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jungkoode · 1 day ago

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死 KKANGPAE | #10 死

† wound tight †

"You’re in the Seduction Division, you’re supposed to be the seductress here, not the other way around. But then he falls asleep on your bed, and he suddenly looks so human… The morning brings him back to normal though, as you remain unaware of how thoroughly he has to wash your scent off his skin. And if that wasn’t enough… AD’s cryptic warning seems more acidic than the lemon breeze that wafts off him.

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⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7k

rating: mature

content: secret rdvz, jeon popping a boner in the most awkward moments, thrill of being discovered, stirring arousal, battling self-control, almost masturbation (m), cryptic warnings, scents that linger too long for their own good

☠ author's note ☠

As promised, chapter 10 delivered the SECOND we hit that goal! Took y'all less than 24 hours on Wattpad which is both flattering and deeply concerning. You're all menaces and I love you, but the bar is officially being raised. I refuse to be bullied by my own readers (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

MY SLEEPY BOYYYYY (;'༎ຶٹ༎ຶ')

He's so traumatized and I am so mean SORRY *dodges all your punches with the grace of someone who absolutely deserves to be punched*

—Don't worry Y/N, we all feel that way towards Jeon, it's totally normal. The "I want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him" experience is universal. Don't beat yourself up over it (〜￣▽￣)〜

This chapter was a whole cocktail of POVs, I know! But there were so many things happening simultaneously that it just came out like this. Think of it as one of those split-screen moments in action movies except instead of car chases it's just traumatized gang members making questionable life choices.

I must say I'm actually happy with how this chapter turned out because we're finally diving deeper into the spicier themes! The thrill of forbidden attraction! The danger lurking around every corner! The "I shouldn't want this but I REALLY want this" internal struggle! And the sexual tension thick enough to cut with one of V's knives! PEAK FICTION!

Anyway, thanks for reading as always! Your comments sustain me through the dark nights of writer's block and existential dread. Love you all, you magnificent enablers!

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You're about to crawl into bed when someone knocks on your door. At 3 AM. Because of course.

Opening it reveals Jeon standing there like this is totally normal, holding a plastic bag with your hoodie peeking out.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You whisper-yell, heart immediately kicking into overdrive.

"Just want my jacket ba—" You slap your hand over his mouth before he can finish.

His lips are warm against your palm and you try very hard not to think about that.

"Are you actually insane?" Your voice drops even lower. "You can't be here!"

"I know." He scowls when you remove your hand. "That's why I want to make this quick."

"Ever heard of morning? You know, when people normally wake up?"

"Not like I'm sleeping anywa—"

A cough echoes from one of the other rooms and your body moves on pure instinct. You grab his wrist and yank him inside before anyone can catch Kkangpae's deadliest assassin lurking outside your door at ass o'clock.

He stumbles, definitely more from surprise than your strength, and his mouth opens—maybe to curse you out—but you slap your hand over it again, gesturing frantically at Yunjin's sleeping form with your free hand.

"Don't," you mouth, somewhere between begging and threatening.

His dark eyes lock with yours, and something electric crackles between you. Your hand is still pressed against his mouth, his skin burning against your palm, and suddenly you're very aware that you just dragged Jeon into your bedroom in the middle of the night.

Shit.

You drop your hand from his mouth, careful and slow. The jacket's on your bed, and you edge toward it like you're approaching a wild animal. Jeon follows, surprisingly quiet for someone who radiates danger like a space heater. Sets the plastic bag with your hoodie by the bed.

Just as you reach for his jacket—because of course this whole mess started with that stupid piece of leather—it slips through your fingers. The thud it makes hitting the floor might as well be a bomb going off in the silent room.

Your heart stops.

"Y/N?" Yunjin's sleepy voice makes your blood run cold.

Pure panic takes over.

Before you can think it through, you're shoving Jeon onto your bed and climbing on top of him. His hands grab your hips automatically, and you press yourself against him, trying to make his tall frame disappear under yours.

You yank the blankets over both of you, praying they hide his shape. Your heart's beating so hard you're sure Jeon can feel it where your chest meets his. The whole situation would be m̶o̶r̶t̶i̶f̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ dangerous if you weren't so terrified of getting caught.

"Everything's fine," you whisper-call back. "Just dropped the jacket."

Jeon's frozen underneath you, every muscle locked tight. You can feel his chest rising and falling, his breath hitting your neck in controlled bursts. He's warm—too warm—and solid in all the places you're trying very hard not to think about.

"'Kay..." Yunjin mumbles. "Sleep soon..."

You nod uselessly in the dark, too aware of Jeon's hands still gripping your hips. Moonlight catches his eyes, and even in the shadows, his gaze burns into yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter.

This is fine. Everything's fine.

But it's like time itself freezes.

You hold your breath as Yunjin shifts in her bed, the sheets rustling before she settles back into sleep with a soft sigh. You stay perfectly still, counting heartbeats, waiting to make sure she's really out.

When her breathing evens out again, you let yourself relax—as much as anyone can relax while straddling Jeon in the middle of the night. The room goes quiet except for your matched breathing, and suddenly the blanket cocoon feels very small, very intimate.

You lift your head slowly, trying to minimize movement, and fuck—his face is right there, barely inches from yours. His dark eyes catch what little moonlight filters through the blanket, and there's something in them beyond the usual annoyance.

Something that makes you almost sigh.

"Don't move," you breathe, barely a whisper. "Just... wait till she's deeper asleep."

The silence feels thick enough to choke on. Because everything seems to shrink to this moment: the warmth of his hands on your hips, how solid his chest feels against yours, the way his breath mingles with yours in the tiny space between you.

His eyes dance upwards, gaze locking with yours momentarily.

Then it drops to your mouth—for a split second—before snapping back up, and your whole body tingles like you've been shocked.

This is insane. This is really fucking insane.

How his fingers press into your hips, how your thighs are bracketing his sides, how close your faces are.

You can see little details you've never noticed before, like the faint freckles across his nose you've somehow ignored all this time.

You don't know why you seem to catalog that information.

But you do know why your heart pounds so hard you're sure he can feel it where your chests meet.

Because you can say whatever, but he's definitely hot. And this is dangerous.

So, so dangerous.

Jeon shifts under you—just barely, but enough to make you notice how tense he is. His whole body feels impressively stiff, and you ponder if he's really as unbothered by this position as he's trying to act.

You need to focus. Need to ignore how his eyes look softer in the dim lighting, or how his hands seem the perfect fucking size on your hips. There must still be some remnants of vodka on your body that making it hard to think about anything except how close he is.

"Jeon," you breathe against his cheek. "You need to—"

He moves again, more obviously this time.

You lose your balance for a split second, shifting to catch yourself, and—oh.

Oh fuck.

"Shit—" The word hisses out between his teeth like he's been burned.

You want to die.

You want to drown.

Because that's definitely his cock pressing against your ass through the thin cotton of your pajamas.

A tiny gasp escapes before you can stop it as everything clicks into place—why he's so tense, why his breathing sounds so controlled.

He's hard.

You freeze, heart thundering in your chest. This was already dangerous, but now it's dangerous dangerous. You try to tell yourself it's just biology, just a normal reaction to having someone straddling him. Nothing personal.

He's just a guy, after all. These things happen.

That's what you tell yourself, but it's getting real hard to think straight when you can feel exactly how hard Jeon is underneath you.

And why does that knowledge give you chills?

This is Jeon—the guy who's been nothing but cold and distant since day one. Mr. Perfect Sniper with his perfect control, dick hard just because you're straddling him.

It shouldn't be hot.

You shouldn't find it hot.

But then again... you're already thinking about how easy would be to shift your hips, to feel more of that thick line pressing against you.

You could play it off as getting comfortable, just an innocent adjustment.

Your body practically vibrates with the urge to move.

But no. No. You're not that desperate. This is just adrenaline and proximity making you stupid.

Except... you can't make yourself pull away. His warmth seeps through your thin pajamas, and when did his eyes get so gentle? You've never seen him look like this—all that ice melted into something darker, hungrier.

That goddamn silver chain around his neck catches some light, drawing your eyes to where his black turtleneck hugs every muscle. You wonder if his tattoos extend past what you can see, if his skin is as hot everywhere else as it is under your palms.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out how right he feels under you. But the question burns in your mind anyway, dangerous and tempting:

What if?

You jerk away from him like you've been burned, the what if still echoing in your head. Your heart slams against your ribs so hard you're surprised Yunjin can't hear it from her bed.

Now you're lying next to him, shoulders touching, and his body heat feels like it's trying to brand you.

Embarrassment hits you in waves, hot and suffocating.

What the actual fuck just happened?

You're supposed to be better than this. You're in the fucking Seduction Division—you're trained to be the hunter, not the prey. You're the one who's supposed to make people fall apart with a look, not the one getting flustered over an accidental boner pressed against your ass.

But here you are anyway, frozen like a rookie, your body still tingling everywhere he touched you. The ghost of his hardness against you refuses to fade, and you hate how your stomach flips at the memory.

"Get it together," you whisper to yourself, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

You close your eyes, take a big breath, willing your heart to slow the fuck down.

The minutes crawl by as you listen to Yunjin's breathing, waiting for it to even out into sleep. And when her breaths finally turn deep and rhythmic, you allow yourself to relax slightly.

Time to end this disaster.

"Jeon." You elbow him gently. "Coast is clear."

Nothing.

You frown, poking him harder. "Jeon, get up."

Still nothing.

Annoyance bubbles up in your chest, mixing with something that feels dangerously close to concern. You turn carefully, trying not to make noise, and—

This motherfucker fell asleep.

The notorious Chief of Tactical Assassinations, Kkangpae's deadliest sniper, passed out in your bed like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here you are, having a whole crisis, and this asshole just... falls asleep. The audacity.

You let out a long breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You should be planning how to get him out without anyone noticing, or worrying about what happens if someone catches you. Instead, your traitorous brain keeps replaying how his hands felt on your hips, how his breath hitched when you—nope. Not going there.

You turn around slightly, noticing the little details of his face. You've never seen him like this before. All those sharp edges are soft in sleep, his usual scowl smoothed away. His stupidly long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that's weirdly hypnotic.

Something twists in your chest. It's strange seeing him so... vulnerable.

No ice-prince mask, no walls—just...

Jeon.

You can't help but stare a little. It's not every day you get to see him with his guard down. Not that you want to see him like this. He's still an ass. A very attractive ass who's currently making little sighing noises in his sleep, but still an ass.

The anger from earlier starts to fade, replaced by something d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶ inconvenient. You blame it on the late hour and leftover adrenaline from earlier. Because you definitely don't care about how peaceful he looks right now, or how his hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes your fingers itch to brush it back.

You sigh in defeat. No way to wake him without risking Yunjin catching you, which means you're stuck with your division chief in your bed until morning.

Ideal, really.

You pull the blanket up over him carefully, definitely not caring about waking him up. It's just common courtesy. You'd do it for anyone.

Right.

Sleep tugs at your eyes as the adrenaline crash hits. Your last thought before drifting off is that Jeon better not snore, or you're smothering him with a pillow, Council member or not.

What a fucking mess.

Jungkook drifts into consciousness slowly, which is... strange. Usually his body snaps awake like a rubber band, heart racing from whatever nightmare decided to visit.

But this morning feels different. Peaceful. His mind is oddly quiet.

Then the cold hits him—an empty space beside him where warmth should be. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to unfamiliar shadows.

This isn't his room.

The realization shoots through him like ice water.

He bolts upright, heart finally doing that familiar panicked dance against his ribs. Everything's wrong—the walls are too close, the air too soft. Even the smell is different. No pine or wood here, just something milky and spiced that makes his insides whirl.

His eyes scan the room frantically, survival instincts kicking in as he—

Oh.

Oh right.

Last night.

The jacket exchange. The whispered arguments. You shoving him onto your bed when Yunjin almost caught you two. The weight of you on top of him, how his body betrayed him, the way you felt pressed against—

Jungkook cuts that thought off sharply. More important is the fact that he slept. Actually slept, without a single nightmare tearing him awake. No blood-soaked memories, no echoes of gunshots, no accusing eyes.

Just... peace.

He sits there, trying to process this impossibility. His fingers find his lip ring automatically, playing with it as his mind races.

When was the last time he slept through the night?

Months?

Years?

But you're gone now, the room empty except for lingering traces of chai tea in the air. Something uncomfortable twists in his chest.

Where are you?

The thought comes unbidden, unwanted. He pushes it away, along with the memory of how perfectly you fit against him in the dark.

The door opens and you walk in, wearing fresh clothes like this is any normal morning. Jungkook's jaw clenches automatically. Your casual confidence grates against his nerves, reminding him that he's somehow let himself get tangled in something he can't control.

