#and if not.. at least im having fun with her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cup1drul3z · 3 days ago

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★ — That's MY girl | CH 2

5.5ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴄᴇᴏ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW : Age gap if you squint, PLUS SIZED READER, power kink, cheating, modern au, new york, assistant reader, readers a little awkward but we love her anyway, sugar mommy, SMUT, fingering, cunninglings, strap, bondage, lingerie

A/N : guys im working on the stalker fic trust

The train ride home feels longer than it should.

You sit near the back, the car mostly empty, lights flickering overhead like they can’t decide whether to stay on or just give up. Your reflection stares back at you in the darkened window—smudged lipstick, swollen lips, collar slightly crooked, and that unmistakable shadow just below your jawline.

You touch it.

The spot Sevika’s mouth lingered.

Your stomach twists.

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew that the second you left the bar. But it doesn’t erase the memory of her hands on your body. The way your name sounded in her mouth. The way you wanted it. Craved it.

You close your eyes and grip the subway pole tighter. It doesn't help. The shame is thick and sour, crawling over your skin like something alive.

By the time you get to your stop, the guilt is louder than your footsteps.

Your apartment is dark when you unlock the door. One flickering lamp lights the living room, the faint buzz of the TV still running. Your boyfriend is half-asleep on the couch, blanket around his legs, a takeout box resting on the armrest beside him.

He stirs when the door clicks shut.

“Where the hell were you?” he mumbles, rubbing his face. “You said you were going for drinks. That was, like, four hours ago.”

Your heart skips. “Sorry. I lost track of time. First day stuff... they wanted to celebrate.”

He stares at you for a second too long, and your pulse races. You shift your hair slightly, trying to angle it over the mark Sevika left.

But he doesn’t notice.

Instead, he sits up, arms outstretched with a sleepy groan. “Come here.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

Then you cross the room and let him pull you into his arms, the warmth of his chest unfamiliar tonight. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. It’s slow. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that used to feel like love.

But now?

Now it just feels like lying.

“You smell good,” he mumbles into your hair. “Glad you had fun.”

You force a small laugh. “Yeah... me too.”

You close your eyes and let him hold you like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

And deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time before this cracks wide open.

You woke up early.

Too early.

The kind of early where the light coming in through your blinds made everything look soft and blue, and the guilt still sat heavy in your chest like you'd swallowed a stone. But instead of spiraling, you did something else—rummaged through your closet.

You wanted to feel like you today.

So you slipped into a soft grey vest, something a little snug across the chest but not suffocating. The short-sleeved collared shirt underneath is crisp, clean. Paired with your flowy black maxi skirt, it moves with you—comfortable, confident, a little vintage librarian if you squint.

You check the mirror once, twice. It doesn’t scream “corporate,” but you don’t care.

For once, you feel good. Or at least better.

The train is less crowded this morning. You grab a seat near the back, setting your bag down beside you. You're flipping through your phone when someone plops down across from you with zero warning.

“Damn, girl. You look adorable.”

You glance up—Jinx.

Same wild blue braids, oversized bomber jacket, mismatched socks in loafers. She’s sipping an iced coffee the size of her head and looks like she hasn’t slept but somehow still radiates energy.

You smile. “Thanks. Closet panic. I didn’t want to pop a button again.”

Jinx snorts. “Honestly? Respect. You survived a boardroom and Sevika’s death stare. You deserve a little wardrobe crisis.”

You laugh, and she leans in like she’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Okay, so—there’s this cocktail thing in a few days. Fancy company event. Everyone’s invited, assistants too.”

You nod, eyebrows raised. “That sounds... terrifying.”

“Oh, it is.” she grins. “Dress code, open bar, people trying to pretend they’re more important than they are—it’s a blast. You coming?”

“I guess I have to now,” you say with a smile, then add, “Do we bring plus-ones?”

Jinx nods. “Yeah. They want it to feel ‘socially enriched’ or whatever PR bullshit they said in the email. You bringing your guy?”

Your stomach flips.

You hesitate just long enough for her to notice, but not long enough for her to comment.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Probably.”

Jinx sips her coffee, watching you. “Cool. We’ll all be there, and a few other people aswell”

You nod slowly

She leans back. “And Sevika usually shows up late. Quiet. Broody. Like Batman if Batman was hotter and more emotionally repressed.”

You choke on your breath a little, but cover it with a laugh.

Jinx just grins at you.

“See you in the office, cutie.”

She gets off at the next stop, waving as she goes.

You sit back in your seat, suddenly very aware of what this cocktail party could mean.

And how complicated things are about to get.

You spend most of the morning pretending to work while actively avoiding eye contact with Sevika’s closed office door.

Every time you glance that way, your stomach flips. You’re sure she’s stewing in there—probably plotting your firing or worse, treating you like you’re invisible. That would almost be easier.

So when your desk phone buzzes with a message: “Come in.” —your blood turns to ice.

You stand, straighten your vest, and try to breathe like a normal human as you push open the door.

Sevika’s at her desk, sleeves rolled, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show that same stretch of ink. She’s leaning back in her chair, boots crossed at the ankle, like nothing in the world could touch her.

Except her eyes are locked on you the second you step inside.

You swallow. “You wanted to see me?”

She nods toward the door behind you. “Close it.”

Your hand hovers on the knob for a second too long, but you do it.

The soft click feels like a trap.

“I figured you’d be crawling out of your skin all day,” she says, tone casual, almost amused. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

You blink. “You’re not?”

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Why would I be mad? You practically came all over my hand last night.”

You flinch. “Sevika—”

“No one made you moan my name,” she continues, rising from her chair. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best part of your week.”

She’s in front of you now, close again—too close. You take a step back, but she follows, always one breath away from pinning you to the wall.

“I told you I shouldn’t have,” you say, voice tight. “It was a mistake. I was drunk.”

“You were wet,” she counters, low and dangerous. “There’s a difference.”

Your mouth opens—no words. Just heat crawling up your throat.

“I can give you better,” she murmurs, eyes dark and slow-burning. “You don’t owe him loyalty just because you’re scared of being alone.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

Sevika scoffs. “You keep saying that. But you don’t look convinced.”

Then, before you can stop her, she drops to her knees.

Right there.

Her hands find your hips, grip firm and sure through the fabric of your skirt. She looks up at you, and something in your chest stutters.

“Tell me to stop,” she says, voice husky, lips inches from your waistband. “Mean it.”

You should. You really should.

But your hands stay at your sides, frozen.

You don’t push her away.

You don’t even move.

Then—

“Sevika, do you—”

The door opens.

Mel freezes in the doorway, one brow raised, her perfect blazer catching the light. Her eyes flick from Sevika on her knees to you, cheeks flushed, mouth parted.

Sevika doesn’t flinch.

Mel slowly, slowly shuts the door behind her without looking away.

The second Mel shuts the door, Sevika finally rises to her feet—slowly, deliberately, like she’s still not embarrassed. You’re the one left trembling.

But you don’t stay.

You don’t even think. You just move.

You throw open the office door and bolt into the hallway, nearly running over someone from accounting. Your skirt swishes around your ankles as you spot Mel turning the corner toward the elevators.

“Mel! Mel, wait—”

She doesn’t stop immediately, but you catch up, heels clicking against the tile in rapid panic.

“Please,” you gasp, breath catching as you reach her. “Please don’t tell anyone. It wasn’t—nothing even happened—”

Mel finally stops and turns, folding her arms across her chest. Her expression isn’t cold. It isn’t angry either. It’s… tired. Complicated.

