that again.

23.) No, actually. He is the best thing to come out of Natlan. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

24.) Nothing. He's perfect.

25.) First saw him in the Winter Night's Lazzo trailer. Wasn't really interested until he was mentioned in a Mondstadt event. Even then, it took actually meeting him in Natlan for the happy chemicals to start firing off.

26.) No, because not much was known about him. Character backstories play a big part in my hyperfixations.

27.) I do not. I want everyone to see how wonderful he is.

28.) No, not really. Not for any of my blorbs, for that matter. Not that I recall, anyway.

29.) Not yet.

30.) Once a blorbo, always a blorbo. Welcome to the Blorbo Club, Capitano. 🫡

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

have you ever written a fanfic about your Blorbo?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

have you ever gotten involved in ship wars?

is your Blorbo canonically alive?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

if you have more than one Blorbo, do you love them all equally?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

how did you first discover your Blorbo?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

have you ever been attacked online just because you liked your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

[shocked-collar]

Got any advice for writing Ren?

OOOOOOO yeah i got a lil bit!

Ren is one of those more difficult characters to keep a grasp on due to his spontaneous yet grounded personality. Ren is also special because he has MULTIPLE different interpretations. BTD1, BTD2, TPOF, and YKMET, though we don't know much about that one yet. I find by remembering my little 'character rules' he's easy to play in any of the aforementioned settings.

Also, ALL OF THIS should be taken with a grain of salt as I'm only a fanfic writer/roleplayer online and don't know how Gato herself would write the character.

First rule I follow is to remember that Ren is desperate. The moment he's determined to do something, he becomes desperate to finish it. The moment he's decided he wants something, he becomes desperate to get it. The moment he falls in love with something, he becomes desperate to keep it. This really only applies to things he REALLY cares about. He has to REALLY care about it.

Second rule is to remember that Ren never got to manage his emotions. He's emotional. He's quick to anger, to sadness, to happiness. He works like a sword made of markers; One movement too hard and he'll fall apart.

Third rule is to remember that Ren is starving for things to go his way. He's manipulative. This isn't always intentional, he just hates hearing the word 'no' and despises any kind of pushback. It's been coded into his nature to snake under peoples better judgement to get what he wants after being denied for so long. Even before Strade he was pushed down and silenced, so now it's almost triggering to be on the sidelines.

Forth rule to remember is that Ren is obsessive. His friends are HIS friends. His shows are HIS shows. His food is HIS food. You are not allowed to challenge these ideas without him getting irked. If you talk about another friend you have, he'd be delighted to meet them! But if you talk about them too much, he'd begin to resent them. How good can they really be, right? Not better than him. He's a GOOD friend...

Fifth rule for Ren. He is very proud. He's proud of himself on a subconscious level! He's proud of his cooking, his abilities, his media knowledge, his hair/fur, and especially of his species. Which rolls into the final rule!!!

Rule six, arguably the most important one (in terms of playing post-Strade Ren)... Ren is a fox beast-kin. He is not human. He works differently on a fundamental level than humans do, the largest concern being his diet. He fits in, he makes friends, he engages in society, but in the sort of way that farmers engage with their cattle. He can eat and consume any part of you he needs to. He reads you as delicious. His language and tendencies will be different than a normal persons, like his habit of nesting instead of sleeping in a bed, or even marking territory. He WILL be argumentative, and quite frankly hurt, if any of his animalistic-behaviors are mocked or frowned upon. He is not human, and he wants you to know that.

There are differences in personality when it comes to WHICH Ren you're playing. BTD1 is very reserved because he has to be. He's quiet, obedient, and bites his temper a lot, but do remember he still has one. Despite the daily-terror, Ren finds it hard to hate or love Strade, as he's constantly dished with praise, pets, love, cuts, bruises, and violation, in some sick healthy diet of intimacy.

BTD2 Ren is overly-confident and proud of himself. He feels like a hidden super-villain! He feels like... Strade. A normal guy doing normal things in the normal world, but look out, he's ACTUALLY a big scary-spooky man you should be afraid of! But not so much you don't love him! When in reality he's... ahead of himself and in his own head. He struggles to come to terms with what's happened to him. He's both so happy Strade is gone and also feels not helping him was the worst decision of his life.

TPOF Ren, or Fox, is back to being reserved- but in the way that you should be scared. He's under no ones thumb in this timeframe and still keeps the same temper he's always had. He carries himself with a menacing poise because he knows his emotions are expensive, like the rest of him. The slightest furrow of his brow can indicate a world of consequences for whoever it was aimed at. Despite his appearance, his obsessive nature fails him, keeping him stuck in a mental cycle of correcting and forgetting the past, two contradicting items that slowly tear him apart. He is disgusted by his past and pleased that he has gotten so far away from it, yet can't shake his quiet adoration of German accents.

I hope this??? Helped???? Somehow??? I'm sorry for the yapping novel and also if it's messy, I hardly read it back cause I have a lil bit of a headache

[heliosunny]

You. Author. The way you write characters as a yandere was amazing especially the way you write a story. (Especially the hsr fanfics you made)

Is it alright to request a self-aware au! For yandere soshiro x reader where he finds out he's being watched and can hear the reader's voice whenever they watch an anime?

Like the reader knows about him (since they also read the manga) and he has been obsessed with their attention and wants to drag them into his world.

It started as a feeling.

A strange, crawling sensation at the nape of his neck, just beneath the roots of his hair. The kind that made the skin prickle, the muscles tense, the breath catch in his throat. There were no eyes peering from the shadows, no lingering gazes from those too terrified to meet his. This presence wasn’t there, not in any way he could define. And yet, it was constant.

Then, he heard you.

A voice, just barely above a whisper—drifting through the static of silence.

It was so quiet at first that he thought it was inside his head. But then the words came. Clear.

"He looks different in this scene. The shading makes him seem even colder than usual."

The words had no source, no direction.

He turned sharply, scanning the dimly lit room, his fingers curling into fists. No one.

"I love this part. He looks so cute."

Who was speaking? No, where were they speaking from?

It wasn’t the voice of anyone he knew. It was smooth, thoughtful, laced with a kind of familiarity that unsettled him more than anything. Because who could possibly speak about him like that? With such certainty? With such knowledge?

If someone had been watching him all this time, unseen, unnoticed…

Then perhaps it was time he started watching back.

The voice didn’t leave him.

At first, it was sporadic—fragments of sentences slipping through the silence like whispers through a keyhole. But as time passed, it became clearer.

The more he listened, the more he began to understand.

The voice—your voice—wasn’t just talking about him. It spoke of things it shouldn’t know. Thoughts he had never uttered aloud. Events that had yet to unfold.

And the most unsettling part? It was right.

The first time he heard you say something about his future, he dismissed it. A coincidence. A meaningless murmur in the depths of his mind.

Then it happened again.

"This is where he starts to realize something’s wrong."

He started noticing the cracks.

A shadow cast by nothing. A brief flicker in the air, like a painting losing its color for a fraction of a second.

And then, one day, he saw you.

Not clearly. Not fully. But just enough.

A glitched reflection in a darkened window. A hand resting where there was no surface. The faintest outline of eyes, always watching.

"Found you."

You had been watching him all this time.

Now, it was his turn.

Soshiro was nothing if not methodical. Once he confirmed your existence, he did what he always did—he studied.

Patterns. Recurrences. The times he could hear you most clearly.

Every story had rules.

And every rule had a loophole.

He began speaking back.

"Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

The second time, he made sure you would hear him.

"I know you're there."

It was subtle at first. The way the air around him seemed to pulse, as if something on the other side had reacted. Had flinched.

The more he pushed, the more he could see, hear, feel. He caught glimpses—distorted reflections, the glow of a screen where there should have been darkness.

You were real. And you were so close.

He just needed to reach you.

And he would.

The mission was simple. Eliminate the threat.

But the moment the kaiju appeared, something was different.

The air was wrong. The sky pulsed with colors that had no name, bleeding together like ink soaking through paper. Space itself seemed to bend, and in the center of it all, the beast let out a roar that made the world shudder. The kaiju’s claws tore through the air, but instead of leaving destruction in its wake, it left something else.

A hole.

It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t smoke. It was nothingness, gaping and endless, edges flickering like static on a broken screen. It crackled, twisted, spread out like a wound in reality.

He heard you.

Louder than ever.

"Oh my god��what is that?!"

If he goes near it, will something happen?

The voices hit him all at once, not whispers this time but clear, distinct. As if you were right there.

He turned sharply, his attention no longer on the kaiju, no longer on the battle. His eyes locked onto the tear in space, and for the first time in his life, he felt something close to hope.

