#and he is very much deserving of such a scene

[harmonysanreads]

oh to baby the ever handsome flawless hero,,, phainon you deserve to be handfed and get your cheeks pinched and cooed at. i need to cut fruits for him i need to make sure he stays warm in cold weather. please maintain your whimsy if he loses that boyish smile i will END IT ALLLLLL

“You're so... cute.”

Being caught by surprise spells death for a warrior and you are a master at enacting that incantation every time. Phainon would've marinated in the bafflement of it all for a while longer, if his reflexes hadn't acted faster, arms springing forward to catch your figure — deliberately pushed towards himself.

“Haa — mmf?” his must look like a visage worthy of jeer, but his attention is too flighty to focus on anything less important than the press of your palms against his cheeks, mushing the flesh together to your whimsy.

It wouldn't be difficult to push you away, if his left hand hadn't been occupied with securing your balance on his lap, firmly coiled around your waist. But it would be incorrect to assume his wishes lay anywhere in that territory, his very free and very much functioning right hand dangling by the side seemed to provide evidence to his prominent disinterest in severing the contact.

Light falls on your back, veiling your exact expression from his curious eyes. But he can tell that you've leaned closer, feel the absence of heat from where your hand parted ways from his skin and settled amongst the ivory strands of his hair.

“How can a man be this... this adorable?” there's a frightening mix of endearment and frustration in your voice, unless he's losing his mind. Your vigorous ruffling of his hair next, assures him that he has not.

“It should be illegal to be this precious.” the pout that he's most certain exists on your lips bleeds its way to your admissions of how endearing he apparently is. He's unable to force words out of his parched mouth, blood clogged around from his ears to his cheeks — where you deliver a sharp pinch to, rouging the skin further.

His winch is promptly muffled by your skin, the abrupt pull your hand causing him to crash straight into your embrace. He can feel the barely-there weight of your cheek brushing against his hair, utterances of a line of words he vaguely recognizes as abstract terms of endearment bounces off his ears. You try to rock him like a newborn child, he assists by melting further in your arms.

The grip you have around him is by no means strong, but the thought that he could take advantage of it to liberate himself from this embarrassing situation does not once cross his mind. He doesn't even find it the least bit flustering, in fact.

Just as quickly as it started, you pull him away from your arms and all the muscles in his face drop. It does not seem like you thought it vital to be acknowledged either, focusing instead on scooping a few grapes from the bowl of fruit that Phainon cannot even recall you putting down.

“What are you thinking about? Open your mouth.” his jaw slackens at the command, at a speed that'd no doubt give many people whiplash. If wind passed by at that moment, it'd no doubt whistle in his head.

You push one after another piece of mouthwatering fruit, but his braincells scurry away from processing the tastes of them. Bright blue eyes cradle the pleased curve of your lips with utmost caution, caress the purse between them whenever he appears slow in following your motion. He feels moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. Your smile, your warmth, the timbre of his voice, all so heart-wrenchingly ethereal —

“Tsk, look at how messy you are, can't even chew a piece of fruit cleanly.” you suddenly remark, purposefully smearing some pomegranate juice on the corner of his lips. He blinks at the shift in your expression, you tilt your head to address his confusion, nearly burning the remnants of his conscious mind.

Your titillating gaze flits to the scene of your creation next, tracing over the arch of his lips and returning back to gauge his stare — challenging him to speak, to break free, to deny you as you lean closer, fixated on the stain of fruit residue you painted your intentions with.

He answers by decreasing a breath worth of space, the hand that rested so far in serenity on your back pushed you closer, while his right hand wrenched the dagger away from your knuckle tight clasp. Gone is the veil of dew that you cloaked yourself in thus far, expression scrunched in what he can only assume is incendiary displeasure.

He watched as your disgruntled eyes followed the twirl of the dagger now dancing between his fingers, “So close! I must admit, you're getting more and more creative with your approaches, melite!” his energetic response did nothing but worsen your existing disappointment.

You crossed your arms in petulance, no longer interested in keeping that searing eye-contact, “Maybe just poison my food next, eh? Definitely much easier than going through all this trouble.”

The casual lilt of Phainon's suggestion appalls you, compelling you to turn around to face his stupid wide smile, “What are you saying? Didn't you always want a Hero’s death?”

That puts a dent to his disturbing playfulness, he throws away the excuse of a dagger somewhere without care. Eyes glossing over in realization, “You remembered...!”

That earns him nothing but a deadpan.

A boom of laughter fills the air, “Okay, okay, I'll stop ‘messing around’, as you like to say.”

Traces of his amusement linger and gather round to form one last wink, “But I wasn't joking, it really did touch this little heart of mine.” he cradles the mentioned organ in cue, getting a seasoned eye-roll in response.

Now it's his turn to gather you close, you do your duty in pushing against the embrace, like you've done so many times before — losing before his strength like every time.

“And I also wasn't joking when I suggested that you can use more underhanded methods to kill me for good.” he looks directly at you, through you, trapping you in place to match his steps in continuing this charade.

“Why?” you feel compelled to ask and to your bewilderment, Phainon's smile softens.

“Because death by your hand, no matter the way, would be my greatest honor.”

[r3starttt]

ACT ONE

PAIRING: Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: all scenes where Caitlyn appears in act one but with reader.

CW: mentions of grief. angst. lots of fluff. oral. public sex.

TAGLIST: @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @patronagrona @halle5s @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @nosferatuv

At this point, you may as well live with her. The house has become an echo of silence, too hollow and too heavy for Caitlyn to bear alone. Tobias is a ghost himself, drifting in and out, his presence marked only by the faint clatter of cutlery as he eats in solitude, retreating once more into his room. And Caitlyn is haunted. Haunted by faces and moments that play on a cruel, endless loop. Jinx. Her mother. What she could’ve done. What she should’ve done. Choices to act, to protect, to pull the trigger—all left untouched, unclaimed. The weight of it all presses against her, and the only lifeline she allows herself to reach for is you.

So now, she’s here, curled up beside you on her bed. The room is cold, its stillness mirroring the emptiness that seems to stretch across every corner of this place. Even the outside world mourns. The rain has been unrelenting, a quiet lament that soaks and taps against the windows like a reminder of shared sorrow. You can’t help but wonder if this is the right place for you, if immersing yourself in this sea of grief is the wisest choice. But then you look at her.

Her hands are tucked beneath her cheek, her face serene yet marked by the faint shadow of unrest. Her brows furrow, even in sleep, as if the storm inside her mind refuses to quiet. Gently, you cradle her face, your fingers tracing the soft contours of her jaw, brushing over the faint hollows of her cheeks. Your touch moves upward, combing through the messed strands of her hair. The knots formed from her restless tossing untangle beneath your fingers, and the soothing rhythm of your hands feels like the only lullaby she can bear.

A quiet hum escapes your lips, a melody you don’t think much of but one that seems to work. Slowly, her frown eases, replaced by a soft, almost hesitant smile—a smile she seems to fight, as though afraid it might shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her smile.

“Morning,” she whispers, her voice low and rasping with the weight of sleep. Her hand shifts from under her cheek to find yours, her fingers threading through yours in a tender, grounding gesture.

“Morning,” you murmur in return, your voice soft as you lean closer beneath the cocoon of sheets. You press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there, the warmth of her skin against your lips grounding you both. For a moment, the world outside, with its rain and sorrow, fades. For a moment, it’s just her, and that feels like enough.

But you’re not the only one here. Violet has been wandering through the house, a presence so quiet yet heavy, a living reminder of everything that’s fractured. Caitlyn had insisted on letting her stay, her voice stained with a kind of reluctant understanding that pain like this doesn’t belong to just one person. It is shared, diffused, seeping into every corner of the lives it touches. When Caitlyn told you, you said nothing. Not in agreement, nor in protest. You didn’t dare show that you cared.

There was something tender about Violet—the softness in her manner, the raw edge to her grief. She carried herself with a quiet dignity, but her eyes betrayed her: red-rimmed and glassy, too burdened to hold anyone’s gaze for long. From the little you knew, it was clear she had deserved better. Tobias, however, saw none of that. For him, the very sight of her was a wound reopened. His anger sat on the edge of his tongue, unspoken but omnipresent, simmering beneath the surface. He was mad, sad, heartbroken, and everything in between. Having a stranger in his house, a woman whose sister had brought devastation to his family, felt like betrayal in its purest form. Caitlyn's insistence on Violet's presence was a knife to his already shredded heart.

And you? You stayed silent. You sat there, an outsider observing their silent war, pretending not to notice the sharp glances and terse words exchanged when they thought no one was looking. You understood, or at least you told yourself that you did. You saw their pain, raw and jagged, and tried to hold space for it all. But understanding wasn’t enough. Because in truth, you couldn’t bring yourself to place blame—not on Violet, not on Caitlyn, not even on Jinx. It all felt too tangled, too complicated, like a string knotted so tightly that pulling at any thread might unravel the whole thing.

The tension in the house was suffocating, building and breaking in whispers and murmurs that swelled into shouting. You pretended not to hear, ignored the raised voices that crept under doors and through walls. That was their fight, their privacy, and you had no right to disturb it. At least, that’s what you told yourself—until Caitlyn pulled you into it.

She had become more meticulous, more controlling, as if the chaos inside her mind demanded order in the world around her. Every movement, every decision, she dragged you along. It wasn’t just habit or need, it was fear. Fear of herself, of what she might do if left alone. She was terrified of causing more harm, of making one more mistake that might not only hurt but destroy the fragile pieces still holding her together.

The shadows of her guilt loomed large. Jinx had stepped into her shower once. Jinx had taken her mother. The thought of what else Jinx might do—to you, to Tobias, to anyone Caitlyn still dared to love—paralyzed her. And yet, she feared the reflection in the mirror even more.

You could see it in her eyes, the way they darted toward you every few seconds, as if checking that you were still there, still breathing. She had made you her constant, her refuge, her proof that not all was lost. But it came with a cost. Being tethered to someone drowning in their own despair meant you were always at risk of sinking with them. And yet, you stayed. Because Caitlyn needed you. And you needed her too.

"This is all my fault." Caitlyn’s voice was uneven, frayed at the edges, carrying the weight of yet another argument with Violet. Her steps were restless, almost aimless, as she paced into the living room before collapsing onto the couch beside you. The cup of tea she'd abandoned earlier sat cold on the table before her, its surface a quiet testament to her neglect of even the simplest comforts. Her strength seemed spent, reserved solely for crying and, occasionally, your embrace.

The letters scattered across the coffee table mocked her in their neat lines of shallow condolences. Hollow phrases of regret and empty assurances from people who couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of her anguish. You’d taken to opening them in her place, sparing her the cruel repetition of their false sincerity. Tobias had tried to help, his presence a strained and fleeting support, but after the faint echoes of raised voices, he’d muttered an apology and retreated to his room, leaving you alone in the quiet.

"Love… you know it’s not," you said softly, leaning back and reaching for the cup of tea, hoping it might bring her even a shred of comfort. "Did Violet say something? We heard—"

She cut you off, her hand pushing yours down, the motion sharp but lacking the force of true anger. "Stop." The plea, despite its brusqueness, was so fragile.

You fell silent, your gaze locking onto hers. Her eyes, glassy and red, carried an exhaustion that seemed to seep into her very being. You searched for a clue, a flicker of understanding as to what torment had clawed its way back into her mind this time.

"My mother was right," Caitlyn murmured, her voice weak, almost swallowed by the room’s stillness. It cracked under the strain of her sorrow, and your chest tightened at the sight of her—this woman you admired so deeply—reduced to such cruelty toward herself.

"My arrogance led me to take on more than I could handle." Her fists clenched, her knuckles pale as if trying to anchor herself.

You could feel the anger radiating off her, sharp and bitter, not just toward Jinx or Violet, but toward herself. Toward you, even. Toward everything and everyone that had become tangled in this mess. She hated the circumstances that had left her exposed and hollow, hated the gnawing insecurity that whispered she wasn’t enough. And yet, what pained her more was the thought that no one around her—neither Violet nor Tobias nor even you—could be enough for her either. It was a loneliness that festered, a wound that refused to heal.

But then, the room shifted.

A black envelope appeared. It bore no ornamentation save for a symbol pressed into the dark paper. They cared little for the pageantry of their position, choosing instead to let the symbol do the speaking. Unlike the many others envelopes you’ve opened so far, written with the fanciest tones and even decorated.

Caitlyn’s frown deepened as she took it, her expression darkening further as she recognized what it meant.

You handed her the envelope and the badge enclosed within. Her eyes, those piercing blue orbs, scanned the words printed on the letter. With each line, her grip on the badge tightened.

And then, without a word, she stood.

She didn’t look at you, didn’t explain. There was no request, no demand, not even a glance to acknowledge your presence.

You were left behind. Again.

Left alone to the silence of the room, to the scattered letters and the burden of her absence. Caitlyn, as much as she loved you, was taking advantage of your presence, of your devotion. She left you to clean up the pieces, to sift through the meaningless apologies on those envelopes and tidy the remnants of her spiraling grief. She left you to endure the aftermath while she chased whatever closure—or recklessness—her heart demanded.

You gave her space—not the kind that pushed her further into isolation, but just enough to let her breathe, to gather her scattered thoughts. You ate with her father, the meal tinged with a shared hope that hunger might coax her out of hiding. Yet, her absence was a weight neither of you mentioned aloud.

Tobias offered you a small, knowing smile, one that carried the quiet gratitude and understanding only a parent could convey. It was a look you’d seen before, in Cassandra’s gentle glances—their shared acknowledgment of the love and care you held for Caitlyn.

"Look in the garden," Tobias said softly, his voice lined with something between encouragement and resignation.

And you did. The air cool and fragrant with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. The space unfolded before you like a living painting, the greens vivid, the blossoms vibrant in the soft light of the day. The path ahead seemed to glow faintly, a trail of violets guiding your steps like a whisper from nature itself.

“Cait?” you murmured, your voice low as not to disturb the fragile tranquility of the moment. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, feeling the slight shiver that ran through her. She didn’t flinch, but her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. You lowered yourself onto the bench beside her. “Everything alright?” you asked, hesitant, the concern in your voice brushing the air between you. You were on the verge of apologizing for intruding when her gaze finally shifted to you.

