#and not the only reason to fixate on the truth so much

[rooftopdaigos]

desperate and self destructive wet cat

[centrally-unplanned]

We (somewhat rightly) mock the 2000's era fansub translation notes for their otaku fixations and privileging of trivia over the media, but they should be understood as serving their purpose for a bit of a different era in the anime fandom. Take this classic:

Like, its so obvious, right? Just say "pervert", you don't need the note! Which is true, for like a 'normie' audience member who just wants to watch A TV Show - but no one watching, uh *quick google* "Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne" in 1999 is that person. The audience is weebs, and for them the fact that show is Japanese is a huge selling point. They want it to feel as 'anime' as possible; and in the west language was one of the core signifiers of anime-ness. 2004 con-goers calling their friends "-kun" and throwing in "nani?" into conversations was the way this was done, and alongside that a lexicon of western anime fandom terminology was born. Seeing "ecchi" on the screen is, to this person, a better viewing experience - it enhances their connection to otaku identity the show is providing, and reinforces their shared cultural lexicon (Ecchi is now a term one 'expects' anime fans to know - a truth that translator notes like this simultaneously created and reflected).

But of course your audiences have different levels of otaku-dom, and so you can't just say 'ecchi' and call it a day - so for those who are only Level 2 on their anime journey, you give them a translation note. Most of the translation notes of the era are like this - terms the fansubber thought the audience might know well enough that they would understand it and want that pure Japanese cultural experience, but that not all of them would know, so you have to hedge. The Lucky Star one I posted is a great example of that:

Its Lucky Star, the otaku-crown of anime! You desperately want the core text to preserve as much anime vocab as possible, to give off that feeling, but you can't assume everyone knows what a GALGE is - doing both is the only way to solve that dilemma.

This is often a good guideline when looking at old memetically bad fansubs by the way:

This isn't real, no fansub had this - it was a meme that was posted on a wiki forum in 2007. Which makes sense, right? "Plan" isn't a Japanese cultural or otaku term, so there is no reason not to translate it, it doesn't deepen the ~otaku connection~.

Which, I know, I'm explaining the joke right now, but over time I think many have grown to believe that this (and others like it) is a real fansub, and that these sort of arbitrary untranslations just peppered fansub works of the time? It happened, sure, but they would be equally mocked back then as missteps - or were jokes themselves. Some groups even had a reputation for inserting jokes into their works, imo Commie Subs was most notable for this; part of the competitive & casual environment of the time. But they weren't serious, they are not examples of "bad fansubs" in the same way.

This all faded for a bunch of reasons - primarily that the market for anime expanded dramatically. First, that lead to professionally released translations by centralized agencies that had universal standards for their subs and accountability to the original creators of the show. Second, the far larger audience is far less invested in anime-as-identity; they like it, but its not special the way its special when you are a bullied internet recluse in 2004. They just want to watch the show, and would find "caring" about translation nuances to be cringe. And since these centralized agencies release their product infinitely faster and more accessibly than fansubs ever did, their copies now dominate the space (including being the versions ripped to all illegal streaming sites), so fansubs died.

Though not totally - a lot of those fansub groups are still around! Commie Subs is still kicking for example. They either do the weird nuance stuff, or fansub unreleased-in-the-west old or niche anime, or even have pivoted to non-anime Japanese content that never gets international release. But they used to be the taste-makers of the community; now they are the fringe devotees in a culture that has moved beyond them. So fansubs remain something of a joke of the 90's and 2000's in the eyes of the anime culture of today, in a way that maybe they don't deserve.

[wordsinhaled]

i’m so totally normal about the fact that aziraphale’s last (known) deliberate foray into the queer community was when he learned the gavotte at the fictionalized hundred guineas club (!!!) in the 1800s and now in the 2020s he’s like “grindr? what’s that?”

many are talking about his repression which is very valid… and yet the thing to me that stands out about aziraphale is that he’s actually… incredibly stable in his identity and that identity IS incredibly queer. queer by the standards of heaven AND by human standards as well

metatron describes his “de facto partnership” with crowley as “irregular.” and in fact aziraphale in his entirety is irregular. he likes and makes it his business not only to understand but to be a connoisseur of all manner of things angels aren’t supposed to even remotely care about. food. music. books. theatre. sleight of hand. and more.

it’s the sort of behavior that would’ve gotten him othered, treated as a bit odd, in heaven even if he hadn’t chosen to consort all across the earth with a literal demon. and it IS treated that way - the fact is aziraphale even as an angel has got proclivities that set him apart from the rest of the host (even after offering him the highest position in heaven, metatron still acts deeply dismissive of him… like aziraphale’s bookshop is merely a quaint little hobby of his that can be easily transferred to another custodian, and not a literal extension of who aziraphale has become, full of his tartan and unique bibles and special vintages of wine and the books arranged in a very specific way)

so. aziraphale is a queer angel but of course he’s also queer to other humans. but in such a way that… he had his realization a LONG time ago, and put the matter very much to rest after that. aziraphale is perpetually something like several centuries behind schedule. he owns an ancient computer that probably continues to run windows 98 simply because aziraphale’s decided it should. he wears the same waistcoat and coat for generations because he simply likes them precisely the way they are and sees no reason to change them. but the idea that he doesn’t know how he comes across to others - of course he does. he knows he looks like your prim and proper grandfather and he prefers it that way

aziraphale looked around at humans in the 1880s and said: ah yes. this is where i fit. and promptly ensconced himself in that queer subculture. learned the gavotte. read his austen. loved crowley from afar. aziraphale is fiercely and vibrantly queer. just with the sort of assurance of someone who lives with his lover in a commonlaw marriage for decades and then shows up at city hall for the certificate once society decides it’s ‘allowed.’ like… he hasn’t had any need to know what grindr is because aziraphale’s ‘scene’ was a century and a half ago and it defined romance for him too.

but my favorite thing about aziraphale is how much of him is about appearances versus the truth. he can lie straight to angels’ faces and sleep at night. he knows he comes off soft but he once wielded a flaming sword. he dissembles helplessness but he’s far from it and he knows precisely how it makes others treat him. and at the core of aziraphale is rigidity, inflexibility of ideas… his sense of self is stable where crowley’s is malleable, and so on, and so on

and the fact that he’s continuously fixated on trying to misguidedly do the right thing, the fact that he seeks heavenly approval and wants to fit the world into his schema of good vs evil… in no way do i think that means he isn’t one hundred percent aware of how he feels about crowley or what it means about him by angelic or human standards. i’ve seen some folks saying that aziraphale doesn’t want to like kissing crowley and like… as much as i love me some brideshead revisited/atonement flavored angst; i put forth that it’s not internalized homophobia or queer panic but simply: “i’m trying to do the right thing for both of us and you won’t let me.” and “i wanted our first kiss to be different.” he was envisioning an entirely different flavor of romance than what he got but he emma woodhoused too close to the sun

like, y’all. aziraphale in all likelihood has a glorious collection of historical queer erotica. he just has a feathery diva coat hanging in his closet, and for what. “oh, good lord” he says at crowley’s revolutionary outfit in the bastille, while eyeing him up like an entire meal. he’s so good at affected propriety, at carefully constructed stuffiness, but between the two of them aziraphale’s got to be the one who has experience

aziraphale had been physically throwing himself at crowley the entire season. he orchestrated an entire regency ball so they could touch hand to hand. he spends the entire season (well, and season 1) looking at crowley like he’s particularly coveted. he looked at crowley before the fall like he was glorious and beautiful. aziraphale’s queer and he knows it and i think that isn’t his problem, it’s the fact that he wants to build a different sort of future for the two of them but crowley’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by reminding him of everything he can finally have. like. that’s the heartbreak. it’s how dare you make this ugly? i forgive you for our first kiss being all pain and salt. it’s my dearest, i wanted to make heaven as beautiful as you deserve. as sacred and safe for us as our bookshop. and i can do that for us, because once i held a flaming sword and i still remember how the hilt felt in my hands. and now the taste of you is in my mouth.

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[planet-dusk]

🏷️ mean dom!hyunjin, fuckboy!hyunjin, hyune has a big cock, one pussy slap, orgasm denial, overstim, subspace, pet names: doll, baby

hyunjin bullied himself deeper between your walls, the sound of your drawn-out moans music to his ears.

your hands grabbed at his shoulders, at his arms, searching for anything to hold onto while his thick cock stretched you out in a way you'd never experienced before. after his relentless teasing earlier, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with his fingers and tongue countless times (only to pull back and stop you from tipping over) you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to hold out for.