This was it.

The cracks in his world had always been small—fleeting glimpses, fractured reflections, an endless chase with no way to reach you.

But now?

This was a tear. A wound wide enough to slip through.

Wide enough to pull you in.

Soshiro took a step forward. Then another. His pulse roared in his ears. He ignored the shouts of his team, the kaiju’s guttural growl, the chaos unfolding around him. His world was breaking. And this time, he was going to break through. The portal flickered violently, unstable, unpredictable—but he had always been good at forcing things to go his way.

"Come here."

The moment his fingers brushed the edges of the portal, reality fractured. A sensation unlike anything he had ever felt ripped through his body—a pull, deep and consuming, as if something was unraveling him from the inside out. For a brief, terrifying second, his vision twisted and he saw something beyond comprehension.

He saw you.

Your eyes wide with shock. Your breath caught in your throat. The glow of a screen illuminating your face in the darkness of your room.

The static howled around him, but he was faster. His hand shot out, fingers closing around your wrist. Your gasp barely reached his ears before the world lurched.

A force yanked you from your world, dragging you through the spiraling abyss between fiction and reality. You had no time to scream. Everything blurred into a cacophony of white noise, a crushing weight that swallowed you whole.

You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious.

There was no sense of time, only a deep, disorienting emptiness. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by something invisible, as if reality itself was pressing against you.

"Are they alive?"

"Shit—where did they even come from?"

"They must’ve been caught in the kaiju attack. Civilians weren’t supposed to be near this zone..."

"Damn lucky they're breathing at all. Get them back to base."

Someone knelt beside you. A hand brushed against your cheek.

"They're fine. Just need some rest."

Even in your hazy state, your body knew that voice.

Soshiro Hoshina.

Memories flashed in jagged fragments—his hand gripping your wrist, the sensation of falling, being pulled through something.

As you slowly forced your eyes open, blinking against the bright lights above, the truth crashed down on you with suffocating weight.

The world around you wasn’t yours.

You were lying on cold concrete, surrounded by figures clad in gears, their expressions wary yet confused. Towering buildings loomed in the distance, sleek and industrial, lined with neon-lit signs in a language that wasn’t your own.

This was the world you had watched.

The world that shouldn’t have been real.

And standing over you was him.

Soshiro’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Looks like we found a survivor."

The others exchanged uncertain glances.

"They're not in the registry. No records of their ID or whereabouts."

"We’ll have to run a background check—"

"That won’t be necessary." Soshiro’s voice was calm, steady.

He crouched beside you, close enough that only you could hear his next words.

"I already know who you are."

Your body still wasn’t listening to you.

It couldn’t be real. And yet, the cold concrete beneath you, the weight of unseen eyes on your trembling form—everything screamed otherwise.

"But... there were no reports of missing persons in that sector."

"Then it must’ve been an error in the reports." His tone was level, absolute. The kind that brokered no argument.

A few hesitant murmurs. Then, grudging acceptance. No one questioned him.

Why would they?

He had planned for this. Anticipated it. And now, he was using it.

You forced yourself to sit up.

"I—" Your voice cracked, weak from whatever had happened to you. "I need to—"

"You need rest."

Soshiro’s fingers curled around your wrist just slightly—just enough to let you know you weren’t going anywhere.

"I’ll take responsibility for them" he announced. "They’re under my watch until we can confirm their situation."

Another silence.

Then, reluctant agreement.

"Come on" he murmured. "Let’s get you home."

-----

The moment you arrived at base, Soshiro barely gave the others a chance to intervene.

"They’ll stay with me."

"Are you sure? They might need—"

"I’ll take care of it."

And just like that, you were his to handle.

"You’re not going to say anything?" His voice was calm.

You swallowed hard, your throat painfully dry. "What am I supposed to say?"

"You’ve been watching me for a long time, haven’t you?"

"I told you, didn’t I?" His voice dropped. "I know who you are."

Panic clawed at your chest. "Hoshina—"

"Soshiro."

Before you could move, he was already there, closing the distance between you.

"I’m the only one who knows the truth. The only one who can know." His voice softened, but the intensity never wavered. "Do you understand what that means?"

"It means you belong to me now."

"You can’t just—"

"You don’t exist here. No records. No past. No one would ever question it if I kept you for myself."

Despite the overwhelming wrongness of your situation, despite the way Soshiro's eyes devoured every flicker of emotion on your face, you still had an advantage.

You knew something he didn’t. What happens next.

Your lips parted before you could stop yourself. "Soshiro, you need to listen to me."

"Oh?" He tilted his head, eyes sharp with intrigue. "Giving me orders already? That’s bold, considering your situation."

"I know what’s coming. The kaiju attack—this wasn’t just random. The next breach—"

He raised a brow, interest piqued. "Next breach?"

"In two days." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "The defenses won’t hold—"

You stopped yourself.

What am I doing?

Soshiro was silent. Then—he smiled.

"That’s interesting." His voice pleased. "Really interesting."

"Tell me...how exactly do you know that?"

You hesitated. "I—I overheard something."

A lie. A weak one.

"Is that so?"

You nodded quickly, hoping to press your advantage. "It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is that it’s real. You need to prepare."

He hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing lightly over the sleeve of your borrowed uniform.

"You’re full of surprises" he murmured, voice almost affectionate.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You believe me, don’t you?"

"I suppose I don’t have much of a choice."

Your shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing through you.

After that conversation, everything changed.

The medical team checked you over, confirming what everyone already assumed—you were exhausted but fine. No external injuries.

But you weren’t allowed to leave.

"For your safety" they said.

You weren’t even sure whose orders it was under.

The next morning, you were moved to different quarters—no longer the medical wing, but somewhere more secure.

And the first thing you noticed?

Your new room was close to his.

You had tried not to overthink it. Had tried to convince yourself that it made sense for them to keep an eye on you. You were an unknown factor. Of course they wouldn’t want you roaming freely.

---

You were getting a grip on things now.

Ever since you arrived in this world, everything had been overwhelming—Soshiro’s obsession, the suffocating control, the knowledge that you weren’t supposed to be here.

But now, you were thinking. You weren’t going to be trapped forever. One way or another, you’d find a way back. For now, though… staying here wasn’t so bad.

You were surrounded by your favorite characters. The ones you had only ever seen through a screen or read about in the manga. It was surreal, almost like a dream.

A dangerous dream, but still…

You couldn’t deny the excitement that lurked beneath the fear.

For now, all you needed to do was survive.

You followed the routine they set for you. Ate when they told you to eat. Rested when they told you to rest. Answered when they asked questions. But you never gave too much away.

And when they finally let you roam, just a little, just under supervision—you took the opportunity without hesitation. Which was how you found yourself outside, breathing in the cool night air, your thoughts clearer than they had been in days.

"You shouldn’t be wandering alone."

Slowly, you turned.

Soshiro stood just a few steps away, his figure bathed in the dim glow of the hallway lights. His uniform was slightly unfastened—like he had just come from unwinding after a long day.

"I just needed some air."

"I see. Though it is interesting that out of all the places you could have gone, you ended up here."

You stiffened. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Didn’t you?" His smirk was lazy, teasing—but his eyes told a different story. "If you wanted to see me, you could have just said so."

"I wasn’t...."

"Relax, I’m joking."

You weren’t so sure.

-----

"Come in."

"What?"

Soshiro gestured toward his door, expression unreadable. "You once said you wanted to clear your head, didn’t you? What better way to do that than a conversation?"

You hesitated.

Still, you forced yourself to act normal. To nod as if this was just a casual talk.

"Alright."

Soshiro stepped aside, allowing you to enter first.

And the moment the door clicked shut behind you—

You realized you had just stepped into the lion’s den.

Soshiro’s room was surprisingly… neat.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but the space was organized. Weapons displayed on one side. Tactical reports neatly stacked on his desk. A few personal effects tucked away—nothing sentimental, but small details that made it feel lived in.

"Sit."

You glanced at him before lowering yourself onto the chair he motioned toward. Soshiro didn’t sit right away. Instead, he leaned against the desk, arms crossed, studying you.

"Now that we’re alone" he mused, "why don’t you introduce yourself properly?"

You blinked. "Properly?"

He raised a brow. "The others know you as the mysterious civilian who appeared out of nowhere." He tilted his head. "But I know better, don’t I?"

Your hands clenched slightly against your lap.

He was testing you.

Seeing how much you were willing to admit.

Fine. If playing along kept you safe, then so be it.

"My name is Y/N" you said truthfully.

No point in lying about that.