The relief that washed over her face was almost luminous, softening the sharp lines of her anguish. A small, fragile smile broke through as she reached for your hands, cradling them. Without a word, she leaned into you, her cheek pressing against your shoulder as though finding shelter in your presence.

“Ever since it happened...” she began, her voice a quiet tremor, “three faces keep spinning through my mind.” Her words were slow and deliberate, each syllable heavy with exhaustion, as if speaking them aloud cost her a piece of herself.

“I see Mother—when they found her.” Her voice cracked, and the pause that followed felt like a knife held at your chest. “Every fiber of me just sinks, like a stone swallowed in dark water.” She stopped, her silence thick and oppressive, and you could feel your own heart missing.

“And then there’s Jinx, laughing.” The sound of her sigh was uneven, almost a gasp, as though the memory itself had taken the air from her lungs. “I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever.”

The venom in her voice made you freeze, the raw, unchecked fury a side of her you’d never known. It was a wildfire in her eyes, consuming everything in its path, and it frightened you—not because you feared her, but because you feared what that anger might do to her.

“It’s so easy to hate them...” she whispered, her voice trailing off into the rhythm of the windmill nearby. Its blades turned steadily, the faint creak and groan of wood mingling with the soft rustle of petals caught in the breeze. The air seemed to carry the garden’s sorrow, the weight of it pressing against your chest.

You squeezed her hands gently, your thumb tracing slow, soothing patterns across her skin. “And the third one?” She tilted her head back slightly, her eyes finally meeting yours. They were tired, lined with shadows that no amount of rest could erase, yet there was something luminous in their depths—something that spoke of vulnerability and trust.

“You,” she said softly.

The single word hung between you, delicate and profound, as her gaze searched yours for a reaction. Her brows furrowed slightly, the faintest trace of worry in the lines of her face.

She leans into you, her chapped lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes you shiver. The kiss is brief yet lingers in your chest as haunting as it is sweet. When she tilts her head back, her eyes meet yours, and the moment feels suspended, as if time itself has paused to honor the weight of this intimacy. Your skin tingles where her cold fingers trace up your arms, their path slow. They find their way to your neck, her touch a mix of hesitancy and need, before her lips return to yours.

This time, the kiss deepens. There’s a fervent gentleness in her movements, an urgency tempered by care. You respond instinctively, matching the rhythm of her lips. Your breaths interwine, until you pull away just enough to press another kiss to her lips, softer this time, a silent assurance that you are here.

But Caitlyn doesn’t stop. Her mouth finds yours again, her tongue grazing your lips. For a moment, you hesitate. Perhaps it’s the rawness of her emotion, or the vulnerability of being in this open space where anyone might stumble upon you. Maybe it’s the Caitlyn you see now—a woman so familiar yet so distant—that makes you pull back, just slightly.

“Cait...” you whisper, your voice breathless, your eyes searching hers for clarity, for reassurance.

Her response is a smile, a rare one you’ve missed, the one you’ve longed to see for what feels like a lifetime.

And it undoes you.

Your lips find her neck, trailing a line of kisses along her skin, each one a confession of the emotions you can’t put into words. Your hands move instinctively, slipping beneath the fabric of her uniform, seeking the warmth of her thighs. The soft give of her skin beneath your palms.

Her hands rest on the bench, her fingers curling slightly as if anchoring herself to the moment. Her lips part, a soft gasp escaping as your touch deepens. Her breath mingles with the cool air, each exhale carrying a note of longing. She tilts her head back, and her body shifts subtly, her legs parting in silent invitation.

There’s no need for words. Her body speaks for her, a language of trust and desire that you understand without effort. You lean into her. Your lips press on her legs, starting with her knees as you pull her uniform up enough to slide your fingers into the hem of her panties. Her hips adjust, allowing you to pull her underwear down her legs and slid your fingers near her folds. You kiss your way up her inner thighs, never leaving her out of sight. Your thumb rubs small circles around her clit, feeling the wet growing. Caitlyn holds herself in place, letting out quiet whimpers and gasps while fighting for her legs to stay wide open for you.

You slid your hands once again at the sides of her thighs, leaning closer to press small kisses on her clit and down her slit, savoring every inch of her before sliding your tongue up and down, slurping obscenely while moaning against her. "Please..." you begged breathlessly. "Cum for me."

You stand beside her during the speech, her arm looped tightly through yours. Her fingers fidget with yours, nails that expose the restless and uncertain in her with the scars they leave in your skin. Yet, there’s a softness in how she squeezes your hand, as if reminding herself that you’re there. When her mother’s name is mentioned, you feel the slight tremble in her grip, a signal of the tears gathering in her eyes, threatening to spill. You glance at her, catching the sheen of vulnerability in her gaze, and your heart aches to comfort her.

But before you can whisper how you're here for her, the moment shatters. A thunderous boom cleaves through the air, its force rattling your chest. A streak of red light arcs into the sky, burning your view. Screams erupt all around, high-pitched and frantic, mingling with the sound of chaos. The crowd scatters and you freeze, caught in the disarray, until you feel her hand pulling you—urgently, forcefully—dragging you away from the danger.

“Are you alright?” Caitlyn’s voice cuts through the noise, firm yet tinged with worry. Her hands cup your face, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you forget the pandemonium for a second. Before you can fully respond, she snatches a rifle from a fallen enforcer. You nod, though your legs feel unsteady beneath you, your mind swirling with fear and confusion.

A red-haired enforcer grabs your arm and ushers you toward the back of the stage, guiding you to the safety of a waiting truck. As you climb into, surrounded by panicked council members, your breath quickens, the fear of something happening to Caitlyn pounding in your chest. It's so loud and so strong you fear it might stop. And it does, when a sharp impact swallows you into darkness.

When you wake, the room feels colder than usual. Caitlyn’s voice breaks through the haze, her words sharp and trembling. “A memorial...” she mutters, her tone teetering between outrage and disbelief. She’s seated at the edge of her bed, you see in her muscles how her back is tight and rigid, her hands balled into fists on her thighs. A nurse exits quietly, leaving you alone-- you almost pray she doesn't.

Her frown is a weight too heavy to watch, her teeth biting hard into her bottom lip, drawing blood. "What kind of animals..." she spits, her voice rising, "All they did is piss me off!"

This side of her is uncharted territory—raw, angry, and terrifying in its intensity. It’s a version of Caitlyn you’ve never seen before, and the sight of it scares you. But still, you move toward her, crawling onto the bed to approach closer.

Her head tilts slightly, leaning into your presence as if drawn by gravity. The fire in her expression falters, replaced by a heartbreaking vulnerability. Her eyebrows tremble, her lips quivering as she fights to contain the sobs threatening to break free. “I don’t know what to do,” she confesses, her voice cracking as her hand rises to cover her face.

She trembles beneath her own emotions, her fingers twitching as her hands drop uselessly into her lap. "She dies and leaves and I’m just supposed to fill this hole like she was never there to begin with." Her words come out in fragments, each one cutting deeper into your heart.

A single tear escapes her, carving a trail down her cheek, and it feels like the final crack in a dam about to burst. Gently, you reach out, your thumb brushing away the tear, your hand trailing down to her chin to lift her gaze to yours. “Hey,” you whisper softly, the word laden with all the comfort you can muster. “We’ll be alright.”

Her eyes meet yours—red and glossy, matching the rawness of her chapped lips. Her exhaustion is etched into every line of her face, the weight of her grief pressing down on her like an unforgiving tide.

“Come here,” you urge, your voice tender yet steady. She hesitates, her hand reaching up to cup yours for a fleeting moment before brushing it away. She wipes at her tears, a futile attempt to hide her vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, her voice faltering. “It’s just...” You silence her with a shake of your head. You understand the walls she’s built, the weight she carries, and you refuse to let her bear it alone.

“It’s all coming apart,” she whispers, her tone fragile, almost defeated.

“No, it isn’t,” you counter, your words firm before cupping her face, your touch grounding her. “We won’t let it.”

The warmth of the fire casts a golden glow across the room, dancing along the walls and casting flickering shadows on the green upholstery of the ornate armchair you occupy. The tea in your hands sends soft tendrils of steam curling into the air, the faint scent of chamomile mingling with the woody aroma of burning logs. The book in your lap lies open, its pages half-read, but your eyes stray to the flames, their hypnotic sway lulling you into a rare moment of stillness.

The sharp crack of the door swinging open shatters the serenity. The sound echoes like a gunshot, startling you enough to spill a few drops of tea onto the small, polished coffee table before you. Your gaze snaps to the doorway, and your breath catches in your throat.

She’s standing there, framed by the doorway. Her face is a canvas of bruises, the darkened hues of purple and red marring the thin curves of her cheeks. Scratches crisscross her skin. Dirt clings to her clothes and streaks her hands. But it’s her eyes that root you to the spot—red-rimmed and glistening.

Her lips are parted, and though no words come out, the tremble in her bottom lip betrays the raging inside her. She’s been crying—you can see it in the rawness of her expression, the puffiness around her eyes—but there’s something more, something primal and consuming in the way she stares at you.

“Are you alright? What happened?” you ask, your voice urgent, almost stumbling over the words as you rise from the couch. The tea and book are abandoned on the table, forgotten in the sudden shift of your world.

She doesn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, she steps forward, her boots heavy on the floor, carrying the weight of her anguish with every movement. The firelight catches the tears that threaten to fall again, and you notice the subtle wince in her steps, the stiffness in her posture.

You reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against the dirt-streaked fabric of her sleeve.

“Talk to me,” you urge, your tone softer now, pleading.

For a moment, it seems as though she might speak, her mouth opening slightly, but then it closes again. Instead, her eyes find yours, wide and glassy, searching for something—reassurance, safety, understanding.

The fire continues to crackle behind you, its warmth a stark contrast to the coldness that seems to cling to her. Your hands gently brush against her hair, now tangled and dusted with remnants of the outside world.

"Where’s Violet?" you ask softly, the question laced with unease. The mere thought of losing someone else, of her standing before you so battered and with more grief on her shoulders, sends an icy jolt through your veins.

Her reaction is immediate, sharp—her eyes roll in irritation, her teeth sinking into the flesh of her bottom lip as though she’s trying to chew away the words she doesn’t want to say. She pushes past you, the faint scent of dirt and sweat trailing her as she tosses her gun carelessly onto the nearest surface. The dull thud of metal on wood makes you wince.

"She stopped me," she spits, each word drenched in fury. "I had Jinx—right there—and she stopped me... for a stupid child." Anger ripples through her, but beneath it lies a wound far deeper than she wants to admit.

You don’t interrupt her. You simply stand by the door, watching as she paces, her movements frantic yet constrained, like a caged animal desperate for escape. Her words tumble out in disjointed bursts, a storm of emotion too overwhelming to contain. But even as you listen, the weight of her pain settles over you, a burden you’re all too willing to share if she’d only let you.

Her rambling halts abruptly, the noise of her anguish giving way to a silence that feels almost oppressive. You take a hesitant step forward, your voice calm, steady. “Let me...”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t resist, and that alone tells you how exhausted she truly is. You guide her gently to her room, allowing her to step into the bathroom.

The shower runs, steam curling into the air as you help her wash away the grime of the day. Her movements are slow, mechanical, but she lets you guide her, her trust in you unspoken yet profound. You don’t rush, letting the water and your careful hands work to soothe her, to strip away the evidence of whatever nightmare she’s just endured.

Later, as you sit behind her, combing through the damp strands of her hair, you feel the tension still clinging to her. Her shoulders are tight, her neck marked with faint bruises that stand out against her pale skin. Your fingers work gently, unraveling knots, both in her hair and, you hope, in her mind.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the spot where her hairline meets her temple. "It’s going to be fine."

She doesn’t say anything, but you catch it—the faintest curl of her lips, a smile so small it’s almost imperceptible. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it’s enough. Only you, it seems, can quiet her fear for a moment.

But perhaps you had been wrong all along. Perhaps it wasn’t only Caitlyn you were trying to convince—it was yourself.

The name, "Caitlyn Kiramman," rings out suddenly, the sound sharp and cutting, turning acrid as it settles in your ears. It twists your stomach into tight, unrelenting knots, your pulse quickening with an instinctive dread.

Your eyes snap to her, wide with disbelief. She’s too far away, standing on that raised platform like a figure in some tragic play. There’s nothing you can do—no hand to grasp, no words to whisper that might reel her back. You can only hope, pray even, that the Caitlyn you know, the one who always looks for you in a crowd as though you’re her anchor, will see you now and find her way.

But she doesn’t.

Her eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments, not with the steady resolve you’ve clung to, but with something unrecognizable—mocking, almost defiant. Her gaze burns.

You see her chest rise and fall, her breath shallow and erratic, her hands twitching at her sides. Her skin glows with an unnatural warmth, a fever born of anxiety and mounting pressure. The ceremonial uniform clings to her, an ill-fitting armor that seems to suffocate rather than protect her. Her face, once serene even under the heaviest burdens, now betrays her unraveling composure.

The murmurs in the crowd grow louder, each hushed gasp and whispered word a dagger in your heart. She hears them too. It’s evident in the way her shoulders tense and her brows curve inward, forming lines of worry and doubt. Her nose scrunches as though trying to block out the suffocating air around her. The bruises and scratches you’d helped her hide beneath layers of powder now peek through the flush of her reddened cheeks, revealing a fragility she seems desperate to mask.

Her lips part as though to speak, but no sound comes. Instead, her breaths grow uneven, quickened, fluttering with no escape. She hesitates, falters, her steps unsteady as she moves toward Ambessa.

Your heart plummets.

This wasn’t supposed to happen—not like this. Everyone around you seems to agree, their silent nods and approving glances affirming Caitlyn’s every move.

Everyone but you.

Your throat tightens as you watch her bite the inside of her lip. It’s the kind of detail that would normally endear her to you, but now it feels like a weight pressing against your chest.

And then it happens.

Caitlyn steps to the forefront, her figure illuminated by the dim light of the grand hall. Ambessa looms before her, a towering figure draped in authority and power. The room stills as the older woman steps forward, placing a heavy cape over Caitlyn’s shoulders. The gesture is deliberate, ceremonial, and it feels like the final blow in a battle you’ve already lost.

You watch Ambessa lean in, her voice too low to hear but her lips close enough to Caitlyn’s ear to utter something significant, something that makes Caitlyn’s expression waver for the briefest of moments.