“I won’t say anything,” she says, voice soft. “You have my word.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, your shoulders sagging with relief.

“But,” she continues, “you should know... people already talk.”

Your blood chills. “What do you mean?”

Mel looks at you with something like pity. “This office? It's a glass box. Everyone sees everything. You think they didn’t notice Sevika acting different yesterday? You leaving early? That mark on your neck?”

Your hand instinctively rises to cover it.

“I didn’t mean for anything to happen—” you start, voice cracking.

“I know,” Mel cuts in gently. “But it doesn’t matter. In a place like this, rumors grow faster than promotions. All it takes is one glance. One smirk. One flushed face in the hallway.”

You look down, shame crawling up your spine.

Mel sighs and softens, placing a hand on your arm. “You’re not the first. And you’re not stupid. But Sevika… she’s not simple. Being close to her never is.”

You swallow hard. “So what do I do?”

Mel lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Be careful,” she says. “With her. With you. Because whether you meant to or not… you're in it now.”

Then the elevator dings, and she steps inside, leaving you standing in the hallway alone, the weight of your choices settling in your bones like concrete.

And for the first time, you’re not sure if you’re more afraid of losing your job—

—or losing yourself to Sevika again.

You wait outside her office for a long time.

Long enough that your nerves start to feel less like panic and more like a low, buzzing ache under your skin. The adrenaline is gone. All that’s left is the shame. The guilt. And the heat of her touch still ghosting your hips.

You finally knock, just once.

“Come in.”

Sevika’s voice is calm. Cool. Like nothing happened.

You step in slowly, shutting the door behind you. She’s at her desk, one arm resting lazily on the surface, the other tapping a pen against a manila folder. Her eyes flick up when you enter but don’t linger.

“I talked to Mel.”

“Obviously,” she mutters.

You take a few steps closer, but not too close.

“I’m serious this time,” you say, voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “You have to stop. No more flirting. No more… whatever that was. I made a mistake, and I’m staying with my boyfriend. I’m not doing this again.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. She just leans back in her chair, gaze unreadable. “Fine.”

You blink. “...Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You’re not the first girl to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Your stomach sinks. “That’s not what I—”

She cuts you off by opening a drawer and sliding a white envelope across the desk toward you.

You eye it like it might bite you.

“What’s that?”

“For the tights,” she says dryly. “You ripped them last night. And your blouse looked like it was about to quit during the meeting.”

You don’t move. “I don’t need pity money.”

Sevika sighs through her nose, annoyed. “It’s not pity, sweetheart. It’s compensation. You work for me. You’re supposed to look like you belong here.”

You hesitate. Then pick up the envelope and peek inside.

Cash.

Too much. Way too much.

This is not “replace your tights” money. This is “rent for two months” money. Or “disappear into another city and start over” money.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “This is insane.”

Sevika stands slowly, pushing her chair back as she walks around the desk—measured, controlled, still a storm beneath her skin.

“I don’t give people what they deserve,” she says, voice low, “I give them what I want to give. And I want you dressed like someone who knows her worth.”

You meet her eyes, and for a split second, you almost say something.

But you just nod. “Thanks.”

She nods back, then gestures toward the door. “You should get back to your desk.”

You turn to leave—but her voice stops you just before you open the door.

“You looked good today,” she murmurs, softer this time. “Comfort suits you.”

You don’t look back.

You just walk out, envelope clutched in your hand like a secret you’re not sure what to do with.

It’s your day off.

For once, you’re not rushing to get dressed or worrying about whether your shirt will survive a full workday. You're in comfy leggings, a tank top and a black jacket, your hair is messy and you look like you just rolled out of bed even if you did try to brush it a little. No makeup, no heels, just you and a half-empty shopping cart that doesn’t squeak when you push it.

For the first time in a long time, grocery shopping feels... nice.

You grab the name-brand mac and cheese without flinching. The good almond milk. Even a little candle from the home aisle, because screw it—you deserve soft lighting and lavender.

You’re halfway through comparing peanut butter prices when you feel it.

That shift in the air. That weird, subtle gravity that tugs at you, makes the back of your neck prickle.

You glance up.

And there she is.

Sevika.

In Target.

Wearing a long, wool coat that probably costs more than everything in your cart. Her hair’s tied back again, sunglasses pushed up onto her head, dark slacks and a fitted top that absolutely do not belong between rows of laundry detergent and Pop-Tarts. She’s pushing a red basket like it personally offended her.

You blink. Once. Twice.

She spots you.

And smirks.

You panic and pretend to read the back of a Nutella jar. Real smooth.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she drawls as she approaches, voice low and vaguely amused.

You force a smile, pushing your cart an inch forward. “I could say the same. You don’t really strike me as the ‘bullseye deals’ type.”

She glances into your cart. “Treating yourself?”

You shrug. “Using my pity money wisely.”

That earns a sharp laugh from her—short, real.

“Still mad?”

“No,” you admit. “Just trying to feel normal for a minute.”

Sevika’s eyes linger on you. The oversized hoodie. The way your hair’s all loose and soft and you. Not Corporate You. Just You.

“I like this version,” she says, voice softer now. “You’re real like this.”

You hesitate, cart between you like a shield. “You stalking me?”

“Coincidence,” she shrugs. “Or fate, if you're feeling dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half a smile. “You here for snacks or a personality transplant?”

“Neither,” she says, grabbing a box of granola bars and tossing them into her basket like it’s a power move. “Just needed trash bags.”

You stare at her.

“You’re too rich to take out your own trash.”

“I didn’t say they were for me,” she says, already turning toward the next aisle. “See you Friday, sweetheart.”

She disappears between frozen pizzas and Lean Cuisines, and you’re left standing there, heart weirdly fast, fingers gripping the handle of your cart a little too tight.

You sigh.

Of course Sevika looks good at Target.

You drop your groceries off at the apartment, still feeling Sevika’s smirk lingering somewhere in your ribs. Your boyfriend’s out—left a note about going to a friend’s place. You don’t think twice about it. You text Caitlyn.

You still down for coffee? I need your face and your moral compass. Bad.

She texts back almost immediately.

On my way. My treat. You’re getting the giant muffin too.

The café is cozy, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore that’s always closed for “inventory.” The barista already knows your order—large iced caramel something, extra whipped cream—and Caitlyn’s sipping black coffee like her soul depends on it.

You take the first sip and finally exhale like you haven’t all day.

“So,” Caitlyn says, crossing her legs. “What’s this about a moral crisis?”

You bite your straw, unsure how to even begin.

“I… did something stupid.”

Her brows lift just slightly. “Define ‘stupid.’ Like, crash-your-ex’s-wedding stupid, or get-back-with-your-ex stupid?”

You look down at your drink.

Then say it.

“I slept with my boss.”

Caitlyn blinks. Slowly. Then takes the most dramatic sip of coffee you’ve ever seen.

You brace for it. The judgment. The disappointment. Anything.

But all she says is, “Well. That’s very ‘HBO original series’ of you.”

You stare. “Caitlyn—”

“I mean, I knew your life was messy,” she adds, leaning back. “But this is next level. I’m impressed.”

“Caitlyn.”

She softens immediately, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Hey. I’m on your side, remember? Always.”

Your throat tightens. “Even if I’m a home-wrecking, morally compromised disaster?”

“Especially then,” she says, giving you that rare smile—the real one, not the sarcastic smirk she gives annoying people at parties. “You needed something. You got it. And now we figure out what you’re gonna do next.”

“I’m staying with him,” you say quietly. “My boyfriend. I told her it was a mistake.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flick down. She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t say what you already know she’s thinking.