"I… I can’t explain everything. Not yet. But I do know things. Things about this world. About you."

"I knew about the kaiju attack before it happened. And I know more."

Still, he said nothing.

So you pressed on.

"That’s why I spoke up before. I didn’t want you to walk into a disaster blindly."

"So you’re looking out for me?"

"I guess you could say that."

"That’s sweet."

His voice was warm. You barely had time to react before he leaned down, just close enough.

"But you know," he murmured, "I don’t mind disasters."

"Because no matter what happens…I always get what I want."

You had hoped to see the rest of the team eventually.

If you were stuck here, you might as well take advantage of it, right?

You wanted to meet them. Kafka Hibino, especially.

But Soshiro made sure that wouldn’t happen.

"You’re still under observation" he had said smoothly when you mentioned it. "No need to trouble yourself with unnecessary interactions."

"Unnecessary?" You frowned. "But—"

"You're safer like this" he cut in, his usual smirk in place, but his tone was final.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Your shoulders tensed as you sat back against the chair in his room, frustration bubbling in your chest. You were stuck. He wasn’t going to let you roam freely, wasn’t going to let you get close to anyone but him.

Your stomach growled, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Loudly.

Your face burned.

Soshiro raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, I should probably—" You moved to stand, ready to finally leave this damn room—

But he stopped you with a single look.

"Stay."

"I can just—"

"I’ll bring something in for you."

"I can get my own food, you know."

Soshiro simply smiled, but there was something behind it—something firm. "I know."

That was all he said before stepping out, leaving you alone in his room.

No matter how much freedom you thought you had, it was always on his terms.

-----

After your medical checkup the next morning, you were finally allowed to walk back on your own. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

That’s when you heard it.

The rhythmic sounds of combat.

The sharp whoosh of a blade cutting through the air.

You glanced to the side and noticed the training room door was slightly open. Curiosity got the better of you.

Slowly, you peeked inside.

Soshiro was in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. His blade sliced through the air effortlessly, his stance fluid, every strike calculated and precise.

Holy shit.

You had read about his skills. Had watched them play out before.

But seeing it in real life? It was mesmerizing.

The way his muscles tensed with each movement, the sharp glint of his blade as he executed each strike flawlessly—he made it look so easy.

You barely realized you had been staring until he finished his set, his blade lowering as he exhaled slowly.

Then—

His eyes locked onto you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then—his smirk returned.

"Enjoying the view?"

Your face heated instantly. "I wasn’t—!"

"You were."

Before you could think of an excuse, Soshiro tilted his head toward the room.

"Come in. If you’re going to stand there gawking, you might as well do it properly."

You shouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. But the way he was looking at you—like he was daring you to step closer—made it impossible to resist.

Soshiro hadn’t moved an inch since calling you in, but his entire presence shifted.

Again, he was studying you. You forced yourself to stand still, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered.

"Are you going to say something useful, or just keep staring?"

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your sudden pushback.

"Hah. Brave."

Soshiro leaned back, running a hand through his hair, the amusement in his expression only growing.

"Alright, alright. I’ll stop… for now."

You relaxed slightly.

But just as quickly, he tilted his head.

"You flinch too easily, you know."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to take the bait.

"Though," he added lazily, "I don’t mind. It’s kind of cute."

Your face burned instantly.

Before you could snap back, the door suddenly creaked open behind you. You turned just in time to see someone step inside—

And your breath caught.

"Oh—sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here."

Reno Ichikawa stood at the entrance, glancing between you and Soshiro.

"Forgot something?" Soshiro asked casually, his smirk easing into something more relaxed.

Reno nodded, stepping inside.

You barely processed their conversation.

Because holy shit.

It was Reno Ichikawa.

Standing right in front of you.

Looking just as cool as you had imagined.

Seeing Soshiro in action had been one thing, but Reno was on another level of admiration. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

"You’re staring again."

Soshiro’s voice was barely above a whisper, meant for you alone.

You suddenly regretted stepping into this room.

Reno, completely unaware of the tension. "I’ll be heading back now. See you around."

You barely managed to nod in return.

Then—he was gone.

And the room fell into silence again.

"I see."

"See what?"

"You have good taste."

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

Maybe both.

The tension in the air hadn’t faded, even after Reno left.

If anything, it felt heavier.

But you didn’t care about that right now.

There was something more important to ask.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. "Soshiro."

His smirk widened just slightly. "Hmm?"

"How did you find me?"

"Find you?" he echoed, tilting his head, pretending to think.

You clenched your fists. "I shouldn’t be here." Your voice was steadier this time, firmer. "You know that, don’t you?"

Soshiro exhaled slowly, the corner of his lips twitching—not in irritation, but in amusement. Like he was watching a small animal puffing up to look threatening.

"You’re here now, though" he said smoothly.

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one that matters."

"Soshiro, I need to go back."

"Go back?" he repeated.

"I don’t belong here. You know I don’t. I—" You hesitated, forcing yourself to continue. "I don’t even know how I got here. But I do know that this isn’t where I’m supposed to be."

"You're right."

"You’re not supposed to be here." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "You came from somewhere else. Somewhere you shouldn’t have been able to cross from."

He knew.

"I heard you long before I saw you" he continued, voice quieter now. "And when I finally did see you—when that portal opened—I knew I couldn’t let you slip away."

"So you—"

"I pulled you through."

A simple confession.

Spoken so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like it hadn’t completely ripped you from your world and trapped you in his.

"Then you can send me back, right?"

Soshiro’s gaze darkened.

That had been the wrong thing to say. And you just realized that.

Your heart was pounding.

Soshiro had you trapped.

One moment, you were standing your ground, demanding answers. The next, he had moved too quickly, too smoothly—pressing forward until your back hit the wall.

Now, he was leaning over you. One hand braced beside your head, the other resting casually against his hip. His gaze flickered with amusement, but beneath that, there was something else.

"You look nervous" he mused.

"I—"

"You don’t have to be."

He leaned in. He noticed your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "Soshiro, move."

"Hmm." He tilted his head, considering. "And if I don’t?"

The door suddenly swung open.

"Vice-Captain, the Captain requires—"

The voice stopped abruptly.

You turned your head just in time to see one of the officers standing in the doorway, eyes widening at the scene before them.

Their gaze flickered between you and Soshiro, clearly piecing together what it looked like.

A knowing smirk crept onto their lips.

"Oh. Sorry to interrupt you, Vice-Captain."

And with that, they slammed the door shut again.

Your face burned. "Wait—!"

But they were already gone.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

For the first time, Soshiro looked slightly surprised. Then, he laughed.

"Well, that was unexpected."

You wanted to die.

You shoved against his chest—finally, finally making him back off. "Get off!"

Soshiro chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, relax. I’m letting you go, aren’t I?"

Your glare could have burned a hole through him.

----

You were exhausted.

The day had been too much. The conversation, the way he cornered you, the way people looked at you after the incident in the training room—

You just needed sleep.

You pulled the covers over yourself, staring at the ceiling for a moment before finally allowing yourself to drift off.

And you never noticed the door to your room creak open.

Never noticed the soft footsteps approaching your bed.

Never noticed the figure standing over you, watching.

Soshiro stood there in the dim light, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable.

His usual smirk was absent.

Instead, he was quiet.

Watching the slow rise and fall of your chest.

Watching the way your fingers twitched slightly as you dreamed.

So fragile.

So untouchable—and yet, his.

His fingers twitched slightly, as if debating something.

Then, slowly, he reached down—

But stopped just before his fingers could brush against your skin.

"Not yet" he murmured under his breath.

And with that, he turned away.

The door clicked shut behind him.

----

The next morning, Soshiro was preparing for his mission when you found him.

You hesitated for a moment, watching as he adjusted his gloves, his expression sharp and focused. He looked cool, as always, but there was something else today—something heavier in the air.

He must have sensed your presence because he turned to you, raising a brow.

"What? Come to see me off?"

You exhaled, shifting on your feet. "Something like that."

His smirk was lazy, but his eyes studied you carefully. "Gonna miss me?"

You rolled your eyes. "I just…" You hesitated, then sighed. "I can’t say anything much, but… I hope your journey in the future is just like what you hope."

Soshiro’s smirk faltered.

You looked away. "I don’t want you to suffer. You have great people around you. I just… want things to go well for you."

You weren’t sure what you expected—another teasing remark, maybe. But when you glanced at him again, his gaze was unreadable.

"Hah."

A soft chuckle, quieter than usual.

He looked at you for a long moment before finally speaking.

"That’s a dangerous thing to say, y’know."

You frowned. "Why?"