"hnng — you-you're bigger than i thought, i'm not sure it'll fit —"

hyunjin grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed above your head, wrapping his long fingers around them with ease.

"stop squirming, doll. it's only halfway in. you were the one begging for it earlier."

"that… that was before i knew it was so big," you whined.

"don't say i didn't warn you."

he had warned you. multiple times. talking with his friends about their conquests, laughing at you rolling your eyes. fishermen's tales without a doubt, or so you'd thought. it'd always been hard to tell if he was speaking the truth. there had been a time where you'd thought he could be a lost romantic, with his love for the arts and the books he was always carrying with him. but there was nothing romantic about his addiction to sweet things, burning through them without mercy, throwing them away as soon as they lost their flavor.

it was one of the reasons why you tried to stay away from him. but still you'd ignored all the warning signs when he'd kissed you so sweetly tonight. you'd granted him the one thing you'd vowed you never would: allowing him to consume you.

"do you want me to stop, then?"

you avoided his eyes, fixating on the silver chain dangling from his neck. a long time ago you'd found his love for elegant silver jewellery irritating. as if he tried too hard at his carefully crafted persona. you're not sure when that changed.

"you've always been a shy little thing," hyunjin bend down and brought his face closer to yours. "it's cute. but i need you to tell me what you want, doll. need to hear you beg for it."

you licked your lips. you hated how beautiful he looked even with his hair mussed and his skin coated in sweat. hated how much of a wreck he'd made you. how powerless he made you feel.

how much you liked it.

"because i don't think you want me to stop. look how your pussy is drooling for it — soaked at the thought of being stretched by me. watch what happens when i pull out..."

he rolled his hips back, laughing at the way you tried to tug your wrists out of his grip, your broken whine when he slapped your clit with the head of his cock.

"hyune, please —"

"that's what i thought," he grinned, "i know what you want. you just have to ask nicely."

"w-want your cock, please, want it all," you whispered, heat spreading through your body, mortified by the admission. who knew how many women had been in this exact position before — on someone else's bed, loud music still playing downstairs while hyunjin made them beg for his cock. somehow it would've been better if he'd just taken it from you, no questions asked, only hushed moans and whimpers in the dark.

his satisfied smile told you he knew. he knew, and he loved every second of it.

but what he loved even more was the raw, unfiltered moan you let out when he forced his cock in fully, watching your eyes widen in realization:

"f-fuck, i'm - i think i'm —"

"are you really going to cum from me just putting it in? fuck baby, you're really that desperate, aren't you? poor little thing," he pulled out completely and slapped your cunt with his free hand, "if you're going to cum now you'll be in for a long night." he rubbed his fingers through the mess between your legs, arousal sticking to his skin.

after the earlier denial you were hurling towards your peak embarrassingly fast, and when he pushed back in you clenched around his cock in waves of pleasure, hips bucking into his. you sobbed when he started moving, unsure of where your body stopped and his began.

"'s too much, please, hyune…"

hyunjin let go of your wrists and pulled you closer, bending your knees and kissing the salty tears off your cheeks. you felt yourself slipping away into a floaty haze, the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you the only thing that mattered.

"don't worry, i'm not done with you yet, doll," hyunjin murmured. "we're just getting started."

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 2

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: NSFW, virgin reader, cunnilingus, consensual and penetrative sex, couple uses protection (you do too), mentions of past accident, workplace politics allusions, mentions of getting stalked and periods.

Word Count: 6.1k

Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

It's been half an hour since your arrival to the party and the lack of interaction between you and Mingyu starts to raise some brows.

Mingyu stays rooted to the same place, his eyes fixated on you as he realises that it was wrong of him to totally wring you out and knowing your temperament he's not brave enough yet to place himself in the periphery of your vision.

"The marriage is really a sham, afterall."

Mingyu scoffs, not bothering to look at the source of the voice.

Kim Hanjun has been demoted under the obvious reason of underperforming and it's boiling his blood having to work under Mingyu because being a man with connections and boasting about it openly would have eventually come to bite him back given he's not even good at his job.

"Your wife isn't even interested in you it seems."

Fisting his hands, Mingyu decides to mute out his words.

"Oh so you're not gonna speak because you might accidentally spill something?"

But there's a limit to how much one can endure. Even though he has the patience of a saint, Mingyu just can't tolerate this obnoxious colleague of him.

Just as he opens his mouth to retort, he feels a hand circling his arm. It's you.

"You must be Kim Hanjun?", you say with a poker face, "You're quite the infamous one around here."

Both the men are caught off-guard by your presence.

"Now if you could excuse us.", your grip tightens on your husband, "I have some making up to do, as you can see husband's upset is at me for not spanning attention to him."

Hanjun is rendered speechless when you step forward and say in a dangerously low tone, "If I see you pestering my husband one more time, you might not find your company ID working while swiping."

The man is suddenly sweating and you cross over your arms with a smirk, "I usually don't interfere but sorry to break it to you, if we come down to this, I'd like you to always remember what position my uncle holds in the company. You're not the only one who can exert connections."

Mingyu looks at you in awe. He wants to record this on his phone so that he could watch this again and again. His wife is standing up for him and that's the absolute hottest you've looked.

Once Hanjun leaves, you also turn on your heels to do so but Mingyu doesn't let you.

"I'm tired.", you say turning to look at him, hand trying to scuffle out of his strong grip, "I'm leaving."

"We're leaving.", Mingyu says leading the way, hands still held together.

While it's a sight for others to finally see the couple, might be romantic to some as well by the way Mingyu is not letting go of you but you know the truth so does your husband.

The car ride back home is silent because halfway neither of you speak and for the rest of the path, you somehow fall asleep.

You wake up in Mingyu's arm as he carries you to the bedroom.

"Let me down.", you say tiredly.

But your husband only sets you down on the bed and once he does he starts spilling the apologies.

"I was mad at you and thought you won't come if I asked you.", he says lowering his gaze, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.", you say not meeting his gaze either and fumbling your fingers, "You should tell me if any of my behaviour has hurt or is bothering you. I can't read minds, Mingyu."

There's a pang in his chest as guilt consumes him. His mind lingers back on how he had been ignoring you for the past few days. And now that he looks at you, he realises the chronic tiredness ghosting over your features.

"Now if you could please move so that I can get changed.", you say, hands gesturing the way out.

Mingyu swears he hasn't had a drop of alcohol present in his body at the moment so why is he all of a sudden, seeing and feeling things differently?

Why are you glowing in the poorly lit room? Since when did you have such deep beautiful pair of eyes? How are your lips looking so luscious?

Mingyu loosens the tie round his neck, clearing his throat. As he has been crouching, he stands up and sides himself so that you would get out of sight because somehow though it's chilly but by doing absolutely nothing you've managed to heat him up.

You walk upto the closet and after searching for a while you turn around to look at your husband.

"Can I wear something of yours?", you ask, leaning against the door, "I think all of my comfortable nightwears have ended up in the laundry."

The man chokes, he wonders if the stars are plotting against him tonight. He settles with a subtle nod, looking everywhere but at you.

You mumble a thanks and grab the first thing that looks comfortable, going into the bathroom to change.

Mingyu rushes out of the room grabbing a pair of clothes and proceeds to wash himself in the guest bathroom just to cool off. He watches his red tinted cheeks in the dazed vision in the mirror, notices his heavy breaths and eyes down to the semi grown tent in his pants.

Something's wrong with him. He can't comprehend his state. His mind lingers back to the moments when you were defending him against Hanjun. His heart beats erratically when he remembers the accidental view of your cleavage through the dress when he was carrying you inside. The slit of your dress wasn't helpful at all as he could see your trained thighs on display everytime you moved. And your long manicured nails, he's sure that they would look beautiful running through his nape and back.

Mingyu slaps himself twice on both the cheeks, he takes a cold shower.

But he's just a man afterall, so when sees you standing in front of the dressing table in his shirt and shorts he breath hitches and he gasps. Loud enough to catch your attention. As you look at him, he looks at your collarbones peaking out because his shirt is too loose on you.

And before you could say anything he's already laying on the bed hurriedly facing away, pulling over the covers to hide the re-emerging boner.