Instead: “Do you want to stay with him?”

You don’t answer right away.

She doesn’t push.

She just leans back, sipping her coffee again, eyes soft.

“Whatever you decide,” she says, “I’ll be here. To support you.”

You laugh—sharp and real and just a little broken.

She clinks her coffee cup against your plastic lid. “You’re not alone in this.”

The boutique Caitlyn drags you to is one of those clean, Pinterest-board-looking places with neutral walls, racks spaced perfectly apart, and a woman at the front desk who gives you complimentary cucumber water just for walking in.

You’re overwhelmed within five seconds.

Caitlyn, of course, is thriving.

“Okay,” she says, already flipping through hangers like a pro. “We want business casual, but comfy. Professional, but still you. So no more button-downs that look like they’re losing a fight with your chest, got it?”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Deal.”

She hands you a soft sage green blouse with fluttery sleeves and a pair of black wide-leg pants that feel like pajamas but somehow look expensive.

You try them on.

You twirl a little in the mirror.

You look… good.

“You look hot,” Caitlyn says from outside the changing room, leaning dramatically against the door. “Hot and employed.”

You snort. “High praise.”

You walk out and grab another outfit—a soft cream cardigan, a fitted tank underneath, and a midi skirt with a tiny floral pattern. Comfortable. Confident. Something you can actually breathe in.

“Perfect,” Caitlyn says, nodding like a fashion judge. “Now…”

She pulls a black dress from the rack like a magician revealing her final trick.

It’s sleek. Short. A body-con that hugs all the right places with subtle ruching at the waist and a square neckline that’s flirty but still tasteful.

“This,” she says, “is the dress. Cocktail party. Show up. Make Your mark on that place..i mean if you haven't already for disappearing into the bathroom with the ceo”

You take it from her carefully, the fabric silky between your fingers.

“Cait,” you say, holding it up. “It’s… tight.”

She smirks. “And you’ve got a body worth showing off. Let her choke on it.”

You laugh, pressing the dress to your chest. “Okay, fine. This is the one.”

You don’t tell her how your heart races imagining Sevika seeing you in it.

You don’t have to.

Caitlyn sees the look in your eyes and just nods.

“You’ve got this.”

The suit hangs on the back of the bedroom door, still in its garment bag, untouched.

You’d picked it out yesterday. A simple black two-piece, nothing too flashy. Just… clean. Respectable. It felt like the least you could do—if you were dragging him into this cocktail party, you might as well make sure he looked like he belonged.

He didn’t even say thank you.

Now it’s the morning before the event. You’re moving around the apartment, folding laundry, fixing your hair into a loose ponytail, pretending everything is fine.

He leans in the doorway, yawning. Shirtless. Watching you with that sleepy grin he used to wear back when things felt simple.

“You know,” he says, walking over and sliding his hands around your waist, “we’ve got a little time before you head out for that pre-party work stuff…”

His lips brush your neck, warm and familiar. One hand starts to slip beneath your shirt.

Your stomach drops.

The familiar twist of guilt and disinterest coils tight in your gut. His touch feels wrong now—not cruel, not mean… just wrong.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away. “Not right now. I’m—uh—cramping.”

He pauses, eyes narrowing for a second. Then he sighs and steps back, not pushing, but clearly annoyed.

“Figures,” he mutters. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You force a tight smile. “I’ve just been tired. Work's been a lot.”

He shrugs and grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t forget we’ve got that thing tonight.”

“I won’t,” you say, already turning back to fold the same T-shirt you’ve touched three times.

He leaves the room.

You exhale slowly, your hands trembling just slightly.

The suit still hangs untouched.

And the black dress waits folded in tissue paper inside a boutique bag.

The venue is stunning—soft golden lighting, live jazz humming in the background, servers floating past with sparkling flutes and tiny hors d'oeuvres that look like food for rich fairies.

You walk in on your boyfriend’s arm, your black body-con dress hugging you just right. You feel the eyes on you as you enter—and for once, you don’t shrink under them.

You own it.

Your boyfriend doesn’t comment on the way heads turn. Doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy adjusting his tie and checking his reflection in every polished surface like he invented being mediocre in a suit.

You’re halfway into your second awkward sip of chardonnay when you feel her.

Sevika.

She walks in like the floor was laid out for her—broad shoulders in a dark tailored suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned just low enough to border indecent, no tie. Her hair’s slicked back, jaw set, eyes already scanning the room.

And then they land on you.

Her gaze lingers, intense and unreadable, before sliding to your boyfriend.

You swear the temperature drops.

She stares at him like she’s already picked out the weakest spot to punch first. Her mouth presses into a line. Her jaw ticks.

Your boyfriend, completely oblivious, is in the middle of bragging to Ekko about how he hit diamond rank in some online shooter. Ekko’s politely nodding, clearly dying inside.

You’re barely hearing them. Your attention is locked on Sevika, and she’s watching you right back.

You quickly look away and take a bigger sip of wine than intended.

“Damn, babe, slow down,” your boyfriend says, laughing as he slings an arm around your waist.

You flinch, just slightly.

He doesn’t notice that, either.

You glance across the room again. Sevika’s talking to Mel now—but her eyes keep drifting back to you.

Watching.

Measuring.

Waiting.

You adjust the neckline of your dress, trying not to think about her hands. About her mouth. About the last time you were alone together.

You drain the rest of your chardonnay.

A few hours later and the music’s too loud. The lights are too warm. The voices blur together like you’re underwater.

You laugh when you’re supposed to, nod when your boyfriend talks, sip your wine just to keep your mouth busy—but your chest is tight, your throat’s dry, and your ears are ringing.

And then he says something.

You don’t even catch it, really—some offhand comment about calories or how much you’re drinking.

It hits the same nerve anyway.

You excuse yourself without thinking, barely muttering something about needing air.

The balcony is massive, lined with plants that have no business looking that elegant. The night air is cool, crisp against your skin, and the city glows below like a reflection of the stars. No one’s out here. Just silence, finally.

You dig into your purse and pull out the cigarette you swore you weren’t keeping anymore.

You light it with shaking hands.

The first inhale hits hard. Not smooth, not pleasant—but grounding.

You breathe out slowly, leaning back in one of the sleek patio chairs, staring at the skyline like it might give you answers.

The door clicks behind you.

You don’t need to look.

You know it’s her.

Sevika steps out onto the balcony like she owns it—of course she does. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over and nods toward your cigarette.

“Got another?”

You pause. Then reach into your bag and hand one over.

She lights it from yours, the flame flickering between you. Her fingers brush yours, just barely.

You don’t say anything.

She exhales, then glances over. “Didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say quietly. “Not really.”

She nods once. Like she gets it.

The silence hangs there, warm with shared breath, smoke curling between you.

“I didn’t hit him,” she says eventually.

You laugh—just a small, exhausted huff. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“He deserves worse,” she adds, taking another drag. “You looked miserable.”

You look at her. The city lights reflect in her eyes.

“I was.”

She turns to face you fully now, stepping closer, close enough that you can smell the smoke on her lips, the soft scent of whatever expensive cologne clings to her collar.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she admits, voice low, dangerous with honesty.

You swallow. “I said it was a mistake.”

“Then why’d you light that cigarette like you were waiting for me?”

Your lips part, but no words come.

She reaches out, fingers brushing the side of your face, then trailing down your arm. Her hand rests gently on your waist, not demanding—just there. Her cigarette burns low between her fingers, forgotten.

You don’t pull away.

When she leans in, you meet her halfway.