"Because now I’m going to make sure you stay by my side long enough to see if your hope for me comes true."

"Soshiro—"

"Gotta go." He stepped past you, voice light again. "Be good while I’m gone, yeah?"

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving you with a sinking feeling in your chest.

-----

You had spent the day at the base, finally starting to get used to things. Despite the strangeness of your situation, there were people here who were easy to talk to—people who weren’t constantly testing your every reaction.

So when you found yourself chatting with a small group of Defense Force members, you let yourself relax for once.

Laughing. Talking. Feeling normal.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt it before you even turned around.

The weight of his gaze.

You slowly glanced over your shoulder.

Soshiro had just returned from his mission, still in uniform, still looking as composed as ever—except for one thing.

His eyes locked directly on you.

His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen.

But you didn’t have time to process it—because in the next moment, Soshiro was moving toward you.

The conversation around you faded as his presence swallowed the space.

"Having fun?" His voice was casual, but there was something off about it.

"Soshiro—"

"You seem pretty comfortable" he murmured, glancing at the others around you.

"Should I be jealous?"

The people around you exchanged glances, sensing the sudden tension in the air.

Soshiro didn’t move closer, didn’t touch you—

But he didn’t have to.

Because the weight of his presence was enough to make your skin prickle.

You were his. And now, everyone else knew it too.

The whispers started the moment Soshiro left with you.

You didn’t have to hear them to know what they were saying.

They all thought you and Soshiro were together.

And the worst part?

You didn’t correct them.

Because deep down—

You liked it here.

At first, you had been desperate to go back, convinced that you didn’t belong in this world. But time passed. You got used to the base, the people, the feeling of being surrounded by characters you had once only known through a screen.

You had wanted to meet them, hadn’t you?

And now, you were here.

It was dangerous, sure. But so was real life. And here, you weren’t just watching anymore. You were living.

So when people assumed things about you and Soshiro

When they smirked and whispered and looked at you with knowing eyes—

You let it happen.

Until eventually, there was no need to go back.

But right now—

Right now, you had bigger problems.

Like the fact that Soshiro was mad.

And you were definitely about to see him.

You didn’t have to go far. He was already waiting for you. The door to his room was slightly open when you passed by, and before you could react—

A hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Your heart jumped. "Soshiro—!"

"You’re getting too comfortable here, y’know" he murmured.

"What are you talking about?"

"You stopped trying to leave."

"You haven’t even mentioned going back."

"Well—"

"And now everyone thinks we’re together."

He tilted his head, studying your reaction.

Waiting for you to deny it.

But you didn’t.

Soshiro exhaled sharply, his grip loosening.

"I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"That you’d give in eventually. You belong here after all."

You looked away, heat creeping up your neck. "Shut up."

The room was quiet after you told him to shut up.

But unlike before, Soshiro didn’t tease you for it.

He just… looked at you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You really aren’t trying to leave anymore, huh?"

You hesitated. "…No."

You expected him to gloat. To smirk and make some smug remark about how he’d won.

But instead—

"I should’ve let you go."

"What the heck?"

He didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"From the start," he murmured. "I should’ve let you go when I first realized you were here. Should’ve helped you find a way back."

A bitter chuckle left his lips.

"But I didn’t."

You stared at him, completely thrown off.

"I was selfish."

He finally looked up, and for the first time, you saw it.

The guilt.

"You were never supposed to be here," he admitted. "And I knew that. But I didn’t care. Because the moment I realized I wasn’t just imagining you—the moment I heard you—I couldn’t ignore it."

Your chest tightened. "Soshiro…"

"I told myself I was protecting you. That this world is dangerous and you’d need someone to keep you safe."

His voice dropped lower.

"But really? I just didn’t want to lose you."

You didn’t know what to say.

Because he was right.

He had been selfish. He had kept you here when he shouldn’t have.

But at the same time—

You had stayed. By your own choice.

"I should be asking if you resent me for that" he said quietly. "But I think I already know the answer."

"I don’t."

"Even though I trapped you here?"

"You didn’t trap me." You exhaled slowly, choosing your words carefully. "You gave me a choice. And maybe I didn’t realize it at first, but… I made my decision. I want to stay."

For a long moment, Soshiro didn’t speak.

He huffed out a small, almost breathless chuckle.

"You’re really something else."

Finally, he let his usual smirk return, though it was softer now.

"Guess that means I don’t have to feel too bad about it, huh?"

You gave him a look. "I didn’t say that."

His smirk widened just a little.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it."

For the first time in a while, Soshiro felt like he could breathe again.

If you were happy here

If you chose to stay

Then maybe… Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

[stylespresleyhearted]

any mota fanfic recs?

OH MY GOODNESS DO I EVER 🗣️🗣️

the *amount* of talent found in the mota fandom alone is insane, it blows my mind. i read these pieces and my mind can’t comprehend that someone wrote something so beautifully heartwarming or heart-wrenching and is allowing me to read it for FREE on the internet. it belongs in an archive of beautiful literature. (I think i meant a library …)

of course i got to start w marina (mommy 🫶🏻) : @precious-little-scoundrel

dear john - of course i gotta be biased it was part of my yelling and the beginning of john egan stealing my heart. john writes a letter to lana tierney, a famous actress, who writes back and slips in a gift to raise the major’s spirits 😉 (also coming up with the acornym A.C.O.R.N was so fun)

she’s also got a phenomenon currently ongoing Those Who Can - I support all these characters and Marina beautifully juggles so many sensitive, delicate topics and does so with the respect and understanding needed to do so.

But in all seriousness I followed Marina from the Elvis fandom (where we were also in cahoots) to MOTA fandom & she’s so lovely, supportive, protective, and in many ways has become a rock for me. what i don’t see in myself she manages to bring out and encourages me to keep trying my hand at writing so i’m grateful for her always ♥️

@joeyalohadream her cooler-verse fics oh my gooodnesssss i am NOT exaggerating when i say i have reread like at least 13 times. i love love love to read them late at night or early in the morning it’s comfort reading to me and the love language displayed between john and gale in her stories resonates deeply with my love language so i think it helps me further invest into the story. so heartbreakingly good. it truly only hurts because they love each other SO MUCH.

- at this point i’d be lying if i said i haven’t read everything she has written though. let your heart be light currently occupies my time, thoughts, and soul. there’s one portion in it’s different with you and me that has made me reread a handful of times: She eyes him in his uniform and he sees the way the night could go. The way it should go.

But all it makes him think about is Gale.

Gale, who doesn’t watch the girls at the pub, but who watches John.

Gale, who tenses up when the guys crowd him, but melts under John’s arm like it’s the most comfortable place in the world for him to be.

Gale, who went a whole day and a half giving him the cold shoulder after John came back to their room painted in red lipstick stains and smelling of cheap perfume.

So, he chats and he smiles, but he doesn’t flirt and he doesn’t touch. Because if there’s even a possibility in this world that there’s a chance Gale is like him and that he likes him, he’s not blowing it for anymore nights of chasing a fleeting good feeling.

@johnslittlespoon i stumbled upon their tough and sweet universe and ohhhhh myyyy looordddd. Yes pls. Age gap. Younger bucky. Biker gale. Biker Gale who is so tender and gentle and caring and sensitive to all of Bucky’s emotions and helps stabalize him. Gale who asks him what he wants to do and how his day was and respects his boundaries and cares for him. brb gonna go cry. so soft for them. (Im secretly hoping benny and brady are gay in this fic but idk lmao) also marge is awesome but we all knew that. and paulina’s a bad ass every fic.

@swifty-fox geez louiseee where do i even start!!! i just reread wormwood today (retaliation has been promised 🥵) and one thing that continuously draws me in is the backstory they manage to create. obsessed w little beasts it’s burnout! John and pastor! Gale and i wish i had the words to talk about how amazing it is. we were left on such a cliff hanger and they’ve been brought into each other’s family now (kinda) and gale said this line: only me? that i haven’t been able to stop thinking about. i can’t believe (and also can’t wait) that these two are gonna date and be a couple and hold hands and kiss and cuddle and - 🤯 most recently there is cicada season and i don’t want to go into that one i just want everyone to read it. their way of writing human complexity, sin, acceptance, grief, anger, insecurity — everything is so raw and cutting and beautiful. i wanna poke swifty’s brain bc they are so smart and knowledgeable but alas i want to remain unblocked.

I feel like I’m missing SO MANYYYYY GAHHH there are so many one shots i’m sure i’ll probably reblog to add 😭😭

[pages-and-1nk]

PLEASE IF YOURE A JILY OR JEGULUS SHIPPER READ THIS BECAUSE IT HAS TO FUCKING STOP U GUYS.