You follow his actions, laying beside him but facing his back. You wonder if you should sleep at the guestroom because your husband is still mad at you. And his actions are clearly saying so as the person who can't sleep without hugging is maintaining the distance, not bothering to even face you, like he has been doing for the past days.

With a heavy sigh, you tell him, "I'll sleep in the guestroom. We can talk when you feel like you can bear to look at me again."

Just as you turn on your back to get up, you're being held back and within a span of seconds your husband is hovering on top of you.

"I'm sorry, I can't control myself anymore."

And admitting that he crashes his lips onto yours. You gasp grabbing his arms before sighing into the kiss. Mingyu sucks onto your lips pacing them slower now. His hand roams up to rest on your neck, gently rubbing along the column, the sensation of his touch eliciting another gasp out of you.

His tongue enters your mouth and it's lewd in the way they slotting perfectly on each other. His mouth descends to press kisses on your chin and collarbones.

The one time he detaches his mouth off you to unbotton your (his) shirt, you're tapping on his forearm. His gaze follows your hands which are now covering your eyes.

There's a bit of silence. Mingyu wonders if he's forcing himself on you, without your consent and with the thought just as he prepares himself to get off, you say something that wracks his head.

"This will be my first time. I've never been touched before.", you say shakily, evidently embarassed enough to not uncover your eyes until Mingyu does so.

Though Mingyu has his mind too clouded to be pondering over anything but the first question he asks with those eyes now turned soft, after urging you to look at him is, "Do you want to do this? Is it okay for me to proceed? Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Please don't stop.", you breathe out immediately averting your gaze which causes you to miss the smile your husband directs at you before placing his hand under your head to raise it swiftly to kiss you.

"I'll make it worth, Y/N. I'll make you feel good.", he whispers in between the kisses.

You lay naked, all bared out under him as after spanning enough attention to your boobs, Mingyu shifts all his focus on your wet, leaking core.

"Gonna prep you first", he says in his husky voice, "and let me know if you want me to stop."

His tongue laps a long stripe against your cunt and you grip the sheet underneath desperately to hold onto. He keeps tonguing your cunt, holding your legs apart as they try to close off, his nose bumping against your clit making it impossible to hold your moans anymore.

You are squirming under the mercy of yoYir husband and his tongue. There's a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach and you could do nothing, not even speak out any coherent sentences.

"Cum for me, Y/N.", Mingyu urges you and that's the push you need before pouring out the juices all over his face. You're catching breathes when sensitivity hits you as your husband licks you clean off the juices.

You are biting down on your arm when Mingyu decides to prep you a bit further by scissoring his long fingers in your hole until it's oozing out for the second time.

Mingyu presses a soft kiss on your forehead before scurrying away for a few seconds and coming back holding a bunch of condoms in his hands.

"You had those?", you ask propping yourself on your elbows, genuinely amused.

Mingyu cocks his brow, "Not sure who it was but one of the guys has kept them in the drawer at one of the times they visited."

He climbs on the bed, straddling over you as he tears the wrapper with his teeth and rolls up a couple of condoms up his girth, "I didn't even know until all of them sent the same picture in the group chat."

You nod in silence, looking at his big veiny cock and it's red tip that's leaking precum, wondering if it's gonna even fit inside of you.

Mingyu hovers over you, pressing another soft kiss on your forehead.

"It's gonna hurt a bit at start but it's gonna feel good, okay?"

You nod again letting Mingyu hold your hands over your head, intertwining the fingers. He slowly pushes his length and sensing your ragged breathing he stills for sometime before continuing until he hilts all the way inside.

Tears roll down, as you try to adjust and your husband does nothing but kiss you softly trying to soothe you, divert your mind from the pain.

"Let me know when you want me to move."

He waits patiently and once you ask him to move, he thrusts ever so slowly, his lips never leaving yours.

"Gyu, faster please.", you say breaking the kiss.

And who is your husband to deny your wishes. He picks up his pace steadily thrusting in and out, as both of your moans fill the room.

Mingyu fiddles with your nipples by taking them into his mouth while his fingers rub your clit at a fast pace.

You're too dumbified by the way your body is reacting. Your legs are shaking, your stomach is pitting a knot again, your hands are gripping onto your husband for dear life and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Y/N?", Mingyu calls you out, seeing your dazed vision, "Are you okay?"

Your reply comes as another moan as your nails dig crescent shapes onto his back deeper, running through the back of his neck, grabbing onto the hair on the nape.

"Can you hold on for a bit more?", he coaxes you once he realises your gummy walls are clenching harder around his cock, "Let's cum together, can you do that for me right?"

Mingyu looks at the juncture where the bodies are meeting, where your cunt is swallowing him wholly. He groans at the sight of white foamy ring around his cock and kisses you hard making you squeak into his mouth.

"Let it go, Y/N.", he encourages you, his calloused fingers now rubbing your sides as his thrusts turn sloppy, "Cum for me."

Both of you are catching breathes. You lay eyes closed, not feeling your body at all. Mingyu lies looking at you, admiration laced in his eyes, his heart doing dibs thinking about how you trusted him enough to give your firsts to him. He realises that unlike him, you're not vocal so he has to focus on your body language to understand your needs. He also makes his mind to have a conversation with you like a descent person in the morning but before that--

"You need to pee.", he tells discarding the condom in the bin and while you groan he continues, "And we need to wash up. I'll run the bath, clean us up and change the sheets so please don't fall asleep till then."

You are incapable of registering his words so you just let him do whatever he wants to do with you.

Late in the morning, the conversation gets shelved until evening because Mingyu fucks you again because he is insatiable and so are you. Well, you both end up being each other's breakfast in bed.

It's the day, you dread the most. It was the same day sixteen years ago when you lost your family. It's your birthday.

If only you hadn't thrown a tantrum about not wanting to celebrate the day at home as it had been done for all the years. Birthdays had always been a great deal to you. You wanted the celebration to be a bit grander which led all to unanimously decide to go the soaring picnic spot, inviting all your friends as well. Uncle being your favourite person, the rest of the family drove the to venue as it was an hour drive away a little earlier to set up things while you and your uncle drove in a van along with all your friends.

But instead of the picnic spot, you ended up in the hospital with your uncle identifying the bodies. The collision of two vehicles were severe enough to claim the lives of all present in them.

Though your uncle had never expressed anything as such but you know you are to blame for everything. You wondered if seeing you was even bearable to him. The guilt and regret changed you whole as a person. After the incident you distanced yourself from everything, everyone.

Birthdays mean nothing to you now. Unlike for other workers, no one receives your birthday mail as you have requested to the officials. No one knows, no one asks, no one cares and that's perfect for you.

It's been a long day, with you driving successive review and checkpoint meetings. One of the rare days where you want nothing but to fall to the comfort of your bed.

Just as you enter the house, you see a string a shoes lined one after another. You enter the hallway and come across the faces of your in-laws, your husband, his friends and your uncle.

Gatherings on any other day is always welcomed but not today. You have this look of disapproval on your face and the entire flock of people freeze. Without a word, you disappear into your room and it's about half an hour when you don't come out, Mingyu assures everyone and goes into the room.

"What are they doing here?", you ask as soon as he enters.

"Why? Are they not allowed to visit us?"

You glare at him, "They are. But why today? And you always inform me beforehand if anyone is coming so why's there an exception today?"

Mingyu sighs but walks upto you, "Y/N, they're just here to spend sometime with us. But if you want then I'll tell them to leave and trust me they'll leave instantly."

"Tell them to leave then. I don't want to entertain anyone today.", you say stoicly.

Mingyu nods, "All of them have brought something they've cooked for you. Hansol cooks occasionally and almost burnt his house but he came in so proud, bragging how he was able to cook something for you that's edible. And oh", he raises his finger plastered with a bandaid, "I've got a cut while chopping the vegetables. So are you gonna atleast eat them or should I tell them to take those back as well?"

There's a pang in your heart, it's constricts within your chest. Your eyes glistens with tears, the resolute within you starts to dissolve but you could never afford to do so. You don't deserve to be celebrated.

"It's the death anniversary of the people I love.", you say helplessly, "I don't remember them vividly, each year the memories of them are fading away. I can't bear to look at uncle without feeling guilty. He lost his son, his wife, his brother all because I wanted to celebrate a stupid birthday."

You are sobbing now and Mingyu holds you in his arms, letting his own tears fall. He hates that there's nothing he could provide to soothe you.