The kiss is soft at first—surprisingly so. All breath and hesitation, like she’s asking for permission with her mouth. But then it deepens. Her hand grips your waist tighter. Your fingers curl in the lapel of her suit jacket.

The smoke, the night air, the tension—it all wraps around you, blurring out everything else.

Until—

“Are you serious?”

You both freeze.

Mel’s voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

You turn your head slowly, lips still kiss-swollen, Sevika’s hand still on your waist.

Mel’s standing in the open balcony door, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but her eyebrow is doing the absolute most.

“Is this, like, a kink?” she says flatly. “You two only hook up when I’m about to walk in?”

You pull away from Sevika like you’ve just woken up mid-dream, breath still shaky, heart thudding in your ears. Her hand lingers on your waist for half a second before you step out of her reach completely.

You don’t meet her eyes.

You just walk.

Your heels click softly against the stone balcony floor as you move past the potted plants and melting ashtray, toward the glowing doorway where Mel’s still standing—expression unreadable, lips pursed, arms crossed like she’s both exhausted and waiting for a good reason not to slap someone.

You reach her side.

You pause.

Your lips part.

“Um—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, eyes still on the skyline. Not unkind. Just resigned.

You nod. You don't say thank you. You don't have it in you.

You slip past her into the party, leaving the smell of smoke and regret behind you.

Back on the balcony, Sevika exhales hard through her nose, turning away from the city like she could punch the moon if she tried hard enough.

“You have the worst timing,” she mutters.

Mel doesn’t flinch. She finally steps out onto the balcony, letting the door close gently behind her.

“No,” she says. “You have the worst impulse control.”

Sevika shoots her a glare, sharp and tired. “Do you enjoy walking in every time I’m with her?”

“You’re not supposed to be ‘with her’ at all,” Mel snaps, lowering her voice. “She’s your employee. This is your job. You're not supposed to be sneaking off to make out with the assistant like you're in some—some corporate fanfiction!”

Sevika scoffs. “This isn’t just some fling.”

“Then it’s worse.”

Mel’s voice softens just slightly.

“She doesn’t know what she wants yet. And you're not helping.”

Sevika doesn’t respond at first. Her jaw flexes. She crushes the stub of her cigarette into the stone railing, the ember dying with a hiss.

“She was happy with me,” Sevika mutters. “For a second. She looked at me like—like I meant something.”

“And then she walked away,” Mel says gently. “Again.”

That one lands.

Mel sighs, placing a hand on the railing. “You can’t be the person she runs to and the reason she has to run from at the same time.”

Sevika doesn’t say anything.

Mel doesn’t press.

They just stand there—two tired women on a balcony full of secondhand smoke, watching the city sparkle like it’s mocking them.

The night hums quietly around them now, all the chaos and chatter muffled behind thick glass. The city blinks below like it’s listening in.

Mel doesn’t leave.

She just exhales slowly, watching Sevika’s clenched fists, the way her knuckles stay white even though the cigarette’s long dead.

“I thought you said you were fine,” Mel says, her voice not accusatory—just... tired. Familiar.

Sevika doesn’t answer right away. Just stares straight ahead, jaw tight.

Mel turns slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is this about her or is this about samantha?”

A beat.

Two.

Then Sevika scoffs, low and bitter. “Dont say her name like that.”

Mel sighs. “You’ve been a wreck since she left.” she tried to say as gently as possible

Sevika’s shoulders tense. “She didn’t leave. She traded up. Found someone who could give her the picture-perfect shit she wanted. I was just... temporary.”

Mel’s face softens.

“And then you met someone who looked at you like you were more than temporary,” she says, quietly. “And now you’re trying to make that mean something.”

Sevika doesn’t deny it.

She leans on the railing, both arms braced like she’s holding herself up.

“I didn’t even get time to be angry,” she mutters. “It was like—one minute we were fighting, and the next she was engaged. Just done. Like I was some phase.”

Mel tilts her head. “You weren’t.”

Sevika laughs bitterly. “Sure as hell felt like I was.”

She looks up at the sky—like maybe it’ll swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“I’m not used to being the one left behind.”

Mel watches her carefully. Then steps closer, just enough to be beside her, not in front of her.

“You don’t have to bury yourself in someone new to prove you still matter.”

“I’m not,” Sevika says automatically.

“You are,” Mel says gently. “And it’s not fair to either of you.”

Silence falls between them again—heavy, but not hostile. The kind of silence that only happens between people who’ve known each other too long, seen too much.

After a minute, Sevika mutters, “She makes it so fucking hard not to care.”

Mel nods slowly.

“I know.”

You’re standing near the hallway now, away from the main buzz of the party, one hand still loosely cradling your wine glass, the other clutching your little clutch bag like it’s going to keep you grounded.

But you never stopped watching the balcony doors.

And then, there they are.

Sevika and Mel walk in together, side by side.

They aren’t touching.

They aren’t even smiling.

But they’re… close. In that quiet, easy kind of way that doesn’t need words. The kind that says they’ve been through some things. That they know each other.

You notice the way Sevika looks at her. Not intense like how she looked at you on the balcony. But steady. Familiar. Like maybe she’s looked at Mel like that before. Like maybe she still does.

Mel leans in to say something low near Sevika’s ear, and Sevika gives her a tired smirk in return.

It guts you.

You feel ridiculous. And stupid. And young. Like this was never anything to her. Just a new game. A project. Maybe it was never about you at all.

Maybe you were just a stand-in.

Just the next girl who would look at her like she meant something.

Your throat tightens, the party sounds warping around you, distant and unimportant.

You set your wine glass on a table you pass and slip out the side entrance with your boyfriend without saying goodbye. Not to Caitlyn. Not to Ekko. Not to anyone.

You don’t look back.

And Sevika?

She doesn’t see you leave.

comment to be added to the taglist!

@gaptoothedlesbo @magnificentmilkshakearbiter @half-of-a-gay

#arcane sevika #arcane #sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers #mel medarda #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #ekko arcane

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luvyeni · 1 day ago

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TWO DUMB VIRGINS ๑. ( 박지성 )

PART SIX. stomach bug? well no …

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── you wanted to lose it . he was tired of being made fun by his friends. both of you thinking he’d pull out fast enough… but what can you expect from two stupid virgins ? …

( 対 ) park jisung + fem. reader genre young parent au , smau · contains! mentions of sex. pregnancy talk. crude language. jokes among friends mature content

“maybe it’s something you ate.” yuna walked around the small clinic office. “wait the only thing you’ve eaten this past 16 hours is my soup.. oh my god did i make you even more sick?” she said. “i doubt it was your soup , i promise you it’s probably just a stomach bug , they’ll give me some medicine and tell me to take a nap and then i’ll be fine.”

“you better i’ve covered your shift 3 times already; your regular clients are annoying, yes lauren i know what three inches are im sure you do to given the man you’re with.” the door opened just as you were covering her mouth to keep her from saying thing else inappropriate. “im sorry she normally isn’t like this.” the doctor flagged you both off with a chuckled. “don’t worry about it , it’s better to laugh while you’re sick than to be all mopy, it’s good to be around friends.”

“see told you.” yuna said in a condescending tone. “you need me , i’m literally healing you.” you rolled your eyes. “more like getting on my nerves.” you mumbled. “doctor is she okay?” you slapped the girls leg. “yuna let her talk.” you said. “and i already told you it’s probably a stomach bug.” turning to the doctor. “right?”