You can’t take it.

Your heart screams at you to intervene, to shout, to do anything but stand there frozen in your disbelief. But your body betrays you.

This cannot be your Caitlyn. The Caitlyn you’ve fought for, bled for, loved beyond reason. The Caitlyn who was supposed to fight for what was right, not be swallowed by it.

But she stands there, and for the first time, you wonder if the Caitlyn you thought you knew is already gone.

[tsukii0002]

I liked your mc calling the brothers their husband post. Would you do something similar with the undatables? Absolutely fine if not!

Hello!!, Thank you for you message 🥺. Apart from the dateable ones I include the non dateable ones because they deserve it. This time the situations are longer and more elavorate, a little bit of love for the side characters. Although it took me a little while, I hope you enjoy it.

Part of the brothers

Warning: I wasn't sure how to write these situations so the formatting may be a bit messy, and in this case Mc is the same person as the reader.

Diavolo

Diavolo had to go to the human world to close some deals with the Corvo company and you decided to accompany him. But it was a matter of minutes before people approached him to ask if he was a star or a celebrity. Following his friendly nature, he talked to everyone and even took pictures, a small group of people approached you, seeing that you knew him.

Woman: How handsome, is he a model?

Man: Who is he?

Mc: He is my husband *smile* and he is not a model.

Diavolo didn't dissimulate, he didn't wait, he turned quickly and walked briskly beside you. His eyes were shining, crystalline, he didn't know what to do, that was unknown ground for him. He was trying to tell you a hundred things so fast that you didn't understand him. You took him by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd. Despite his excitement, he put his hand on yours with extreme gentleness, as if he was afraid that his touch would make you suddenly disappear.

Mc: Did I say something I shouldn't have?

Diavolo: What? No, no, you haven't said anything you shouldn't….

He looked away totally blushing.

Diavolo: Are you sure… that despite of everything, of who I am… you would want me as your husband?

Mc: *moved* I couldn't think of anyone else Dia.

Diavolo: *shining like the sun* I couldn't be anyone else but you either, spouse.

Barbatos

You had agreed to help Barbatos tidy up a room full of relics, the demon was very grateful to you.

Little D: It's very sweet of you to help Mr. Barbatos.

Mc: Well, it's only natural to help my husband.

The little demons put their little hands to their mouths while laughing excitedly. You laughed too, but you stopped when you felt a whisper in your ear, when you turned around there was Barbatos, with a kind smile and his cheeks a little colored, he was looking at you with immense affection. He put his hand to his chin and began to watch you curiously, now you were the nervous one. The Little d's laughed mischievously.

Barbatos: It is, without a doubt, the greatest treasure I could find in this room.

Mc: Th- the what?

Barbatos: Ju, ju, the time I spend with you, my spouse.

Barbatos held you by the waist and hand, as if to dance, you grabbed his shoulder and let him guide you around the room. He hugged you as he caressed your face with his cheek. It was hard to read, but his eyes exuded an endearment rare to see in him.

Barbatos: I never considered having a spouse before.

Mc: *laughing* No?

Barbatos: No, but now that I've found myself having the best spouse in the three realms, I've realized how much I wanted to have them.

Mc: Damn *totally blushing*

Little D's: Kyaaa!!!

Solomon

Solomon had gotten into an argument with a demon, the sorcerer seemed to be having fun, but you knew you had to stop him from getting into more serious trouble (with Barbatos). The demon was throwing in his face certain problems with his artifacts and conflicts of the past while your master just laughed, you jumped in the middle without hesitating, the demon looked at you.

Mc: Stop it, you are not going to achieve anything arguing with him….

Demon: Do you even know who this shameless guy is?

Mc: Of course I do, he is MY husband.

The scene was hilarious, Solomon with his hands up grabbed by the collar of his shirt by a demon, the chaos stopped, the second one looked with a face of disbelief and the first one at first had his usual smile, but then he suddenly turned red and seemed to emanate heat. He began to gesticulate, the demon let go and the crowd dissipated. Solomon stood looking at you, very still, his face had no trace of his usual amused expression, he looked unusually shy.

Solomon: *taking his hand* Really… would you want a husband like me?

Mc: *squeezing his hand* I can't think of a better one.

Solomon laughed, that cute laugh, shy he was also charming.

Solomon: The two most powerful wizards in history, as husband and spouse… no one will stop us Mc.

Simeon

You and Simeon were going to run some errands in Devildom, you used to go together, because you were not intimidated to go out alone and Simeon felt better if he accompanied you. Some demons still had problems with the angels, (you are already mimicked), and some were not afraid to approach to provoke.

Demon: Oh? Who could this little angel be?

Mc: My husband.

Simeon dropped all the fruits as he looked at you, surprised, very surprised. The angel then started looking around and picking up the fruit with a nervous smile. With a look from you the demon left, embarrassed. You crouched down beside Simeon and could see that he was avoiding your gaze with a rosy face. You both stood up and laughed, though Simeon still avoided your gaze. You set off again and after a while Simeon spoke.

Simeon: I thought it was just me… *brings his hands to his face* I thought I was the only one who wanted to be your husband.

Mc: Well *acting surprised*, I'm pretty sure I've had an angel husband for a while.

Simeon: If so, *grinning nervously again* then I've had a human spouse for a long time.

The angel carries all the bags in one hand and holds out the other to you. Determined, you take it.

Raphael

Raphael had convinced you to go to a knitting club in the human world (how ????), the grannies loved it and when they saw you enter they began to whisper excitedly. You sat down in the ladies' circle next to Raphael and started knitting (or trying to), as conversation began to arise. One of the ladies asked you kindly.

Granny: Tell me, my child, what is your relationship with Raphael?

Mc: Raphael is my husband

Raphael blinked, then looked up with a look of confusion and looked at you even more confused, cocking his head like a puppy. The ladies began to whisper even more excitedly. Raphael looked around as his colors rose, pulled his chair closer to yours and looked you in the eye. The grannies left you alone.

Raphael: You…. *pause for reflection* are you serious?

You didn't really know what he meant, but you nodded, he seemed to reflect, with that serious face of his. The angel was an indecipherable person most of the time, it was part of his charm.

Raphael: I… I promise to be a good husband, I will always take care of you and I will make sure that…

Mc: *being cautious* What?

Raphael: *smiling* That my spouse will always be happy.

Mephistopeles

Mephisto had invited you to a party at his family mansion, despite denying it he tried to be by your side the whole time, trying not to leave you alone, but being the host it was too complicated. He talked to all kinds of demons while you watched him, you could see how he constantly looked in your direction in a hurry. Several of the guests approached you.

Demon: Why are you here *smugly and* how would you know Mr. Mephistopheles?

Mc: He *looking him up and down* is my husband.

Mephisto's face was a picture, he had heard it. It didn't take him two seconds to approach you, striding towards you, totally flushed.

Demon: Are you serious? That's impossible.

Mephisto: *raising his voice* I am their husband! And they are my spouse!

You remained silent, he had embraced you in a protective way, interposing himself between you and the demons, it was your turn to blush, the guests left. Mephisto held out his arm to you, you took it, he was looking straight ahead with a pout on his face totally blushing, but he put his other hand on yours, firm. I didn't know what else to say, you laughed.

Mc: I won't be a problem, husband?

Mephhisto: Don't separate from me, there is no problem… *almost stuttering* spouse.

Thirteen

You had promised to take Thirteen to a punk band concert upon the recommendation of some class friends (because yes, you had a social life in hell outside of the brothers and the others). Thirteen was trying to make every possible plan with you, and seeing her face colored with excitement or thrill was totally worth it. There you recognized a friend.

Dyed hair demon: Mc! How nice to see you, who is your friend?

Mc: Oh, this is my wife.

Your friend's face colored, Thirteen seemed to have stopped working as her eyes opened wider and wider, while her face blushed more and more, but then she let out a big laugh and hugged you tightly, giving you kisses and kisses all over your face, leaving her lipstick marked. Without taking her eyes off you and with the sweetest smile in the world she laughed again.

Mc: It's our special night, just for the two of us.

You circled her waist, then she took off one of the earrings hanging from her ears and put it on your finger, to then link her hand with yours.

Thirteen: *with very flushed cheeks and a mischievous smile* I love making these plans with you, spouse.

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Thanks for reading🌸

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[2-old-to-guard]

Nicolò, Nicky, di Genova

For the second analysis I shall be exploring the inner workings of Nicky. Now, Nicky is a VERY quiet character so a lot of my analysis shall be subtext delievered by the amazing Luca Marinelli who put 110% into this role.

First Impression:

The first time Nicky is mentioned is between Andy and Booker. He uses the couple as a tactic to get Andy to consider the mission. (You can see that when Booker looks at Andy immedietly after Nicky opens the door).

This is actually the first example of Nicky being the first line of defence. He opens the door while Joe hangs back. But both of the men relax when they see her. The hug Andy and Nicky is much more soft than the one between her and Joe which shows Nicky's more reserved character. It also heavily differs to the ways Andy and Booker touch each other, which is discused in Booker's post here. I also like how the couple are kind of matching shirts, I think it's cute.

Relationships:

I've spoke about Nicky and Booker in my Booker post so you can read that here. But from Nicky's perspective, I believe he's humoring Booker and clearly holds no actual anger when he loses. He's known Andy for longer than Booker and must know she'll guess the baklava. But he places the bet anyway as it seems to be a little tradition between the duo, giving them a unique relationship. Finally, it shows they have a rather flippant approach to money as they bet A LOT of money on this silly bet, which could also show how long this bet has been going on for.

Nicky's role in Andy's story is to be the constant postive approach to their immortality. He is clearly under the belief that their long life has to mean something and this is what fate has dictated they do with their undeath. At the beginning Andy is hostile to this and snaps at him multiple times. Simply through their differing personalities, they have the least connection but the small moments they have together show their love. He is also another gift giving person and gives her the baklava in a rather affectionate way. Unlike Booker, Nicky values gifts that serve a purpose (food).

I'm going to talk about Joe and Nicky in the Van scene as it deserves its own section.

Sniper:

Nicky is the sniper of the group which continues through the beginning sequence. Each of the members have their specific role.

I like the little moment where Copley waves at Nicky through his rifle. It's subtle but works to explain Nicky's later remark:

"We are usually a better judge of character."

As it gives Nicky and Copley a moment before the betrayal.

Sudan:

Nicky is the only immortal to talk to the group of people they pass on their mission.

This analysis is inspired by this post. It's subtle but it shows Nicky's kindness and how he goes out of his way to be kind to people. It's not just about rescuing people from kidnappers, it's about being kind to people.

Also, I think it's interesting that Nicky knows many languages and goes out of his way to speak to people in their native tounge.

Another subtle moment of showing the skills each of the Guard have. Not only does Nicky kill two guards with one bullet, he also catches the shell casing to ensure no evidence is left behind.

As the mission is revealed to be an ambush, Nicky's sole focus is on the hypothetical girls, even after they are killed. Nicky believes Copley is on their side and so cannot comprehend that he lied to them.

Whilst Joe is discussed as being "an incurable romantic", Nicky also has his moments. Specifically, in this scene Nicky dies looking at Joe so when Joe turns to see if Nicky is still alive, Nicky is already staring at him.

Later on, when Andy is fully in despair Nicky tries to comfort her with the same line as before. But this time, Andy snaps at him. This is the middle part of this conflict between them. The first is the status quo, the second is the conflict, the third is the resolution.

Contextually, Nicky's first conflict was the Crusades and that is considered one of the worst conflicts in history. Nicky most likely feels immense shame for it and that is what drives his need to do good. Saying they did what they did "For the right reasons" shows Nicky is acknowledging you can do it for the wrong reasons. He shows great sadness at Andy's cynicism in this scene but doesn't say anything, once again showing his reserved nature.

The Dreams:

As stated previously, the ways each of the characters interpret the dreams shows us something about their characters.

Nicky is the first person to state what he saw in his dream and he zeros in on who the new immortal and what she looks like. Next, he talks about the surroundings "dirt walls, clay walls". Thirdly he brings up the weapon that is used. "The pesh-kabz is an Indo-Persian knife used extensively in northern India and Afghanistan". In three lines, Nicky has figured out the physical appearance of the new immortal, the setting in which she died, and the geographical location of the new immortal. This scene highlights Nicky's practical nature, similar to the way he used his rifle to kill two men at once to ensure the alarm wouldn't be raised.

From Nile p.o.v all she sees of Joe and Nicky is them embracing. Joe and Nicky's first priority is love, whether for each other or the rest of their family.

This is immedietly followed by Nicky's monologue about one's first death. This scene, like "peace be with you", shows Nicky's empathy for other people. He immedietly decides to save her not for a practical reason (like Andy), but for emotional reason.

"Whoever she is, she’s confused, and she’s scared, and she’s more alone than she has ever been in her entire life."

This also seems to be him emploring Andy's softer side, which works and shows how close Andy and Nicky are and how well he knows her.

Finally, Booker claiming that Nicky always had Joe is incorrect as he woke from death alone and was isolated for many years before they put their differences aside (apologies for the Booker slander but my boi deserved that).

The Dinner Scene:

In many of the deleated scenes, Nicky has a strong passion for food. This was cut but this moment where he smiles seeing Nile eat his food is really cute and shows his caring nature.

I also like the subtle difference where Nicky finishes Joe's sentence after Nile appears confused:

"So you good guys or bad guys?"

"Depends on the century."

"We fight for what we think is right."

I don't know why no one talks about this but Nicky is the first one in the relationship to tell Nile about it.

This line doesn't hit as hard at the van confession but it's so simple in the way it states that Joe and Nicky are together. It's so sweet how Nicky doesn't even hesitate in explicitly stating his love for Joe.

There is also a little regret in the way he says "many times" which adds to Nicky's regret over the crusades.

The scene, for Nicky, ends when he notices how conflicted Nile is and offers her a place to rest. Another example of Nicky's kindess.

Quynh:

Nicky and Joe's sleeping pattern has been highly analysed by the fanbase so I won't talk about it in a lot of detail. While Joe is shielding Nicky with his body on the train, Nicky is protecting Joe with his body in Gousanville safe house. Nicky, as the sniper, is the most observant of the group and is awake and alert first out of all of them. He also has a gun in his hand by the time Joe and Booker are awake.