This isn't how things are supposed to work. His world operates on precision, on distance. On rifles and gunshots and detachment.

But here in your room, surrounded by vanilla and chai tea and you, all his careful walls feel paper-thin.

You look at him and he feels exposed, like you can see right through him. His hair falls messily into his eyes, a far cry from his usual slicked-back perfection. He knows he must look disheveled, vulnerable in a way that makes his skin crawl.

"Good morning, thundercloud."

Your voice is gentle, warm and buttery like the aroma you embody. He manages a nod and a vague sound of acknowledgment, the nickname washing over him without really landing. His brain feels fuzzy, slow—but not in the usual way, not with the sharp edges of sleep deprivation and nightmares.

For the first time in... he can't even remember how long, his mind isn't screaming with V's cold glare or AD's hatred.

Something coils in his stomach.

"What time is it?" The question comes out rougher than intended, an attempt to ground himself in something concrete and measurable.

Your presence feels too solid, too real in the soft morning light. Like if he looks at you too long, he'll have to acknowledge how well he slept with you nearby, how the nightmares stayed away for once.

He doesn't want to think about what that means.

Your eyes dart to the digital clock between your and Yunjin's beds, then back to Jeon. You can't help but think he looks weirdly soft in the morning light, all rumpled clothes and messy hair.

"10:30AM."

His eyelashes flutter like he's still processing, then his eyes go wide. You can practically see the moment it clicks.

"What?"

It's weird, seeing him process this. For someone like Jeon, who probably schedules his bathroom breaks, sleeping past dawn must feel like the world's tilted off its axis.

And truly, the contrast is striking—this is the same man who can take out targets from impossible distances, who makes seasoned gang members nervous with just a look.

Yet right now, looking like he just rolled out of bed, he looks almost c̶u̶t̶e̶ stupid.

You can't help but study him while he's too thrown off to notice. The sharp edges of his jawline seem softer, the perpetual tension in his shoulders gone. Even his stormy aura feels rather like a gentle summer brain.

You wonder what it means that he actually slept here. The man who probably counts sheep with a sniper scope, passed out in your bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But those aren't questions you get to ask, and they definitely aren't ones he'd answer.

Still. It's kind of fascinating, really, seeing Jeon so out of it. Like catching a trick of the great and powerful Oz.

And the thing is... It's a well-known thing, his morning routine. Always first at breakfast, like some kind of deadly alarm clock for the rest of the gang... His empty table by the window is probably sitting there right now, throwing off the whole cafeteria's ecosystem.

You see the exact moment reality crashes in. Ten-thirty means he's missed his usual spot, missed being the first one there.

It means people must have noticed.

You drift to the little table by your window, pouring water just to have something to do with your hands. Because there are so many ways this could go wrong. The Chief of Tactical Assassinations sleeping in a recruit's room? That's the kind of scandal that gets people transferred to different divisions—or worse.

"People are gonna notice you weren't at your usual brooding spot this morning."

"I know." His voice is steady, controlled—familiar coldness seeping back in. "I'll handle it."

Something about his confidence settles your nerves a bit. This is Jeon after all—co-leader of the Assassination Division. If anyone can get out of this mess without starting gang-wide gossip, it's him.

Still. The sight of him in your room, black turtleneck rumpled from sleep, is going to be burned into your brain for a while.

"What about your roommate?" His voice is low, tense.

And okay, it's a bit funny. The fearsome Jeon, worried about getting caught in a recruit's room like a teenager sneaking out past curfew. Sounds like a joke.

"Training session." You watch his face carefully. "Yunjin left early. Didn't see you."

The relief that washes over him is subtle—just a slight drop in his shoulders, a loosening around his eyes. But you catch it anyway. The last thing either of you needs is gossip about why Jeon spent the night in Seduction.

He sighs like he's been holding his breath all morning, pushing tattooed fingers through his messy hair. You realize it's not often you see him without his usual rings, without that careful polish he maintains.

It shouldn't be hot.

It is.

His eyes track from your door to the space outside, probably calculating escape routes like the assassin he is.

Old habits die hard, apparently.

"Need to get back before people start asking questions." He stands in one fluid motion, and there's the Jeon you know—precisely lethal and absolutely in control.

"Yeah, we should be careful." You try to keep your voice neutral. "This could cause problems if anyone finds out."

His dark eyes meet yours, and silence tickles between you.

You both know what's at stake here. One whisper about Jeon sleeping in your room could start an avalanche neither of you is ready for.

Kkangpae might feel like family sometimes, but rules are rules. And you've heard enough stories about what happens to people who break them.

Plus, after last night's revelations about RM's brother and his fiancée's betrayal, the "no attachments" policy makes a lot more sense.

The irony of looking like you have broken that exact rule less than twelve hours after learning why it exists isn't lost on you.

Especially with Jeon, who lives by them like they're written in his DNA. Being on the Council means setting an example, and last night was... an accident. A weird collision of circumstances that shouldn't have happened.

Still, when he pauses at your door, something twists in your chest. You wonder if you'll ever be this close to him again.

It's probably for the best if you're not.

"Thanks." The word sounds foreign coming from him, like he's not used to saying it.

"For what?"

"For... not waking me up." His voice drops so low you barely catch it.

"Don't mention it." You try to sound casual, like your heart isn't doing stupid flips. "Looked like you needed it."

He nods, and holy shit, is that...

A smile?

His hand lingers on the doorknob a second too long, which is weird for someone usually so decisive. Then he's gone, slipping into the hallway like a shadow.

The door clicks shut and you lean against it, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Your room feels too big now, too quiet. Like all the air got sucked out with him.

Get your heart out the gutter, bitch.

This is stupid. Attraction isn't a luxury you can afford in Kkangpae, especially not to someone like Jeon. He's literally the kind of danger that comes wrapped in leather jackets and piercings.

It's not just his physical skills that make him lethal. It's the way he commands attention without saying a word, how his gaze pins you in place more effectively than handcuffs ever could.

But fuck if that isn't exactly what makes your heart race.

You push away from the door, pacing your room like a caged animal. It's too early for this shit. These thoughts are dangerous—the kind that get people killed in places like Kkangpae. But your brain keeps circling back to the weight of him against you, to that split second when his breathing stuttered.

Focus.

You've seen what Jeon can do. The way he moves like death given form, how people scramble to clear his path in the hallways. It's m̶a̶g̶n̶e̶t̶i̶c̶ terrifying how much power he holds.

He's powerful. Dangerous in a way that shouldn't be alluring.

Your eyes drift to the morning light streaming through your window, painting greenery in soft gold. Out there, people are going about their normal lives, no idea that one of Korea's deadliest assassins just spent the night in your bed.

And that thought makes you laugh—a weird, choked sound that holds no humor.

Because Jeon isn't just a bad idea. He's career suicide wrapped in pine and tobacco scent. He's everything you should run from if you want to survive in this world.

You keep pacing, trying to outrun the memory of his body pressed against yours, the hard line of his cock against your ass.

It was just biology, you tell yourself. Basic human reaction to having someone straddle you. Nothing personal.

But god—the way his breath hitched, how his fingers dug into your hips... When was the last time anyone looked at you with that kind of raw hunger? Like they wanted to d̶e̶v̶o̶u̶r̶ destroy you?

Stop it. You're supposed to be the seductress here, not the one getting all hot and bothered over an accidental boner.

You know exactly how Jeon operates, how his division operates.

He's not the type to lose his cool over something as basic as physical contact. And yet... the way he reacted to you was definitely not part of his usual 'get away from me' persona.

Nah.

You're probably reading way too much into this. Making up some romance novel fantasy about the deadly assassin who secretly wants you. He's probably in his office right now, rolling his eyes at how obviously affected you were. Because this is Jeon—cold, aloof Jeon who can pin a target blindfolded while solving complex math equations in his head.

So his dick got hard. Big fucking deal. He's human, unfortunately equipped with basic biological responses. Doesn't mean anything except that friction plus pressure equals exactly what you'd expect.

But... You bet he'd look fucking hot losing that control, having all that stupid lethality focused entirely on f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ having you... Your body hums with the memory of his hands on your hips, how easily he could have f̶l̶i̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶ moved you.

And the thing is—it wouldn't have to mean anything, right? Just sex. No feelings, no drama, no breaking RM's precious rules. You're both adults who sometimes need to blow off steam. Simple solution to a simple problem.

Except nothing about Jeon is simple.

Honestly, he's probably already forgotten about the whole thing, while you're here having a whole crisis over how his hands felt on your hips.

You're just another recruit to him, an inconvenience at best.

Right?

Yet... Maybe he still wants you? Sexually, at least?

Fuck. You don't know anymore.

"For fuck's sake," you groan into your pillow.

Enough. This is pointless. Jeon is who he is—cold, controlled, untouchable. Even if technically hooking up wouldn't break any rules (it's not a relationship if it's just sex, right?), he'd never go for it. Trying to seduce him would be like trying to melt a glacier with a match.

Last night was a fluke. A perfect storm of circumstances that'll never happen again. You need to focus on training, on surviving in this cutthroat world. Focus on anything but how his fingers dug into your skin, how his voice roughened when—

"Fuck," you tell your empty room.

Maybe that's exactly what you need, b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ though.

The scent of you haunts him like a ghost he can't exorcise.

Jeon slips from your room like a shadow, silent, deathly like he's been trained to. The door clicks shut behind him and he exhales slowly, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath.

Your scent—chai tea with undertones of something softer, more intimate—clings to his clothes, his skin, his fucking hair. It makes his head spin in a way that's dangerously close to intoxication.

The morning light streaming through the hallway windows hits different somehow. Brighter. Sharper. More real than it has any right to be. Or maybe it's just his sleep-addled brain trying to process the fact that he actually slept through the night.

No nightmares clawing at his consciousness.

No haunting memories of thorned roses and blood-soaked floors.

No phantom voices snarling accusations in his ear.

Just... peace.

Weird, unsettling, unwanted peace.

He needs to move. Questions will start flying if anyone notices his absence from breakfast. Eyebrows raised at the feared assassin missing his usual spot at the corner table, back to the wall, eyes on every entrance.

The thought makes his jaw clench hard enough to hurt. He needs his quarters, his routine, anything to ground him back in the cold reality he's built for himself.

The common area of the Seduction Division stretches before him like a minefield. His footsteps make no sound as he crosses it—a habit born from years of training and necessity. His ears strain for any sign of movement, any hint that he's not alone—but the silence is clear.

There's no one around to see him, to wonder why the Chief of Tactical Assassinations is sneaking through the Seduction Division at dawn like some guilty fucking teenager.

His card practically stabs the elevator scanner, urgency making his movements sharp and jerky. The wait feels endless, each second increasing the risk of discovery. The faster he can get back to his floor—back to his world of order and control—the sooner he can forget how w̶e̶l̶l̶ strange it felt waking up in your bed drenched in buttery smells.

As soon as the elevator arrives he steps in, jabbing his floor number with force. The doors slide close, and another wave of chai tea hits him—your goddamn cloying scent.

It's absurd, how your presence somehow kept the demons at bay when nothing else has worked for years.

No.

He shakes the thought away violently, like a dog trying to dislodge a tick. The elevator descends, and he forces his breathing to slow, to steady. Rebuild the walls brick by brick. Lock away anything resembling vulnerability.

By the time the doors open, his face is a perfect mask again, all traces of the man who slept beside you locked away behind steel and concrete.

The walk to his room feels longer than usual, each step carrying him further from your door but not from the memory of what happened there. Only when he's inside his quarters, surrounded by the familiar scents of pine and wood that he's cultivated so carefully, does some of the tension leave his shoulders.

He stands frozen in the center of his room, trying to piece himself together.

But your scent still clings to him, sweet and spicy and maddeningly comforting. Because he can't escape the memory of your body pressed against his, warm and soft in all the places he's been cold and hard for so long.

A groan slips past his defenses as he scrubs a hand over his face. Chai tea has invaded every fiber of his clothing, every pore of his skin. It's suffocating, asphyxiating, and he can't fucking breathe without inhaling more of you.

"Shit," he mutters, fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons with uncharacteristic clumsiness.

The fabric feels charged somehow, holding the ghost of your curves like some kind of cruel imprint against his skin. He needs to get it off, needs to wash away every trace of you before it sinks in any deeper than it already has.

His clothes hit the floor in a messy heap that would shock anyone who's seen the military precision of his quarters.

But right now he doesn't care, because he needs to wash off the lingering remnants of your proximity. So he stalks to the bathroom, steps echoing his frustration against the tile floor.

This shouldn't be getting to him. You're nothing but an annoyance, a complication he never asked for.

So why can't he shake the feeling of your hands on him, your breath against his neck, your body yielding beneath his?