“no.” your already nervous smile dropped. “huh?” you said , a nervous chuckle. “what is it then?” you questioned you and yuna both looking at each other then back at the doctor. “well according to the report , miss yn it seems like you’re at least three weeks pregnant.” surely she didn’t say that — no of course not. “hu-huh.” you nervously chuckled. “no , that’s not possible.” yuna stood in the corner, shocked. “no.”

“well are you sexually active?” the doctor asked, you don’t think she wanted an answer but you and yuna were both in shock that she answered. “well answer her.” yuna said. “well it was my first time — and did you use a condom?” clearly not and you’re looking at the consequences of that right now. “yn are you serious?” yuna said. “this might be a lot to handle right now , so i’m gonna send you home with some anti nausea medicine that should help a bit but whenever you decide on what you want you should schedule an appointment with the obgyn.” the doctor stood from her seat. “i’ll give you a few minutes to gather your thoughts before you drive home.”

she left you both in the room; and it was like you could hear a pin drop. “yn how could you not wear a condom?” yuna said. “that’s like sex 101.” it felt like a dream — no a sick april fools joke , instead it wasn’t april 1st. “i need to go home.”

and with that you two headed him, stopping only to get the medicine. the ride home was silent , not even the radio was playing as you tried to make sense of this; what the fuck was this? you stared out the window. how were you gonna explain this to anybody? your mom; sure she’d be happy, she always wanted to be a grandmother… but surely not like this. how the hell were you gonna tell jisung; you don’t even have his number, you’d have to ask chenle; which meant you were gonna have to tell chenle. “oh no.” you said , yuna turned to you , hands on the wheel. “are you gonna puke? please don’t.” she said. “no.”

“chenle.” you said. “what about him? oh shit you do have to tell him.” she said. “no , i can’t.” you said. “well regardless of what happens, i think you should.” she said. “unless there’s a reason you cant.” she asked after seeing your face. “theres a reason you can’t tell him?” you sighed. “the guy who chenle brought to the cafe the other day.” you said. “what about him ; i’m pretty sure he’s one of his friends?” the words fell from her mouth; then a bit of silence , before a gasp. “no.” she said. “how did you manage that?”

“i didn’t know , i never asked who his friends were , i didn’t even ask him what school he went to.” you said. “how could i be so fucking stupid?” you said. “this literally can’t be happening right now.” you said. “i’m so fucked.” you said. “let’s just get you home , we’ll figure it out then — i think i just need to be al— i’m not leaving you alone like this , absolutely not , so either we sit in this car in front of your complex or we go to your apartment and figure it out.”

you two make it to the apartment and up to your floor. “we don’t have to talk about it right now , but i won’t let you be alone.” she said as you unlocked the door. “thank you.” you said softly pushing the door open , noticing the extra pair of shoes. “finally we’ve been waiting.” you heard yunjins voice. “what did the doctor say?” chenle emerged from the bathroom. “let’s not talk about that right now.” yuna tried to stop the conversation , but your poor friends couldn’t read the room.

and it was like chenle asking that question made you realize your reality. “i’m gonna be sick.” you ran back to the bathroom , emptying your stomach. “whoa a stomach bug did that.” chenle said , only for you to let out a sob. “yn.” yunjin ran back to the room. “what’s wrong?” chenle turned to yuna , the only other person who had answers. “well it wasn’t a stomach bug.” she said. “what!.” yunjin ran back to the living room. “did she just say she was pregnant?” your sobbing body , hunched over in the bathroom. “yuna? is she really pregnant?”

you dragged your body off the floor and into your room , dropping down on the bed , not even bothering to take your clothes off , just rolling up in the blanket. “but that’s insane she just lost her virginity.” chenle said as they followed you back into the room. “yn.” he knocked on the door. “can we come in?” they heard you hum; pushing the door open. “you okay?” yunjin said. “what do you think?” you mumbled. “you got a point.” she said , sitting on the edge of the bed.

“can we just not talk about it right now.” you said. “i just want to sleep for the rest of the day.” chenle patted your back. “we can put these questions on the back burner until tomorrow or maybe even the next day.” he said. “but we aren’t leaving you right now , not in this state we’d be terrible friends.” he climbed into the bed next to you. “yeah , but let’s not hold off this conversation too long i have questions.” yunjin said. “yunjin.” yuna said , already laying down next to you. “what?” she said.

“i’m just curious , this shit sounds like a plot to a tv show , of course i have questions.”

( 🏷️ ). @starsungwrld @neverbeurs @chocolate-scoups @delinalovesriize @cupid-ville @maiyhw @cosmicwintr @nctislifue @httpsxnox @hyunjinslongasslegs @andyyjw @kookssecret @ithinkulikeme @meowmeowhoon @jae-n0 @413ktz @httpjiprk @antifrggile @ourshin @itskpopular @smiles4hyuck @jaeminnnanaaa17 @bbyinni @sillypaperspyeagle-blog @n0hyuck @catdonut657 @markleesleftpinky @clean-soap @janjoonty @veilstqr @mikeeel @cigsaftersuh @kittykyuuu @akirawhore

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 PREV. TDV. NEXT. .ᐟ

©️LUVYENI

#park jisung fake texts #park jisung fanfic #park jisung smau #park jisung x reader #park jisung fic #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic #nct dream fake texts #nct dream x female reader #nct dream ff #nct ff #nct x female reader #nct fic

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wackywatchdotcom · 2 days ago

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Seeing you be very normal about small details in the show got me thinking about Pomni, and I was wondering if you've thought about the possibility that Pomni probably hasn't eaten in several days. Like, we know they don't NEED to eat.. but it's probably not healthy for her mentally to skip the process of 'taking care of your body'. Ragatha, for example, says that participating in sleeping despite the fact they don't need to- helps keep them mentally steady. Idk just a thought..

ooooooooh.... its a good thought!!!!!

i DO think that like. theres definitely some psychological aspects to a lot of things like eating and sleeping that i feel like tadc characters would be at risk of neglecting... like with something like sleep, i think they can go without it for a LONG time without physical fatigue BUT at the same time like. psychologically sleep is IMPORTANT. i dont know all the science of it but iirc sleep isnt just a physical need but i get the feeling thats not smth that occurs to people in the circus often :[ ragatha seems aware enough of the benefit of the routine of sleeping and how the adventures can be helpful for that to BUT i imagine even she doesnt fully realize that sleep is still pretty important for them, just in a different way

on that note i could definitely see eating being similar!!!! its not something thatll physically harm a person in the circus if they dont eat but also eating is a deeply ingrained aspect of human life, and while i struggle to place a specific problem abstaining from it for too long in the circus couls cause, i COULD imagine it being like. at LEAST psychologically disorienting. especially with jax claiming he feels hungry??? it implies that its similar to the breathing thing that they may not phsyically need to , but their mind still assumes they do....

i DO get curious if they have like. regular meals?? i liek the hc that theres some sort of kitchen in the circus (seeing the weird little couch area was SOOO exciting for me, im super invested in finding out more about the layout of the circus!!!!! i like details like that theyre FUN) so imagine theres SOME way to access food just like how they have bedrooms (though, i get the feeling caine doesnt have a complete idea of what sleep IS but thats a diff thing). but also with them having a feast at the end of the pilot could imply they do, but with that 'reward' not being brought up at ALL in the next three eps (caine has the opportunity to mention it but noticably doesnt, especially in ep 2 where he just full on Leaves after the adventure- it seems more like he just sorta congratulates people on completing adventures and makes sure everyones accounted for and calls it a day) makes me think that communal meals are NOT super common, or at the very least them being coordinated by caine isnt...

all that to say that if shes only been part of the ep 1 feast (i cannot imagine she ate i feel like she was too out of it to do Anything😭) i am unsure if shed have gone out of her way to find a kitchen... if she wanted to know i think shed feel comfortable asking ragatha about it, but i wonder if its even crossed her mind???? and i imagine that would be jarring for her to realize, and also generally psychologically Not The Best for her...