"There are so many words on the tip of my tongue but they're all meaningless.", he says and bites on his tongue to stop those tears from spilling, "I'm sorry but I won't let you wallow in sadness, I won't leave you all by yourself."

After staying quiet in his embrace, you tell him, "People are waiting for you, you should go. I'll be fine, I'm used to this."

Mingyu pulls away and holds your face gently, "Do you trust me?"

Your eyes say a lot, even if you hadn't given a nod, your husband would've known the answer.

"Then let's go and spend time with them.", Mingyu coaxes you, "They wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, if they do, I'll send them back."

You ponder over for sometime. Past years have always been the same, you wanting the day to pass by anyhow. You've preferred to be alone but you think you'd make an exception for your husband and all those people who are waiting for you outside knowing they genuinely care for you.

When you both step out of the room, you could see the worried faces and it makes you feel bad.

"We're are really sorry for barging in.", Seokmin breaks the silence as he stands up and following his suite everyone does so well, "We'll get going."

And there's a lot of shuffling. Everyone is off their seats and packing the stuffs when you decide to interrupt.

"I'm hungry", you say everyone halt, "And I'm bored of eating his cooking.", you point at your husband who gasp in offence but smiles nonetheless.

And that's how the dinner table was set with everyone sitting together eating and chatting happily. No one wishes you birthday, none of them have bought you gifts and it does seem like another normal gathering except for the subtle wishes of wellbeing they launch softly at you.

"You are beautiful, Y/N, inside out.", Minhee says as she secures the seat beside you, "I hope to see you healthy and beautiful always."

Sometime later, when the topic of work is brought up, Soonyoung slickly tells, "Y/N is handling such a big project.", and looking at you he speaks with a mouthful, "I know it'll be a huge success. Hope we get to see you achieve many more milestones in your career."

And throughout the dinner you recieve such praises and wishes from every single one of them. You didn't want to send them off but you had to with a heavy heart. First time, in several years you feel like you have a family, you want to hold onto people, want to expect certain things and be a part of them.

First time in several years, your birthday didn't haunt you rather it gave you a reason to smile.

Lying the bed, tired after a long day when you feel an arm drape around your waist, you turn to face your husband, snuggling closer in the comfort of his embrace when he opens his arms for you.

His eyes droop in sleepiness but he strokes your hair saying, "I wish you to be happy.", smiling sheepishly he adds, "Thanks for trusting me."

And when you watch your husband drift off to sleep, stroking his hair with a hesitant hand, you whisper, "Thanks for tolerating me."

Your relationship with Mingyu progresses steady but it's beautiful in it's own way. To you, Mingyu hasn't only been a good husband, he has been a great companion. He takes care of you, knows your limits and shortcomings, never makes you feel weirded out and makes sure to sort things out to be on the same page.

Your calendar previously which had only meeting dates marked on them are now filled with many more events such as your anniversary, Mingyu's birthday, Minhee's birthday, your uncle's birthday, your in-laws' anniversary etc etc. A smile appears on your face when you reminisce how late you were to your second anniversary party and how pissed Mingyu was at you, avoiding you the whole night until after the party was over and you had stripped yourself naked in front of him which worked to dissolve his anger as you let him fuck you dumb till the dawn.

You have a best friend now and her name is Minhee. You've always liked her and over the years you two have grown closer. Mingyu's friends, well more of yours, are not scared of you anymore, they've dropped all the formalities to pit long ago.

Junhui shares every funny thing he sees on the internet, on appointment days he rants to you about patients and work. Soonyoung now shares table with you during lunch and eat your ears off. Seokmin calls you randomly during work and if you don't pick up, he just sends you a candid picture of your husband with a caption 'thought you'd be missing him, so here's your husband. Don't thank me, just name one of your gaming character after me.'

Hansol is the most random of all, he just pings you any fact he learned out of the blue without any context. Sometimes when on asking when you confirm that you're free he sends you a bunch of pics telling you to choose the best among the lot. Jeonghan is the quietest among all, he'd only talk to you during the gatherings.

You have started calling Mingyu's parents as what Mingyu calls them because you are comfortable to call them so. They've blended into your life making you feel as their own. These changes in your life have helped you bond better with your uncle as well.

It's been over two years and you think you're happy. You think your married life is perfect and you're in love with certain things.

You love the back hugs, love those forehead kisses, love the smell of coffee that hits the house in the morning, love the way his mouth opens and closes in sleep, love when the fangs graze his lips as he smiles wide, love when his hand sneaks to wrap around yours on a busy road.

You're in love.

In love with your husband because how could you not, he's so easy to love. Though you feel there's still a lot you both need to discover about each other, you hope he'd also love you one day. He's your first love after all.

You are in the middle of a meeting when your phone keeps vibrating continuously. Trying to ignore it, your brows knit in agitation but that soon turns into worry when you check the caller ID. It's Minhee. Excusing yourself, you call her back.

And now after a drive of an hour you find yourself in front of the park, near her apartment.

"It's okay, I'm here now.", you say patting on Minhee's back, "Once you feel better, tell me everything."

And after some moments Minhee does relay everything. There's a thug-like guy who has started visiting the café she regulars at because somehow Minhee has piqued his interest. Even though she didn't notice at first, it started to strike her that she has been seeing a face almost everywhere she visits.

He has been following her to and back from the school she teaches in. He's been bold enough to get in the way and ask her to sleep with him for a night, if she wants to stop getting bothered by him.

Minhee has had enough to slap him straight across his face, even threatening to report him to the police. And that seemed to work because he didn't appear before her for a whole week until today.

As she describes it terrified, he had an ominous gaze, when he had given her an ultimatum to be compliant or be ready for the worse.

"I was so shocked and scared. I could only think about calling you. If Gyu knows about this he'd kill that guy even before police knows about him and would never let me work here. I don't want that.", Minhee says, "I am planning to go to the police today."

"You're so brave", you tell her as your gaze sweeps across the surrounding, "Let's deal with that guy now. Is it that guy standing over there?"

And Minhee now ponders over if it would have been safer to call her brother because the stalker guy, all bruised from the beating he got from you is kneeling in front of you both with hands up in air.

You've called the police and as soon as they arrive, that guy is mumbling confessions of all the harassment he did and tried to perform on Minhee.

"Did I tell you, I'm trained in taekwondo?", you ask her frowning, "Uncle also made me take specialization classes on self defence.", you suddenly hiss because of the bruises inflicted on you during the hassle and look at her.

Minhee engulfs you in a hug, "Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

Your lips curl up and you say pulling away, "Let's go to the station and complete the formalities and then we'll have to inform Mingyu and mom & dad as well."

Minhee hesitates but she knows she'll eventually have to so.

"Let's do that.", she agrees, "I have something else to tell you."

Your brows quirk up questioning as you both head towards your car.

"I have developed a liking towards Soonyoung.", she smiles looking at your flabbergasted demeanor, "No ones knows except you and him."

You swear, your head spins at this.

And as if she could read your mind, she adds, "I don't know how he feels but he said he'd never date me because I'm his friend's sister and that's against bro code."

You scoff, how typical of Soonyoung.

When Mingyu stumbles upon his sister's apartment that night, he finds her sleeping peacefully in her room. And when he goes searching for you, he finds you in the bathroom clutching the slab. Your eyes are red, forehead glistening with sweat.

"Oh god, Y/N...", Mingyu rushes inside as the door was open and holds you up on your feet, "what happened?"

"Stop shouting, you'll wake her up.", you say groaning, "and why do you care anyways?"

Right, you both rarely fought but when you did it would go on for days, like now. It started with a simple matter but escalated real quick causing Mingyu to lash out on you and give you a silent treatment. You tried to talk to him twice, which was more than you think you have done but were met with radio silence. He went as far as being petty enough to not even wait for you at dinner table or sleep facing you. And that's how you decided to shut him out as well. It's been a week since you both talked.

As Mingyu holds your waist to support you, you cry out in pain. You tried to resist but when he glares at you, you give up. He unbottons your top and his eyes almost gauze out on seeing the cut on your waist.

"How did it happen?", he sits you on the counter and pulls out the first aid box.

You stay quiet.

"Y/N, I'm asking something.", he uses an authoritative tone, looking at you.

"I thought we are not talking.", you snark at him but gasp when he dabs the cotton with antiseptic gel on the cut. He does several other sorts of things which makes you think he's a trained nurse before pasting the adhesive.