The shower spray hits like ice, shocking a hiss from between clenched teeth. Good. Let it freeze out the lingering heat of you, the maddening softness that threatens to unravel years of curated self-control.

He braces against the wall, water pounding down his back as he hangs his head. It's been so long since anyone touched him like that. Not since...

The thought stings, an old wound that never quite closed, still seeping poison into his veins after all this time.

But his body is a fucking traitor because it clearly gives 0 fucks about old wounds or hard-learned lessons. All it knows is the memory of your hips under his hands, your thighs straddling his lap, the perfect curve of your ass that he's caught himself staring at more times than he'd ever admit. Arousal flares hot and insistent despite his best efforts to quash it.

His tongue finds his lip ring automatically, worrying the metal in that nervous tell he can never quite shake. But even this small habit betrays him, reminding him of how your eyes had lingered there, dark with want that mirrored his own.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It was just biology. Basic human response to friction and warmth and proximity. It's not like he wants to f̶u̶c̶k̶ touch you specifically. It could have been anyone. It should be anyone else.

But lust is a bitch, so naturally, horror floods him as he glances down to find himself hardening—a basic impulse he can't seem to control no matter how much he despises himself for it.

And maybe for one dangerous moment, he considers giving in. Because how long has it been since he last touched himself?

The memory feels distant, buried under missions and paperwork and endless nights of insomnia, and his hand drifts lower, drawn by the promise of relief after so many months of n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ numbness.

"Fuck." He jerks his hand back like it's been burned, water droplets flying from his fingertips.

What the hell is he doing? He's the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, not some hormone-driven rookie who can't control his basic urges. You're just an ensign in the Seduction Division, and he's already learned what happens when chiefs get involved with recruits. The scars from last time still keep him up at night, still haunt him every time he closes his eyes.

This isn't him. He doesn't do this—doesn't let physical needs compromise his control. That's V's territory, letting desire override discipline and common sense. Jeon is better than that. Has to be better than that. The alternative is unthinkable.

He cranks the water to ice cold with a snarl, punishment for his body's rebellion. The shock of it steals his breath and sends goosebumps racing across his skin, but at least it kills the arousal. He finishes washing mechanically, movements sharp with self-directed anger that borders on violence.

The freezing air hits him like a slap as he steps out, raising goosebumps across his skin and making his muscles tense.

Good. The cold helps him think clearly, helps him remember who he is and what's expected of him.

He dries off quickly and dresses mechanically, creating barriers between himself and the untamed arousal stirring somewhere in the lower regions of his brain.

By the time he emerges from his quarters, he feels like he's back to normal—no trace remains of the man who woke up in your bed. His expression is pure ice, posture rigid, shoulders straight.

Though if someone were to look deep into his eyes, they'd see them dark and stormy with everything he's trying to bury.

But that doesn't matter, because the Chief of Tactical Assassinations doesn't lose control.

Not for anyone.

Your body feels like it's been through a meat grinder, and honestly? You're kind of into it.

You drag yourself toward the elevator, muscles screaming in that satisfying way that only comes from getting absolutely demolished during training.

Kazuha had you doing laps for what felt like eternity, her burgundy hair streaming behind her like some predatory sea creature as she demonstrated "proper form" for the fifteenth time. The chlorine smell still clings to your skin despite the quick shower, and your hair's doing that weird half-damp thing that's going to look like absolute trash in about twenty minutes.

"Swimming builds stealth," she'd said earlier, pushing wet strands from her face with that intense look she gets when she's in full instructor mode. "Helps you move silently. Might save your life someday."

Can't really argue with that. In this line of work, the more ways you know how to not die, the better your chances of, well, not dying. Even if your arms currently feel like overcooked noodles and you're pretty sure your lungs have filed for divorce.

The hallway stretches ahead like a never-ending tunnel. Whoever designed this place clearly had a hard-on for minimalism—all sleek surfaces and indirect lighting. Very "secret criminal organization with excellent taste," which you suppose is the point.

You notice Kazuha keeps glancing at her digital card as you walk, the blue glow illuminating her face in quick flashes. She's got that look—the one that says she's sitting on information and trying to decide if it's worth sharing. After about the fifth glance, she finally breaks the comfortable silence between you.

"Heard about the camping trip?" she asks, voice casual but eyes watchful.

"The what now?" You slow your pace, raising an eyebrow so high it might actually leave your face. The words 'camping' and 'deadly criminal organization' don't exactly go together in your mind.

"Moon's latest idea." Her lips quirk up in that way that means she finds something both ridiculous and amusing. "Team building or whatever. Though knowing him, it's probably more about testing survival skills than roasting marshmallows."

You snort—actually snort—imagining Seoul's deadliest criminals sitting cross-legged in a circle singing campfire songs: V with a guitar. Jeon scowling at a marshmallow. AD refusing to leave his tent without Wi-Fi. The mental image is too much.

"When's this happening?" you ask, already mentally cataloging what outdoor gear you own (approximately none) and what you'll need to borrow (approximately everything).

"Next weekend. Mandatory for everyone—even the Council." She grins, and there's something almost childishly delighted in her expression. "Can't wait to see how some of them handle roughing it."

"Bet Jeon's secretly a wilderness expert." The words tumble out before your brain can slam on the brakes. "Probably knows fifty ways to start a fire with just his glare."

And why the fuck do you always do this? It's like your mouth has a direct line to the Jeon-obsessed part of your brain that you try so hard to keep locked in a box labeled 'do not open, contains bad decisions.'

Kazuha's laugh bounces off the walls, bright and genuine. "True. But I'm more excited to watch V try to pitch a tent. That'll be worth all the mosquito bites."

You both crack up at the mental image—V, with his designer clothes and perfectly styled hair, struggling with tent poles and swearing elegantly. Doing some dramatic gestures as he insists this is beyond his pay grade.

The conversation flows easier after that, like a dam breaking. Division gossip (apparently someone from Logistics hooked up with one of J-Hope's medics), latest missions (Flower's team extracted information from some politician last week), the weird mix of normal and deadly that makes up your daily life.

But part of your brain keeps circling back to the camping trip. It might be interesting, seeing everyone outside these walls. Away from the usual hierarchy and rules. Maybe even see certain people—a certain person—in a different light...

Stop it. Bad brain.

The elevator takes its sweet time arriving, but for once you don't mind. These moments—just chatting and laughing like you're normal twenty-somethings instead of trained criminals—make the whole "chose a life of crime" thing a bit more bearable. Almost like you could be two friends heading to a coffee shop instead of two members of a seduction team returning from combat training.

Then the doors slide open with that soft pneumatic hiss, and the mood shifts faster than V's trigger finger.

Because AD is there, and he looms in the elevator like a human popsicle in pajamas. His blonde hair's a disaster zone, like he's been running his hands through it for hours, and his expression screams 'I will digitally erase your entire existence if you so much as breathe in my direction.'

You and Kazuha instinctively hang back, keeping a respectful distance as you step inside.

The silence is thick enough to choke on. You exchange glances with Kazuha, her eyes wide in a silent what the actual fuck is his deal today? AD's usually grumpy—it's like his personality setting is permanently stuck on 'irritated genius'—but this is next level, even for him.

The elevator hums, counting floors with soft electronic beeps. You study the back of AD's head, noting how his shoulders are hunched forward like he's carrying something heavy.

Something's definitely got the Chief of Cyber Intelligence more pissy than usual.

Maybe someone touched his keyboard. Or breathed near his servers. Or existed in his general vicinity when he was coding.

"Seduction Division?" His voice breaks the silence suddenly, barely above a mumble but somehow filling the entire space.

You stiffen, feeling your spine straighten automatically. Kazuha goes still beside you, her usual fluid energy freezing in place.

"Yes?" you answer, because someone has to and she's not opening her mouth.

AD turns slowly, pivoting on his heel. His dark eyes meet yours, and there's something in them that makes your stomach drop—not anger or irritation, but... Concern? Fear? Something you've never seen on his face before.

"Be careful," he says softly, but there's steel under the words, a warning wrapped in those two simple syllables.

Before you can process what that means—before you can even think to ask what the hell he's talking about—the elevator stops, and AD steps out without another word, his pajama-clad form disappearing down the hallway like some bizarre sleep-deprived ghost.

The doors slide shut, and you let out a heavy breath.

"What was that about?" Kazuha whispers, looking as confused as you feel.

"No idea." You shake your head. "But when AD warns you about something..."

"You listen." She finishes, expression thoughtful.

The elevator continues its descent, but your mind's stuck on AD's warning. He's not exactly known for caring about other divisions' business. Whatever prompted that cryptic message must be serious.

Question is: what is he trying to warn you about?

goal: 300 notes. next chapter will be posted immediately AS SOON as the goal is reached. 🧚🏻 do your thing kiki nation. <3

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littlelostmabari · 2 days ago

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I am broken y'all. Medical issues for days, going through a bout of "hey what if you couldn't use ___ body part for a few days" but spin the roulette wheel every week on which body part we are celebrating. A free ache with every spin! Wheee!

So, what else am I to do but write headcannons for my beloved fictional men with a LI with chronic pain. Should be gn. Mostly fluff, tiniest bit of angst with Arthur.

Headcanons for Cullen Rutherford / Gale Dekarios / Arthur Morgan x ChronicPain!Reader

Cullen Rutherford:

Knows exactly why you are limping / taking deep breaths / not getting out of bed today. He's been there with the Lyrium withdrawals. He sometimes sees it before you admit it, because he watches you when youre not looking (hes done this ever since he met you. He can tell if an attack is coming by how often you bite your lip the day before).

Most of his pain is radiating from his head and spine, so he has his tricks for that. Walks you through his stretches. When those don't work, he knows soldiers who have had pain where you have, maybe they know something.

Maker help you if deep tissue / compression helps you, the man is more than happy to put his entire weight on you even if you don't need it. If it helps? You don't need to ask twice.

He also has been wearing heavy armor for more than a decade, which means his joints are fucked. He has tonics hidden away in every corner of his room and office, one within arms reach at all times. There will be one in your hand the moment you even look like you're about to wince.

The withdrawals also cause nausea, so if you have anything GI related, he's got one word to a runner and you have fresh warm and damp clothes with herbs soaked into them. He's a little squeamish with anything that's not like... battlefield related, but it's you so he'll take care of it.

It's rough when your bad days overlap, but you both have been dealing with this for long enough that you have your emergency kits near the bed. You might beg him to knock you out if anything heavy is nearby though.

The difference between you and him though is that he will move mountains to keep you resting in bed when you need it. Inky or no, he will cross coordinate with Josie to make sure everything that you are responsible for is taken off of your plate. Unfortunately he doesn't know the meaning of the word "break" because yes absolutely "Josie will handle that" but as soon as it's something he could hand off to Rylen or one of his other lieutenants, you can be damned sure he's up until 3 bells past midnight making sure its done. (This is actually useful knowledge once you realize that you can ask him what he'd tell you if the roles were reversed...)

The "you should be with someone who isn't broken" talk is... Well, it's kind of hilarious. I don't know who would bring it up first, but the other of you will just laugh and admit you had the same thoughts. Cullen deserves someone who can get up with him every morning without trouble? Well you deserve something better than a washed up Templar with withdrawal issues. It's a tie.

Gale Dekarios:

Another chronic pain girlie. He knows precisely what it feels like when you say that your insides are trying to claw their way out of your body. The nice thing about Gale though is that he doesn't make it about pain Olympics. I think it would be really easy for him to be like "oh well, is it a Netherese orb? Come back when your insides are trying to eat the sheer existence of magic". No, he goes the route of "Unfortunately, my dearest, I know exactly what you mean. What do you need of me? Let me try to allieviate your distress."

During the game events, he dotes on you. The man is love-starved and will do whatever he can to be useful, despite his own pain and suffering. The most useful thing he does, though, is distract. He distracts the others from bothering you too much about it, and he distracts you using whatever means he can, including illusions and bad puns.

During and after the game, the man can cook. He will make you his mother's late season game stew that will perk you right up. Tara mentions offhand that his mother doesn't have a late season game stew, which tells you that he's trying to not only comfort your body but also your mind with images of home and comfort.

After the game, when things have settled, the folks down at the temples of Life domain deities think that he must be studying to become a cleric the way he is inhaling their tomes on pain reduction. If magic can't remove your ailment altogether, the least he can do is minimize your suffering.

The nice thing about living in a wizards tower with unseen servants and all manner of enchantments, is that you can spend time away from your other responsibilities. The house cleans itself, laundry hangs itself, books can be lifted in front of your gaze and pages turned without you lifting a finger. You can spend your energy on existing. (Gale will insist on reading to you, whenever he's home, because he likes to hold you as close as you'll let him... Nevermind him warming and cooling his hands along your back in appropriate intervals to reduce inflammation...)