I’m done with the ridiculous conversation on Jily shippers harassing Jegulus shippers. (And vice versa, this one just covers Jily hate on Jegulus) Please read my breakdown response to the most common argument presented as to why Jegulus is bad.

🙏 PLEASE 🙏 .

—————————

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Oh okay jumping RIGHT into it. *Deep breath*

No. No it’s actually not. As a gay trans man, your take is incorrect and actually so fucking wild it astounds me you think that way. To break it down MISOGYNY is the hatred or prejudice against women. Someone taking two male characters- even if one has a canon gf- and shipping them together does not in anyway promote misogyny nor the erasure of the gf. Infact, implying that in order for Lily to be important or developed she has to date James is actually, ironically, misogynistic.

Now is that to say all jegulus shippers ARENT misogynist or have such views? NO, ofc there are bad apples everywhere- doesn’t mean the whole bag is spoiled. Misogyny is not preferring a gay pairing to a cannon heterosexual pairing. Thats frankly a stupid argument and you’re just attaching words with negative connotations to a ship you don’t like, to then make your ship seem more morally righteous and superior and discredit anyone who argues with you by labeling them as misogynistic. (That does more harm then good btw as it discredits and devalues actual misogyny in fan spaces)

As for fetishization, also not inherently. People enjoying a masc and a twink together is not fetishization inherently. Now, it’s a thin line to walk, and in order to do that you must have critical thinking and be able to understand THESE FAKE GAY MEN are not ALL REAL GAY MEN, but it being the dynamic of a ship you like is… not fetishization. Obsessing and harassing REAL gay men and being invested in their sexuality and sexual experiences is fetishization. Please understand the weight of the words you are using, and how throwing them around in such a context not only makes you look like a buffoon but also is wildly undermining to the weight those words hold.

Smh.

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Gonna go cry myself to sleep now brb.

But SERIOUSLY? Implying that Regulus is watered down to “James’ twink” tells me you have never actually engaged with Jegulus shippers before and have made broad assumptions about a ship you’ve never even given a chance.

Crimson rivers, choices, art heist baby, only the brave, teach them how to dream, whatever happened to the young young lovers, I COULD GO ON. All of them have well rounded character designs for Regulus- but because you can’t take your head out of your ass and are too focused on how bad of a ship Jegulus is, you’ll never read them!

(Which valid, you don’t have to like Jegulus Jily shippers, in fact- you can loath it as much as you want, but you can’t talk about characterization when you’ve uh… never actually read the characterization)

And those last few sentences? Oh man. James cheating on Lily is like SUCH A SMALL fraction of fanfic/works, such a small fraction. Unless you imply that James could stake a claim to Lily before Lily even agrees to them dating which uh… *cough cough*…. I smell misogyny again… *cough cough.*

Like bsffr rn. 😐

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Oh god I think I threw up in my mouth hold on-

First- yes. Jily is an amazing ship that can be wholesome and lovely, and is such a beautifully tragic form of love I will ALWAYS respect it and the people who ship it. Me personally, I don’t read fanfic with Jily, but I def engage with Jily related content bcs it’s GOOD.

But you see, people like you simply ruin it for those who are Jegulus shippers and want to Drabble in Jily because you are TOXIC.

No one is reducing Lily to a baby maker for Jegulus. In fact, I’ve seen more fics with TRANS REGULUS GETTING PREGNANT than I have with surrogate Lily. And even in the surrogate Lily fics, it’s usually well written and Lily has a personality beyond “baby maker” and is just a friend consensually agreeing to help a queer couple out with having a child.

There’s also fics where they co-parent Harry, and if that’s what you’re talking about AGAIN that’s literally normal. I’m a child of divorce, my parents co parent- that’s just how bloody divorce works it isn’t misogynist.

As for the canonical death eater bit- please tell me which part of the canon text refers to regulus being a blood purist. He joined Voldemort, correct, he also rebelled against Voldemort- correct. All of the reasons for him doing both of those things are ASSUMPTIONS MADE BY INFERENCES FROM A BIASED PERSPECTIVE.

Obviously you can have your own preferences on what regulus was like, as can I, because CANNON INFORMATION is LIMITED. Therefore, you can do what you want.

And even if it wasn’t you could still, do what you want BECAUSE ITS FICTIONAL.

Please, I am begging you, for my sanity and your own, just stop. All of it needs to stop. You get no where by tearing another ship down, it won’t stop and you just leave a bad taste in the mouths of people who want to ship Jily but are Jegulus shippers.

This applies to both sides BY THE WAY, Jegulus shippers have a problem with inserting themselves in Jily spaces, or within other ships, or feeling the need to comment on ships with Regulus or James in them and say things like “Jegulus is better” or “ew that’s so weird” (I saw this in particular with kittywater) We all need to realize that unless we just stick in our lanes and fuck off, we’re going to continue promoting toxicity in this fandom.

I love Jily, I love Jegulus, IM PROOF WE CAN LIVE IN HARMONY JUST KNOCK IT OFF, PULL YOUR PANTS UP, AND GROW TF UP!

Anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk, I’m really upset over this post and I just needed to rant. Please reblog this so it reaches more people.

(Also I have not tagged the creator of this post, because I don’t want harassment to befall them. Signed- the author)

[aenor-llelo]

amitoufo he is carbondated

It's the Year of the Snake. Destiny 2's Heresy just came out. But this ain't about her. I sit on your shoulder, I am your xiaoren.

I'm Taiwanese! Let's carbon date The Drifter!

Lightbearers retain their semantic memory (facts, concepts, ideas) and procedural memory (memory of how to do things) of their original life before death. This is implied from game/lore instances of Guardians with unique accents, ethnic coding, memory of languages that are obscure post-Collapse, even cases of Guardians retaining pre-rez war PTSD. It is outright confirmed by Sen-Aret, a Guardian who- due to the sheer age of her remains or some error by her Ghost- was raised with only the knowledge she had in life, and had to learn about modern weapons/language from other Guardians.

Why does this mean anything? It means that the way a Guardian prefers to dress, talk, and generally behave tells you where they came from pre-rez!

Aside from his voice actor being Vietnamese, his entry in the official cookbook is banh mi, a Vietnamese dish, and his clothes are Chinese, which would point to him being Hoa, the Han people of Vietnam. (He also wraps his clothes in an orientation specific to corpses, because he doesn't count Lightbearers as truly alive humans.)

Behavior-wise, though, have you noticed how obsessed he is with jade? The coins, the necklace. Jade is a very precious stone in the Sinosphere, and jade jewelry is for giving luck or protection to the wielder- what you will hear less commonly is that it is meant to work by breaking instead of you when something happens. We give them to kids and elderly for this reason.

(You can wonder, for a second, the jade coins he always plays with before Gambit rounds, wraps around certain weapons for you, and the Red String of Fate ornament for Malfeasance. Is this a man perpetually deeply terrified for everyone or himself, or is he every middle aging ah-yi who just got back into religion while you were in school?)

So he's Vietnamese and the Chinese influence means his pre-rez life had to have been after Chinese imperial interference with Vietnam. Unfortunately, four different historical periods between 111 BC and the 1400s isn't good carbon dating. KE SHI NI HUI KANDAO THE SANDWICH,

banh mi is a baguette sandwich. this kind of bread comes to vietnam in the mid-19th century from French colonizers, and only during WWI did a mixed flour version make this bread accessible outside luxury. Early 1900s le. But "post-1900s" isn't a better narrowing down than "BCs to 1400s" in a future setting like Destiny.

Except that Drifter's banh mi recipe specifically uses pâté. This was only a common banh mi filling before the 1950s, when the partition of Vietnam sent an influx of northerners to Saigon and led to the Saigon sandwich that is modern banh mi. So, 1910s to 1950s. And the fact that he defaults to hanfu rather than Western dress or more modern standard Vietnamese ethnic clothing like ao dai skews him having been an adult on the earlier end of this time frame or living in a more rural area where colonization ideas were not as enforced. (One could explore him having other Vietnamese forms of cultural expression like lacquered teeth, actually.)

Ain't that something? He could have lived through WWI or even saw the beginning of the Communist revolution. The possibility that his first life was a survivor of colonization, war draft, and/or violent civil war could add a lot to readings of his character, especially his C-PTSD, but that's a whole other post if the people demand it. It's a neat thing to explore, huh?