I think it's very important for Nicky and Joe be the ones to talk about Quynh. For Nicky's side, he must feel immense guilt for the imprisonment of Quynh as it was his fellow christians who dropped her into the bottom of the ocean. The guilt he feels is shown through the camera angle. Andy views Nicky talking about the witch trials through a church window. Whilst it's commendable that the movie keeps Nicky a christian even after his long life and his relationship with Joe, it adds to his complexity as he fully recognises the crimes of his fellow christians but remains faithful, probally because the same God that make him immortal gave him the life he has with Joe. He also fights through his pain to explain to the scared Nile what she saw. His kindness doesn't blind him, however, and he allows Andy to be the one to talk to Nile after she storms off.

The Van Scene:

Whilst Joe and Nicky are joined together for the most part, to the point where they are mostly referred to as Joe and Nicky, they are their own seperate people. Joe is more outspoken and emotional whilst Nicky is reserved. This is most clearly displayed with the different ways each of the characters react to the homophobic comment from the guards.

While Joe begins to preach to the men, Nicky says very little. He shows exhaustion at the comment rather than just anger, showing how this kind of bigotry is nothing new to him and someting he is tired of. As Joe's speach continues, Nicky goes from tired, to touched. As Luca said it an interview, all he had to do was get lost in Marwan's eyes.

But Nicky isn't completley emotionless. By the end of Joe's speach, Nicky is overcome with love that he leans forwards and kisses Joe. The focus on him in this scene makes it seem like Nicky moved first and Joe followed. Another moment of Nicky being the first to show affection to Joe.

All of this culminates in them kicking the guards ass as all good power couples should.

Whilst the idea of them only doing this because they're homophobic is funny, in the comics it's clear that they did this to try and escape. Still, this one of the first time Nicky is snarky. I believe this is Nicky putting on a persona to try and intimidate the mercanaries and make them unsteady in another attempt to escape.

This is also the first example of Nicky absolutley gagging someone. Having him turn to Copley and say "We are usually a better judge of character". Copley holds an immense respect for the immortals so having one of them dunk on him works well to support his change of allegience later on.

The Merrick Confrontation:

Again, another scene that foucses on Joe's outspokeness. But Nicky is again subtly displaying more of his character.

After Joe headbutts Merrick, Nicky subtly tries to reach for Joe. He probally realises this will result in something bad and so tries to protect Joe.

When Joe is stabbed, Nicky, for the second time, loses his composure and tries to reach for Joe. From the a story writing perspective, obviously this will not kill Joe, but having Nicky be so reserved for the majority of the film his out-of-character panic adds to the tension of the scene.

As Merrick monolouges neither of the couple are really listening. Nicky is solely focused on Joe and making sure he's ok. You can see Luca subtly look to Joe's neck before moving in for the blessed headbump. The fact that Marwan and Luca improvised that, probally inspired by the deleted scene where they do the same thing, hurts my soul. Anyway, it is only when he knows Joe is ok, Nicky then focuses on Merrick. This could also show to symbolise that Merrick isn't the threat Nicky is worried about. That fear is reserved only for death.

The Lab Scene:

Despite being in extreme pain, Nicky doesn't scream and tries to keep in any noises. This could serve two purposes,

The first is that he doesn't want to give Kozak the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. Including lines such as "do you feel the wound trying to close?" shows she clearly holds more sadistic interest in these experiements.

The second purpose is that he doesn't want to worry Joe. From the following dialouge, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake" he was working under the assumption that Joe was asleep and if he was asleep, Nicky screaming would wake him.

This is the second example of Nicky gagging his captors. But this one seems to go over Kozak's head, which makes me laugh. The script has to balance the weight of each of the characters' lives with making them seem relatable and like real people. This is an example of Nicky's imortality dictating his response. Even though Kozak is actively torturing him, he holds little resentment towards her and admits he understands her actions. From a personal perspective, his involvment in the crusades, and from a historical perspective, all the ways humanity has experimented on others claiming to be trying to save the world.

When Joe wakes up, Nicky tries to soothe his panic by saying, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake". The couple are clearly trying to pretend that what is happening to them isn't happning. I think Nicky is the one who is more accepting of what they are going through.

The subtle smile Luca does when he says 'Malta' shows him letting nostalgia consume him insted of fear. But when he says "we should go back", he's letting the reality of the situation settle in again. But he still holds hope that they will escape, showing the trust he has in Andy.

The Lab Scene Continued:

The despair on Nicky's face can be seen from the beginning of this scene. He seems genuinley shocked that Andy has been captured, once again showing how much he's trusts her. The difference between Joe and Nicky is shown again when they react to Andy's mortality. Nicky slowly lowers his head whilst Joe's is more explicit.

Furthermore, when Nicky says "All things", he isn't looking at Merrick. He's seemingly looking at the sky, possibley towards God. He's not angry but instead seems to be sad and accepting.

The final example of Nicky gagging his captor. The line "as is yours" works in two ways. The first is to remind Merrick that for all his money, and influence, and connections, he is still mortal and he will eventually die long before Nicky ever does. Secondly, it works as a threat. Merrick is reminded that the extremely skilled killers he has tied up in his basement could in fact escape and they'll come straight for him. Nicky's reserved attitude could make him seem a passive character but lines like that show the anger that bubbles beneath the surface.

The Final Battle:

This is really short but despite not knowing Nile for a day, Nicky still warns her about the incoming attack.

For all his talk of 'we die when we die' Nicky is still worried about risking Andy's life. It's the only time his faith is really disputed and this time, Andy reassures Nicky's faith which is a fun development between them.

This fear for Andy is further shown in the fight scene. Nicky is consistantly looking for Andy and making sure she's ok. This fear leads to his own injury.

Joe and Nicky's relationship is further shown in the absolute confidence Nicky holds for Joe. He doesn't even look behind him during a fight as he knows Joe will be right behind him. I actually love this too.

Also, this shot of Nicky glaring at Booker shows that even though he doesn't want to punish Booker AS severely as Joe, he still holds an immense amount of anger towards Booker. This difference between Joe and Nicky might be due to their differing realationships with Booker. Nicky and Booker were less affectionate, and possibly more distant so his betrayel doesn't hurt Nicky as much... but it does.

The Keane Scene:

This is the final moment where Nicky's calm demenor is uprooted by an intense emotional moment. At first, when it is just him in danger, he uses skilled fighting techniques to fight Keane. But when Joe is the one in danger, he just lunges for Keane just to try and save Joe. This scene is highly controversial as many people see it as unnecessarily violent and too close to real life crimes against gay people. From my perspective, it is meant to symbolise the way gay people have persevered despite their many struggles. It's why Nicky doesn't die in this scene and it ends with the couple embracing.

Also, despite having just DIED, Nicky first concern is Andy which is the pinnacle moment of his kindness.

Final Nicky Scenes:

With everything we've learnt of Nicky throughout the movie, it makes total sense that he's the first person to reach Nile after her fall. Unlike Booker, who was just telling her to give up on her old life, Nicky tries to show her that her new existence is worth something just like he does with Andy.

As as stated by https://www.tumblr.com/wickedpact/629810255706079232/love-is-stored-in-the-nicky?source=share, him willing sitting in the middle is so quintessential Nicky.

After all the debates around what is their purpose and why they are what they are. This quick shot of Nicky smiling after Nile's line "maybe this is why Andy" is the resulution to his arc through the movie.

His arc doesn't work in the way that they usually work. He doesn't change in his beliefs or world-view and instead, it is other people realising that he was right. It also involves him realising his is right and having his world-view confirmed.

Conclusion:

Like Booker, Nicky serves a specific role in the movie. Most of the other characters are loud and outspoken but Nicky serves as the quiet warmth in the background. He doesn't go through any major crisis and seems mostly self-realised. On the opposite end of Booker, he stands as the angel (hah) on Andy's shoulder and gives her the second option for the reason for their life. Also, shout out to Luca Marinelli for doing all of this with such little dialogue!!

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 14.

viktorxfemale!OFC explicit!

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.15.

word count: 6,5K

tag: #what was that

author’s note: @rennethen as beta reader and co-author of nsfw scenes. Big decisions are made as we inch toward the ending, more big decisions to come in the next chapter. This one has a bit of angst and making up :')

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A crumpled piece of paper stared at her from the desk, almost offensively. Don’t come. Ekko had been very clear about what was happening in Zaun—how they needed help and supplies—and yet, at the same time, he’d written, “Don’t come.” The words, scratched out in haste and frustration, outlined the chaos unfolding in the Undercity, painted in vivid, heart-wrenching detail. He spoke of the Chem-barons pushing harder, of the Grey spreading faster than anyone had anticipated, but it was the final sentence that cut deeper than the rest: Things look bad, but don’t come.

It was an incredibly stupid thing to say to someone whose first instinct was to do the exact opposite.

She knew how to sneak in unnoticed. She knew how to blend into the Undercity’s shadows, how to remain invisible on its streets even while carrying a massive bag filled with meds and supplies. She knew where to leave the packages and how to find Vander if the need ever arose. Her wardrobe even included the most inconspicuous clothes for this exact purpose, and she had practiced her most inconspicuous stroll to match. Yet nobody wanted her to go.

Ekko had told her not to come. Jayce would probably say the same. Was it fear for her safety? Or was it a plea for her to stay out of a war that had already begun to consume everything? Viktor—though he hadn’t said it so firmly—had shown it in his eyes. More than anyone, he didn’t want her to go. He’d all but forbidden her. The same way she had tried to forbid him from using the Hexcore.

Her chest tightened as she thought of his fractured resolve, of the utterly betrayed look on his face when he had found her clutching onto Jayce in the lab. How she had cried her heart out to Jayce, how she had confessed her complete, unfaltering devotion to Viktor. And yet it was Viktor who should have heard those words. Not Jayce. And certainly not like that. Not stolen or overheard in a desperate attempt to turn him away from his goal. He deserved so much better. He deserved to hear it in the safety of their bed, spoken with love and certainty—not anguish.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed the paper on her desk, her mind returning to the fleeting moment when Viktor had said, I am happy. How quickly that happiness had faded, replaced with another want—one far more dangerous and unapproachable than the concept of being loved. Or perhaps, she thought bitterly, they were equally alien to Viktor.

A knock on the door wrenched her out of her own head.

She glanced around her apartment, taking in its natural state of controlled chaos. Papers were scattered across her bed and floor, a few too many cups for one person splayed across various surfaces, clothes draped haphazardly over the chair. A scented candle burned faintly on the table, its singular ember a small, grounding presence in the midst of her internal monologue.

She sighed, stretched—she’d been sitting in the same position for what must have been two hours—and walked toward the door on wobbly legs.

When she opened it, Viktor stood on the other side, and her first thought was whether he had felt the same as she did now when she had shown up at his doorstep after their week apart. She mirrored his movements from that moment, fighting the immediate urge to pull him into an embrace. Instead, she settled for a gentle chin tilt, a silent beckon for him to come inside.

Wordlessly, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find his gaze fixed on the floor. His trembling hand gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles white with tension. He looked awful—worn, hollow somehow—but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Before she could form the words to greet him, he suddenly clutched onto her like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

“Forgive me,” he whispered desperately against her neck, his voice raw and unsteady.

His cane clattered to the floor. Viktor clung to her with so much need, his breathing laboured and erratic, as though every exhale cost him more than he could bear. Renly froze for a moment, startled by the sheer force of his grip, but instinct soon took over. She raised her hands, resting them lightly on his back, feeling the faint tremor coursing through his body. His arms encircled her neck, holding her so tightly it almost hurt, as though letting go might shatter him completely.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his anguish. "I’m so sorry."

Renly’s fingers pressed gently against the fabric of his coat; her touch uncertain but steady. "Viktor," she began softly, but he interrupted her with another broken apology, his words tumbling over one another like a prayer.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered again, the sound of it splintering her heart.

She tightened her hold on him, grounding him as best she could, though she couldn’t understand what he meant. Her mind spun. He did it, didn’t he.

"Viktor, talk to me," she said, her voice calm despite the storm she could feel radiating from him. "I’m here. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pressed his face against her neck, his breath hot and uneven on her skin. She could feel his weight bearing down on her, not just physically, but emotionally, as though the very act of standing upright was too much for him.

"I’m afraid," he murmured at last, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

"Afraid of what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

"Of losing you," he admitted, his words breaking into a sob.

The sound sent a sharp pang through her chest. Viktor, who always carried himself with an air of precision and control, now stood before her utterly undone. He was a man stripped of his defences, standing on the edge of a precipice with nothing left to shield him.

"You won’t lose me," she promised, her voice firm despite the tears welling in her own eyes. "I’m right here, Viktor. I’m not going anywhere."

But he only clung tighter, as though her words weren’t enough to break through the crushing weight of whatever he was carrying.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. "I’ve done something… something I cannot undo."

Her breath caught. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands moving to his shoulders. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his face ashen with guilt and fear.

"What did you do?" she asked, the question gentle but unyielding.

Viktor shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought I could… fix—," he said, his words halting, as though even admitting it out loud might unravel him completely. "But I… I made a mistake, Renly. A terrible mistake."

A cold dread settled in her stomach. He did it. At least attempted it. She could feel her hands trembling—not just with fear, but with anger. Betrayal coursed through her veins, sharp and biting. How could he?

The thoughts poured into her mind, gnawing at each other, each one more vicious than the last. He’d gone ahead in his anger, in his stubbornness, and risked everything. Risked his life. Left her teetering on the brink of losing him entirely.

And for what? Because what she offered wasn’t enough? Because her care, her devotion, hadn’t been enough to make him stop, to make him reconsider?

The realisation burned her, stoking the flames of her own insecurities. She could feel the edges of her composure fraying as she stepped back from him, her arms dropping to her sides. The absence of her touch seemed to hit Viktor like a physical blow, his gaze snapping up to meet hers, wide and filled with something that might have been regret—or terror.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice colder than she’d intended, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Viktor flinched, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words pressed him further into the ground. His lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came. His hands hovered uncertainly at his sides, as if reaching for something—her, maybe—but they didn’t move.

“I…” He muttered another apology, his voice barely audible, before finally forcing out the words. “The Hexcore. It… it nearly destroyed me.”

Nearly was an understatement. It had destroyed him—briefly—and then put him back together. Or rather, he had put himself back together with the last ounce of his will, while being consumed and pulled apart in every direction.