You bring up the "someone who isn't broken" talk, and he tries to interrupt you the moment he knows where this is going, but when you put a hand up and ask him to let you get through this, he does. He sits patiently while you tell him all the reasons he deserves better, how you're holding him back, and he does not scoff or laugh. He gets a deeper and deeper frown, though, and when you're done, he sinks down from the couch where you are sitting to kneel at the ground at your feet because damn his terrible knees, you need to know that he's not with you because of sympathy or because you are a "project". He's with you because you are the light of his life, his moon and stars, and he wants to have the whole of you. Even if your bad days outnumber your good ones, the fact that he gets to be here, with you, on your bad days is more blessing than he has asked for. You are the reason he isn't Netherese vapor, and, no, he is not with you out of some sense of obligation, he's with you because the man is devoted to you, body and soul. He will spend the evening kissing every inch of you, especially the places you think are ugly or broken, because it would be impossible for him to love you if he didn't love every part of you.

Arthur Morgan:

We would need to break this into high honor and low honor, and low honor Arthur is no fun in these headcannons so HIGH HONOR IT IS. And also no bad things happen to Arthur ever because this is my HCs and Rockstar owns enough of my tears.

If youre in the gang, you manage to hide it from him, from all of them, for the longest time. Grimshaw knows first, and you and she had a long talk when you joined the gang about carrying your weight. You have to work double on your good days but for some unknown reason (it's because you're kind to her, unlike some folks **coughKarencough**) she lets your bad days slide.

Arthur comes back after a haul and there's no reason for you to be holed up in your tent. He understood when you got this way after moving camp, but it's a bright sunny day, the best kind of day to take his girl out riding. But you're huddled on your cot, tonic half drunk because it tastes like ass, eyes pinched shut to the sunlight that streams in as he lifts the flap.

It takes a minute for him to understand. The issue is that he has all those aches and pains, but he deals with them, like everybody else. It's part of living. You have to remind him that his pain goes away, while yours lingers. It's debilitating, and no, you won't be joining him fishing today unless he's willing to remove the part of your body that is on fire and also carry you literally everywhere and not expect you to carry a conversation.

If you're not in the gang, maybe you're a sweetheart he picked up before the shit show in Blackwater. The truth is he doesn't really want to be out and about in the city, which means he's perfectly fine staying home with you. He doesn't understand at first why you move so slowly, like every step is across broken glass, but you get there in the end and share your meals and your fire and your bed.

He is never able to fully empathize, but he's able to take grasps at the idea that you'll never be able to do everything the others do. He thinks he's okay with it until you give him the "you should be with someone who isn't broken" talk.

The talk goes poorly. He doesn't understand why you're sending him away, and when you tell him it's because you love him and want the best for him, it triggers his memories of Mary and he will NOT do that again. He will not give up a good thing, not give up a place where he is needed, where he is wanted so desperately, for the thought that he deserves someone... Better? But it takes a couple days after he storms out for him to drag himself back to your feet. Darlin, he's a bad man. He's done a lot of bad things, the blood on his hands would drown you if you knew it all. If you'll let him love you, even just a little bit, even for a few days here or there, maybe it means he's doing something alright. And you let him because even if he doesn't understand, he does make it better. Even just a little bit.

Arthur is gone a lot more than you'd like, but you know you're on his mind all the time, when he comes home with new tonics, new herbs, something that some doctor said in the closest city to the job he was meant to focus on for Dutch. He lights up when something helps because it means he helped, he helped, he was needed. If it doesn't, he's taking on your extra chores load to make sure none of the others call you a layabout like Uncle. (The first time Micah does it, Arthur lays him out flat.)

Any downtime he has, he'll sit with you. He can't magic away your pain, but he fills your days with the two of you even when you can't get out of bed. Sometimes he draws (his journal is filled with sketches of you sleeping). Sometimes he will call Hosea in for a story from before you joined the gang, or he'll read to you from your favorite books that you already know by heart.

And if he's around for a good day, he's pulling you out of your hidey-hole and making sure that you get enough proper sunshine and a swim and food and maybe a glad or two of the good stuff to make sure you are building happy memories regardless of the days that you spend away from all of those comforts.

Even if he has to carry you. We all know Arthur is strong. If he can use that strength for something other than hurting, he's leaping for it every opportunity. More than once Grimshaw has had to shake her head because she knows you're having a good day, but Arthur insists.

Anyway please take care of yourself and take your pain seriously and find you a partner that is gentle with you on your bad days. Xoxo ~ Mabari

#im just in pain okay #and i want some fictional man fluff #chronic pain #chronic illness #dragon age #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen rutherford x reader #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dragon age hcs #bg3 hcs #rdr2 hcs

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r-aindr0p · 3 days ago

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Thoughts on book 6 while it's still fresh in my mind because that was a lot :')

The whole story in general is great to me tbh It's one of the rare visual novel format games where I actually take the time to read the main story but book 6 felt very special for many reasons

I think it's since everyone in the teams (minus the fools that came to get grim and bring Vil his cosmetics) Has overblotted already and they know how it is, they were already more or less in the process of working on themselves and somehow kept on thinking things through during the long descent into tartarus. In every book there's a sense of urgency during the overblot phase, and there too but it takes them so much time to actually reach down and realize what's has been happening for the last 4 to 5 hours that they had time to experience conflict and bonding. I did every single battle in every hangar to read all these little interactions, the bickering, kicks and compliments.

It was exhausting in the best possible way.

Making a bullet list of what struck me from this point because I have trouble explaining things clearly especially when there is a lot of things :')

Battles : so many, poorly rewarded in gems but great reward in interactions actually

Ost : 10/10 will remember, I love synthetizer sounds and Ignihyde/book 6 did not disappoint

Jamil mumbling the whole time trying to have a strategy against the phantoms while Leona casually keeps ripping into him (and firing spells at him because he's in the way, cats are assholes so this checks out/pos)

Riddle and Azul both wanting to be right in their explanations everyone yaps and no one listens

Pomefiore was vibing though and I loved that for them

Jamil you had 3 hours you could've slept it doesnt take that long to gather supplies for two please sleep

Azul so exhausted he slept on Riddle's shoulder, aww :)

So uh...? Did the phantoms lure Ortho to merge with them or was there and Actual part of late Ortho down there....? Either way, eerie, I like that

Robots getting a heart/soul is one of my favorite themes ever I am so happy for the little guy

Also Ortho has the same seiyuu as Mikaze Ai from utapri who is a singing robot i am going insane about that (and he sings the op song for kono oto tomare but that's unrelated) Love that seiyuu

Sobbing for Idia because he must've felt really done with everything and desperate to be able to actually Overblot (Au bord du gouffre, et au fond du trou as I'd say in french idk how to explain this)

Please Idia share things, it's scary to think about it but it's actually not that bad and sharing your interests feels great, you already do that in a way at the board games club, continue this way

Vil was the MVP throughout the whole book honestly beautiful in every way hearing him genuinely cry and then laugh in such a short span of time threw me off positively

More Rook lore hello wdym "oh I have several family villas and a bunch of siblings" WHAT DO YOU MEAN SIR

Unfortunately I remembered Grim has the same seiyuu as h*talia england so hearing him cry felt weird for a second, happy he's back though

Hey wdym "we renovated the whole ass dorm and every single room but lmao not yours though"

Mickey apparitions feel so off everytime it pulls me out of the immersion in the story because it's so goofy (it's like hearing donald duck take damage in Kingdom hearts battles I can't take it seriously it's too funny)

Fuck legend of the underworld.

That's about it ! And I'm probably forgetting a bunch of other details right now but I loved book 6 despite my complaining posts :") I have trouble knowing how I feel in general/processing my own feelings and put words onto them but I like stories like this because it helps with that ?? I really feel happy and sad and other things, and realize it the moment I feel it ?? Once again I don't really know how to explain it but it's a positive experience.

Thanks for sticking along with my yapping and during my speedrun of the book :')

Minor book 7 stuff under the cut

Wdym I need to level up good cards for book 7 ???

Is it that hard and hellish ?? I barely crawled out of the 6000 tartarus fights 😭

Well I hope you can choose whoever unlike the teams in book 6 because I'm about to create the dream team called "Oops ! All Rook Hunt !"/hj

Anyway here's my ssrs, what's painful is farming for the spell materials honestly but My Rollo is maxed out and well taken care of ✨️ Malleus and Lilia do decent damage as well and have their spells either maxed or at 8 each. Though I tend to level up cards based on their looks and favorites rather than how useful they are :)) I have no idea if there's a single healer in there I'll check it out later.

But for now I will harrass Sam until I get at least one ssr perfume in his lootboxes so I can uncap savanaclaw Rook once more and have him forever locked up in the guest room with Rollo, the closest thing to croissant de lune I'll have in game hhhjgfje

#Twst #twst rambling #twst book 6 #book 6 spoilers #Showing you my cool rocks (rook)#Look at my Rook collection :)))#Rook collection..... par Laurent Voulzy....#On a tous dans le coeur un grand chasseur oublié couteau tiré coupe au bol promenant dans la forêt #pardon

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coldilikeit · 6 hours ago

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Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Chapter 10- You're too poor for that

Mild time skip*

____________________________

"Dick if you keep being hostile, I'll have no choice but to send you back to Bludhaven, it's best if you don't join us for tonight" Bruce says firmly

"What the fuck."

It was movie night and it was your turn to pick, Viviana excitedly said she had a movie she wanted everyone to watch and snatched the remote away from you, only for Cassandra to snatch the remote back from her and give it to you "it's not your turn yet" she says, in another attempt to get the remote Dick pushed her slightly but she fell to the ground and wailed

"S-s-sorry... I'm so weak and petite, it's not your fault....."

You see Stephanie's face physically recoil while Barbara looks away completely to hide her stifling laughter, you were sure everyone was laughing, As Dick was about to help her up, Bruce's vexed voice cuts through the laughter "Your sister is hurt and you laugh?"

"It was all fun, she's not even hurt that much, the floor's carpeted" Jason reasons but Bruce is having none of it "Richard apologize."

Viviana smiles and gets in between Bruce and her brothers "it's fine! I'm fine! I'm sure Dick didn't mean to hurt me" she turns to Dick "You're my brother... So.. I forgive you" then she reached out her hand to him and as if on cue, the moon shines through the window to give Viviana this glowing effect

Damn... This girl got the manhwa lighting you think

Protagonist! The moon has shined a halo on your hair, you look like an angel! Would you like to add a wind effect for 500 points?

"yeah, yeah sure" she whispered

A cool breeze flowed into the living room and Viviana's hair danced with the wind

"why is there wind here aren't the windows shut?" You ask confused, Bruce clenched his fists and looked at Dick expectantly, hoping he'd apologize and they can have a nice night together

But when has Dick ever backed down?

"I barely touched her, she fell on her own, and it never would have happened if she hadn't tried to take the remote away from Cass and (Name)"

"That doesn't matter you still pushed her"

"She's a vigilante, she'll be fine" Tim backs Dick up "I don't condone family hurting family!"

"Sure wasn't a problem when they were hurting me" you decided to butt in, you get that Viviana is supposed to be the loved one, but isn't this a bit biased? He's even turning on the others

"Dick if you keep being hostile, I'll have no choice but to send you back to Bludhaven, it's best if you don't join us for tonight" Bruce says firmly

"what the fuck."

"I'm serious Rickard!"

"fine then" Dick leaves the living room, you sigh and leave as well heading for your room, and everyone (except Viviana) followed

_____________________________

"this wasn't supposed to happen"

Viviana grits and teeth, she was supposed to be an angel, she read this once in a manhwa, where the protagonist forgives someone who hurt them and was seen as an angel by all, so what if in that story the person who was forgiven was literally trying to kill the main character and Dick just pushed her onto a soft carpeted floor

She even spent points for dramatic effect.

Protagonist, this is bad. Your story is supposed to be a happy family, you've created a rift, and it's not looking good, you'll fail at this point

"I don't know what's going wrong! Listen I've done my best to look like a saint!"

Maybe you should try being a good person

"I am a good person! That's my character, I'm so kind and good and patient that the family can't help but gravitate towards my kind soul!"

Brainwashing someone isn't a kind thing to do...

"Shut up!" Viviana throws a picture frame on the screen, the screen fuzzes out for a few moments before going back to normal

(⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Bruce: 100/100

Dick: 0/100

Jason: 0/100

Tim: 0/100

Damian: 0/100

Duke: 0/100

Stephanie: 0/100

Cassandra: 0/100

Barbara:0/100

"How much is the love potion?"

15000 points, You're too poor for that. Make them love you manually

____________________________

Bruce didn't come home for a few days, he apologized to Dick and left, Sometimes superman keeps on stopping by to check in on the kids and Gotham

Life went like normal, Dick decided to stay cause Bruce wasn't there and as for Viviana?