And don't call him a rat le! Bad enough already the game think that is cute! White people calling East Asians rats is generally a slur in reference (from my collection) to immigrant "infestation" and part of general stereotypes about their uncleanliness (they cook with gutter oil, they eat rats, they cheap they scam they lie dadadada). You want source bigger than I grow up with white people shout in my face and their children pull their eyes to squint like a "jap"? Look up WWI propaganda posters about Japan. They did not invent that out of nowhere, they make Japanese people into rats because that's something they already say.

"It's just about Japanese-" what if I told you a large part of Western racism about Asians is that they can't tell the difference and don't care. and they're making fun of similar cultures and features.

"My Asian friend said it was okay-" the asian friend values your friendship and your comfort more than what they feel when you say slurs, dude. sorry i had to be the one to tell you that. one friend (or stranger online) giving you the pass to say it in front of them doesn't mean you're allowed to say it to everyone.

"it's fictional-" Real East Asian people getting beat down by Sinophobia matters a little more than how cute you think it is to call a Vietnamese man an animal that your culture associates with filth and plague.

"Chinese zodiac animal-" The snake is right there. The game won't shut up about how snake he is. We're having a Drifter-heavy episode right in the beginning of the snake lunar year. His personality matches the charm, mystery, and wisdom associated with the sign. He is never thematically associated with rats. He is never respectfully associated with rats.

It would be one thing if it was another asian character calling him that in the context of the rat's folkloric characteristics, but this is an American game by an American studio writing someone voiced by a non-asian to call him a rat as an insult about his cleanliness and food choices. Good for you if that doesn't hurt your feelings! Hurt many more people than you! They more real than him!

Good game story. Mistakes happen! Doesn't mean you have special privilege to repeat it.

He is snake! Viper! Asp! Cost zero dollar to say that instead! Don't keep a pet slur in your pocket!

[deezee112]

The worst ending 20 : A Cage of Crimson Chains

The worst ending 19 | The worst ending 21

Yandere!Lilia Vanrouge x GN!Reader

A/N : I just had a chance to sleep at 9pm!!?? for the first time in two weeks after 2am every day! ( sometimes 4am.. ) I think it's better now. Hope you enjoy it!

Warning : Yandere themes , obsessive behavior , emotional manipulation , confinement , stalking , psychological horror , possessiveness , violence , character death , unsettling themes.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The child sat in front of you, his legs tucked beneath him, long strands of dark hair falling over his shoulders. His crimson eyes blinked up at you curious, unreadable, but eerily silent. No matter how many questions you asked, he never answered. He only stared, his gaze sharp and unwavering, like he was waiting for something.

You exhaled, pressing a hand against your forehead. " You can't just sit there forever without a name, you know. "

The child didn’t respond.

You studied him carefully. His hair was wild, too long for a child’s, but it suited him. His expression, though void of words, was oddly mischievous.

" How about Lilia? " you suggested.

For the first time, his lips twitched. His head tilted ever so slightly, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. He didn’t speak not yet but that look told you enough.

" Lilia it is, then... " you murmured.

From that moment on, everything changed.

Lilia was not an easy child. From the moment he learned how to speak, he became a force of nature willful, stubborn, and endlessly energetic. He had no concept of personal space, constantly clinging to you, whether it was grabbing onto your waist, latching onto your back, or resting his chin on your shoulder while you tried to cook.

" Fei, get off " you muttered, shaking him off for the tenth time that morning. ( You can immediately figure out whether you are taller or shorter. )

" But I’m comfortable! " Lilia whined, arms tightening around your waist. " And I told you to call me Lilia! Fei is too serious! "

" You are serious. " you deadpanned. " You nag like an old man. "

Lilia gasped, feigning hurt. " Nag? Moi? " He placed a hand on his chest dramatically. " I only lovingly remind you of things. "

" Yeah, yeah. " you sighed, prying his fingers off you. " And lovingly get in the way of everything I do. "

Despite his antics, he was oddly perceptive. He knew when you were tired before you even said a word. He knew when to be silent, when to watch, when to slip into the shadows like he had never been there at all. It was unsettling at times how his eyes would linger, how he always seemed to know things.

" You don’t like people very much, do you? " Lilia asked one evening, hanging upside down from the couch like a bat.

You shot him a glance. " What makes you say that? "

" You always look tired after you talk to them. " he said, his voice light, but his eyes dark with something unreadable.

You scoffed. " And you? You act like you love people, but you’re always watching from a distance. "

Lilia grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. " Maybe that’s because I only need one person. "

As the years passed, Lilia’s attachment to you only grew worse. He never liked it when you spent too much time with others. His complaints were subtle at first pouting, whining about being bored whenever you left but over time, his discontent took on a more sinister tone.

" You shouldn’t trust them so easily. " Lilia mused one evening, sitting cross-legged on the counter while you cooked. " People are fickle. Weak. "

You frowned. " That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? "

Lilia swung his legs lazily, smirking. " Maybe. But I’m right, aren’t I? "

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the stove. " You don’t get to decide who I talk to. "

"Hmm," he hummed. " Maybe not. But it’d be easier if you only talked to me. "

You paused for a split second, feeling the weight of his stare on your back. When you turned to look at him, he was still smiling but something in his expression felt off.

" Lilia… "

He tilted his head, waiting.

" You’re not being serious, right? "

A beat of silence. Then, he laughed.

" Of course not! " he chirped, hopping down from the counter. " I’m just messing with you, y/n! "

But the way his fingers grazed your wrist as he walked past you light, lingering, almost threatening told a different story.

At first, it was little things. Your phone would go missing when you planned to meet up with someone. Strange rumors spread about people you knew, just enough to make you hesitate before reaching out to them.

Then, it escalated.

Your door was always locked when you tried to leave. The windows never opened quite right. The outside world felt like it was slipping further and further away, and Lilia was always there watching, smiling, waiting.

One day, you finally confronted him.

" Lilia. " you said, voice firm. " What have you been doing...? "

He blinked at you innocently. " Whatever do you mean? "

" You know what I mean. " You took a step closer. " The locked doors. The missing phone and The— "

Lilia chuckled, shaking his head. " Oh, y/n " he sighed, as if he was the one who was tired of you. " You really don’t get it, do you? "

" Get what...? "

His crimson eyes gleamed. " That I’m the only one you need. "

You felt your stomach drop.

" Lilia... " you whispered. " This isn’t love.. "

He frowned, pouting like a child who had been scolded. " But I do love you! " he said, stepping forward, hands reaching for you. " And you love me too, right? "

His fingers curled around your wrist gentle, but unyielding.

You swallowed hard. " Lilia, let me go... "

He smiled. " No. "

One night, you managed to escape. The door had been left unlocked careless, unlike him. You didn’t stop to question it. You ran.

The wind was cold against your skin as you sprinted into the night, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Trees blurred past you. The world outside felt strange, unfamiliar after so long.

Then, you heard it.

A soft chuckle.

" Running away from me? "

Your heart lurched. You turned and there he was.

Lilia stood in the middle of the path, his long hair swaying in the wind. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His crimson eyes were eerily calm.

" You weren’t supposed to leave. " he murmured.

Your body was trembling. " Lilia, this isn’t— "

A sharp pain bloomed in your chest.

You staggered, looking down. His knife was buried deep in your stomach.

Lilia sighed, pressing his forehead against yours as he held you upright. " You should have stayed. " he whispered. " You should have only looked at me. "

Your vision blurred. The last thing you saw was his eyes, watching you, waiting, even as the world faded to black.

Lilia never left your side, even in death.

He carried your body back home, humming softly as he cleaned the blood from your skin. He dressed you in your favorite clothes, brushed your hair, and tucked you into bed as if you were only sleeping.

" You’ll never leave me again. " he murmured, kissing your forehead. " Now we can be together forever. "

And in the quiet of the night, under the soft glow of the moon, Lilia curled up beside you smiling, satisfied.

Because in the end, you were his

[hyperfixated-homo]

OW Perks and how they contribute to world building

Building a world off of a shooter game means integrating a lot of information about your main characters through game mechanics. As someone who is both into the gaming and fandom side of Overwatch, I’ve always found it really interesting how the game’s development of it’s characters has carried over to their fandom interpretations. Obviously, voice lines, skins and cinematics are the big things, but character abilities are a super big part of it too. So, being as obsessive over this silly game as I am, I spent a few hours combing through the character perks, and wrote a long ass ramble about how I think it could influence the world building of Overwatch. Like a normal person. <3

First and foremost; this is absolutely not meant to be some sort of study on what could be canon to the Overwatch universe. It’s already been established that the game isn’t “canon”. These are just self indulgent rambles, mostly.