#ask #tadc #i think its not smth pomni would actively avoid BUT i could see her forgetting to #i dont know??? how much hunger they feel so it could be a minute while shes adjusting for her to even Realize how long its been...#it does honestly make me wonder if they CAN get sleepy. they can feel the need to breathe and i imagine they wouldnnt get #the physical fatigue from lack of sleep. but its just bad for ur brain to put it off too #the breathing thing in general has INTERESTING implications for things #i get the feeling a lot of it is like.. mental. but not just psychologically #smth about autonomous stuff. ur body knows what it needs to survive so even if u know ull be fine in the circus #ur bodys like . i need air or ill DIE!#so its like. how much does that apply to #how much of the circus IS influenced by ones own mind #if ur mind sends signals to the computer that 'i cant breathe' and responds accordingly...#and then it then comes back to the food thing....#(i think if pomni started thinking about this too much it would Scare Her. because it has deeply distressing implications #about ones own existence #and on top of 'i am detached from physical needs and this makes me feel partially divorced from my own humanity and it unsettles me'#its smth i think she would have to avoid thinking about too long 😭)#circus discussion

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sha-brytols · 1 day ago

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hii i haven't followed your blog for long so im not sure if you've made a post w this same premise before but i didn't really care for justice before i found your blog and now im really quite fond of him.

i wanted to ask, have you ever thought about a justice romance route? not necessarily one that involves anders less but one that cares about justice more than what we're given in game (though da2 is not kind to either justice or anders). i would like to hear your thoughts on what a justice route could've been, or at least like, an ideal of it

man i'm glad i converted yall to justice nation and you see me as the Justice Blogger but i'm gonna be real with you i'm nowhere near talented enough to come up with a full-fledged romance myself. i can talk about how i Wish he was involved in the andersmance though? it's self indulgent and probably super fucking cringe so don't necessarily take it as me thinking i could do better LOL

usually what i'm really looking for when i think about his role in a romance is an actual faithful extension of his awakening character arc. he's a romaaaantic he loves love and feelings and he's so passionate about the beauty of the mortal world. my headcanon was always that the reason anders latches onto hawke so quick is because justice was drawn to them (parallels to justice asking the warden's counsel because they seem to be of good character vs anders pouring his heart out to hawke because he feels like he can trust them).

i wrote this whole meta before about how hawke might represent to justice his own personal proof of self. aura was kristoff's wife; he loved her because kristoff loved her. karl was anders' lover; he loved him because anders loved him. but hawke is someone he met completely on his own. he fell in love with them of his own volition, and if he can have his own love that's independent of the people who were once his hosts, doesn't that prove that he's a person in his own right? i like playing with that. was it anders who fell in love first, or justice? does it matter? does it matter to hawke? just something that would've been nice to explore. i haaaaate that justice gets reduced to the angry demon that makes anders blow up the chantry. he was a character in awakening, and he should've been a character in da2.

i can't speak for literally anyone else LOL but i like playing with hawke's own relationship to justice. esther fundamentally doesn't understand him and just thinks of him as a weird voice in anders' head. the thought of him not only being a part of anders, but also a part of their relationship, completely escapes her. but the parts of anders that she loves most are the parts that are shaped by justice, so on some level she's in love with him without realizing it. but there's plenty of other ways to play it. @mageknife incorporating justice into the romance through hawke's own spirit companion is fun. @lottiesnotebook has so. many. good. fics. about justice's active role in the romance, both for anders and hawke. it really just depends on how much you subscribe to the belief that justice is an extension of anders or a separate entity (or somewhere in the middle). i get that "they're the same guy" is the common rationale the game uses, but there is at least Some divide obviously.

i don't even really necessarily think justice has to play a Huge role in the romance. i'd just like a role. something similar in scope to spite and lucanis but also actually written by someone who likes romance and didn't just take it because the other guy got laid off midway through LOL.

#welcome to my blog where i dont answer asks and the few times i do i'm barely even answering the question #ask #anon #justice

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avornalino · 1 year ago

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god shes so babygirl

#been playing the barbie legacy but starting with like a gen 0 (to build her skills and all that)#but ive completely lost the plot #shes supposed to be a stay at home mom why is she an actress going to uni how did we get here #its ok itll all work out i swear #and if not.. at least im having fun with her #she got 1 of those career calls for the acting career (level 5??!?) and i accepted bc like why not #but now i really like it for her soooo #ill have her quit at some point and settle down probably after she gets her degree (shes a comm major!)#or maybe ill have her drop out partway thru im not sure yet im just vibing rn #ts4 #i hope you love her like i love her 🫶

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mohntilyet · 5 months ago

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still i think the one of the more fun differences drawn between illario and lucanis that was lost would be illario's ability to endear himself to others but serious lack of empathy, vs. lucanis' (self perceived) inability to be charming but how much he cares. it's interesting that the game has gone with the "lucanis' ability vs illario's lack thereof" because i think illario being the dellamorte 'best in show dog' vs. lucanis' attack dog would have made me so unwell.

lucanis is... awkward. he's not unlikable, because he is usually very polite, but he doesn't speak much and only seems to care about the other dellamortes. he once sent viago de riva a knife with no note (who knows what he could have meant by this). he does what caterina asks of him, and by his own admission, cannot say no to her. he is a dramatic and prolific killer, and that makes how untouchable he is even worse.

and the crows like illario, sure, AND he's a good assassin! he's even a good crow! he's so good that he can make lucanis smile, and so he is the charming, sociable one. he's the one that stays in treviso and can be relied upon to care, illario's even the one people prefer over caterina and lucanis!

but illario is decoration. he's the prize poodle, and even if poodles were bred to be working dogs, nobody will ever pick him to protect the house over the german shepherd that regularly mauls intruders. anyways the analogy is getting away from me. the point i'm trying to make is that i want illario to have a different kind of jealousy/hatred that's not just over 'being bad at killing' but also an arrogant loathing for everyone around him that is getting harder to hide, because they've forgotten he can bite and is just itching to rip someone's jugular out. illario is very good at hiding his family resemblance to caterina, while lucanis suffers under his grandmother's, and his own, reputation.

#not helped that these ideas are probably fostered by caterina. she doesnt WANT lucanis to have FRIENDS she wants him to KILL THINGS lol #and her perceiving illario as someone who wants but wont rise against her would have been interesting #so she allows his charm and friendliness etc. because she wants him to ingratiate the house to other houses #she doesnt want him out the picture. she NEEDS him there to make people like lucanis. illario just isnt content with that #i will shut up about this. i promise.#like i wont. but im trying #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #and also i want illario to have a little more manipulative asshole going on he's not believable enough in game omg #i think the main issue i have is that lucanis should have . maybe. been a bit less agreeable. SORRY #but it would have been fun to see crow-like defensiveness slowly break away to reveal a caring polite and kind man #or at least a slow understanding of lucanis-language. like he said 'i dont care' but he meant 'i dont mind'#raised by a grieving and also repressed old italian woman will do this to you #thoo. i was pleasantly surprised at how sweet he was in the game to start but i think parallel wise this could have been fun is all #veilguard spoilers #dragon age #and also really sorry that this was brought upon by someone calling him a pursedog man in tags #which was very funny for 5 minutes and then i was like actually i can do something with this