She uhh... Keeps trying to frame you

She had no assignment? It's because you poured water in her bag and ruined it

She couldn't do her presentation? You broke her laptop

It didn't go well.

"Oh please, (Name) doesn't drink water, all she has is (Favorite unhealthy drink), you can't even get your lie straight"

"She probably had a good reason, you're so shitty"

Then Bruce came back.

He came back with a grim expression, a grim expression that disappeared when he looked at his children, then came back harsher than ever when he looked at Viviana

"You." He grumbled

"Let's talk."

____________________________

Dick: I'm running away y'all won't see me again

Bruce: Runs away first*

Also if you guys didn't notice, the student who kept on asking (Name) uncomfortable questions after she was attacked by the Scarecrow was also Viviana

___________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @pearlyribbons @cruzeforce4256

#dc universe #dcu #yandere batfam #yandere platonic #yandere #warmisekaidc #yandere tim drake #yandere duke thomas #yandere damian wayne #yandere barbara gordon #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc #yandere stephanie brown #yandere cassandra cain #yandere jason todd

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pieandflannel · 13 hours ago

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౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ bittersuite 🥃

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x sam’s gf!reader

summary: dean falls into depression due to being lovesick over you, who is dating his brother.

cw: angst, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, depression, lovesick dean, depressed dean, hopeless dean, no happy ending for dean, grammar not checked, somehow proofread.

word count: 781

julia yaps: i wrote this instead of going to sleep so apologies for any mistakes!

inspo: bittersuite by billie eilish + this tiktok

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

i’ve been having dreams.. about you and me..

at least one times a week.. i feel so empty when i wake up knowing i can only touch you in my dreams..

i can’t sleep.. properly because the only thing on my mind is you..

i see the way you want at me.. am i crazy? is it just my delusions? am i seeing what i want to see?

i want to be the one.. to hold you tight against me.. kiss your soft lips.. feel the warmth of your skin..

but i got to be careful.. lately he’s been suspicious as to why i haven’t been myself, that i’ve been turning down so many women.. not even checking anyone out.. but how can i when the only person on my mind is you..

i gotta watch what i say.. i can’t let you or him in on my true feelings.. it would ruin the whole dynamic between us..

god i hope it all goes away.. maybe the alcohol will help me forget..

cause i can’t fall in love with you.. i just can’t

no matter how bad that i want to.. it’s wrong, you’re my brother’s girlfriend

And i could never do that to sammy..

tears form in dean’s eyes

there is a knock on dean’s door, his brother’s voice is heard from behind the door “dean? you in here?”

dean clears his throat and wipes his eyes before he answers “yeah” his voice raspy from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

sam slowly opens the door, noticing dean sitting by the table behind the door, bottles of whiskey sitting on the table, some of them empty.

“dean you haven’t been out your room for a couple days, what’s going on?” sam asks with a worried look.

“have you been drinking all this time?” he asks, picking up one of the empty bottles, assessing it before putting it down.

dean says nothing. just takes another sip from his glass. sam sighs.

“talk to me man..” sam’s voice softening up knowing that his brother’s behaviour only means one thing and one thing only, dean is trying to run away from something. and that something usually being his own feelings and thoughts.

sam looks at dean with his well-known puppy eyes, “please..” he pleads.

“leave me alone sam” dean finally speaks, obviously shutting his brother out, but what else is he supposed to do when that’s all he knows thanks to john.

sam knows not to push his brother because it’s just no use, so all he does is sigh,

“alright.. i did find us a case though” he offers hoping dean will finally leave his room. get some fresh air. eat something. maybe even crack a half smile after the hunt is a success.

“you two can handle it” dean says in a monotone voice as he takes another sip. sam’s heart aches seeing his older brother like this, his jaw clenching slightly. the feeling of hopelessness flooding his system. he doesn’t remember the last time dean was in such a bad place. well at least to a point where he shuts himself in his room for days.

“so what now you’re just not going to talk to me and drink yourself to death? is that it?” sam tries very hard not to snap at him, but even he has his limit of patience.

“pretty much, yeah” dean shrugs, sounding more and more numb, like he actually doesn’t care what happens to him.

sam lets out a small scoff and shakes his head in disbelief, the dean he knows wasn’t a quitter, dean would never give up.

his brother is battling something very serious inside his head but he refuses to open up. wouldn’t be a first, but this time it seems as serious as ever.

“this isn’t like you dean, you have to talk me” sam attempts the soft approach again, he closes the door and sits down on the edge of the bed, his voice sympathetic yet pleading.

dean isn’t happy about sam pushing him, especially that he wasn’t going to tell him that he fell in love with his brother’s girlfriend, he wasn’t going to tell him how she makes his heart flutter whenever he hears her voice, or how he cannot keep his eyes off her when she smiles so beautifully, he cannot tell him that every time sam kisses her he wishes to be in sam’s spot, or even the fact that he can’t stop feeling guilty that he even fell for her in the first place,

i mean come on.

this ain’t a fairytale with a happy ending where they all hug it out and live happily ever after.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @figisonline @figthoughts @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids

♡ comment to be added/removed!