In that moment, a fleeting thought had crossed his mind, as one of the possibilities presented to him was an end. An end to his pain, to his indecision, to his fear. A blissful nothing had glimmered faintly before him, just within reach, offering peace and absolution. To become a part of the Arcane, forever forgotten and undisturbed.

Wrenching himself away from it had been the hardest thing Viktor had ever done—until now. Now, standing before Renly, he was faced with something even more daunting: proving his worth to her again. Explaining, somehow, that he had found all the answers he thought he needed, only to realise that none of them mattered without her. Explaining that he had stepped away—not because she was a consolation prize—but because she had always been, and would always remain, his first choice.

Emptiness echoed through Renly’s mind. Her anger faltered quickly, replaced by despair. She had despaired for him so deeply. Part of her wanted to reach back out and shield him from the world, to gather him in and protect him. But another part of her was so deeply wounded by the possibility—one that had never come to fruition yet had still clawed a gaping hole in her—that he had chosen otherwise, even briefly.

She willed her legs to move and passed him wordlessly on her way to the kitchen, granting him only a fleeting moment of her hand resting on his shoulder. She put the kettle on and pulled out two cups to later join her ever growing cup display across the apartment.

Viktor dragged himself behind her, eventually slumping into the chair like a defeated dog. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until she finally placed a steaming cup before him and took a seat across the table, facing him directly.

“All right. What happened?”

“Renly, I—” Viktor sniffled, struggling to gather words that would make sense. “I am so sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Viktor. It already happened,” she said, exasperated, her voice tinged with annoyance. But seeing how he shrank under her scolding, she softened, reaching out to take his hand.

“I was so angry,” he admitted, his voice low and trembling. “With you, with Jayce. I suppose I felt exactly how you are feeling now.” He looked up, meeting her eyes with raw vulnerability. “I… I touched it. And it just devoured me. Broke me. Showed me what I could become—and the price for it. And I realised… I hated it.”

Renly held her breath, her hand retreating from his. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Well, slightly,” Viktor winced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s mostly my mind that’s hurt. My pride.” He thought of the way the Hexcore had terrorised him, its merciless grip, and how he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full truth.

“I can’t believe you threw it all away on a whim,” she blurted, unable to keep the accusation from slipping out.

“It was not a whim!” Viktor’s voice rose, but only briefly, before it broke into a sigh. “It was a promise of something better. For you. For me. Mostly for me,” he admitted, his gaze falling, his thoughts spiralling into incoherence.

“Viktor.” Renly’s tone was heavy, her emotions warring within her. “I can only imagine… No, actually, I can’t imagine what you feel every day.” She stopped him with a sharp look when she saw he was about to interrupt. “I’m so sorry that I don’t know. I was… I was afraid to lose you too.” Her voice cracked, betraying the pain she had tried to hide.

“Renly,” he said, his words weighed down with difficulty, yet he forced himself to continue. “I would understand if this were something you cannot forgive.”

“Viktor, how can you—” she began, but the tears rolling down her cheeks choked the words in her throat. She raised a crook of her elbow to cover her eyes, desperately trying to steady herself.

A hysterical thought shot through Viktor’s mind—that this was their teary goodbye—and for a moment, he was certain he’d start crying as well. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat gathering under his lids, when her hands found him again. Her weight settled on his lap, her face nuzzling into his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, a full-blown cry that dampened his sweater and neck. “You’re so… good, and I haven’t told you,” she said, her voice breaking as she wiped her tears on him. “I didn’t know what I would do if you…” Another sob tore through her, ugly and raw, overblown with all the feelings she had bottled up for far too long.

 Viktor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer as he tried to suppress his own tears. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, and he whispered hoarsely, “I know.”

And he did. He knew it with a clarity that terrified him. That feeling of being so completely entwined with someone else, so dependent on them for a piece of his own happiness—it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Never in his life had he allowed himself to need someone like this, to let someone burrow so deeply into the carefully constructed walls around his heart. But he couldn’t fight it anymore. He didn’t want to.

“Will you…” His voice wavered as he pulled back just enough to meet her swollen, tear-streaked face. “Will you have me back?”

Renly blinked at him, her brows knitting together as if she wanted to argue, to challenge him, to tell him just how wrong he was. She’d never gotten rid of him in the first place. But the words didn’t come. Instead, her trembling hands cradled his face, and she leaned in, pressing a sloppy, tear-soaked kiss against his mouth.

“Yes,” she muttered, her lips brushing his as she spoke the word straight into him, warm and raw and final. “Yes.”

Viktor shuddered under her touch, relief washing over him. He kissed her back, softly at first, then with more urgency, needing to feel the truth of her words. It wasn’t elegant or perfect—it was messy and desperate, as he swallowed her tears down as if they were his own.

Wordlessly, Renly took his hands and guided him toward her bedroom, minding all the obstacles along the way, her movements impatient. Viktor stepped carefully behind her, taking in the clutter of random objects. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there; she had just added more colourful lamps.

Once they had reached the bedroom, she pushed the door shut before pinning Viktor against it, her hands reaching for his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss. He gave away a startled gasp, as she bit his lower lip and slid her palms underneath his shirt. His coat, long abandoned on the hallway floor, left him wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before, and they gave off a faint metallic smell of blood and gear oil from the lab.

Viktor let out a chuckle, as her needy fingers rushed to undo his buttons and rush him out of the layers, scratching his chest with her fingernails by accident. With almost restrained movements, he did the same for her, as if his regard for clothes had vanished, and he only obliged because of her decency in not ripping the fabric right off his back.

With their mouths still glued together, Viktor let his weight rest on her, as he backed them toward the bed, positioning himself to sit first and pull her into his lap. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a tight embrace, his forehead resting in the curve of her neck. He pressed his face into her hair and breathed in deeply through his mouth and nose, hoping to keep her scent with him forever.

Renly ran her fingers down his spine, the bolts embedded in it, as she gently detached all the parts that corseted Viktor’s frame, rubbing her palms flat along the dents and marks it left in his skin. He let out a relieved exhale, as her mouth came back to his into a messy open mouth kiss, his hands pressing on her shoulder blades. Her lips needy, giving away moans of urgency, as if there wasn’t enough of him.

She stood up, guiding him with her, before she leaned down to take off his leg brace with a few quiet clicks and placed it by the bed. Viktor felt her hands sliding down his thigh, her fingers pressing gently around his knee. She then returned to level with him and licked the seam of his mouth as she unbuckled his belt.

Viktor hesitated; his hands travelled to steady hers before she could pull his pants down. There, below the layer of material, was the very proof of his infidelity, of his weakness. The purple, fluorescent vein that burned itself into the fabric of his flesh—a forever reminder of a moment when he almost let himself be corrupted.

She squeezed his palms and broke the kiss with a sigh. Her hands then cradled his neck, pulling him in so she could ghost his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids, his moles, the corner of his mouth, the side of his nose, the spot under his jaw, his neck, with her lips. A silent signal of acceptance, of forgiveness, of the fact that nothing had to be forgiven in that moment. Viktor’s hands hovered in the air patiently until her last kiss, when they rested on her hips, curling under the waistband of her pants.

They rid themselves of the last bit of clothing together, Renly’s eyes lingering for a moment on the alien string in Viktor’s body, his own eyes closed as he slid her pants off with the dull movement of his palms, cradling the skin of her legs. Standing close, but not close enough, Viktor reached out to slowly pull her flush against him. Their mouths came together wrenching breaths out of each other, his thumb stretching the muscle of her cheek as he sunk his tongue in her, breathing heavily through his nose, pressing his chest, his groin, his legs to her and her to his chest and groin so he could feel her naked against him.

Renly’s arms cradled his waist, her palms splayed flat on his back pushing him in, her teeth bringing blood onto his tongue. The fleeting moment of loss was gone, but the feeling of it still present, as they met each other truly for the first time—in hunger and longing, both searching for absolution in each other’s bodies.

Viktor lowered himself back to the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss only to sit her on top of his thighs, her legs straddling him tightly. He clung onto her for balance and for kindness, all their rituals previously established now abandoned for the sake of the urgency of feeling one another, sealing all the things that were close to breaking. He searched for consent in her eyes when his cock found her entrance, and she gave him a silent eager nod against his nose.

Viktor pressed himself in and paused mid-movement, noticing a wince cross her face. “Are you alright?” Of all things, this couldn’t hurt—it mustn’t.

“Yes… ah, yes,” she breathed into his mouth, sinking onto him up to the hilt, the stretch so gratifying she could cry again. A quiet ‘yes’ kept falling from her lips as Viktor’s hips thrusted upwards, their lips and noses bumping against each other in erratic rhythm.

She steadied herself, gripping his chin with one hand and his shoulder with the other, letting him take over, when his hand seized her palm and guided her fingers between them, where their bodies met. A bead of sweat travelled from the pool of her collarbones, down between her breasts, down her belly, to where she touched herself for him.

Her brows knitted together, her mouth hung open between quick breaths, waiting for him, when Viktor cranked his neck to rub his face against hers whispering, “Come on my cock, lásko.”

A full body shudder went through her, as she leaned her weight on him, her thighs clutching around his hips, his bones digging into her flesh, her walls clenching and she muffled a cry of completion into his mouth.

Viktor groaned soon after her, the tightness hugging his cock almost unbearable, as he spilled himself inside, caging her body with his arms, his tongue and teeth dragging across her shoulder. He then collapsed them to the side, still buried within her core, his waist resting on her thigh, his legs curled up under her bum, face nuzzled into her neck.

He kissed her again, his arm stretching out to grab the pillows from the bed head, one to tug under her pelvis as he rolled them over onto it, the other propped under his knee as he hooked his leg underneath hers, their bodies still connected. His tongue exploring her mouth, slowly this time, when his cock slipped out of her, and she let out a disappointed gasp.

Splaying his body on top of hers, their stomachs pressed against each other, he kept kissing her until he felt himself grow hard again. Her belly began to raise and fall more frantically, his own abdomen flexing as he propped himself on one arm and spat into his hand. He reached between them to cup her cunt and rubbed it gently, the slick spreading around her entrance.

He gave his cock a couple of wet strokes to then cage himself around her, one hand above her pressed into the mattress, the other entwining their fingers together, pinning her palm next to her head.

Gently and slowly, he entered her again, his movements soft so she could get used to him once more. The feeling of her walls around him washed over his senses, their scents mixing together, his hips rolling languidly against hers with reverence, as her body accepted him fully. In a pledge of utter devotion, Viktor murmured between his gasps, “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she immediately whispered into his mouth. Viktor was being careful and precise, drawing out her pleasure and prolonging his. He wanted to savour the slide of their bodies melting into one, memorizing every moan that fell between them. Their noses pressed together, breathing heavily, her brows furrowed, mouths agape as their lips brushed against each other with each push of his hips.

His movements grew more intense, though the pace remained the same. Each slow deep thrust he gave her made her gasp quietly, as his cock kept hitting the right spot. He released her hand to slide his palm between them, his fingers finding her cunt, spreading her lips before resting on her clit. He rubbed it lazily, timing the action with the rolls of his hips and building the pressure withing her as her walls begun to clench around him desperately.

Renly dug her nails into his hips, her brows scrunched together, her mouth panting, breathless, and Viktor only smiled and whispered a quiet, “Yes, you are doing so well.” Her thighs squeezed his hips as she reached another climax, her head lifting from the pillow, crying out into his mouth.

He carefully worked her through the orgasm, before picking up the pace of his thrusts to reach his own completion, her name falling from his lips in a quiet chant. Her walls squeezed against his cock, his arms wrapping around her, face buried in her neck, gasping and panting. His movements grew sloppier the closer he got, when he finally spilled himself inside her with a loud groan, his body collapsing onto hers.

For a moment they both breathed heavily, their stomachs connected, rising and falling together. Then, Viktor rolled off her, pulling her with himself to give her a kiss sealing his devotion to her. He withdrew his cock with a quiet sleek sound, letting his seed leak out between them.

He felt her arms tightening around his neck, her breath growing unsteady, and the flutter of her heartbeat. Then he noticed her chest trembling next to his and pulled back to look at her, only to see tears streaming from beneath her closed eyelids.

“Did I hurt you?” was his first instinct to ask as he eased himself out of the vice grip of her thighs to cradle her face against his chest. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no—” Renly croaked, laughing through her sobs as she dampened Viktor’s chest. “I just feel… empty.” Empty of pain, of anger, of the horrible dread she’d felt when he crossed her doorstep. Empty of doubt and insecurities. All the empty space left to be filled with something new.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” she chuckled, trying to wipe her tears away with her hand, but there were too many. “It’s never happened before. I’m so sorry.”

“Lásko, it’s normal. Cry it out—it’s… beautiful,” Viktor murmured against her ear, his fingers combing gently through her hair. He felt his ribcage swell with contentment, a feeling of utter peace flooding his body from head to toe. Her tears felt like a silent confession etched onto the skin covering his heart.

“What is this?” Renly sniffled again, quieter this time, as she began tracing circles in the damp patch on Viktor’s chest, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

“Temperance,” Viktor mused, cradling her to him as though she were a precious gift. “We’ve been… reforged in our heat, tempered in your tears.”

His words left her gaping into the space in front of her, tracing lines between Viktor’s freckles and moles with her fingers. Silence followed for a while. It was comfortable, with something unfolding. Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.

When a yawn tore her mouth apart, Viktor nudged her gently with his chin and asked, “Shower?”

“Yes, shower.” Renly stretched across the bed, pulling Viktor along with her. She grabbed his hands and pulled them above their heads and pressed her toes on his feet, drawing a low chuckle from his throat.

They did all the things they usually did, but somehow it all felt new again—in a new space, with a new emptiness to fill. Renly let the shower run until the water turned warm and prepared fresh towels for them.

They stepped into the shower together, the steam curling around their skin. The first blast of water hit Viktor’s shoulder, and he winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Too hot?” Renly asked with a smirk, already reaching for the handle to adjust the temperature.

“Do you usually scald yourself in the shower?” Viktor teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up despite the discomfort.

Renly rolled her eyes, turning the dial until the water was just shy of lukewarm. “Better?”

“Much better,” he said, his tone playful. “Though I’m still recovering from the trauma.”