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dandelion-roots · 3 months ago

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[ID: a digital drawing of riz gukgak from fantasy high. in the front is a relatively small drawing of riz juggling books that are falling out of his hand and a phonecall, and he has a huge backpack on. he looks a bit overwhelmed, hair flying in all directions, and has a nervous smile on. in the background is a large shadow of riz, only one glowing eye and a shining gun visible. the background is red, giving an eerie feel. End ID]

Kill your best friend

Cheat your way to your rogue teacher

Announce your presidential campaign

Don't let them know how angry you are

LEARN TO RECOGNIZE A MONSTER

#riz gukgak #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year spoilers #ik the 'uh oh i fucking miscalculated big time' applies to all the bad kids BUT riz is my little blorbo so #and he was the first to go full brutal in s1 and was likely the one ppl would've seen it coming from the least #i dont need to justify myself i love all their dichotomies. my homicidal blorbos who're on a slippery slide to becoming the villains #as they grow more powerful but still react to threat with a 'no holds barred' approach #wait wait this isn't an analysis post jskdjsdjk art! had a lot of fun with this one #have the funniest 'sketch' for this that i did that was me drawing w my laptop touch pad (? the touchy mouse thing) w notes so i dont forge #the idea back when i didnt have the juices to draw it and was also in the armchair writing fic and didnt want to move stations #im still experiment with colours and now im also figuring out gradients which is super fun! correction layers my beloved <3 #also didn't use my usual canvas size and had to keep making it bigger and bigger so its unfortunately compressed #such is life #did some warmup before this for once bcs i felt like working on my no-underdrawing drawing skills #have this beautiful pen brush and a new big (for me) sketchbook so i went to town with some references open #also working on tackling the wretched face angles. why do our faces Do That #anywayyyy the list is from kipperlilly's pov in case it wasn't clear #im looking forward to eventually rewatching s3 and giving her another chance #like i COULD get sick abt her. theres potential there bcs i do love angry annoying women who stick to their shit #im leaving now i simply have to hydrate its been hours #eyestrain tw #sorry for the late tw i work with so many layers of eye protection on my laptop that it took looking at this on my phone to go uh oh

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bacchuschucklefuck · 10 months ago

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dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

#fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #fhsy #riz gukgak #ft. kalina #fh class quangle #tbh Im not suuuper happy with the bones of these designs yet #but also its just a bit hard to measure up to how strong ''kid who wears suit to school'' is #I kiinda gear the sophomore year design specifically towards like. cameraman-esque aesthetics #kind of dude who's working the light rig And the audio at the same time. dude who's running inbetween two huge tripods #theres also a thing with the freshman year arcade scene that I wanted to draw but just do not have the energy today #maybe in the future! if I can be bothered to draw biz lmao #I wanna draw something for cleric!gorgug first anyway... specifically his death in freshman year #man I'm so glad I tossed bard!riz into investigative journalism that is SO annoying. exactly what I set out to do with my classswaps #can you imagine going to school with that guy. can you imagine going to school with tintin #this also makes kipperlilly vs riz even funnier like influencer vs journalist? it'd be the Worst #man thinking of it I should rework gorgug's design too. currently his sophomore design is really zac core lmao #and zac can pull it off but character design wise its. really nothing. laughs #his junior year design is full aerith at least so that one Im very happy with. what if I tell u cassandra is the deity of #the inbetween spaces in this class swap thingy. and gorgug offers her domain as a stop for folks fresh out of a faith to gather themselves #that being transgender as fuck is kinda coincidental lmao. but well I stand by it I like that #nobody's design has jumped out to me like riz and gorgug yet. adaine I have a prreeetty good idea for #mostly bc shes the hoodie kid this time round lmao. gamer adaine true believers rise up #we take it easy! we take it easy as we go. these comics-lite were real fun to do. I should do that more

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bisclavret · 6 months ago

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like many who have suffered at the hands of bbc merlin before me, i recently indulged in a thought experiment in which i outlined my own version of seasons 3-5 that stay thematically and tonally in line with the show (except they're less fucking stupid). but then i quickly realized that focusing on details is pointless: all you need is to solve the one Big Problem the show has, and the rest will follow. the problem in question? ✨morgana✨

i like the first two seasons. s1 achieves what it sets out to do and has fun while doing it, and s2, while flawed, sets up a ton of potential that the following seasons unfortunately squander, beginning with the insidious season 3. you can only distract me with cute knights and goblins and fart jokes for so long before i start seeing through you, evil, evil season of television.

my hypothesis is that if the writers had crafted s3 morgana into anything more sympathetic than a violent half-alive poltergeist that can never be reasoned with because she's suddenly terminally off her rocker, everything would've fallen into place. a sympathetic morgana would've made real, valid arguments against uther (and arthur) that wouldn't just be the ramblings of a woman possessed. her betrayal of arthur would have stemmed from her feeling increasingly morally superior to him because of his complacency in the face of their father's tyranny. under morgause's guidance she would stop believing that arthur is capable of change, and the whole point would be that she might actually be right. arthur would have to actively try and prove her wrong, instead of getting praised for doing the bare minimum because the bar is on the floor.

furthermore, morgana's prophetic dream about arthur and gwen becoming king and queen and her decision to prevent this however she can is a direct parallel to merlin learning about that same prophecy and making it happen by any means necessary. merlin's desires about his and arthur's futures are subtextually fueled by gay love and devotion, so why couldn't morgana's be? why couldn't she properly express her bitterness that arthur gets to be with gwen in a way she can't "took gwen away" from her, instead of suddenly declaring that gwen is nothing more than a servant, after two seasons of demonstrating again and again that she loves, values, and respects gwen more than anyone else in that godforsaken castle?

following this, an angry and emotionally volatile but still sensible morgana asking gwen to stay by her side during the coup of the castle in the s3 finale and gwen going behind her back to help arthur and the knights would've hurt like a bitch. double-sided betrayal! gwen having a real plot! the proper beginnings of a toxic yuri that would shape a generation!

then there's the utter hubris of having morgana shoot arrows at the same civilians she worried herself sick over for 2 seasons — even morgan, her medieval counterpart that was rooted in every sexist trope in existence, doesn't just go around killing senselessly but instead has (often petty!) personal vendettas against gwen, arthur, and the knights. morgana had every right to be sick of the pretensions around chivalry in camelot (she was always quick to mock it, even in s1), and to lash out at the knights and soldiers after years of feeling powerless in a castle full of armed men that blindly followed her oppressor. the show conveniently forgets that morgana was victimized as a woman as well as a sorcerer those first 2 seasons.

but like i said, this is not just about morgana. allowing her to remain a real and multifaceted character even as she betrays everyone in pursuit of her ambitions would've given the rest of the core four more interesting conflict to work with: merlin because he would have to experience real consequences to his actions, arthur because he would watch his sister go against his father (and his knights, and his birthright) and experience some actual internal dilemmas about it, and gwen because she would be forced to choose between morgana and arthur without the pretense that it's an obvious or easy choice for her to make.

even morgause and gaius would come off more interesting as mentors: neither one inherently evil or inherently good, both jaded by events that happened before our protagonists were even born, both heavily influencing morgana and merlin into fulfilling roles that they think are appropriate, but that morgana and merlin may not have chosen for themselves had they not been under their care.

you get the gist. if the show followed its own setup, morgana's mistakes wouldn't lie in cheap and senseless acts of violence but in alienating the people she loves because she is too hurt and jaded to trust them. meanwhile, everybody else would feel guilt over "failing" her and yet they would be too caught up in their own (sometimes flawed!) beliefs of right and wrong to truly see her point of view.