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peaches2217 · 7 hours ago

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On (Wo)manhood: An Unexpected Continuation

~~~

“I think I’m a woman,” Luigi blurts out over a table strewn with pizza crusts.

He meets Mario’s eyes with a confidence that startles even him; though his muscles are tense with anticipation, he knows he’s ready. This isn’t the first time he’s saying any of this aloud. His audience this time around might be less prepared, more confused, but he won’t respond with any sort of vitriol. What’s there to be afraid of?

Surprising him even further, Mario doesn’t act confused in the slightest. Judging by the way his eyes widen, and the way his mustache curls as a smile tugs at his lips, he looks…proud?

“Whoa.” He stuffs what remains of the slice in his hand into his mouth before leaning across the table, pulling his knees onto the cushion in order to reach Luigi. “Vat’ch big newsh!” he cheers, clapping his brother’s shoulder. “I’m proud a’ya, bro!”

“Um—” is Luigi’s highly intelligent and well thought-out response.

This is… not exactly the reaction he was expecting.

Suddenly Mario is beset by a coughing fit, just long enough to distract Luigi from his own thoughts (or lack thereof), but Mario waves him off when he tries to assist.

"Sis," he amends once he catches his breath. Despite nearly choking on a hurriedly-chewed crust, he’s smiling. “I’m, uh, probably gonna slip up now and then — but I’ll do my best to get it right! No matter what, you’ll always be my bro—twin. You'll always be my twin.”

He plops back into his seat and slaps the side of his head, playing up the exasperation that Luigi must be mirroring himself.

"What matters most," he affirms gently, "is that you're happy. It's gonna take some getting used to, but I'm here for you every step of the way, so—"

Luigi, unsure what else to do, slumps forward and drags his palms over his face with a sigh. Probably not the reaction Mario was looking for, either.

“You can still call me bro,” he mumbles into his hands.

“…What’s wrong?” Mario’s admiration is tinged with worry now. “I— I’m sorry, Weegee, I promise, I didn’t mean to. I’m gonna keep—”

“It’s not that,” Luigi is quick to amend. He’s spent the past week rehearsing, preparing an answer for every single possible question, and it’s taken all of thirty seconds for Mario to whip out the I love you and accept you just as you are speech.

All that preparation, and for what? It all feels like a waste now.

“I just… thought this would take longer.” I thought I’d have more time to figure it out, too, he adds to himself.

“Longer to do what?”

Luigi lowers his hands so he can tap his fingers against the tabletop. He’d been counting on finding a more definitive answer somewhere in the midst of Mario’s questioning. So much for that.

“You can still call me bro.” He slumps back into his seat. The weight that’s been lifted from his chest makes him feel free — a little too free. He feels like he could float away any moment, and he hates not feeling connected to gravity. “I have no clue what I am.”

Only now does Mario look confused. “I thought you said—”

“I said I think I am. I don’t know anything beyond that.” Luigi snags a stray crust, tears off a piece, and pops it into his mouth. “No’fer lack’a trying.”

Mario doesn’t respond. He instead hums tunelessly, resting his chin atop interlaced fingers, elbows planted on the table. His lips pull into a thin line and his eyes dart from focal point to focal point, never resting in one place long. It isn’t long before Luigi finds himself doing the same thing.

“Does Peasley know?” Mario finally asks.

“He’s the first person I told,” Luigi says. “You’re the second.”

“What’d he say?”

“He was… he was okay with it.”

More than okay, he thinks to add. For reasons he’ll never truly understand, his husband worships the ground he walks on. He’s already commissioned a dress in celebration of Luigi's mere questioning — the epitome of fine craftsmanship, but leagues above what he deserves for something so uncertain.

"What do you think, my darling?"

The garment had been laid out on the bedspread, a multi-colored swath of silk and lace that was apparently all for him. It had been overwhelming, to say the least.

"But I still have no clue what to come out as!" Luigi had said. "And that's considering I even come out at all!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Peasley took his hand in his. He pressed a kiss to Luigi's knuckles as he chuckled.

"Once we cross that bridge, I'll have another commissioned," he assured Luigi, flashing that dazzling smile of his. "Anything for you, my Princess."

“Well, yeah, duh.” Mario’s voice pulls Luigi back into the present, back into the corner booth of a cozy Toad Town pizzeria. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. But what he say?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… did he have any suggestions?”

Luigi gulps.

“Perhaps you’re both," Peasley had proposed. "Prince, Princess. Doesn't matter so long as it's you."

The more Luigi considers it, the more enamored he’s become with that suggestion. Maybe he is both. Maybe he doesn’t have to be solely a man or a woman or some secret third option. Maybe a man can be a woman, too. Maybe he doesn’t have to forfeit any part of himself.

Maybe. That’s where he’s stuck. There’s still a part of him — a very small but very, very loud part of him — that insists his logic makes no sense. Maybe he is a man that’s also a woman…

“Or maybe I’m just nuts and he’s going along with my delusions because he’s too stupidly in love for his own good.”

By the time Luigi finishes his rant, his arms are folded on the table, his cheek resting against his left forearm. He waits in silence so Mario can process everything that’s just been dumped on him. In the meantime, he contemplates the golden band on his ring finger; it glimmers in the overhead lights, dazzling and comforting.

“Oh, c’mon. You really think he’d do that?”

Luigi looks back up at his brother without lifting his head, and he’s met with that same unwavering confidence he himself exuded ten minutes earlier.

“Luigi, you know that’s not how he plays. From what I’m hearing, everything he said seemed sincere.”

Only now does Luigi lift his head. It’s not so much that he doubts his husband, it’s just… sometimes, he doubts himself more than he can trust anyone else. “You think?”

Mario takes a swig from a formerly-forgotten glass of cola, clearing his throat as he swallows. “And just from what I’m hearing,” he says, “I think he’s right.”

Luigi’s breath catches in his throat. “You do?”

“You shoulda seen yourself, bro. Telling me all that about being a guy and a girl at the same time? You looked so happy! And you sounded so sure of yourself, too.”

A shy smile tugs at Luigi’s lips. “Guess I’m just worried it doesn’t make much sense.”

Mario shrugs. “You know what else doesn’t make much sense? Falling into a pipe, getting spit out in a fantasy world, and marrying into royalty. But look where we’re at now!”

At this, Luigi laughs, the lingering darkness of self-doubt disipating into mist. Put that way, perhaps it’s not too far-fetched an idea.

“So?” Plucking a stray crust from the metal platter between them, he raises his eyebrows, fixing Luigi with a good-humored smile. “What do you say, sis?”

Sis. It’s strange, but it feels right, every bit as right as bro. “I say…” He mirrors his twin’s actions and claims a crust for himself. “…I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Mario is undaunted by his evasive answer. He knows. Now the ball is back in Luigi’s court. It’s just a matter of accepting himself as he is, and condensing all these feelings into a few decisive words, and maybe talking Peasley down from spending another chunk of the royal treasury on yet another gown.

It might take some more time, but that’s okay.

No matter what, he won’t be alone.

No matter what, he’ll be loved.

The twins toast each other before scarfing their crusts down, and once more, the night is filled with laughter.

#sometimes ya just gotta write a sequel to a mini fic a year and a half later y'know?#huge huge HUGE shoutout to eleventhourfactor for her help and edits!! this was literally unreadable before I ran it by her #thank you!!!#super mario bros #smb #mario and luigi #m&l superstar saga #luigi x peasley #luisley #peaches' fancy fics

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blinkvlink · 2 days ago

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alright, so, talia al ghul

these last few days I began reading more and more on her to get to know and understand her better.

my conclusion: I love talia al ghul. I LOVE HER. When she is written by good writers, she is gem of a character with deep lore, deep emotions and complex layers. She has her own morals and ways, and will not bend unless she wants to. Obviously she is gorgeous (even more so when she is not whitewashed) The definition of a queen.

That said, I want to see more of her outside of Batman and Robin. Especially Batman. Because more often than not, we see her through their stories. Their emotions, their point of views. If not them, through her father. It's so obvious to me that there is a golden mine under what we see, which in my opinion is always so surface levelled. And I think that is why I still can't get behind the Brutalia ship.

Selina x Bruce has had years to develop, both the ship itself and the characters, no matter how poorly they were handled sometimes. They both feel like their own people, with their own stories, friends and people. Batman has the Batfamily, which sometimes include Selina herself. And Selina has Holly, Maggie and other characters I can't recall at the moment. While I really don't like it most of the time, they even both have their respective love interests. All these things help add to their relationship whenever they come back to each other, because it actually feels like two people reuniting. I could get into how deep their relationship is too but that's for another post.

When it comes to Talia and Bruce, for me, it always feels empty. Yes, there are very charged emotions, a very complicated history, and a literal child that bind them together, but we always see this through Bruce, maybe Robin, but rarely ever Talia herself. She is just there for us to see if Damian and Bruce are seeing her, or she is involved in some event that is happening in THEIR stories.

I want to see Talia in her own element. I want to see her in her own past (and I am not talking about a single issue in either one of these two characters runs). I even want to see her have other love interests, because most of the time her character feels too much: Bruce Bruce Beloved Bruce to me. Not only that, their romance is very much doomed by the narrative. They have very two different ideologies, and have the means to achieve those said ideologies, which drives them apart sooner or later. This can be incredibly tasty angsty and beautiful, but in the end of the day, it would became the same 'will they won't they' paradox of Batcat, and unlike the latter, it's not because of DC refusing to break the status quo. It's because giving these two characters a happy ending would mean one of them giving their ideology up, and knowing DC would never do that for Batman, I don't want to see Talia give up her ambitions for a man.

The conclusion is: I want to see more of her character outside the male figures in her life. I want her to find love that will actually make her happy, someone who has her ideologies because in the end of the day, no matter what you say, that's what makes Batcat a thousand times more possible and popular than Brutalia. Their approaches are fairly similar, their love for Gotham and her people bind them together, as well as any affection they share. (We don't talk about Gotham war here, that was just pure bullshit)

Man if it was up to me I would make her a bisexual queen even! Give me WLW Talia!

The point is: I adore Talia, but her character needs to be developed without Batman (Robin is fair game because he is literally her son), so when the writers bring these two together, permanent or not, it can actually be more than just a melancholic, doomed by the narrative romance.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#talia al ghul #batman #brutalia #dc comics #batcat #bruce wayne #talia x bruce #damian wayne

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gerec · 1 day ago

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Hi gerec! 🥹 first of all, I'd like to say thank you for the amazing amount of cherik fanfic rec lists that you shared here— I swear to god, as a new x-men fan, they're my lifeline for realsies 🙂‍↕️❤️ second, I was wondering if you could help me with with your seasoned ao3 cherik knowledge: do you have a list of cherik-specific ao3 additional tags, ones that list additional tags like "Erik Logic is the Best Logic", "Erik Lehnsherr has a Telepathy Kink", "Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable", and "Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking"? I find that when I check these additional tags out, I find a treasure trove of new cherik fics that I seem to miss when I just scroll from their relationship tag, and I was wondering if you've compiled a list of them before, or if you can point me to anyone who has made them already? 🥹 thank you in advance for reading my ask (and for replying them, if you do), I appreciate you a lot and all the help that you've done. Hope you'll have a nice week ahead 🫂💗

Hello Friend! Thank you for your lovely message; I am always happy to share my favourite fics with fellow fans!

I didn't have a list of those unique fandom tags already compiled (nor have I seen one, though it might exist somewhere and I'm just not aware of it) but it was super fun to put together so here it is! It's by no means exhaustive (and there are so many variations I could never capture them all) but I think I've got most of the top ones!!! I hope you have fun checking them out :D :D :D

Cherik Additional Tags List

Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking (Charles Xavier's Poor Decision Making Skills) Charles Xavier Has Issues

Slut Charles Xavier (Charles You Slut)

Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable Charles Xavier Needs a Hug Charles Xavier is a Darling

Oblivious Charles Xavier (Charles is Clueless) Charles You Will Be Drunk

Charles Xavier is a Dork (Charles is a Big Dorkface)

Charles Xavier is a Tease

Charles Xavier Loves Erik Lehnsherr

Charles Xavier Always Says the Absolute Worst Thing He Could Possibly Say

Charles Xavier is a Sweetheart

Concerned Charles Xavier (Charles Being Concerned) Erik Being Cocky (Cocky Erik Lehnsherr)

Erik Lehnsherr Has a Crush (Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl)

Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings

Erik Logic Is The Best Logic

Erik is not a Happy Bunny

Calm Down Erik Lehnsherr (Calm Down Erik)

Erik Lehnsherr has a Telepathy Kink Erik Lehnsherr Has a Big Dick Troll Erik Lehnsherr (Erik is a Troll) Smitten Erik Protective Erik (Protective Erik Lehnsherr) Grumpy Erik Lehnsherr Emotionally Constipated Erik Lehnsherr (Emotionally Crippled Erik Is Fun To Read) Sweet Erik Lehnsherr (Erik is a Sweetheart)

Erik Lehnsherr Has Issues

Erik Lehnsherr Needs a Hug

Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier

Slut Erik Lehnsherr (Erik You Slut)

#gerec rambles #cherik #ao3 #additional tags #cherik specific tags #fandom tags

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storiesaplenty · 3 days ago

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Part 4

Miscellaneous Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: a bit of swearing. Unplanned pregnancy.

WC: 1528

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2025: do not repost or translate my work. Do not use AI on my work. This is the only place I post my work.

A few months ago, Dr Whitaker had a one night stand, not knowing she was the daughter of Dr Robby.

"I am going to be a father."

Silence.

Pure silence on their end.

I waited for them to say something, until finally I heard my mom ask me with a shaky voice, "When is the wedding?"

Now it was my turn to be silent.

My parents didn't say anything else, just waiting for me to respond.

"There isn't going to be a wedding." I finally said.

My mom broke down crying, which made my heart just clench at hearing me causing her so much pain.

"I knew you going to the city would cause you to be led astray." I heard her say between her tears.

"Mom." I tried to say, but my Dad cut me off, as I heard my mom say she couldn't talk to me right now.

"You listen here Dennis Whitaker. You will fix this, and make it right." Then a dial tone was the only thing I heard.

I collapsed against my couch, wondering how I could fix this.

I thought about calling her, but I looked at the time and figured she was having movie night with her Dad, who I will have to see.

Dr Robby hardly talked to me for the rest of the day unless he absolutely had too.

I walked into the ER the next day. Earlier than my start time, wanting to talk to Dr Robby.

I found him talking to Dana.

I stood back, just out of ear shot, not wanting to intrude on their conversation.

Waiting for him to finish talking, but Dana noticed me first.

She looked at me, said something to Dr Robby and I could see his shoulders tense before he turned around to look at me.

"I think it will be best if we talk in my office." Dr Robby said to me.

"Yes sir." I nodded my head in agreement, not knowing he even had his own office.

"Dr Robinavitch, thank you for speaking with me." I said as I sat down across from him.

"Make it quick, Whitaker. I have to get back onto the floor."

I cleared my throat, going over in my head what I wanted to say to him, just like I have been all morning.

"Actually, let me speak first." Dr Robby told me, and by his tone of voice, I knew to really listen to him.

"I am not happy with how I am going to become a grandfather. From a one night stand is not how I pictured my first grandchild to come into this world. My daughter and I had a long talk last night, and I wished to say I am sorry for the way I acted, not only to her, but to you as well."

"Thank you, Sir." I could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn't finished.

"Do not let me down Dennis. You said you will be with her through it all, and I hope you mean it."

"I absolutely mean it. I meant every word I said to you both."

"Good. Now, I know you have family. Have you told them yet?"

I hesitated but informed him I have in fact told my parents. He asked me what they thought of this all, and there is no point in lying to him.