Renly huffed a laugh and grabbed a bar of soap from the shelf. “I’m afraid you’re going to smell like a coconut,” she said, holding it up as if presenting evidence of her crime.

“Good,” Viktor replied without hesitation. “I love coconut.”

She grinned, shaking her head slightly before beginning her task. Her hands glided over his arms and chest, the soap lathering into creamy bubbles as she worked. She moved with deliberate tenderness, kneading his muscles as though to coax away every last knot of tension that had taken residence in him. Viktor let his eyes drift shut, exhaling as her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his back.

She hesitated when her hand landed on his thigh, the oppressive purple vein even more visible on his flushed skin. Feeling the hover of her touch, Viktor took her palm in his and kissed her knuckles. “It’s alright.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, and then a thought popped into her head. Of course, it did—it had always hurt.

“No. It just feels… strange.” Viktor pulled her in and wrapped her arm around his neck. “I’ll have to get used to it. It’s a small price.”

When she reached up to wash his hair, he leaned into her touch like a weary traveller finding solace. Her fingers threaded through his damp curls, massaging the soap in gentle circles over his scalp. Every now and then, Viktor caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her fingers and wrists in a gesture that felt reverent. The simplicity of it—the quiet intimacy—made Renly’s chest ache in the best way.

When she finished, Viktor turned her by the shoulders, swapping places with her under the stream of water. He took the soap from her, his hands warm and sure as they smoothed over her skin. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if mapping her anew. The steam curled around them, the water running in rivulets down her back as he pulled her flush against him.

When he reached her hair, his fingers worked through the strands with a skill that surprised her. His thumbs pressed into her temples, eliciting a soft moan as her eyes fluttered shut, rolling back in her skull.

“Good?” he murmured, his voice low and rich.

“Perfect,” she breathed, leaning into him.

They kissed lazily under the stream, the water running between them as their mouths met in unhurried synchrony. Their hands found each other’s skin, not in hunger this time but in care—an exchange of solace, of connection. Every touch felt like a quiet vow, a promise that they didn’t need words to seal.

When they got back to bed, which had been changed by Renly’s insistence—Viktor said he didn’t mind, and he really didn’t—she started to drift off almost immediately. His hands traced the lines of her tattoo, lingering around ‘his place’ in it. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and asked, “You’re going to Zaun, aren’t you?”

“Will you hate me if I do?” Renly murmured, barely keeping her eyes open.

“No. Will you let me come with you?” Viktor’s voice was low and steady, though there was a hint of something uncertain beneath it. He truly couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone in there, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her constantly looking over her shoulder to see if he was safe if he went with her.

She shifted slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Viktor, you know I can’t do that. You will suffocate.” It was a statement that carried no judgment and no guilt. It was just a statement, saying the obvious, and yet—it made Viktor feel like he was just about to suffocate.

He inhaled sharply, but his hand gently found its way to hers, his fingers threading through hers. “I can wear a mask. But… we can talk about this tomorrow.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, a subtle gesture of reassurance. “Just know I’m ready to come with you.”

***

As they walked, Viktor’s grip was tight on Renly’s hand. Their morning was quiet, almost warm, until she made him laugh by dropping half of her sugar dish into his coffee with a smirk. He glanced at her with concern when he saw her putting on her Zaunite clothes, but dared not say anything.

They arrived at the lab together, and Jayce, relieved to see them both, looked up. "Mel fought off the council," he said, almost hopefully. "For now, the Hexcore is to remain as an 'on hold' project. We’re to seal it and put it away." Viktor sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through him. Renly placed a hand on his shoulder, cradling his cheek gently with the other.

She moved on to pack a bag with supplies, medications, and gas masks for her trip to Zaun. She felt Viktor’s eyes lingering on her the whole time; she knew exactly what he wanted to do and say, and all the bones in her body ached with that knowledge. Jayce glanced at her and asked, "Are you going?"

Renly replied with a weak "yes," her gaze flicking over to Viktor. He shifted his stance on his cane, his voice soft as he spoke, "Renly… please take me with you. I cannot bear it." The weakness in him tore him apart. The weakness of his body fought the weakness of his pride, and his fragile heart—one that had only just reconciled with Renly’s—beat unsteadily in his chest when he saw her eyes, an apology pouring from them.

"Viktor, I beg you. Please, don’t make me choose," she replied, stopping her packing for a moment. She took his hands in hers. "Because if you make me, I will stay, and you will resent yourself for it."

"I will resent myself either way," he whispered weakly, the shape of his mouth askew as he tried to hold all of his weaknesses back. And even though he knew that none of the options presented to him in his agonizing journey through The Arcane were acceptable, for a fleeting moment, he longed for his body to be whole and able.

"I will go." Jayce’s voice was firm and present, so present, in fact, that both Renly and Viktor turned their necks to look at him.

"Jayce, you can’t—" Viktor shook his head in disbelief. He took a step forward toward Jayce, as if trying to physically stop him.

"I will go, and I will come back—with you." He gripped Renly’s shoulders while making his plea. "I’ll deliver you to Viktor’s doorstep, unharmed, I promise." And that promise was meant for Viktor, as Jayce turned his head to look at his partner.

"I… Jayce," Viktor’s words failed him. He knew, of course, that this was the solution to their conundrum. He admired Jayce so deeply in that moment. And even though his mind still whispered horrible insults to himself, he exhaled a breath of surrender. Because he trusted Jayce.

"I told you. You don’t have to carry this alone. And you don’t have to carry this—" Jayce pointed to the bag, "—alone. This is what I can do." He said, his face painted with a reassuring smile, as all three of them stood in a small circle, as if there was no grave danger before them.

Viktor pulled Jayce into an embrace, his voice barely a whisper as he said, "Please, bring her back to me." Jayce hugged him tighter, knocking the breath out of Viktor’s lungs.

They all packed the necessary items into three convenient bags. Jayce’s hand rested on Viktor’s shoulder from time to time, as if to reassure him he would be true to his word. When everything was ready, they stood before the front door, staring at the floor. Viktor let out one last sigh before kissing Renly deeply, for the first time on full display in front of Jayce.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to his wrists. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.” Renly let out a shaky exhale, then opened her eyes and cradled his face.

“Viktor, I admire you. I respect you. I adore you; I love you so much my heart aches.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and kissed him again.

They were startled by a muffled choke coming from Jayce, who had been completely forgotten in that moment. “Guys, this is so beautiful,” he said weakly, pressing his fingers into his eyes, trying to hold back one, maybe two tears.

Renly and Viktor exchanged an embarrassed chuckle, the tension of the moment dissolving. Jayce wiped his eyes, smiling apologetically as he slung one of the bags over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s get moving before Viktor convinces me to restrain you and keep you safe here.”

Renly stepped closer to Viktor one last time, smoothing a hand down his chest. “I’ll be back,” she whispered, leaning in for a final, tender kiss. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

Viktor nodded; his throat too tight to speak. He held her hands in his for a moment longer, his grip unsteady but firm. “Be careful,” he managed to say, his voice breaking just slightly.

Renly squeezed his fingers before letting go, turning to Jayce. He gave Viktor a reassuring nod as if to silently repeat his earlier promise. “I’ll bring her back,” Jayce said softly, the sincerity in his tone like a steady anchor.

With that, the two of them stepped through the door. Viktor stood frozen as he watched them go, his cane trembling slightly in his hand. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room like a final note, and for a moment, he stood there in silence, staring at the empty space where they had been.

The sound of his own sob startled him in the silence. He tried to shy away from it by hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, but it was a futile attempt. His shoulders shook as a full-blown wave of weeping overcame him. The weight of everything—the worry, the helplessness, the love that threatened to swallow him whole—poured out in sobs that filled the empty hallway. His heart, so fragile and raw, cracked under the pressure of letting her go.

He clutched his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright, tears streaking down his cheeks as he gasped for breath. Viktor rarely allowed himself to cry, but now, in the solitude of the lab, there was no one to witness his unravelling. No one to judge the vulnerability that poured out of him in rivers. For the first time in so long, he let himself feel everything, unrestrained and unapologetic.

He cried out all his anger, cried out his leg, his spine. He cried out the unbearable thought of Renly getting hurt—or worse. He cried out the failure of his dream, the loss of Rio, his lungs, himself—every oppressive thought that gnawed at him, every splinter in every bone of his body. When his throat began to burn, a thought ignited weakly, like an ember. You are good at something. Wiping his tears away, chuckling at the absurd of his outburst, he turned back to the lab and sunk back into work.

[aprilblossomgirl]

i feel like i'm hurting so much for faifa in this episode. he doesn't deserve to hear that many hurtful words. before i continue, i think i need to say this first: as an asian myself, i will always understand why most (asian) shows choose forgiveness when dealing with bad parents/parenting, no matter how unforgivable they might be seen by the rest of the audience. and that, i believe, is not of any agenda by the showmaker. of course, to not generalize it, few medias didn't go through that route because of a different preference or goal in the storytelling. however, understanding forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean i believe it is always the 'right' way of wrapping up an arc.

thinking about the upcoming faifawine's story starting next week, i feel like some dialogues in this episode, no matter how they really felt off to me, are intentionally right there as a further backstory for faifa. and especially if the directing choice of faifa's expression changes through that scene with the whole family is anything to go by.

when yotha called fai, he said this first: "Tell me honestly. Don’t be scared of hurting anyone." as if yotha knows that fai always keeps his feelings to himself to avoid hurting anyone else.

fai trying to come up with a reasoning, "I was probably just angry with her, but I think everyone was hurt by what happened— Dad, Newton, and Mom." as if to avoid answering yotha's question, "Do you hate her?" with his real answer.

"If Mom really wanted to abandon us, why would she have taken me with her?" shows that fai was not being optimistic (as yotha implied) but somehow trusted the mom. only to be shattered later, "I thought if I brought Faifa who loves being with his Dad and brothers, at least he would ask me to bring him back to visit everyone often and we’d all see each other sometimes. On the other hand, if I’d brought you, Yotha, we might have been so happy that we wouldn’t have wanted to come back and see anyone here again..." (what nonsense! i cannot understand any logic behind this one.) in a way implying that she might haven't been that happy with fai, which somehow validate what he and yotha had been talking about before: "I don’t know why she took me with her even though you were the one who wanted to go." / "Because she loves you more than me." / "That’s definitely not the reason." oh, i was right. mom doesn't love me. but she's hurting. but...

imagine being faifa, hearing all of those hurtful excuses, but his immediate response was trying to justify why mom did what she did instead of trying to validate the real feeling he himself was having. and i say this with my whole being: that's a pretty accurate representation of how we, asian kids, mostly were nurtured. the scene just stabbed me right in the heart.

faifa might haven't said anything, but his face didn't lie. you could very clearly see how his face instantly dropped once mom told her reason for taking him instead of yotha at that time. and i still cannot forget the face he made a few episodes back when mom gave him something he was allergic to. the level of gaslighting here is too suffocating to witness. the emotional neglect just hits too hard. i cannot even begin to break it further into fai's loneliness.

all these made me wonder how the upcoming third arc will 'deal' with fai's inner wound. i hope the show won't brush it off because i think it would add more depth to the romance part, how he navigates his feelings once someone finally enters his life, as it has been implied that wine was also dealing with heartbreak.

[clemelntine]

The Heart killers ep 11 stray thoughts

With accompanying screenshots, cuz I take to many and they can't just go to waste

Once again/still Keen just wants to be included. Now that he has seen Lilly will never see him as equel to his brothers, he is trying to get validation from Bison and Fadel.

Right, cuz you look like you're good at that. We will just pretend that we haven't seen your backbone turn into jelly when you're around Captain

Wait, so they didn't kill him. Where has he been this whole time, in between staging his murder and this scene? Was he just chilling with Nont in Fadel and Bisons kidnapping lair (which they apparently have).

He just knows a guy, casual .

He also just has a whole plan planned out. You'd think he was the one with the training in this shit, not Fadel

The look of concern in his eyes. Because of course, Style was able to spot the slight change in Fadels expression, indicating he was upset/weary/uncomfortable.

Doesn't he say younger brother (nong chai/shai [im not sure how it is written]) here, why would they translate it like that, this makes it seem like he doesnt see Fadel as his brother.

Finally somebody is giving that tattoo the love it deserves.

Facts

Also the first time (or one of the rare occasions) that we see Fadel with genuine, borderline crazy/psychotic anger in his eyes. He's usually the one to be more calm and

Oh, they're using their height, narrowing in on her, forcing her to look up, making her feel small. Stunning, just what she deserves.

-I love you so much; I'd give up my freedom for your safety

-I love you so much; I'd give up my life for your freedom.

Also, btw, 5 years of prison for the number of murders they committed, thats pretty nice. Of course, i wanted them to be free, but looking at it logistically, that is a solid deal

It does imply a timeskip, whomp whomp

Just give me a clear yes or no. Is Bison religious (christian, to be specific)? Cuz this is just a saying and stuff, but also putting it next to all the other christian Bison stuff we've seen, im starting to believe it

Ah, look at that. Fadel got his family (parent), and Bison got his little brother (Babe). These boyfriends are adding way more to their life then you would first assume.

Also, Styles dad immediately suggesting they get married as soon as he realizes they are genuinely dating it ao cute. He has/knows as lil casual-/subtlety as Style does. I guess it's genetic

Omg they are so sweet. Not hiding/secret but private cuz its their communication, their comfort.

I needed this scene to be like an hour long actually, just them cleaning each other with the garden hose, sweetly talking about whatever.

Right. I'm not surprised, I could tell Style was a bitter but like looking at his and Joongs laugh afterwards (and just the absurd inconvenience of it) I'm gonna guess this wasn't scripted, just Dunk. Which.. raises some questions, but we'll keep moving.

Dude was straight up beefing with a child

So he is either assuming hell die a natural death or he's killing himself. Cus i assumed he'd probably die on the job, get killed by someone, but that for sure requires there to be another person. I guess he could also be insinuating that when he dies, he'll be alone in the sense that he is leaving no one behind, no loved ones.

Idk what is sadder him thinking no one would love him when he died or him assuming he'll die by his own hand.

Are they at a graveyard? It doesn't look like it. Because, im not very educated on Thai law, but i can't think it would be legal to just bury someone wherever.

Style earlier the episode saying he'll die for Fadel(s safety) and Fadel saying he'll live for (/with) Style. God, i love them

Glad we are at least acknowledging the absurdity of it.