"Y/N, please.", he gets up and holds your face, "I know I have been an asshole and I'll keep apologizing to you until you forgive me. But please tell me are you hurt anywhere else? Did that bastard do this to you?"

You sigh and peel his hands off your face, "Yes, he was swinging his knife at me so while tackling him, I got that wound. And I got some bruises but Minhee treated those, didn't want to worry her so hid this one. You should be worried about Minhee. I'm fine."

Mingyu looks at you with so much admiration. His heart swells within his chest when he thinks about how you saved his sister and handled the situation well while he was being a jerk to you.

"The first thing Minhee asked on calling me was how did I manage to marry someone as amazing as you. That I should have seen you, you were looking like a superhero fighting off the evil.", he smiles pinching the bridge of your nose.

You bite your lower lip, your brows crease and Mingyu instantly deflates noticing the obvious signs.

"Are you on your periods?", he asks concerned.

"The cramps are killing me."

"You should have told me sooner.", he immediately lifts you up and takes you to the guestroom and lays you on the bed, "I think I know what all things Minhee uses for her cramps and where they are kept. I'll be back."

"I was supposed to sleep with Minhee tonight.", you say frowning.

"No, you're sleeping with me", he smiles, crouching to peck your forehead, "Minhee rotates around the bed all night in sleep. Doesn't matter though, I won't be letting you out of my sight."

And while he spends the whole night making sure you get a good sleep, in the morning he makes you apply for sick leave. He scolds Minhee for not calling him sooner as it could have been dangerous for you both but in turn gets scolded by you.

He doesn't take his car, rather drives your car back home because you were scheming on sending him away first, not wanting to go with him. He sulks throughout the way back because when he leans in to you, in the guise of helping you putting on the seatbelt just to give a kiss, you slap a hand over his mouth. But that doesn't stop him from not letting you go to your office room the whole day and spend the time in taking rest.

It's an important day for you. It's a success party of the new game launch and playing the key role in leading back to back projects you're going to get felicitated at the party by the director herself.

You have informed Mingyu beforehand and he has promised to reach the venue before time, also squealing for days on about how he'd capture everything and show others, that how proud he is of his wife.

Your eyes boringly scan through the crowd, waiting for your husband.

"How am I looking?", Soonyoung's voice startles you.

As he takes a seat beside you, you tell him, "As usual. Are you supposed to not look like a human but something else?"

He scowls, "Wow, you're really doing this to me."

He brings over a glass of wine from the waiter who was passing and says, "I heard there have been some changes in the management and they'll be announcing it today."

You take a candy from the bowl kept on the table, "I'll be reporting to someone who has joined the company recently. My previous boss is gonna take over the strategy planning unit."

Soonyoung laughs, "There are rumours about him being eccentric."

"Let him be anything, I don't care as long as it doesn't hinder my work.", you tell him, eating the candy and checking your phone, "They're gonna start soon. Any idea when your dear friend is gonna arrive?"

"He was supposed to leave from work early", he tells you, "Don't worry he's punctual."

Mingyu curses when he checks the time. He's late.

"Min, I think you should leave as soon as possible.", Seokmin says as he helps him pack his bag, "You'll go home, get changed and then leave for the venue, right? You're running late by almost an hour already."

Mingyu is hot on his heels as he hurriedly takes his bag and rushes out of his cabin.

"Be careful!", Seokmin yells seeing Mingyu's fleeting demeanor, knowing how clumsy he can be and as he takes the keys to lock the cabin as requested by his friend his gaze falls on the USB drive which he knows Mingyu would need to work on some presentation.

Seokmin rushes to catch him so that he can give him the USB just in time. As he punches out his employee card, he sighs in relief as he recognises Mingyu standing still just outside the main door.

He pushes through the door and is just about to call him, something catches his eyes from the periphery of vision.

Just like Mingyu, Seokmin freezes on spot.

Because it is Sora who's standing in front of them.

Seokmin doesn't know what or if they had any conversation prior to his arrival but he grabs Mingyu's arm when he sees Sora open her car door and his friend heading in the se direction.

"Min, don't go.", he speaks the next part in louder tone, "your wife is waiting for you."

"I know what I'm doing, Min.", Mingyu frees his arm, "Trust me on this."

Seokmin watches helplessly as the car drives off to who knows where.

You are dejected. Even when recieving the award your eyes kept scanning the crowd just in hopes of seeing your husband's face. And still now doing so you keep on checking your phone, too upset to call or text him.

"I'll call him after they make the announcement.", Soonyoung says equally upset, "I'm sure something really urgent came up otherwise he'd have not missed it."

Everyone is asked to stand near the stage where they announce the key changes in management.

You are shocked when you hear a certain name being announced, see a certain figure taking the centre of the stage.

Xu Minghao is going to be your boss tomorrow onwards.

Minghao seems to have taken notice of you as his smile widens, his gaze locking on you.

Soonyoung has noticed the change in your demeanor, has followed the gaze of Minghao. He observes quietly before motioning you to come with him to a quieter place.

He then calls Mingyu putting his phone on speaker who doesn't pick up. There's an uneasy feeling settling at your chest and hope that your husband is fine wherever he is.

Soonyoung then calls Seokmin and regrets putting the phone on speaker because you hear what he says.

"Mingyu left with Sora and I can't reach him."

Your heart sinks because even though no one has ever talked to you about her, you know that name very well. Your husband's ex girlfriend whom he to marry.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Both you and Soonyoong turn to see Minghao standing, his gentle gaze bestowing upon you.

You decide to forget any other thoughts and wear a tight lipped smile, "Been a long time, Hao."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[sunderwight]

I actually love it in fics when Shen Yuan looks a lot like Shen Qingqiu, because of the sheer comedic effect of contrasting that with Shen Yuan in his own head going "hmm nah this face is totally different" and sticking to that.

Possible explanations for this include:

Shen Yuan is very faceblind, so he thinks he looks different from Shen Qingqiu because everything around his face is different.

Shen Yuan did notice a suspiciously strong resemblance to the original scum villain, but his subconscious immediately decided that it did not like ANY of the possible explanations for that and so he instead fixated on the minor differences until he convinced himself that they were major ones. This happened almost instantaneously.

Shen Yuan's dislike of the original Shen Qingqiu was so strong he downgraded his looks and distanced himself from acknowledging anything positive about him, including any shared resemblance, because he was determined not to accidentally approve of the hated scum villain.

Transmigration is so jarring that Shen Yuan legitimately only noticed what was different about his "new" body, because anything similar was ignored as normal.

The mirrors in PIDW world suck. Shen Yuan assumes Shen Qingqiu looks significantly different because the fuzzy reflection has a stronger jawline. The plant body doesn't, which is why he decides it actually does look more like his old body and then tries to glue a beard over it.

Shen Yuan is so inclined to fixate on the details of other men's looks that he has no ability to assess his own. This is also part of his labyrinth of subconscious defense mechanisms against identifying uncomfortable truths about himself. Can't acknowledge what's going on with you if you turn your own sense of self into a big blind spot!

Shen Qingqiu did look different from Shen Yuan when Shen Yuan first transmigrated in, but gradually over time his features have been physically shifting to resemble Shen Yuan's more and more. The system makes sure no one notices by just as gradually convincing them that Shen Qingqiu has always looked this way. It would be spooky, if anyone involved could actually perceive the change.

Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu look different in terms of technical features, but they make a lot of the same facial expressions and have a lot of the same mannerisms, so unless they're just standing still and not doing anything they strongly "resemble" one another.

For some reason Shen Yuan is actually seeing a different face from the one everyone else is seeing.

Everyone in PIDW world looks kind of similar because there are only so many ways to interpret Shang Qinghua's recycled flowery descriptions that all essentially gave 90% of the population the same handful of conventionally attractive features, and Shen Yuan doesn't notice his resemblance to Shen Qingqiu because it's not that much greater than his resemblance to anyone else.

[zorobff]

i bet on losing dogs. (opla!zoro x reader)

synopsis: zoro is defeated by mihawk and therefore unable to claim the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. you just want him to know that he’s still the greatest to you.

warnings: mentions of blood, some direct dialogue from opla, not much romance i literally just wanted someone to tell zoro he’s enough bc he deserves it <3

a/n: idk if this is any good i just wanted an excuse to write and one piece has been my fixation for like 2 months now so :P

you can’t move.

it seems as if every bone in your body is frozen in place despite your brain telling you to do something — anything. you stand there, eyes helplessly locked onto zoro’s weak and defeated body. your heart is racing and you’re unable to stop your mind from doing the same. after all, there was a certain unease that came with seeing someone like roronoa zoro be conquered. his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman had been crushed within minutes. knowing zoro, that thought would be tougher to overcome than any physical wound.

you want to run to him. to be with him.

luffy beats you to it.