"They asked me when we were going to get married." Dr Robby actually snorted at that, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"If you can get a ring on my daughter's finger, then I give you my blessing, which I know the two of you do not need, but she has always stated she has never wished to get married unless she finds someone she truly loves."

"Thank you sir, but I told them that there is no wedding."

"And I bet that didn't go over well." He wasn't asking a question, just stating a fact.

The door to his office opened, and there was Princess standing there.

"Dr Robby, we need you." Him and I both stood up, Dr Robby telling me to get ready for a busy day as he followed Princess down the hall.

◆

I had such a busy day that I hardly had a chance to have a quick bite, but when I finally had a chance, I ate and checked my phone.

I had a text from her, asking to meet up after my shift to talk, which I agreed to.

I gave her an address to a spot near my place, so that way I can go home, shower and meet up with her because I have no idea what fluids I will have on me by the end of the day.

◆

I am showered and in a new set of clothes, walking down the street to the small bistro. I could see her sitting there, as I looked through the window, trying to compose myself.

She looked over when I walked into the bistro, the bell letting the owners know that someone had walked in.

She smiled at me as I sat across from her.

"Sorry I am late. Got held up." I let her know.

"Dennis, it is okay. I get it. I grew up with it." She reminded me.

The waiter came over and took our orders, as I already knew what I wanted.

"Dennis, I am sorry that you found out the way you did." She said once the waiter left.

"You have no reason to be sorry. I didn't leave you any contact information. Yesterday was just by chance, and well I am happy to have found out."

"Really?" She asked me, surprised.

"Yes, really. I always wanted my kids, and this may not be the conventional way to have a kid, but it is what it is, and I couldn't be happier."

I truly was happy, and I meant every single word of it.

"Did you tell your parents?"

The smile left my face, as I nodded my head yes. "They are not as happy for us. Wondering when the wedding will be."

She reached across the table, and placed her hand atop of mine, that I had sitting on top of the table, and squeezed.

"I am sorry Dennis. Hopefully they will come around."

With a tight smile, I agreed.

Our food came, and we changed the subject to really getting to know one another.

It felt like a normal first date at this point, and I even pointed it out to her.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Dennis?" She teased.

"That night that we met, I actually wanted to ask you out on a date, but then as you know, one thing led to another."

"Dennis, I'm sorry, but I do not wish to complicate things between us. What if we don't work out?"

"Then we go back to doing what we agreed to do. Co-parenting."

"I am sorry Dennis, but I just do not think dating is such a good idea."

I nodded in defeat, not wanting to push her to agree to a proper date, as I do get her concerns.

"Oh, I have my first appointment." She told me the date and time, and I noticed in my calendar that I actually have it off.

"I will be there."

•

Reader's POV:

I wanted nothing more than to agree to go on a date with Dennis.

A proper date with this kind, sweet man, but I was scared, and I let him know my concerns.

I don't want him to just believe that we should be together because we are having a child together, and even though he let me know about wanting to ask me out the first night we met, didn't change my mind.

I knew he was disappointmented, but he didn't push thankfully.

I told him about the appointment, and when he told me he would be there, I just knew he wasn't lying.

◆

The appointment went smoothly, and Dennis was there.

He was actually in the waiting room before I was.

The first scans of our child in our hands.

"I have to show my Dad." I was just in awe as I got off the elevator, looking around for my Dad, but I saw the next best person, Dr Heather Collins. Who I always just adored, and was sad when she and my father broke up.

"Heather." I called out her name, making her turn her head very fast to look at who was calling her by her first name here.

"Your father wouldn't stop talking this morning about your appointment. Did everything go okay?" Dr Collins asked me as she hugged me, saying hi to Dennis at the same time.

"I have the first scans here." I grabbed Dennis's hand to show the images.

"Oh I am so happy for you my sweet girl." I could tell that Dennis has never seen Dr Collins like this, but I did let him know that we were very close.

"Is that the first image of my grandchild?" My dad's voice called out, as he walked towards the three of us.

Dennis watched as him and I hugged, wanting to this moment with his parents as well.

Part 3 ♥︎ Part 5 - coming soon

#the pitt x y/n #the pitt x female reader #the pitt x f/reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt imagine #the pitt #dr dennis whitaker #dr Whitaker #dennis whitaker x you #dennis whitaker fanfic #dennis whitaker imagine #Dennis Whitaker x female reader #Dennis Whitaker x f/Reader #Dennis Whitaker x y/n #dennis Whitaker #dr robbys daughter

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darkfictionjude · 2 days ago

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Hello Jude,

I really wanted to ask how you deal with hate from people. Because I am myself writing an IF and these little bitches that can't shut up is really taking a toll.

First they started complaining about the MC being genderlocked as female, like okay I get it its disappointing if you see an IF description that you like and can't play your gender, and I have explained that I am a female, and at the moment I'm not confident in my skills to write a separate code for female and male MC's because if I did I would want it to have obvious differences other than the anatomy.

Then it was about my IF only having 4 RO's, which 3 are male and 1 is female. And I had explained that the gender mattered in the story and I got hit with "but couldn't atleast add one more female RO, I feel like you put one in just for the diversity and I bet the romance with her is gonna be trash and forgotten anyway" LIKE HELLOOOOOO. Saying shit while not even knowing I am a bisexual woman who has a gf is wild? lets just walk around throwing assumptions why don't we.

Then it was it takes too long to update, man, I am a one woman show, okay? I'm juggling college because I want to be a forensic pathologist, I also have a job and I also have a life outside of college and work?? I want some time to myself, to be with friends, family and people I care about. My IF is a hobby that I like doing. I'm not getting paid and people just expect of me to pop out chapters left and right like a cow.

My gf might help me with the coding since she's good at all that numbers and stuff but she's not my employ, I don't pay her and she has her own shit to do, and I won't make her take time out of her free day just to help me.

Of course I'm not writing fucking faster with little maggots in my inbox screaming "WHEN IS THE NEXT UPDATE" "CAN YOU HURRY UP ALREADY"

Because from what I can conclude, those are not words of encouragement, how do you expect me to sit behind my computer and start writing and coding and going back and fixing thing if your throwing a tantrum.

Sentences like "Hey I know it's been a while but I hope your okay and I love your your IF, hopefully next update is coming soon."

It is NOT that hard to be respectful. Were you raised in a barn? Did you mommy and daddy not teach you manners? Because my mother used to say "if you have nothing good to say then don't say anything at all."

Because I am myself writing an IF and these little bitches that can't shut up is really taking a toll.

Well that is one way to get my attention 😭😭😭

You know what I realized? Some people can never be happy. You add another female LI they’ll say “you just did it because we bothered you not because you wanted to and you’ll sideline her 🙄”

You add a gender selectable MC and they’ll say “why does this MC feel female coded 🙄” even though you explained why you don’t feel like you can write a male MC like what did they expect if you force someone to write something they know they need more time to practice writing

Like no matter what you do for some people it’s never going to be enough. And god forbid you answer back with the same energy they give you or you’ll be deemed an asshole while they’ll go scott-free

It’s hardly ever fair for us when people decide that you must answer insult with a costumer service smile. And these complainers will never be content because they deliberately played a game that they knew would have elements they didn’t like but magically thought they could bully you to change them

So the way I handle it is to stop caring about how others perceive for defending myself against nagging and nonconstructive criticism. I am confident that I’ve never been one to instigate hate towards any reader I’ve only ever answered something someone else starts in my inbox. And I also know that for every mean reader there are like 10 nice readers who don’t mind waiting, are excited about what you put out and are respectful

I used to get the “next update” messages and I don’t anymore because I’ve hammered it in that unless I say a projected date don’t ask me because not even I know. I do get that it gets annoying to repeat yourself so I would either put it in your bio that you don’t know when the next update is or just starting deleting those asks

Being an IF writer is very much an experiment in protecting your peace of mind 😭

Also I know why you wouldn’t want to say what your IF is called but maybe one day you could maybe DM me privately to tell me cause I would like to play it 🤗 and I would defend you 🤺

#IF stuff #hate

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fiber-optic-alligator · 2 days ago

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Hello,Hi!

Just wanted to stop by and tell you that I love your 'New Safe Haven' Fiction!

I love it so much that I've been rotating it in my head 360° for the past days.

But seriously the way you depict the three dough boys and how all that mindfuck is pulling the player/reader through an absolute wringer is just chefs kiss. I especially like the whole trust issues and slowburn way of attempting to better it and the realistic/serious handling of the PTSD and traumatic experiences the player has been though.

Latter is also the reason why I love that vore is included because the trust/fear/comfort concept you can do with it and how well it is utilized in the fiction is just sooo good! Nom-enjoyers stay winning and well fed with this one!

Though as I was re-reading the last scene from chapter two,where Kevin is threatening the reader -also as an emotional/stress outlet from how I interpreted it- I was thinking about the possibility of there being a scene where Kevin eats the reader prematurely,as in the sense that things are still too turbulent and hostile between him and the reader for it to be safe/comforting,like how it is with Mathew.

I mainly thought this hypothetical scene to be caused by Kevin getting overwhelmed by a stressful situation that escalated,which threatens to endanger his brothers too,that causes his anger and hurt to overflow and in the heat of the situation to turn on reader,despite it not even necessarily being their fault.

In this scene I also like to think that through rather extreme means,Kevin and Reader learn to begin to trust/bond with each other. By extreme means I mean that once Kevin has Reader in his mouth,he is on the brink of ending their life. About to crush and tear them up between his teeth,though before that happens I think that reader tries to reason with him -although in a full blown panic attack- and during that,reader says some very heartfelt apologies and regrets that just tug at Kevin's heartstrings to the point he realizes that ending them isn't the right thing to do. However I like to think that during his outburst Kevin injured Reader's arm or leg when he got them into his mouth and between his jaws/teeth,knowing that despite not wanting to harm them anymore,letting them out of his mouth wouldn't be smart or bettering their situation,hence Kevin ends up swallowing the reader.

Which understandably causes their panic to flair up all over again,pleading Kevin not to do it,unknowing that he changed his mind and wants to protect them now. I imagine that the scene ends with Kevin not explaining himself,due to regreting his behavior and thus trying to process his thoughts and feelings first and leaving the reader curled and shaking but at least safe within his belly.

Sorry that this is so long,I just really love 'A new Safe Haven' and your portraying of Kevin,Matthew and Jack.

I also planned to do fanart for my favorite scenes from the fic too and perhaps when I don't feel like a coward anymore,I might send the fanarts to you without the anonymity.

Hope you have a good day/afternoon/night!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I am so happy you are enjoying the fic!!! I love Matthew, Kevin, and Jack, and I wanted to give them a story in which they receive the happy endings they deserve, with the reader eventually taking care of them and giving them the love they never got from anyone in Playtime Co.! There is definitely a lot for the reader to process while in the presence of these boys; on the one hand; they desperately want to trust them and fit into the mother role given to them. On the other hand, they are severely traumatized from everything they’ve experienced, and they are absolutely TERRIFIED of the boys. There are little moments where their terror fades and they allow themselves to be more open and trusting, as you’ve seen in the three chapters out. But for the most part, Matthew, Kevin, and Jack scare them, and they are convinced the boys will turn on them and kill them at some point.

I’d say the reader is scared of Kevin the most. He clearly doesn’t like them, and may even want them dead. So far, they’ve steered clear of him, and definitely will continue to after his threat at the end of chapter 2. I’ll say that it’s not impossible for Kevin to find himself in a highly stressful situation where him and his brothers are in danger, and he ends up lashing out at the reader. After all, he is a kid who is hurt, and holds a lot of pain in his heart. He has no healthy outlet to direct this pain, and the only way he knows how to express his negative feelings is by taking it out on others. So yeah, he’d take his anger out on you. I LOVE the angsty scenario where he has them in his mouth, ready to crush them between his teeth and end them once and for all, when suddenly he tastes tears on his tongue. He listens to the reader sob out apologies, telling him that it’s not his fault, no one was there for him when he needed support the most. All he wants to do is protect others from those who would hurt them. He’s just a kid. And as Kevin listens to the reader’s apologies…he knows this isn’t the right thing to do. Of course, he’s always known that. Kevin isn’t a malicious kid who enjoys hurting others. He just doesn’t know what else to do with his frustration and sadness and helplessness. He hides behind a wall of fear that disguises itself as aggression.

You don’t deserve this pain. You’re just as scared and helpless as him. If he kills you…he’s no better than the scientists who hurt him. Because he’s using his strength to overpower you, and that…that isn’t right.

Cue being swallowed down into his belly with an injured arm or leg and sobbing yourself straight into passing out. I love angst LOL.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send me your fanart if you decide to make any! I adore seeing fanart from others, you have no idea how much it makes my day!!! I would be honored and so so thankful to see it!!! Again, THANK YOU for reading the fic, and I appreciate your support and sticking around! :D

#gator answers #poppy nomtime #doey the doughman #doey poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime

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laura1633 · 3 days ago

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I saw your anti Lando post and I am here to say, I AM SO FUCKING HAPPY I FOUND YOU.

like there are moments where I like Lando, and I find him funny. But when he downplays his car it just hurts.

Not because people say he's underestimating himself but because it's just stupid in my opinion.

And all his fangirls saying the poor baby has to go through so many mental problems because he kept getting death threats.

As if Max didn't receive any after and during 2021. He just didn't make a spectacle out of it.

I am telling you, the Hamilton fans still are seen arguing in comment of post like M4X.

While Verstappen fans(most of them, including me) had forgotten about the things he said last year.

All drivers get hate, Max probably had more than most of the drivers of his generation (mind you I don't count lewis I think he had hate too)

I don't hate lewis, it's just something about Lando that ticks me off.

And oh my god my cousin sister is down bad McLaren supporter rooting for Lando, and honestly she's the one who introduced me to the sport. She hates max and keeps trying to influence me into hating him as well.

But I can't blame her honestly, because I don't say anything, I just defend him quietly without trying to sound like the low-key keyboard warrior I am 😭

Sorry for ranting dudes

I completely agree about the car thing, the performance is crazy and they have a huge advantage over the rest of the field. If he just owned it and said yeah the car is a rocketship and I am loving driving it then I personally would find that so much better.

I definitely don’t want to downplay any mental health struggles he has had as I do believe he has spoken openly about anxiety and I know how debilitating it can be so I wish him the very best with his mental health and I hope he has whatever support he needs. I really would hope that people wouldn’t be sending him straight up abuse or death threats but I know what the internet is like!! You are absolutely right though, its definitely not just one driver receiving death threats (which is a whole other discussion because none of them should be receiving threats like that!). There was a narrative last year that LN was being picked on more than any other driver and as a Max fan who has seen the vitriol he has received I have to disagree. I don’t follow Lewis on social media but I am 100% sure he also has received awful abuse over the years! Social media in general can be so toxic!!

I also feel like certain comments by certain people and teams within the world of F1 unnecessarily contribute to the hate Max gets and they should know better!