Are we talking (/joking) about Bison lactating? Cuz that would make that this shows second mpreg/omegaverse reference.

Forever watchfull Style

Forever considerate Style. Even with the garage to work at (and low key co-run) he is willing to give up time, just to keep Fadels dream/passion alive

Did Style fucking make a heart out of the sauce?! Why didn't we get a better shot of that, that is so cute.

So all the other boys his dad mentioned were just one night stands and situationships. Fadel was the first guy he actually wanted to settle down with. (Also, dont take this to mean anything, but it kinda mirrors Joong and Dunk. Joong having had an acting partner before Dunk, but splitting up under unfortunate circumstances, mostly out of their hands. Joong being Dunks' first actor partner, only having had a small unnamed guest role before working together with Joong)

Ive never seen to guys look so sad while eating burgers , like it was actually making me emotional. Cuz there was no big sad outburst or anything, just the everpresent underlying knowledge that this will be the last meal they'll get to share in a long time. Just the subtle sadness in their eyes and the little sniffles. I low key didnt expect them to be this good at conveying such subtle yet intense emotions.

The look in their eyes, i am actually so not okay

Not to be critical or anything but no way in shit that was done by an amateur. Like i get he'd have a pretty steady hand due to his training with guns. Bit not only does Bison usually hold his gun with both hands, it is an entirely different grip and requires such different muscles.

Yo wtf, I wasn't prepared for an emotional scene of just Kant and Style crying

This episode was just so full of cute scenes omg. I have so many notes that are just screenshots of a sweet scene or moment where the only comment I had was just saying aaahhw or some shit. And although I would love to share those with you, Tumblr has an image limit, so unfortunately, this is all I could stuff into one post.

I am a lil weary/concerned with how they are going to finish this all in one episode though. Like we have five years of prison to still cover and only an hour of screentime left.

Favorite scenes

Lillys confrontation was very satisfying

Style and Fadel cleaning eachother of after the paint fight ofc

Kant and Bison in the planetarium (specifically watching the stars)

Fadel and Style at the support group talking things out

Everything in Heart Burger, from the cute cooking together to eating through tears. Absolute perfection.

Kant and Bison tattooing eachother and just the sweetness of that all

And although their goodbye and Kant and Style crying in eachothers arms wasn't fun, it was a really good scene.

Also, there are no in-depth screenshot stats today (this post has already taken too long). Just know I took a total of 245 screenshots (funfact: that is actually more picture than I have of myself on my phone)

[valar-did-me-wrong]

Adar and Sauron are very different characters with very different motivations.

1. Adar wasn't the lord of Mordor for 3k years.. he spent those 3 k years trying to find a way to get his children to have a home where noone will experiment, torture & breed them like Sauron & Morgoth or kill them on sight like the elves & men.. that is a VERY FUNDAMENTALLY different reasoning to become a Lord of land than Sauron "power over flesh" The Dark Lord

Adar took over Southlands because he wanted a home & there was No Other Way for it.. Yes it was a horrendous way in which he chose to do it & that's why he isn't a Hero, he's an anti-hero.. he did many many wrong things..

But at the same time you cannot push a whole people into a corner to rot in torture & abuse for millenia, refuse any help or understanding & not expect them to hate you & fight back in desperation, so there's a reasoning beyond greed & power for his actions.. which cannot be said for for Sauron in most of the story imo..

Also he's the lord of Mordor literally from S1 to S2 not 3k years xD

2. We know for a fact Sauron wasn't kissing orcs on the head and giving them funerals, it's literally in the show's S2E1.. Sauron was experimenting on them like lab rats & the orcs hated him & Morgoth since the very beginning of their race.. mentioned in the books too.. they wouldn't have done that if he was giving goodnight kisses (seeing as they did not kill Adar untill he stood by them & actually cared about them instead of killing Sauron)

3. Orcs slaughtered him & left him in a cave to rot because he bred them like animals for millenia, kept them as slaves & used them as lab rats.. and tried to blackmail them into submission by making them believe noone will accept them ever so darkness is their only option, which was proven wrong by Galadriel in S2E8

4. Adar killed and tortured people. Yes bad. No doubt. No question. But for a bunch of people who love to find complexity in Sauron, I find it very missing in you guy's Adar character readings for some reason.. like there's this very insistent push for months to read a VERY clearly actively created morally grey character as the same as a Dark lord of 2 whole ages who choses to become & remain that way even after getting second chances..

To the point that you people actually go out and call the show writing bad instead of understanding that Adar's redemption required his efforts too instead of a simple magic ring..

Not very nuanced take

5. Adar killed all his enemies where?? He didn't kill much of his enemies??

He actively doesn't kill Elrond & Arondir in S2E7

Adar killed Sauron & he deserved that at that time.. rewatch the S2E1 flashback scene a few times you'll get it..

Celebrimbor was killed by Sauron.

Waldreg was killed by Sauron.

Glûg was killed by Sauron.

All the guards in Eregion who fought Annatar were killed by Sauron.

Bronwyn & that teen are probably the only 2 named characters Adar killed directly..

He did cause a lot of death indirectly but he interestingly didn't kill any elf directly in the series if I remember correctly..

6. Contrary to the comments & reblogs on this post.. Adar did much much better & different than Sauron. That's why the show gave him a way to redemption and not Sauron. That's why Galadriel accepts his offer of an alliance but not Sauron's..

That is the whole arc of S2 Adar.. The show again & again tried to show how he isn't exactly a villian & neither are his orcs just canon fodder evil.. so many scenes are there in the show just to highlight this..

I'm not saying Sauron is irredeemable forever, but in the Show's Story he isn't choosing redemption or healing or humbling but instead power & control..

While Adar since day one in the show has been shown to choose Love for his children (who are a result of his torture & who noone else loves in the world but still he does), he actually accepted his mistakes after wearing Nenya in S2E8 & was willing to put in effort to fix it & heal..

These are two very different characters.. both wrong in their own way for millenia yes, but only one of them actually on screen & canon tried to do something about it & the other deceived himself in the end & became a Dark Lord of Arda because redemption required actual self reflection and humility

Starting to see something more and more in other fandoms but it’s also brewing within Sauron fandom which is I don’t get villianfuckers who are deluded or in denial about the fact their fav is a villain.

Then woobify them to the gods until they resemble very closely of the “good” ML they hate lowkey which is funny.

Your fav did some pretty heinous fucking shit and should be either dead or punished severely for it and that’s what I advocate for in my villain favs cause I ain’t a PUSSY

Sauron is a villain. The reason we like him is because he’s a villain. He chooses villainy when he’s given many chances not to. I genuinely don’t get the urge of wanting to redeem him. Yes he’s complex with a lot of feelings and nuance but he doesn’t want to be redeemed. He’s not an ambiguous anti villain by the time we are in Second Age/Third Age. He’s not Adar

The serious woobification (not the semi-joking kind) needs to stop and frankly it’s lowkey insulting.

[purplepeptobismol]

Doctor Kenneth McCormick & The Beautiful Concept of ‘Love To The Point of Invention’

Okay! So I could not stop thinking about the dynamic between Dr. McCormick and Victor Chaos, and more importantly— chapter 13 of my fic… I’m sorry y’all. It’s just,,, there was so much discussed in this chapter and I just wanted to talk about it MORE. I wanted to voice everything out, even revealing some behind the scenes stuff, implications, deleted paragraphs, investigative research, and my thought process throughout the chapter. It was a long one; it could’ve been longer, but I genuinely forced myself to stop. Anyway, feel free to read my very own ‘directors cut’! Just letting you know ahead of time that it WILL be containing spoilers for Chapter 13 of ‘I Will Make of You’ and my one-shot (Un)Forbidden Love.

The backstory starts off as newly graduated Kenny and Butters, with Butters asking him to run away together. The reason for his hesitation is explored on (Un)Forbidden Love, but actually a big scene I cut out [and was going to be featured in this chapter] was —

The one where Kevin gifts his truck to Kenny and Butters. I was planning on hinting that Butters had explained his plan to Kevin beforehand, and had asked for his help into getting a truck of his own. Kevin, being literally the coolest person ever, basically told him that they can take his truck, and he will be gifting it to them. Butters and Kevin go back and forth about it, Butters being “no, I can’t possibly take yours! That’s unfair and selfish”, until Kevin hits him with the “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for him. We both want Kenny to be happy.” Obviously, Kenny doesn’t know this conversation happened 🥹, but caring older brother Kevin tugs at my heartstrings. I also wanted to add a tidbit where Kevin is helping them pack their things in the truck, he whispers to Leo to “make him happy and give Ken the life he deserves.” KILL ME NOW, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!

—

Moving on past their new established relationship, we get the first hints of Vic’s negotiating skills. It is already established in the canon universe of the Post Covid South Park specials that Kenny is a very talented scientist who’s done all these amazing things— but we also find out that Butters (Vic Chaos) is the one that actually funds all of Dr. McCormick’s projects! I tried to mess around with this concept in my own story, but the one thing I always wondered was: What made Kenny want to become a scientist in the first place?

Love to the Point of Invention

I think there is something so pure, and so genuinely beautiful about loving someone so much, you’re capable of inventing something revolutionary BECAUSE of them. There are many examples of this actually happening in real life:

Kenny seeing Butters come home— fatigued and stressed from all the workload— it motivated him into creating something to help Butters feel better. And it not just worked, but someone actually bought Kenny’s invention. Of course, if it wasn’t for Butters [Chaos’s] negotiating tactics, they wouldn’t have secured the millions of dollars that helped them get into an Ivy League Uni.

Personally, I feel like Kenny truly is talented when it comes to being an inventor, but both in canon and in IWMOY, his main motivators where always the people he loves. Butters is also canonically good at running a business, and his Vic Chaos persona proves that he’s capable of getting some good money off of investors. Scientist Kenny who invents all these crazy things and Vic Chaos who invests, sells, markets, funds his inventions— It’s literally a match made in heaven y’all 😞, they’re a power duo!

—

There are a lot of other things I want to get into but I’m going to skip ahead a bit to talk about the main event of this chapter: Cooper’s creation! I’ve always headcanon that Stan and Kyle are more family oriented and the more likely to have kids first, while Kenny isn’t as caring about the concept. So when Kenny witnessed their joy and Butters cuddling up with a baby, it sort of planted him with an image of a family in his head. What really sold the idea was that conversation he had with Butters. Kenny wasn’t aware that Butters was having daydreams of starting a family with him until that very night 🥲, it once again motivated him into creating something that will make Butters’ daydream a reality. LOVE! CREATION!!

Now, the concept of bringing a human to life in the ‘non-traditional’ sense is actually very complex AND controversial 💀. I was aware that there were some negative views towards the study of human cells and artificial wombs, but I didn’t know just how bad it’s perceived… Bro, even IVF and surrogacy are still somewhat frowned upon. I’m the type of person that even if it’s not mentioned or come up in my essays, I still do extensive research so I can get a general idea of what I’m writing about. For Cooper’s ‘birth,’ there were three main things that needed to be focused:

The study of cells and how to make gametes of two people of the same sex to successfully produce a zygote (fertilized cell/embryo)

Artificial Wombs, how they work, and how will they function for a developing human fetus

The weekly development of a baby and what they will need inside a womb to grow/develop healthy

All of these things have their own concerns that required different forms of investigation, and it brought up a lot of moral dilemmas that I REALLY (and I mean really) overthought during the entirety of my research and writing process.

One

In real life, the use of animals for scientific purposes is controversial because, let’s be real— no one wants animals to be abused for humanity’s own desire to learn. Hell, I wouldn’t want that either! Yet, in my fic, Kenny does use lab mice and monkeys and it’s actually an integral component for this experiment. Personally, I do believe there is an ethical way we could use mice and monkeys for research; and that’s if the experiment doesn’t cause deadly risks and physical or psychological harm to the animals. You can let me know your thoughts! I feel like Kenny would actually be less empathetic about it than Stan, which is why I made him call Kenny out on it. Lol. Getting that out of the way, how would Kenny use those animals to reach his goal?

Lab mice are actually used to this day, and they’re a valuable species for the study of human biology, pathology, etc.. Mice have 20 chromosomes in their haploid genome, their gestation period takes on average 19-21 days, their genetic complexity is pretty low; there’s also low ethical concerns due to their rapid reproduction, small size, and short lifespan. Scientist already have a general understanding of their genetics so it makes the testing more straightforward. Kenny will definitely find more early success and failures during this section since the breakthrough can be proof that conception is possible with two species of the same sex.

I stated this in chapter 13, but the next animal they tested on was the Rhesus Macaque; they’re the primates most genetically and physiologically similar to humans. A single rhesus macaque contain 21 pairs of chromosomes, gestation period is roughly 166 days, and their maternal health has a big influence to a baby’s development much like a human. Kenny testing with these animals will help bridge the gap, enhance the technology, and address any issues that happen throughout the process. But since they’re pretty similar to humans, especially with their reproductive biology, it raises more ethical questions than with the lab mice. The failed attempts of gestation, fetal development, and the long-term health would be very hard to ignore. This step would take significantly more time and patience, lots of care will need to be taken place before ANYTHING becomes feasible. So once everything is overcome, then we could possibly move to humans.

The ultimate and final goal would be testing this technology with humans. Human genomes are extremely complex, they have 23 pairs of chromosomes (which is 46 in each cell), gestation is roughly 9 months, human embryos require precise conditions, and their long-term health need to be carefully monitored years after their birth. The testing of this would definitely be frowned upon by society. Realistically, we would need highly advanced technological breakthroughs to make this happen— it is very likely Kenny would’ve gruesomely fail this step many times. But I didn’t want to make him suffer the losses of his potential children :(, that’s too cruel. Besides, Cooper is a strong kid, and Kenny used his cursed blood to create him!

Overall, it truly isn’t scientifically possible for two species of the same sex to procreate because their biological mechanisms lack the components for fertilization (yet👀). They’ll probably need to reprogram or edit genes and cells to transform at least one male gamete into an egg-like cell. (I’ve sort of drawn inspiration from stuff like CRISPR-Cas9). Then, similar to that of IVF, mimic the fertilization of both of the cells, continue editing the genes to make them compatible, remove any harmful mutations that might occur, and ensure the embryo has the necessities for proper development. What I’m trying to get at is that either Kenny or Butter’s gametes had to be transformed into an egg so that Cooper could exist [and also Tweek and Craig for Emilio if you think about it] 🫢. Y’all can decide on whose cell it was.