“zoro!” he shouts with such pain that you wonder if he’s somehow hurting more than the swordsman is.

the sight of your captain sprinting across the deck of the baratie manages to push you to action. the two of you rush to zoro’s side, trying and failing to look anywhere but the bright red gash across his torso. it’s even worse up close. with every heave of his chest, more blood oozes out.

the cut is impossibly deep and yet, you can’t help but feel grateful. you’d seen the size of mihawk’s sword. the thing could’ve split zoro in half with the flick of a wrist. just the thought of that sends a new wave of shivers down your spine. you thank every higher power that mihawk was feeling generous enough to spare your friend’s life.

“zoro?” you attempt to say his name calmly. “zoro, please talk to us.”

his eyelashes flutter as he attempts to keep conscious. you see the subtle wincing in his face, the clenching of his jaw. for a second you wish he would have passed out, at least then he wouldn’t have to endure all this agony. even though this was surely the worst hit anyone had landed on him during his extensive career, you could tell that wasn’t the hardest part for him.

his eyes stay glued to the skies, refusing to even acknowledge you or luffy. his irises gloss over and tears well up on his waterline. there could only be one thing on his mind, the one thing you knew he was truly passionate about; his promise. was he afraid he had let down that nameless person he always spoke of? that he had failed as a swordsman?

for some reason, you want to cry with him.

“you did good,” you whisper without a second thought. “just stay awake, okay?”

luffy nods in agreement, hand coming to grip zoro’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“monkey d. luffy,” calls mihawk, shifting everyone’s attention back to him. “what is your goal?”

your captain nearly growls. “i’m going to be the king of the pirates.”

luffy’s response could seem rehearsed. mechanical, even. but the truth is he just meant it that much. his conviction was unmatched in every possible way.

“king of the pirates, eh?” repeats mihawk. there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. however, he wasn’t mocking luffy, as many people tend to do when they hear of his dream. “that is a much more treacherous path than defeating even me.”

luffy whips around to fix mihawk with a stern glare. “i don’t care. it’s what i’m going to do.”

“maybe you will at that,” muses the bearded swordsman. “this world could use a few more wild cards.”

their odd exchange ends there, leaving an unnerving silence. the sound of your choked back sobs getting caught in your throat and waves splashing against the deck is all there is for a moment.

“why the tears, girl?” mihawk inquires.

you can’t bear to look at him, much less respond. not after what he’d done to zoro. your hands that once rested reassuringly on your crewmate’s stomach now ball into fists. how could he behave so nonchalantly when he had injured zoro within an inch of his life?

“seems like you aren’t as plucky as the rest of your crew, hm?” mihawk comments when his question is met with silence.

hot tears of frustration roll down your cheeks. “get lost. you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“that would be incorrect. i was tasked with retrieving your captain for the marines. as you can see, i have yet to do that.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you came here for,” you tell him between gritted teeth. “how do you have the nerve to stand there and talk down to us after what you did to him?”

mihawk’s head tilts to the side as he observes you. pensively, he murmurs, “you care for him.”

“of course we care for him, he’s our crewmate!” luffy shouts in response, clearly missing the true meaning behind the words.

on the other hand, you opt to stay silent, slightly embarrassed about how quickly mihawk was able to catch on to you. were your feelings really that easy to see through? almost as if confirming your concern, mihawk coughs out a dry chuckle before his face falls stoic once more.

“look after him.” his gaze lingers on you when he says that. “it is too soon for him to die. roronoa zoro, grow strong and come find me. i’ll be waiting.”

with that, mihawk makes his exit. once the coast is clear, usopp and nami finally come scurrying over. the marksman kneels down on zoro’s left while the latter stays standing, almost too afraid to get close.

“he’s losing so much blood,” usopp notes, voice unsteady.

luffy is quick to shut down the true implication behind those words. “he’s going to be okay.”

a strangled groan escapes the green-haired swordsman in question. the four of you freeze. the moment feels eerily similar to when you watched him collapse after mihawk had struck him down. for the second time in a day, zoro has all of you holding your breath in anticipation.

“if i—” he swallows hard, eyes still shiny and looking upward. “—fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman... you’ll be disappointed. right?”

luffy’s gaze softens. “you could never fail me.”

however, your captain’s sincere words don’t seem to be enough. zoro finally rips his gaze away from the clouds, head lolling to the side to face you instead. those wide eyes of his always held so much intensity, so much emotion. now is no different as he meets your stare, seemingly in search of your reassurance as well.

it wasn’t that you were unsure of what to say but how to say it. you didn’t trust yourself to speak your mind and say what you truly thought of zoro. the last thing you needed was your feelings for him slipping out at a time like this. you decide to play it safe and just nod. “you know i feel the same way. we all do.”

“i need… to hear you say it,” he replies, voice cracking.

your heartbeat gets caught in your throat at the utter desperation in zoro’s voice. it sounded as if he truly needed your approval if he was going to survive this. it was unlike him to get hung up on something so trivial such as someone’s opinion of him. he never seemed to care what other people thought, why was he starting now? and with you, of all people?

before you can question it any further, zoro hisses. the pain causes his entire body to tense and his wound spurts fresh crimson. without thinking, your hand comes up to rest reassuringly on his cheek. automatically, your thumb begins rubbing soothing circles on the skin. he’s hot to the touch and slick with sweat but you don’t mind it. the way his body relaxes itself is all you care about. well, that and the way he leans into your touch. for someone who rejected physical contact at every given chance, this was new but very, very welcome.

the emotion of it all causes you to lose any concern you’d previously had over voicing your thoughts about zoro. you can’t help but give him the response he was begging for, regardless of how smitten you sounded.

“zoro, you’re the best i’ve seen. and i don’t just mean with your swords. no defeat could ever take away what you have, you know that right? almost everyday i ask myself what the hell i’m doing on the same crew as someone like you. you don’t understand how much it pains me knowing that you feel the need to prove your worth when clearly you’re the greatest there is. in every way. so, how could i ever be disappointed in you?”

there’s a few moments of silence. this time, you truly don’t hear a thing. not the waves, not the birds in the sky, not even the thumping of your own heartbeat. your brain has blocked out everything that isn’t zoro. the same zoro who’s breaking down into tears right in front of you. it’s an unbelievable sight, watching them stream down his face as he takes in everything you’d just said.

using what little strength he has left, zoro lifts a shaky hand to rest atop yours. you pause your ministrations on his cheek and let him intertwine his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand so tightly that you’re positive it takes everything in him to do so.

���never… again,” he chokes out, tearful eyes meeting yours. “from now, until i beat him.” he uses his left hand to unsheathe his sword. he lifts it to the sky with purpose, as if to solidify this vow. “will i ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me. i, roronoa zoro, will never lose again!”

his grip becomes unsteady, causing his sword to fall from his grasp and clatter on the ground. his arm falls back to his side and he’s able to give you one last look before he’s out cold.

“zoro?” luffy calls, leaning forward. “zoro?!”

you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand going limp. you’re grateful he’s still breathing at the very least but it’s clear he needs medical attention fast.

“let’s get him inside,” nami commands. it’s the first thing she’s worked up the courage to say.

luffy and usopp waste no time shifting zoro’s arms over their shoulders while you and nami take his legs. despite your joint efforts, the four of you struggle to drag zoro off the baratie; you blame his rigorous training that had made him all muscle. usually you wouldn’t complain but it sure made carrying him aboard the going merry a difficult task. at last, he’s dumped onto the table in your makeshift kitchen.

“get the first aid kit,” nami demands, opening zoro’s shirt to inspect the severity of his wound.

“do we even have one?” usopp replies as he shifts around every cupboard and drawer on the ship.

“zoro… can you hear me?” luffy’s quiet voice gets lost in the commotion your two other crew mates are creating. but you take notice.

“he’s going to be alright,” you tell him. whether you say it for luffy or yourself, you aren’t certain.