I think one dangerous narrative I see a lot is that Max is tough and Max isn’t bothered by abuse etc etc. Just because someone either appears strong or is strong there is no reason why they should have to be subjected to abuse. Mental health is complex and it's not easy to see what is going on with people. Nobody truly knows how Max feels, or for that matter his family who has to witness the abuse he gets. And even if he is fine with it then that doesn’t mean he should have tolerate it. Same goes for all the drivers.

Oh anyone arguing about the number of championships Max has is a huge red flag to me. I see it all the time though, I think those comments will still be coming in for years to come! I could write a whole essay… but I won’t 😂

I did have a family member who liked LN at the beginning of last year and they also hated Max (they are a Lewis fan) but by mid season they were actually cheering Max on so that was okay 😂. Luckily everyone else I know likes Max because it would be super awkward otherwise haha!

No need to apologise for ranting 😃

#laura1633 asks #anti-Lando #cw mental health #cw anxiety

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jailforwriter · 22 hours ago

Text

Let's get into...

Look, at the end of the day, writing is word choice. You're choosing which words to put in what order to make other people feel Some Type Of Way about the result. But there are 4 bits of advice perennially swirling about the bowels of writing forums that, misapplied, might make you shit the metaphorical bed of optimal communication, and I very much don't want that for you. I'm staunchly pro-avoiding the literary runs, in fact. So let's get into how.

On the chopping block today is my nemesis:

"Cut all adverbs"

I'm not going to pretend that I don't know why this advice exists. All two reasons it exists, even. Let's break them down:

Too many adverbs: we're all guilty of inundating sentences with adverbs. There are many moving components to scenes, and there's often a desire to express every last one of them. It's not enough to say that the ball rolled down the empty street; the reader simply must know that the ball crept exceedingly slowly, cautiously inching downwardly and toward the eerily empty street. But see, that's clunky. It doesn't flow well, doesn't add anything that couldn't have been expressed more concisely through better wording, and, most importantly, it insults the reader's imagination. By overexplaining, you're taking away their (admittedly limited, but crucial!) agency to picture things themselves. Womp womp.

Redundant adverbs: pretentious people have invented far too many words over the years for anyone to be out here saying "ran quickly". Running is inherently quick, my guy. Otherwise, we'd be saying walking or jogging or promenading (yes, really). This is the moment to break out the thesaurus and realize that sprinted, raced, and dashed all say what you wanted them to say and bring an evocative, nuanced vibe to the sentence. And nuance is tasty. Nuance is the sauce that the quirked up white boy (the sentence) was goated with. So we're better off just saying "ran" and saving that adverb for when it's actually trying to communicate complexities, which we'll expound on once we get into why adverbs are hot, actually.

NOTE: this crops up particularly often in dialogue. "Said angrily" is a dialogue tag that may seem inoffensive — until you remember that snapped exists, and furthermore, so does slamming the door in their face.

So then when/where in the annoyingly nondescript hell should I use adverbs?

Fundamentally, when they add meaning to stuff. To elaborate:

Substance: a sad smile is different from a regular smile, and should be described as such. If you just say "they smiled", people will assume it's a "normal" (i.e. happy) smile and call it day. If someone almost smiles, it's also telling us something different than if we'd said that they didn't smile at all; now we can't tell that they found the joke funny but chose not to smile, and the interaction loses substance. (Moreover, waiting and waiting patiently aren't the same thing, as I'm sure your mom pointed out when she still told you off because you "gave her attitude" by breathing too hard while you waited for her to press play on the VCR.)

Pacing: someone shaking their head slowly is different from them shaking their head at regular, normal human speeds. The latter is simple negation, whereas the former has an element of emotional nuance, of why the hell did they do that that way? Was it anger or regret? Denial, maybe? No idea! But now the reader gets to ponder about it, and that's where interest is born, methinks.

Tone: there aren't too many ways to interpret someone saying "I hate you". It's a pretty straightforward phrase, for the most part, deployed with devastating expertise by schoolchildren whose parents won't give into capitalistic fads and buy them a Stanley cup. But if I were to say "I hate you" softly, then ah. Things change. We have contrasting emotions now. Depth. Is it really an "I love you" in disguise? Am I just mad that you're making me order at the counter when you know I get, like, weird when I have to ask them for no pickles? Perchance. The takeaway here is that the adverb made it so that you can't take the sentence at face-value, and that, unlike pickles, is very satisfying.

The other 3 horsemen of the misconstrued writing advice apocalypse (word choice edition) will be coming soon, so please keep an eye out for seals breaking on ominous scrolls. Happy writing!

#writing #writeblr #writing community #writing advice #writing tips

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neurospiczzzziee · 1 day ago

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So I've been thinking about your post all day. I saw it before I went to work and I knew I wanted to come back to it.

Okay so first of all thank you for sharing your insight. I feel it is really amazing and vulnerable of you to share your own feelings and perspective of a child who experienced divorce.

I personally didn't have my parents get divorced but grew up in a very vitriolic home life situation where my parents should have separated.

So a lot of my perspective comes from an educator who works with high schoolers. Octavia's behavior does check out for me as a common 17 year old child who is dealing with trauma/difficult time. From my experience a lot of teenagers will lash out at adult figures they value deeply when in a state of distress. I've seen it a lot of different ways. The most common way I see it is I am going to say the most hurtful thing possible to see if you still actually care or if you are going to leave me. Another one I see is I will ice everyone out and become overly independent that way I am not a burden to others. The second one is really common for kids who have unreliable caregivers. They become almost identified children (I was one of those). Kids react in multiple ways due to stressful situations including within family dynamics. You might have one child who is getting straight A's while experiencing trauma and a sibling who is partaking in extreme risk taking behavior.

When looking at Octavia I really appreciated 3BSkyen's perspective of her character in his Sinsmas reaction and rating of season 2.

He made a really lovely point that what Octavia is doing and why she is reacting the way she is, is that she is most likely trying to protect Stolas.

Octavia just witnessed her father become suicidal in order to see her and actively try to risk his life. She had to step in to save his life.

She is icing Stolas. I think she is doing this so Stolas is less likely to risk his life trying to go back to the palace again. She is not taking into account Stola's feelings at all this moment. She is trying to be an "adult" and in a way sacrifice her own relationship and love for him so he is safe from Stella and Andy.

Octavia was mainly raised by Stolas who alway made choices for others without really factoring in others own voices. Stolas has the problem of assuming other ppl wants/feelings and not actually listening to them. He takes the burden of making choices all on himself. Think about what happened in Full Moon. Stolas was so set in his own emotions he didn't realize that he needed to give Blitzø time to think. He immediately got wrapped in his own head and made the decision to shut Blitzø out with magic. He makes the choice for Blitzø that there is no longer a relationship. In his mind he is taking the emotional burden. Self-sacrificing. I will suffer if it means someone else will be happier. But he isn't acknowledging Blitzø's own feelings he is just assuming that Blitzø will be happier. (Hi I just want to say I love Stolas. Blitzø definitely was also in the wrong in the full moon situation. I love my flawed demon dad's)

Octavia is doing in a sense a similar thing. I think She is saying all these awful things, so her dad wouldn't put himself in danger. Because in her mind she is preventing her Dad from being happy and safe. So what she is doing is she is actively trying to cut the string in the most awful way to hope he wouldn't go after her. So he wouldn't risk his life again to see her. Punishing herself and making herself miserable. not at all acknowledging what her dad actually wants/needs. She is so sad by this choice. This burden she put on herself with that all she can do to cope is display hurt and anger. I would imagine in her mind it is something like this

"Maybe if I say the most awful things to my dad as possible he won't be killed or hurt by my uncle and mother anymore. I will suffer. I will be sad alone if it means he can be happy. He won't have to know me. I'll be sad and he'll only know my name. But at least he will be safe and one day happy"

I think a way to think of it is that Via is extremely sheltered (girlie has no friends) in an abusive household. The only friendship/security she had was her dad. He kept her safe. With him she wasn't alone. Now she thinks that he finally has a chance to be happy and out. To be with someone. To be safe and happy. But she is the one in the way. His only chain tying him to the abuse. In her mind she is like that's easy. I'm dispensable. I'm a burden. I'm in the way. I just have to sever this chain so my dad can be happy. So she lets him go in the most hurtful way possible. Not acknowledging her dad's own thoughts and feelings. She doesn't realize that she is irreplaceable. That he cannot be complete without her. That he needs his daughter to be happy. Because she doesn't see her own worth.

Now is it a healthy reaction. Absolutely not. This is very much a child. This is very much some self-sabotaging behavior an older teen would do.

I do agree that I wish they explored Via's personality more this past season and developed more of her character. Going forward I would really like more character exploration. I having sisterly relationship with Loona would be really good for this.

I hope at least some of this made sense. I kinda just word vomited my thoughts 😭.

As always I love your amazing analysis and opinions 💕

The Octavia Dilemma (Vent/Rant Post)

TW: Divorce

I want to make it abundantly clear that this post is about myself and my feelings on Via. This does not reflect the greater fandom or all Stolas Stans.

This is a reflection of my feelings and my feelings alone. Do not utilize this post to generalize all Stolas Stans since many of them are going to agree with about 60% of my post and I'm fine with that.

Moving on,

Hello everyone! It is I, Amalthea, the Ultimate Stolas Kinnie and Stan, reporting to you live on a topic I was initially going to not talk about, but became more compelled to talk about since well- I didn't want to talk about Stella. (I'd rather not lol)

When it comes to Octavia and her rejecting Stolas I have very, very mixed feelings on the topic. While many of you may think she was right or wrong, I'm going to give you the perspective from a person who lived this stuff during my preteens.

I won't go into details, but my parental unit picked another person over my family. Parent A decided to pick Person C over Parent B and that will never not mess me up till this day.

When Parent A left, I was alone without the only thing I wanted, closure. I didn't understand why I was abandoned. I didn't understand how Parent A just thought I didn't matter anymore.

Parent B had to struggle and I just had to- watch morbidly as my world fell apart.

One of the things I absolutely can't agree with Octavia doing is walking away from Stolas when he came back to her.

She has this entire speech, victimizing herself solely(not faulting her for it, just stating it), and not asking the question why and that is where I will say the Hellaverse team failed. Kids of divorce always ask the question why. We seek a reason and yet Octavia just makes baseless accusations at Stolas that hold no water.

I mean your father, the man who has stood by your side, and loved on you for ages suddenly has an affair with a strange imp from his past and you don't even- think to ask why? Or let him explain?

Octavia willingly parentified herself to cope, which again as someone who is parentified, that makes no sense to me. Parentification happens when no one is around to help you or support you, but Octavia had her dad right fucking there. She rejected him, and seemingly can't understand he's depressed???

Again, I am speaking for myself, but this entire rant of hers makes no sense to me. She's seen him light up around Blitz, be more open (maybe to open), and be happier, but doesn't acknowledge it???

My issue, a reminder I am talking about myself , with Octavia is she makes everything solely about herself and asks no important questions about her father. I know she is a rich girl, but she is shown to be empathetic and kind overall, so it feels out of character she doesn't even- try to understand. Even if it's hard.

When Parent A came back into my life I begged for a reason why. Why the hell did you leave!? What did Person C have that I didn't!? Why did you raise their child you didn't birth but not me!? What did I do wrong!? What was so bad you left!?

None of these questions were asked, Octavia goes straight to making accusations which makes no sense. The fact she expected Blitz to die??? Like Loona wasn't going to be fatherless??? Like she's 17. Via is a bright and smart girl. Did she really look down on Blitz that much??? (genuine question, not tryna be a smart ass)

Octavia: You lied to me.

Stolas: What?

Octavia: *pushes Stolas away* You lied to me! You said you would never leave me! You promised!

Stolas: Via. I-I didn't leave you I-I- I would never, it wasn't my choice.

Octavia: It was your choice. You chose HIM!

I also think this whole scene is why Stolas made the choice he made. While he had an inclination he could die- he knew his privilege could possibly save him. It's why he was a bit confused and not sure of what was going to happen.

He was hanging onto the hope he'd not die. Afterwards the reality sets in as to what he had just done and what he truly lost. Stolas took a risk on a hunch.

The man had no choice. As a father, as a person, as a soulmate, he was in an impossible situation where he had to use his privilege. He had no other option or Loona would be fatherless.

Stolas: Via, no! I didn't I just- I had to. You don't understand.

Octavia: *clenches fist as magic forms* I do understand! I understand that we were never enough for you! You never loved mother, and you don't love me, you love him. *holds up happy pills* And you needed THESE! Was this my fault that you needed these?

Stolas: No! No, never Via! *grabs Octavia's hands* Sweetie, please. You have always been the only good thing in my life!

Octavia: So does that mean you just stayed miserable because of me? *tearing up* Was I some fucking obligation? Is that why you didn't even hesitate when you got a chance to leave?

This next part always pisses me off because Via's expectation of her father are so high. That he cannot have autonomy outside of their family. She is so attached at the hip to him that anytime he deviates from loving her entirely it is a slight against her.

Also the obligation part of that statement boils my blood, because girl- you don't even know what it is like to have your parent look at you and tell you to your face "you're just a responsibility to me". Because I lived that shit. I lived knowing Parent A didn't want me because I was just to much.

Stolas stayed and loved on this girl. He gave her the whole universe and more and somehow that isn't enough.

Of course I sympathize with the sentiment, but nothing in Stolas's behavior nor him being with Blitz suggests she was ever solely an obligation to him.

If Stolas truly viewed her as a responsibility he wouldn't show any concern for her. Parent A in my life acted distant and emotionally withdrawn. They didn't take care of me anymore, acting like a ghost of their former self. They took care of my most basiepc and fundamental needs while Octavia is borderline spoiled and-

FUCK why couldn't I have that!? She sits there and complains but her parent came back for her?! She had a chance at closure and denied it! What kid of divorce does that!? What person does that?!

I know I shouldn't have this much turmoil over this. I really shouldn't. If anything I should be sympathizing with her entirely. Theoretically I should hate Stolas, but I can't because I know what it's like to be guilted for choosing yourself! I know what it's like to be forced to feel bad for being depressed! It's why I love Stolas so much and understand him completely.

But when it comes to Via, the character who borderline mimics my trauma I just- can't fully empathize. I can rationalize her thinking and- understand where it may stem from, but it still leaves me aggravated and unsatisfied.

While I may be ranting and rambling at this point- I may just be projecting and it's why I said to not take this post as something to generalize the collective- but I am thoroughly dissatisfied with Octavia's writing.

So much of it tries to mimic divorce related trauma, but none of what she has been through would initiate such a response.

She hasn't been abandoned, her father is right there.

She isn't an obligation, all of her needs are met and she gets all she wants along with a nurturing environement.

She was enough for her father, he came back for her. If she wasn't enough he'd never come back.

All of the claims she makes are easily debunked with rational thinking and do not make sense when you have lived through divorce yourself. Again, I can be projecting, but FUCK I needed to vent about this.

It just feels like such a fickle iteration of what real divorce looks like for us.

Ask Box is Open ofc.

#helluva theory #helluva boss lives rent free in my head #helluva octavia #Stolas #sorry for the word vomit. i hope some of it makes sense

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