Two

Artificial wombs are an actual thing being developed and tested— mice embryos have been used on clear rotating vials and they’ve actually attempted to use an artificial womb for a premature lamb who needed help with their lungs! When I first thought of using the concept of an artificial wombs back when I was drafting this story, the first images that came to my mind were something like the scenes from ‘I Am Mother.’

This technology was my main inspiration for Cooper’s creation because— really guys— how else would Kenny and Butters have a biological kid of their own if not with the use of advanced technology 😭??? Before I reached this scene, even as far back when I revealed the explanation back in chapters 2 and 8, I didn’t think much about this; truly, I wasn’t even thinking of making it a big deal. But then it was time for me to finish drafting chapter 13, and I decided to make more research on the concept, this video by Cleo Abram appeared on my recommended!

It completely changed my perspective on the concept and even made me want to tread with the idea more carefully. I really recommend watching it if you’re interested on what I’m going to be talking about. I didn’t realize how controversial or even the complexity of it. So, not only did I do research, but I also did a deep dive on motherhood and pregnancy 🤓….

Let me start with the negative conversations: The main issue people have with it is that this technology breaks the ‘idea of childbirth’ and the ‘beauty of pregnancy.’ Many mothers believe that it’s an amazing thing to grow a human inside of them, and they feel some type of bond between their child as they grow. It’s a sacred thing and ‘part of being a woman’, and they don’t want technology to take that away from them. *Though the concept of artificial wombs being an actual thing is purely fictional and theoretical, I’d like to point out that alternatives such as surrogacy and IVF are real options and even those are controversial till this day*

The positive side: some mothers believe that this technology could be a great alternative since child birth can be very dangerous to certain women whose biology doesn’t allow them to carry, or can’t conceive at all. Others simply don’t want to experience the labor. Pregnancy in general could be a very difficult thing for both the mother and a baby, this alternative could help alleviate those concerns.

In my heart of hearts, I couldn’t make Kenny be the one to invent this because honestly, he just wouldn’t understand; Heidi Turner was the best decision in my opinion. I always wanted to make her be a part of Kenny’s scientist team, and this experiment felt like the right opportunity. I don’t feel qualified to put my two cents on the topic, so I’m gonna end this segment by quoting what one of my friends said.

“For starters, I don’t want to have kids of my own, nor do I plan on ever becoming pregnant due to my own personal circumstances. But if I were to have a choice, I would like this to be one of my options. I have heard both the horrors and positives of what pregnancy does to a woman and it makes me not want to be pregnant even more. In the end, idk what the process would look like, let alone the aftermath of both my and the babies health. Of course not everyone would agree, and maybe there would be pushback for this sort of advancement, but I feel like we should focus on the idea of giving women more alternatives to choose what they could do with their own bodies instead of being self righteous about what’s natural or not.”

Three

Y’all 💀 a baby developing in a womb is really no easy task. We don’t know what happens inside a uterus when a baby is inside, it’s not like we can peek inside a womb, so we mostly just go by the current research of the weekly gestational period. But I tried my best to sum up how the process would be like. A fetus in an artificial womb would have to be in an environment that replicates the uterus. Nutrients and oxygen need to be exchanged, facilitate waste, hormonal changes that happen during pregnancy need to be mimicked, temperature and pH need to be regulated, amniotic fluid is important for allowing a fetus to move— well, pregnancy is complicated. Not to mention how foreign and disconnecting it could be for a baby to develop outside of their mother’s womb, that connection could be crucial too, no machine can mimic that warmth and feeling, and I made sure Heidi be the one to point that out.

Literally a single wrong move could be the end. It’s a very high level risk… This is a gamble with human life. Everything could go so wrong in many ways if they aren’t careful. Nothing about this could be considered natural.

No matter how you view it, what Kenny is doing is selfish. He is messing with natural order of life to have a son of his own with his husband. He knows this more than anyone else. That’s why when Craig also wanted to try to have a son of his own using this method, Kenny felt displeased. Craig CANNOT be having a spur-of-the moment baby fever, this isn’t something to FOMO about— this is a human they are attempting to create. Conscious human life. If they die in the middle of gestation, or they suffer long-term— it is entirely on their selfish fault. I wanted to add a scene where Kenny straight up tells Craig “NO” and that he wasn’t ready for it. It would lead to a big thing where even Tweek gets involved and explains his side and wheewww would it have turned out way longer.

Though this entire experiment was kinda Kenny’s sort of selfish desire of creating a family— it’s that LOVE he has for Leo that pushes him to invent this (love, invention…. *sighs*), and it was love for his son that pushed to save him in the end. It really is romantic and beautiful to deeply love someone 🙁..

This is such a heavy and interesting concept that I feel could bring on a lot of conversation to the table, I want this to be an open discussion so feel free to comment your thoughts and opinions. I also want to iterate that I AM NOT A SCIENTIST NOR AM I AN EXPERT IN ANY OF THESE CONCEPTS OR TOPICS THAT I’VE DISCUSSED. IM JUST SOME SILLY AND STUPID GUY WHO WRITES SOUTH PARK FANFICTION ☠️

—

Small little things I like to add from this chapter:

Craig living in Houston because he worked for NASA is so funny to me. Idk much about how they work over there but I do know that those roads and highways are no joke. Bro was fighting for his life in those 14 lane roads 😭. They always have construction and accidents too, shit is stressing me just thinking about it </3

Stan and Kyle being family oriented feels so right to me, and Stan getting cold feet because he doesn’t want to end up like Randy 💔 my shaylaaa. Idk what’s it like to be a parent so I hope Stan’s dialogue felt realistic 🙁. I didn’t want to include too much of how they adopted Robin, but I also wanted to give a bit of a recapped explanation that was somewhat realistic. Cartman’s death and the adoption happening around the same time would obviously stress them even more so I feel like anxiety is normal in the situation. It worked out in the end tho hehe 🫶, and it was thanks to this scene that motivated Kenny into starting his family.

Butters saying Cooper was “cooped up in there” and didn’t “want him to feel lonely” down there ☹️

I also wanted to add a bit of background Tweek being an engineer and more of Doctor Heidi Turner, but,,,,,,, chapter too long. We did decent amount of Heidi content tho, but no Tweek. He will appear in chapter 14 y’all 🙏Trust.

—

Anywho— I feel like I went overboard with this deep dive but if you have any input with the topics discussed or the dynamics between Kenny and Butters as Doctor McCormick and Vic Chaos, or literally anything else, please feel free to share 🥹

[natsuki208]

Mikasa Ackerman! Strongest Girl With That One Flaw

Today is that day when I can express once more of how much of a Mikasa defender I am! But despite all the good, I will acknowledge the major flaw that caused many to dislike her as well, and unfortunate ruined her character going onward.

(Plz, I don’t wanna see any of you haters here for this girl on her special day, thank you)

-

We all know of Mikasa’s strengths; figuratively and literally. She’s known as one of the manga/anime’s strongest fighters, due to her Ackerman blood and what she had to go through as a child. It was because of both her power and compassion is how she managed to save citizens of Trost to escape the city in S1. She showed signs of a dependable soldier.

One other noticeable side of her character that got explored a lot more within the story was her connection with Eren, and that divided a lot of the fans as the series went on. On one hand, it reflects back to when Eren saved her from being sold for profit and how much his kindness meant to her, but on the other hand, it slowly started to isolate her from other important aspects needed to keep her interesting.

But it wasn’t all that bad; to me that is. There have been times when Mikasa showed worry for her other closest friend Armin, protecting him and comforting him during hard times, swung in to save Historia and Sasha from titans, checked on Connie by asking if he’s okay, and even was concerned about Levi’s ankle.

So yeah. Mikasa grew connections with almost everyone around her, opening up to have more friends within her small circle since her childhood, however, her feelings for Eren started to overlap those friendships. Not that it is a bad thing, I love how the two grew closer as the series went on but it really shouldn’t be the only important part of her development. A healthy mixture of all her traits would’ve made a better experience.

Sadly, the concept of her undying love for Eren gets heavily exaggerated in the dreaded fourth season.

By that I mean for most of her screentime she spend worrying about Eren and only him. Sure there was… Sasha, but it didn’t really last for very long. In fact, she didn’t really speak much to anyone other than Armin afterwards, and I thought she’d be more open to help them out with their own struggles.

In fact, her love for Eren seemed to have made her more fragile to his own thoughts as well, like when he spoke his mind and pretended to admit he hated her, she got over emotional.

(this is the same girl who didn’t hesitate to punch him in the face when he went too far)

But at the end of the day, it didn’t really matter since she managed to save the world by killing Eren with her own hands but still has him at the front of her mind years later. Yes, it can be hard to move on but at least show some scenes of her bonding with her other friends, even leaving Armin in the dust.

-

Anyway, happy birthday, you poor girl. You deserved much better. Not as in Eren, but as in better writing to expand your character. I had a lot more to say but I don’t wanna make this too long. Maybe I’ll update this later on.

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Look, i dislike grace as much as the next louis de pointed du lac lover but I do think that a lot of the hate she receives is underserved. Y'all seem to think she was the villainous woman using louis and his fucked up sense of duty towards his family in order to live lavishly and then throwing him aside when he isn't useful anymore or because he reveals himself to be a 'homosexual'.

Like, idk what show we were all watching, but grace has never shown herself to be a homophobe. She's always staunchly supported Louis and whatever fun she makes of loustat's relationship ('is that a new kind of white' etc etc) is just teasing in a way that is obviously familiar to both of them, a kind of sibling bond. She even very cordially asks him to bring lestat over for dinner! She recognises his relationship with lestat, if not in words so much but at least in her actions.

Even after louis' is turning she does not turn him away when he attempts to reach like mama du lac. Louis turns up 'half a season' later, completely abandoning his family to seemingly get together with a white boy immediately after their brother (because yes, paul was not just louis' brother but grace's as well) committed suicide on her wedding day. she doesn't even judge his obvious supernatural changes and says 'he looks good', which we can also assume is reference to him being with lestat!!!

(I also find it funny how people don't extend the same amount of grace they do to any of the other characters to the character literally named Grace but that's neither here nor there.)

even when he turns up at her house after not being their for the twins birth, she invites him and leaves her kid in his care, showing that she obviously trusts him. she only got mad when he actively put her baby's life in danger by leaving the kid crying on the floor, something i feel she's very much in the right to feel like - because ya know, her kid could have DIED? babies are very fragile creatures, she dont know louis did it so he would not 'eat the baby', all she know is that her big brother endangered the life of her child.

and then he shows up at their mama's funeral looking like he don't even care along with lestat, who broke their family apart along with a young girl he claims is his daughter? that wasnt homophobia that was her being afraid for claudia because, remembering the baby on the floor scene, louis does not have the best track record with children and she still knows next to nothing about lestat but she does know (living in jim crow era south) that a white man is in no way equipped to deal with the problems of a young black girl.

I dont really have nothing to say about the coffin because that was kinda a bitch move but she obviously knows there something wrong with louis given he hadnt aged in like a decade or sommin now and she was probably protecting him from people figuring out he ldpdl in the future and lynching him for not only being black but the 'devil' or something.

anyway leave my girl grace alone she aint done nothing to deserve your shit

[season-of-hope]

I need someone to take the Know No Fear scene where the marine is walking through a bunch of heretics but replace the heretics with Skaven and replace the marine with Gotrek.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Into the pit? More like into the daddy issues

[demaparbat-hp]

She will (and he'll let her)

[libertykinney]

brian playing with his client's sunglasses to pretend he's "working" and avoid looking at justin in this scene is so funny

i love him

[epiphainie]

okay bear with me here because i'm not really sure where i'm going with this one but i've been thinking about buck asking tommy to madney's wedding for so long and like, it's such a buck thing, right? we make fun of tommy's initial reaction because he's experiencing the Evan Buckley Experience full-force and from the front seat for the first time. buck acts on his emotions all the time, he's instinctive, he's impulsive. even if he called tommy to get coffee that day with the forethought of asking him to be his date at his sister's wedding, it's still such a buck thing to do: it's extreme, it's a major jump, it's something probably not advised by any dating columns, and likely something none of the other characters would ever do.

yet i find it so different to every other time we've seen buck act Big because of Emotions.

we see buck be impulsive and emotionally-driven in so many different flavors: as a child to get his parents' attention (him accidentally hurting eddie is very reminiscent of this to me), on the job when he's being reckless to save someone's life, when he sues the fire department because he feels pushed out of his job, when he goes against the law and athena's word and tries to find maddie and doug, when he finds red's the one that got away etc.

but rarely do we see him take big actions driven by his emotions when it comes to his romantic relationships. the only thing i can think of him is following taylor to her dad's hearing because he's worried about her. and of course, the only major commitment/extreme decision he's taken in a relationship when he asks her to move in. because he fears she'll leave him if she learns about him and lucy kissing. and then later on when he tells her anyway on the day she moves in, after basically trapping her, because he can't deal with the subsequent guilt.

i don't like assigning positive/negative values to emotions but this is my way of saying how for the most part when we see buck act big and impulsive like this, the motivation comes from a fraught place. because he feels neglected by his parents, because the fear and the subsequent anger over losing his job which at that point he considers the only thing he has, because the fear and worry he feels over maddie, because the concern over taylor re: her dad. even him helping red is him projecting his own fears about his future on the guy. this is especially true regarding all the lucy/moving-in fiasco.

which brings me to my point about how him wanting to blow up the walls of his closet and introduce tommy to his friends/family only after one kiss and a date feels different. it's buck at his most buck; it's out of pocket, it's major, it bamboozles even cool cucumber tommy for a second. it's also probably the first time we see buck act like this driven by feelings of not fear, worry, anger, sadness, but by him feeling like he's ready for something and wanting it with tommy. it's such a testament to the intensity of his feelings. he's not even a hothead like that anymore, he's matured, but here he is counting on a feeling and jumping big like we've never seen him do on the show before, let alone in his romantic relationships. i adore it because it's so buck but i also adore it because it's so buck after seven seasons of growth and because of him looking forward to something, driven by feelings of "i kinda can't stop thinking about him" and "i'm free" and "that something could be with you."