If you want the full list of each character’s perks, here’s my post on that: https://www.tumblr.com/hyperfixated-homo/775376445686071296/all-of-the-new-ovw-perks

If you have any thoughts, please lmk! It’s been a while since I’ve made a long, in depth analysis like this and I’m sure I have definitely missed some things.

So if I was more insane, I would probably make a detailed exploration of how every perk impacts each hero and what it means for them as a character, but that’s. That’s 168 perks. And 43 characters. That’s a lot of things. A few too many. And most of them would just be analyses of where they got their tech from and how that tech works, which isn’t all that interesting to me. Unless it’s about my favourite characters, or something I’m specifically intrigued by,,,,,

Anyways. There are a lot of things to talk about so I’m going to start with how I personally like to view the implementation of perks within the canon (fanon, whatever) universe, which is basically as choices made by characters in the context of the battle. It opens a whole new world of how we can imagine them participating in actual in world battles.

For example- I was watching Flats try the new Doomfist perks, and he mentioned that it was like being able to choose between DPS Doomfist and Tank Doomfist. This sort of thing is a decision that I can imagine him making in canon going in to a fight- should he be focusing on tanking damage so that other Talon agents can finish the mission, or should he leave them be and finish it himself? And that sort of thing applies to any character. Hanzo going for a hit and having to consider if he should focus on stealth (using sonic arrows) or killing his target by any means necessary (using scatter arrows). While yes, these choices are made by us playing the game, they also probably need to be made by the characters themselves. They can’t do everything all at once.

I feel like the introduction of perks could be really interesting in this sense because before they existed, it was sort of up to fans to explore how characters would deal with equipping themselves for what is- essentially- their job. This opens up so many more doors for the active choices the heroes themselves need to make.

Moving on from that, the abilities themselves are fascinating. Some of them I find interesting in general- mostly ones that have a healing element to them. I’ve mentioned at some point that I think it’s interesting that Genji has a perk where he can heal during his Deflect, and I’m really interested in that- how can he do it? My first thought is that it’s connected to the Iris somehow- maybe that spending enough time following Zenyatta’s teachings, he learns how to harness it just the slightest bit. But really, the possibilities are endless. It could be that he’s repairing his mechanical components, sort of like Bastion’s self heal. Maybe it’s something chemical within his body- a sort of biotic injection that gives him an extra boost. There’s a lot of potential ideas here! How many times have we explored how Soldier could use biotic fields- now that can apply to any hero with new self heal perks.

Along that line of thought, the heroes that have gotten new lifesteal abilities (healing while damaging enemies) are also super super interesting. Any character with new lifesteal perks could have so many potential ideas for why they do it. To name them; Hazard, Genji, Junker Queen, and Reaper all have perks that include lifesteal. And for each character, you can come up with entirely new reasons why. Genji’s specifically is a result of his dragonblade- is the dragon literally sucking the life out of his enemies and giving it back to Genji? I have no idea!!! But it’s a cool concept, right?

In that sense I’m very impressed by the specificity of each character’s perks. They work so well with their already existing traits in the Overwatch universe. All of them feel like they could naturally work with the existing ideas of each person’s abilities. It’s a super natural transition, if for the lore moreso than the game itself.

Okay now I’m just going to speedrun some of the more interesting abilities that I’ve found that I just wanted to bring up.

Sigma and Zenyatta can fly/float respectively. First of all, goddamn awesome. Secondly, very interesting how neither really fly- maybe both of them can, but neither want to. After all, Sigma does fly during his ult? So why wouldn’t he do it on the regular? He’s already floating, why not go the extra step? ¯\(ツ)/¯

I’ve already written a lot about it but Soldier’s new stim pack?? So much potential there. Is it a drug? If so who made it? Where did he get it? How does it affect him in comparison to a normal, non super-soldiered person? Does it have long term affects?

Some characters (Hanzo, Freja, ect) have perks where they get increased firing speed if they get hits/kills. I like to imagine that it’s related to adrenaline. Could use that for some interesting character analysis :) (Especially considering how Hanzo’s specific ability is called “Dragon’s Fury”… could connect that to his own bloodlust as a result of being connected to the dragons. Or something. Hmm)

A lot (I think literally all) of Junkrat’s stuff is related to his weaponry. I like to think that it’s because he’s constantly modifying it to fit his own needs- sort of clunkily, but it works, and it’s fun :)

There’s a lot to be said about characters that are initially more on the pacifism side (Zenyatta, Mei, ect) having perks which allow them to do more damage. There are definitely ways to explore character conflicts using their new abilities. This is sort of less about perks and more about them as characters though- I don’t think they’d be happy to use any of their abilities to do harm

Reaper has his soul orbs back!! We can bring back him eating the souls of the dead. Was that ever a thing? Idk. I want it to be. Imagine- Reaper pulling a death blossom in the middle of enemy lines, then collecting their souls in front of whichever of their comrades still live, slowly gaining power… filling the room with more smoke… laughing maniacally all the while… yknow?

Roadhog’s “take a breather” has two perks that he can choose between to upgrade it- either making him faster when he uses it or healing allies. This sort of thing can very easily fit in to how he learns to integrate himself with Overwatch or another group, learning how to share his heals instead of hogging it (no pun intended)

I’m never going to shut up about Sombra being able to heal with hack. There are. So many concepts you can do with that. Especially with how much more of a sympathetic character she’s been portrayed as lately- there could be any number of situations where she had to learn how to do that. Why would she? How could she? Does it work better for certain heroes than others?

Torb can give his allies repairs during battles. Imagine the shenaniganery. Imagine Torbjorn hanging off Reinhardt’s arms or something, trying to fix his rocket booster, while they’re both yelling at each other and everyone else is trying to murder them. I’d animate it if I didn’t suck at it <3

Venture being able to see things while underground is?? So fun?? They’re very bug to me. I like to think it’s like a specified sensor. A sixth sense if you will. Because it’s not like they can actually see, but maybe they can feel the vibrations or something? I don’t know!!

That’s most of the thoughts I wanted to get out, but honestly there’s so much more to explore here. These are just the ones that immediately jumped out at me- I’m sure that just playing with the perks themselves will bring up more ideas. If this is slightly incoherent I apologise lmao. If I come up with anything else, maybe I’ll write something about it

[curated-hdg]

Golden Ladder by AshInBloom

Released: February 2024

221k words, 44 chapters

Status: Ongoing; weekly chapter releases

Notable tags: Little Sprout, Furry, A/B/O

Cory Kàfkore is a runner. He’s been running all his life. Running away from bullies, away from home, away from responsibility, even away from himself. So what does Cory do when the Affini arrive on his doorstep? He does what he does best: he runs. Asherah Riker, Third Bloom, knows more about terran physiology than any affini she has ever met. She loves terrans. Some might even say she’s obsessed with them. But Riker knows that sometimes, even if you want something real bad, you shouldn't have it.

If I had to describe the most important feature of Ash's writing, it's emotional catharsis. AshInBloom builds solid, relatable characters, and then carefully and respectfully uses them to slide daggers into your heart. Cory Kàfkore is a phenomenally well-realized character, and watching her (it's HDG, "main character is an egg" doesn't count as a spoiler) take her first stumbling steps into the Affini Compact and into loving herself is beautiful and joyful and heart-wrenching in equal measure. And somehow, she isn't the most useless lesbian in this story. Truly fascinating.

This fic also features Tsundra, one of the community's favorite blorbos. Tsundra sucks, and we love her. The least charismatic xenrani ever. Flirts via business card. Stands up in a trial to talk about how she fucked the defendant. Wears hawaiian shirts.

(Art by Sheepwave; taken from from Master, Daddy, and Kitten by AshinBloom and Sheepwave)

An epic failgirl, we must stan. Still not the most useless lesbian in the story.

But yeah. Ash is amazing at tugging the heartstrings, because ultimately, Golden Ladder is a deeply personal, deeply effective story about becoming what you always were, and finally being allowed to heal and rest. About trusting yourself to love, despite the possible consequences. I'm pretty sure I've cried every chapter for the last 3 or 4 of this story. There was a certain chapter where it was revealed that Cory is a self-insert character, and Ash was worried that people would react negatively to it. My immediate reaction was "Oh, that explains why this story has been so raw and vulnerable!"

Let this be a lesson to all of us: casual self-inserts: good, actually.

Golden Ladder is an amazing story with amazing characters, and as it starts to head towards its conclusion, I'm glad to be along for the ride.

(Fun fact: when spoken, "Kàfkore" sounds an awful lot like "Cock-Whore". This is somehow not intentional.)