“someone needs to go back to baratie,” nami sighs, running a hand through her ginger locks. “maybe one of the customers is a ship’s doctor.”

the devil fruit user blinks a couple times. “right. a doctor. we need a doctor.” he sprints out of the kitchen, presumably in search of one.

once your captain’s gone, nami aids usopp in scouring the kitchen, in search of anything that could potentially help your crew mate until he’s able to receive the proper medical attention.

you decide to stay right by zoro’s side. not once do you leave him.

[burr-ell]

The narrative is one thing, but I think it's really weird for fans to think Ludinus "has a point" about the gods in general causing the destruction of the Calamity when we know better. We objectively know better. It wasn't Sarenrae mutilating Vespin Chloras into a mindless puppet. It wasn't Melora sending Zerxus manipulative dreams and visions. It wasn't the Raven Queen destroying Exandria's protections against extraplanar threats. It wasn't Kord sending fiends into two inhabited cities to slaughter people indiscriminately. It wasn't Bahamut trying to release two emperor titans to destroy the planet. It wasn't Pelor killing and resurrecting Zerxus multiple times just for kicks, calling living breathing mortals "worthless paper dolls" and "a bad first draft".

It wasn't they who were responsible for the cloud of ash covering Exandria, or even most of the casualties. We know it was "not only in the first year, but in the first moments of Calamity" as Rau'shan and Ka'mort were destroyed—to prevent unleashing them on the world and everything being lost—that a large amount of that two-thirds of living beings were killed. We know that the "eruption of ash and fire, molten stone" from the destruction of Toramunda caused by the release of energy from the Astral Leywright sent up a cloud that covered Exandria for about a hundred years—up to the point where Downfall takes place, in fact. We know who then saw that destruction, done in the name of saving the world from the worst of his carefully plotted scheme, and then decided to shatter Exandria's teeth.

It's interesting how fixated some folks have gotten on the idea of "history being written by the winners", that maybe we don't really know the truth of what happened. It's not only ironic to then give infinite benefit of the doubt to the perspective of someone we know is a liar, it effectively wishes away how much of the history we've seen play out for ourselves. Under this...let's charitably call it understanding, the gods that we objectively know caused the Calamity's destruction are never the gods being referred to as oppressors and tyrants (even when they've explicitly identified themselves as oppressors and tyrants!).

For Bell's Hells, and the people of Exandria, much of this information has in fact been lost to time, and I don't look askance at them for not knowing what happened. I do, however, look askance at the real-life people who do know what happened, who can reasonably piece together the information we've been given, and are still so desperate for Ludinus to "have a point" that they're hiding behind tautologies and clichés so they can demonize the gods regardless. Because "what if the good guys were bad" is subversive, you see. When the black-and-white mindset is true but just casts the heroes as the villains, well, that's nuance, right?

[aalghul]

Thinking about Jason's outward expression of emotions. He tends to only get angry as a response to perceived injustice (the same way Bruce, Dick and most of the others do). But unlike some other characters, Jason rarely every gets wound up in it, nor does he get angry even when he sees injustice if the situation doesn't call for it. Some characters get angry first and then manage their response to whatever's more appropriate, but my interpretation has always been than Jason doesn't need to because he doesn't often begin with the rage. It's not a default, instinctual response for him in most situations. It seems to be that he becomes angry when there is a perpetrator (and specifically, of a crime that hurt people with less power than the perpetrator has, in some way) towards whom he can direct that righteous anger (righteous as in the cause is his drive for justice. I'm not discussing the rightfulness right now). Can he hurt the man who was about to hurt a woman enough that he doesn't dare to try imposing his power over another woman again? Can he do something, anything to stop a serial rapist who has already caused the suicide of at least one woman? But he doesn't possess the sort of blinding anger that could become a driving motivator for his actions outside of someone in front of him to punish. He doesn't need the anger (mostly because he will instead fixate on the crime without rage to fuel him).

The notable exception to this being his behaviour preceding his death (which is explicitly referred to as atypical for Jason by both Bruce and Alfred. The whole reason he's forced to take a break from Robin is because that anger is so unusual for Jason that Bruce and Alfred are worried about Jason's mental wellbeing).

We see in Lost Days that Jason’s default state has become (to the concern of Talia and Ra’s) seemingly unfeeling, and he shows signs of a persistent flat affect throughout Lost Days, with exceptions for when he sees injustice (which is responsive, as compared to the aloofness he uses as a constant state of defence -> see: his and Talia’s conversation after he killed for the first time, Talia being glad that his sense of empathy and justice were able to overcome his general coldness). Jason's aloofness was entirely a conscious defence, but at times he was consciously exercising it (his reaction to Tim in front of Talia vs alone).

We see him cry for himself a few times, which tends to be how Jason first reacts to what hurts him deeply. Then there's his cold hatred for Bruce, which can be taken as anger in the face of heartbreak and perceived betrayal. But that anger never goes very far: Jason couldn't even make himself blow up the batmobile. In the end, it's Jason's belief that he hates Bruce and must make demands of Bruce to force him to redeem himself in Jason's esteem that fuels him. Because Jason wants Bruce to redeem himself, even if it's unlikely that he will.

All throughout Lost Days and UTRH, Jason uses teasing/biting humour in a very Robin manner to direct attention to whatever he pleases, whether that be pulling attention away from vulnerabilities or drawing attention to distortions of the truth. This habit returns to Jason strongly around times when he breaks out of his apathetic state (when he’s killing people who hurt others, pretty much), but the undertones of coldness and derision even with that humour don’t leave. We can see in this habit especially how Jason's become a distortion of who he was as Robin. He's still witty and he still teases people and you can hear the humour in his voice. But now he's using that wit to say cruel things to Batman, deceiving him constantly, and his voice no longer has a youthful kindness to it.

One of the most Helena-esque character traits that Jason’s picked up (in fanon and reboot canon) is anger as an initial defence and reaction, actually. It’s nearly the opposite of Jason’s pre-flashpoint defensive state but is essential to Helena’s. It’s actually not surprising that this happened (even ignoring reboot kicking Jason’s character into a closet and superimposing much of Helena onto him) because of how DC pushed “angry” as Jason’s defining trait, and how fans have believed it for so long. It seems almost natural for a misconception this severe to happen, even in the face of evidence to the contrary, because every action of Jason’s is misconstrued as proof for an angry temperament.

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

themes: angst, twisted business associates(?) to lovers, dubious morals, the Marquis has his eyes set on you and only you (but you don't know that ofc)

a/n: this bloody Frenchman has been plaguing my thoughts (thanks to a very sinister portrayal by one Bill Skarsgård). Mind you, I still haven't even seen the film John Wick 4, but I'm a fan of the series, and the morsels I've seen of the Marquis have been more than enough to give rise to a new lil fixation.

word count: 932 ▪︎ more of moineau ▪︎ other works

It started as a little game.

Just some passing fancy between yourself and the Marquis.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to remain. Only that. A game.

But you should have known better. You should have known that any game played with Marquis Vincent de Gramont may eventually turn deadly.

Your high-risk job at the Continental usually also reaped the highest of rewards.

Tip off the right person and receive a gold coin. Deliver a message, without any bumps or bruises to all parties involved, and your reputation would be given a much-needed boost or two.

This business was danger wrapped in deceit wrapped in glamour. And you knew how to deal the right cards.

Although it seems, things are not as easy when it comes to the Marquis.

Vincent was every bit a menace as his reputation decreed. The Marquis tasked with restoring the authority of the High Table, he was nothing short of cunning and ambitious, prepared to take down any and all those who posed a threat to his objectives.

Dangerous. Deceptive. Glamourous as well, mind you. He was perfectly suited to this world.

He was also brazen, pretentious, snobbish.

And beautiful.

He knew just how to tug at your strings and make you bend. Or at least, he always tried to.

Like he was doing then, in one of the bigger rooms in his palacial estate, wherein only the two of you stood with only a few feet in between.

"What did we agree upon, mon moineau?" His silky accented voice implored.

My sparrow, he called you. The reason for which remained undisclosed to you, not for a lack of trying to wrench it out of him.

Why couldn't he call you something sweeter? Of the more classic French romantic sobriquets?

Chérie, perhaps. Mon amour. Mon coeur.

But no. You were stuck with measly ol' "my sparrow".

Of course, not that it mattered. Perhaps the Marquis reserved his sweeter words for those he actually cared for. At the very least, well-regarded enough to be associated with. Those impossibly beautiful and refined members of European aristocracy that he was so often rumoured to be wining and dining.