arthur would convince himself it was sorcery that corrupted her. merlin would know that isn't true but he wouldn't be able to argue without confessing everything, which is the defining conflict between him and morgana and it's cheapened when she's just an evil witch caricature and merlin is framed as inherently virtuous in contrast. gwen, too, would become a more active participant in her own life by choosing arthur over morgana and choosing to rule camelot with him instead of just waiting politely to see where things go.

and, of course, uther's downfall and death would be quick, final, and completely earned — when and why did the show even decide he of all people was the sympathetic villain, anyway?

lastly, and perhaps controversially, i think morgana should've learned merlin's true identity by season 4. her being the first of the main characters to find out makes perfect sense considering their shared history and their interconnected and mirrored arcs. even the show seems to agree, considering she does find out a little before arthur. but the narrative itself tried pointing flashing neon arrows towards this way earlier — there is a whole entire episode in s4 where merlin being emrys is repeatedly spelled out for morgana and she still isn't allowed to see it. that episode makes her look like the stupidest person to ever live, which is pretty funny im not gonna lie, but also another frustrating thing in the endless string of frustrating things that make up this show.

morgana learning that merlin has magic would've transformed the source of merlin's anxiety from a crippling fear of being outed someday to the crippling fear of knowing she could out him at any moment. this would make him want to beat her to the punch (perhaps he'd consider killing her for a minute and decide against it because she isn't a cartoonishly insane evil person in my version of events) and maybe he would even feel some tentative excitement at the idea of coming clean, now that it seems inevitable. after all, he always intended to tell arthur eventually! and i think gaius would have to admit outright that he does not want merlin to tell arthur he has magic because he, gaius, simply cannot risk such a gamble. it would be so interesting to see gaius and merlin clash and disagree once it becomes obvious that it's not merlin that isn't ready for the reveal, it's gaius. delicious!

with morgana's knowledge looming, things would inevitably spiral into a magic reveal by the end of season 4. i picture this season as an absolute mess of miscommunication between everyone at camelot, which is, y'know, canon. growing increasingly cunning and vengeful, morgana would use this tension to her advantage, destabilizing the court from the outside while she creates alliances with other sorcerers outside of camelot (instead of living alone in a hovel for no reason — morgana le fay i'm sorry i'm so sorry they gave you agravaine instead of your all-female entourage oh my god).

and here's where the events would change beyond recognition (aka here's where the meta becomes the fanfic i refuse to write). picture it with me: a militia of sorcerers infiltrates camelot and arthur and gwen have to set aside their differences (assuming gwen kissing lancelot and arthur overreacting happens, which it should) for the good of the kingdom as well as for love. picture high priestess morgana in her element, side by side with a bunch of misfit sorcerers that aren't so easily vilified, chopping down camelot's soldiers and knights and assuredly making their way to the newly-minted king.

then, just as it starts to seem that all hope is lost, in swoops merlin (the actual merlin, not his old fart disguise) on dragonback (kilgharrah hates morgana so much i know his sexist ass would stoop to anything to stop her)!!! imagine merlin showing off the extent of his powers in front of everyone and preventing the sorcerers from getting any further, declaring loud and clear that camelot is protected by him, by emrys. imagine that display of power alone being enough to send everyone home.

imagine the loyalties clearly drawn: merlin on arthur's side, morgana on the sorcerers'. imagine arthur, feeling confused and betrayed by everyone at this point, banishing merlin despite everything he's done for him in the angstiest, most emotionally dysregulated scene the show had ever put to screen. imagine merlin starting season 5 free at last but very lonesome, an embittered dragonlord like his father. imagine the absolute mess camelot would become without him, even with gwen — now queen guinevere — there to pick up the slack. imagine arthur actually earning merlin back, finally growing into his role as king as he does so. imagine the reunion.

all this and more could've been not just possible but inevitable if morgana was allowed to remain a complex character that is neither inherently good nor inherently evil: it was undeniably the biased and one-note treatment of morgana's downfall by the writers that set the precedent for literally everything else that happened after merlin chose to poison her. the show wouldn't have even had to jeopardize its tone or the monster-of-the-week vibe, all it would've had to do is admit that even the "good guys" are capable of mistakes and what makes them good is the ability to feel remorse and change for the better. (as opposed to uther, who was miles beyond redemption since way before the pilot and deserved to lose everything and die alone. OBVIOUSLY???)

in a world where morgana remains multifaceted and sympathetic, mordred would get a better arc as well, so if we really wanted to, we could still end on the same tragic note that the show ended on. with so much harm inflicted onto so many innocent people by the pendragons for so long (including mordred and the many druids and sorcerers that raised him), it could realistically end up being a little too late for anything more than one shining glimpse of king arthur and the sorcerer merlin's short-lived golden age before fate catches up to them. glimpsing that reality just to immediately lose it would've been far more satisfying and far more tragic than whatever the writers thought they were doing with all that pointless carrot-dangling.

and finally, an ending in line with morgana's new and improved arc. in this version, rather than bleeding out on the forest floor alone, she would channel the morgan le fay we know from the legends: sobered up by the reality of her brother dying, she would use her high priestess status (and perhaps also her pendragon status) to be granted passage over to avalon alongside arthur on the boat — a one-way ride — just to make sure he gets there safely. this is her penance for the harm she has caused, the same way arthur's penance is to die and leave the true ruler of camelot (gwen) behind to achieve everything he was too slow and indecisive to build while he still had time.

merlin's penance, then, would be to stay behind and watch them cross over without him, waiting and waiting and waiting until they come back or until he can finally join them. which is a bit fucking harsh if i'm honest, so i'd at least make it slightly more faithful to the legends by having him return as an old man and letting him take a long nap under a tree by the shore, his body slowly enveloped by vines like the cobwebbed fisher king in 3x08, never fully sure if he's dreaming or if there really are strange shapes fading in and out of the fog over the lake. still tragic, but nevertheless a little more open-ended and whimsical than [TRUCK NOISES] THE END!

#[johnny the dragon voice] ✨ MORGANA ✨#tldr: if you treat your villain with nuance then more nuance will follow and your story will be better for it! groundbreaking i know!!!#what im also getting at is that morgana broke free FIRST so she DESERVED to become the morgan le fay of legend #way before any of the others grew into their own roles.#morgana #bbcm #bbc merlin #analysis #merlin meta #morgana pendragon #theres no focus on the knights here but if you know me you know how angry i am about s4 and s5 gwaine at all times #so in a story with a more nuanced portrayal of villainy and knighthood i think he would openly question his choice to become one #and maybe he'd leave for a while #go home and sort out his daddy issues. have some fruity subplots along the way. visit merlin during his dragonlord era. that sort of thing #and interact with lancelot at least once!!! for gods sake #but i dont see lancelot surviving sorry. that dude will literally die for anything #also scientists and tv execs had not yet discovered bisexuality in 2011 and he already had everyone acting unwise #in ways that barely got past the censors :/ unsustainable #elyan however shouldnt have died. i know gwen ruling alone with only the lamest knights in her service is “the point”#but its a stupid point. elyan is her best knight and they rule camelot together. working class heroes etc.#poetic justice for their father who was murdered by uther + a fun narrative contrast to morgana and arthur #nightmare siblings of all time. banished from the mortal realm for their crimes. could never rule together. stinky #ANYWAY. I HAVE THREE (3) EXAMS DUE THIS WEEK. HERE'S TWO THOUSAND (2000) WORDS OF BBC MERLIN ANALYSIS.

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