[the-fourchette]

1/ "His first choice is always Viktor "

Are you sure ? Going by your logic, if Viktor was always Jayce's first choice, then why he was always found in Mel's arms when Viktor was either almost dying or dead ? Are you implying that it should take extreme situations for him to realize that he should be by Viktor's side ? Because :

Jayce rushed from his home to visit Viktor on his deathbed after his romantic stuff with Mel

He fired Heimerdinger, after Viktor told him that he feels his body eroding and the hamster still asked them to stop the research

After the bombing, he looked for Viktor/other people only after ensuring that Mel was safe

Why are you even talking about choice ?

And seriously, can't Jayce, a man who had attempted sui*ide for an invention, can find joy and solace in a woman he loves ? Can't he do something other than obsessing over his invention ? It is heavily suggested that he has some mental issues, let him take some break.

2/ "when Viktor starts slipping away, Jayce drops everything"

-> Please, tell me that you would rush to your friends/family/lover and prioritize them the minute you know they're dying.

Even Mel, a fictional character, knows that he must stay by his side. Mel is fine and healthy, why would she trap Jayce with her when he just told her that Viktor is like his "brother" and he "saved my life once". You are talking about someone who keeps prioritizing a terminally ill person over an healthy one. This is normal, this is logical. This is the bare minimum a human being can do.

3/ "Viktor is the reason Hextech exists"

Jayce is the first reason Hextech exists, Viktor helped him with his project. Mel gave them the opportunity to continue their research.

4/ "Viktor is the reason Jayce even believes in progress in the first place"

Once again, no, Jayce believed it on his own, Viktor believed in him at his worst and they happened to share the same mindset and goals.

5/ "And you see it in the way Jayce prioritizes him over and over again" , "They are two separate people, it's obvious Jayce won't love them the same".

-> Please, tell me that your heart is big enough to love your friends, your family and your S/O at the same time. Jayce has a big heart and he's very affectionate. He loves his mother, Mel, Caitlyn, Viktor, even Heimerdinger (to an extent).

6/ "He only cares about him. There’s no hesitation. Jayce is willing to risk everything for Viktor in a way he never does for Mel."

He cares about both. I'm pretty sure that Jayce rushing to Mel when he saw the bomb behind her, instead of running in the opposite direction to try to save himself and Viktor is a huge hint that he cares A LOT about her .

And him rushing immediately to save Viktor, disregarding his wish to destroy the hexcore, because he couldn't bare the idea to lose his friend is a huge hint that he cares A LOT about him.

7/ "Viktor is his foundation"

-> I disagreed at first, but since that this Mage Viktor dude decided to dictate his whole life 😬 , maybe you're not wrong...

8/ "Jayce is caught between them, constantly being pulled in two directions"

An impactful and worldly invention involves science and politics. Viktor, a scientist, helps Jayce, the original inventor to refine and complete his invention (he became as he important as Jayce in the project). Mel, a politician, saw that that the topsiders started monopolizing his project, so she guided him to help him reach his dream to bring hextech to the masses, his initial goal. Mel never forgot about that. But yes, politics and science are two differents worlds and it's hard to find the perfect balance.

9/ "Viktor is the only person he was ever willing to lose that power for"

He decided to give up his power the moment he messed up and accidentally killed a kid... He realized that he went too far, he was getting too unfocused on his core project (And it's his own fault, he was the one who decided to weaponise hextech, Mel has already backtracked and asked for a peaceful solution, Ambessa literally manipulated him to and Vi, traumatized by Silco, encouraged it). Viktor also recognized that him messing with the Hexcore, distracted him from their main goal and it cost Sky's life. That's why he asked Jayce to destroy the hexcore. They were both tormented by guilt.

10/ "His favoritism towards Viktor is not even conscious most of the time"

By your logic, Jayce then uncounsciously favors Mel over Viktor since he rushed to "save" her from the bomb (instead of prioritising himself and Viktor)

11/ "And what’s really sad about all of this is that Mel knows. She sees it. She knows that at the end of the day, she’s teaching Jayce how to be powerful, but Viktor is the one who actually owns his heart"

Whaaaaat ? Mel doesn't see Viktor as a rival. She has such confidence in her relationship that she couldn't care less about sending Jayce back to him. The series never even show once that Jayce or Mel were doubting their love after they were unofficially established as a couple (in S1). There is nothing sad, on the contrary, she's wonderful to help her distressed lover.

------

Am I an alien for loving my parents, siblings, childhood friends, S/O equally strongly ?? (it's just a different type of love)

Finally, can we please treat Jayce as an individual character, he's the only character who interacted with almost the whole cast but he's reduced to Viktor or Mel's pawn, this is insane !

You can interpret/theorize everything to your heart's content, but don't impose your POV to people. And let's not twist the canon story :)

More yapping about Jayce and his relationship with Viktor and Mel cause why not?

One of the most interesting things about Jayce’s character arc is how Mel and Viktor act as these two opposing forces in his life; both guiding him, both shaping him, but in very different ways. Mel represents power, ambition, legacy, the political weight of Hextech and everything it could be. Viktor represents innovation, raw intellect, and the heart of why Hextech even exists in the first place. Jayce is caught between them, constantly being pulled in two directions.

Mel teaches Jayce how to navigate Piltover, how to gain and control his power instead of letting it control him. She gives him the tools to actually use Hextech as more than just an invention— turn it into something that changes the world. Without her, he never would’ve made it onto the council, never would’ve learned how to play politics, never would’ve become the leader Piltover needed. But at the end of the day? Jayce was never truly Mel’s.

Because no matter how much Mel shapes him, no matter how much power she hands him, Jayce’s first and strongest connection is always Viktor. His first choice is always Viktor. Viktor is the reason Hextech exists. Viktor is the reason Jayce even believes in progress in the first place. And you see it in the way Jayce prioritizes him over and over again.

Mel offers Jayce power, and yeah, he takes it—but he hesitates. He falters. With Viktor? There’s no hesitation. Jayce is willing to risk everything for Viktor in a way he never does for Mel. Like, when Viktor starts slipping away, Jayce drops everything. He stops caring about politics, about his reputation, about the carefully constructed path Mel laid out for him. The second Viktor needs him, that’s it. He’s done playing the game. He’s ready to throw away everything if it means saving him. Mel is an influence in his life. Viktor is his foundation.

And what’s really sad about all of this is that Mel knows. She sees it. She knows that at the end of the day, she’s teaching Jayce how to be powerful, but Viktor is the one who actually owns his heart. She sees how quickly Jayce pulls away from her when Viktor starts getting worse, how his priorities shift without a second thought. She spent the entire second part of the show shaping Jayce into a leader, a politician, a visionary—but the second Viktor is in danger, Jayce doesn’t care about any of that. He only cares about him.

Mel may have given Jayce power, but Viktor is the only person he was ever willing to lose that power for. Mel was the one who taught Jayce how to build an empire. But Viktor? Viktor is the one thing that could make him burn it all down.

And that says everything about Jayce.

I've seen some people in the reblogs make good points I missed while making the post, so I'll add them here.

This post is about jayce's perception or what I think his perception is based on his actions. Once said that: No, Mel is not the black girlfriend, that's a huge disrespect of her character, she's a powerful, intelligent woman with complexities and flaws that go far beyond some guy.

I agree that Jayce loved Mel, to a certain point. His favoritism towards Viktor is not even conscious most of the time. He obviously loved and cared for her, if he didn't they wouldn't have been together. My point is that he loved her in a way that would never be matched to the way he loves Viktor, and that's ok. They are two separate people, it's obvious Jayce won't love them the same.

While writing the script, I believe the writers made their relationship to put Jayce between a rock and a hard place at times. Mel is progress, she's powerful, beautiful, kind, She symbolizes everything Jayce wants to achieve (talking about her symbolism in jayce's character, not her own character) . Viktor is his foundation, he's beginning, he's the constant in his life even before he knew it. That's what I mean by saying Jayce was never fully Mel's.

I agree that as a fandom we don't talk enough about characters individually, but I firmly believe that there are characters that you need to talk about while talking about others. You cannot really talk deeply about Mel without talking about her mom, her brother and so on.

I love my girl Mel and I will yap about her soon because she's just too pretty and interesting not to.

[lunityviruss]

I love that my friend loves the Cars franchise because my brother likes (and I kinda like it too) and I don’t want that positive thing negatively tied to him so it’s great that someone else is giving it the love it deserves and is keeping it alive

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[anetherealpoetess]

adar and his children must have stabbed the social decorum out of sauron because why is this dirty bitch halbrand always standing so close to galadriel? it's called personal space and yeah look you must still honour it even when you fall in love with a cunty little elf at first sight sauron babes