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

You stared up at his pacing figure. "I am fully aware of what we agreed upon, Vincent. What I have done does not breach that. I am perfectly capable - "

His head snapped to you menacingly. "You could have been killed, moineau."

You shrugged. "Consequences. I did not enter this damned line of work without considering the risks. As it goes, getting killed would not exactly be an uncommon occurence."

"Don't jest." He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in obvious annoyance.

You took a step forward, trying to find his gaze. "And if I were to... pass... so what? Everything would simply go on. The truth is that I'm already a ghost. Doing what I do in our world makes me some kind of spectre. I am already not there."

You knew this. You repeated this to yourself when you woke, and before you went to sleep. It was the only truth you could hold on to.

Until him. Until some buried, twisted part of you began hoping that he would care.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

You continued, as he kept looking away. "You would go on. Perhaps even find a new sparrow to play with."

You felt it. As your words hung in the air, his entire mood shifted. He straightened, and with both hands burrowed in the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, his eyes land on you.

He slowly took a step forward, and then another, until his figure loomed over you.

In all your shared moments, you learned to discern the quick switches in his temper and his expression. But not enough, not completely.

The look he was giving you then was impossible to read.

"You think..." His left hand drifted to the hem of your blazer, toying with it. "... that I..." His index finger then drifted upward over your silk shirt, stopping in between your collarbones. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips, catching your eye. "... would simply replace you?"

You finally felt his touch on your face, his fingers delicately caressing your jawline.

He made a fleeting tsk tsk sound with his tongue, as if in disapproval.

"I believe you underestimate just how much you matter to me, mon moineau."

You did your best to remain unfazed. This was the game, wasn't it? Whatever you might think it can become, what you hope it can unravel into - set it aside as delusion.

Don't fall.

It's just a game to play.

Don't fall.

You took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. Mockingly. "What makes you think I would even pay any mind to how much I matter to you? That line of thinking doesn't work for people like us, Marquis."

"People like us," he repeated, amusement furrowing his brow. "Non, mon moineau. There are no other people like us."

He leaned in, eyes not leaving yours, all but eliminating the distance between your faces. You could feel his breath on your skin, could count the faint spotting of freckles around his nose.

You wished to ask him what he wanted, but held back.

No. There was something better to say.

"What are you waiting for?" You managed to voice the words despite your very heart lodged in your throat.

He smiled, proud of his precious sparrow.

"Mon coeur... I've been waiting for you my entire life."

Ahhh! 🖤 Everybody say thank you Bill Skarsgård and the on-set stylist for the visual treat that is the Marquis.

I'm not even sure if this will find the right crowd - seeing as my lovely followers are of the HotD persuasion. But oh well, I had to get it out of my system.

Could be more of this... idk 🤷‍♀️ Rest assured I haven't forgetten about all my series works, even the ones I haven't started but said I would do...

[hyunverse]

lucky number five ☆ hwang hyunjin.

pairing: hyunjin x fem! reader. tags: fluff, drabble. words: 3k words. warnings: reader is referred to with she/her, called as wife. about: the five most memorable memories you share with hyunjin. note: i haven't written in a while, so my writing's definitely a little rusty. i hope you'll like it! please reblog, and feedback is very much appreciated &lt;3 disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Five is Hyunjin's lucky number.

Hyunjin first met you when he was five. He had pointed out that you were wearing the same shirt as he was — and you've been attached to the hips ever since.

His first tooth fell out on the fifth day of Summer. He could recall holding the baby tooth on a tissue in one hand, looking up at his mother with puppy eyes. His mother patted him on the head and told him he had grown up. The tooth fairy gave him a single gold coin chocolate, too. Tucked it under his pillow where he placed his baby tooth. He remembers having a lisp until the tooth grew back — remembers how jealous you were that he had "grown up."

The first feeling of victory Hyunjin had ever experienced was when he won fifth place in a colouring contest. Truth be told, he could've easily won first place — but he wanted you to win over him just to see you smile, so he coloured messily. Though the trophy for first place looked glorious, he thought that the smile plastered on your face as you held a medal beat the shine on the trophy.

It was the fifth of May when you two started dating. Hyunjin remembers everything about the fated day, bit by bit. He could play each scene, each dialogue in his head like an overplayed radio song. He was merely sixteen, studying in an all boys school with little to no knowledge about dating. Boys his age didn't care about dating. They only cared about soccer and video games. While he cared about all of that too, a lot of the space in his heart was overtaken by you. Figuring out how to ask you out was tough, he had spent a lot of time pondering. He even gathered up the courage to seek advice from his friends, yet to no avail. They were barely any help. In the end, he observed television dramas and prayed for the best.

Under a cherry blossom tree, you sat on a bench. Your eyes were fixated on the sky as your legs dangled over the wooden bench. The clouds on the sky were huge, luminous — enveloping the sky the way lovers do.

"Jinnie!" Hyunjin heard you cheer as he approached you. The nonchalant look on his face immediately turned into a bright smile, his footsteps becoming more hurried.

Standing in front of you, Hyunjin was the perfect depiction of nervous. Both his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans, front teeth nibbling onto the inside of his cheeks and the little rocks underneath his foot tumbled as he kicks on them.

Hyunjin gulped, "Hi."

You tilted your head with concern, "are you okay, Jinnie?"

The concern laced in your tone reminded him of all the reasons why he liked you so much. You cared like no other — loved as though nothing could hurt you in this world.

"I am," he replied, rubbing on the back of his neck, "I just —"

"You don't have to rush it," you tapped on the seat beside you, "sit with me. You can take your time to tell me whatever that's on your mind."

So, Hyunjin sat. His legs reached the ground unlike yours, and his eyes fixated on the stain on his sneakers. He was painfully aware of the rapid beating of his heart. The urge to tell you his feelings were bottling up quickly.

Then, it spilled.

"I like you a lot," the words were muttered before Hyunjin could stop them.

"Hm?"

"I like you," he repeated. This time, he sounded more sure, looked more sure. The raven was looking at you, blinking sanguinely.

It took a while for you to process the words, for your jaw to relax and finally respond.

The first response came in a way where you slowly turned your head towards him, blinking profusely.

You stuttered, "like me? Like like, or just friends like?"

He sighed, "like like. I like like you."

"Oh."

There it goes, the rejection. Hyunjin had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless. You were the only person Hyunjin had ever liked, his best friend since kindergarten. His feelings for you ran deep. He was merely sixteen, yes, but he was well aware of how strongly he felt for you.

You didn't expect it, but he tapped on your shoulder comfortingly, as if to say, "I know you don't like me, it's okay."

You were right.

"I know you don't like me, it's okay," he comforted, "I just wanted you to know."

"No, I do like you," you confessed.

"What?"

"Yeah," you replied, breathlessly, "was just shocked, that's all."

"Oh."

Silence blanketed the two of you as the conversation exchanged slowly seeped into your brains. Hyunjin looked like he was simply admiring the view in front of him but really, his brain was going haywire.

"No, I do like you," the words repeated in his brain over, and over. They filled his brain with dopamine, the kind of rush that even his favourite football team winning could not replicate.

The five words which will be engrained in Hyunjin's mind forever.

"I like you a lot."

The five words which will be engrained in yours.

"So..." you broke the silence, "what now?"

Hyunjin's pointer circled against the wood of the bench, itching to hold your hand, "we... you know. Date."

"Yeah. Okay."

For best friends who have known each other for years, it was abnormally quiet for the two of you.

But it was okay. Hyunjin was content with the small smile lingering on your pretty face, and your hand in his — finally in his.

𝐭𝐰𝐨.

The sound of a pan sizzling and a kettle crackling seeped into the guest bedroom, though the sound of Hyunjin and his mother's voice caught your attention the most.

You were spending the weekend at the Hwangs'. Your parents were on a company trip that weekend and didn't trust you alone so naturally, they dropped you off there. You were about to take your morning shower, a towel slung over your shoulder when their voices stopped you in your tracks.

"You really like her, Hyunjin?" his mother asked, her voice the epitome of motherly.

She truly is the stereotypical loving mother — soft, and nurturing. Lunchbox ready on the table every morning, not a single football match of Hyunjin's missed. Treated you like the daughter she never had, braided your hair by the porch as Hyunjin ran around with his beloved dog.

"Um," Hyunjin muttered, silverware clinking against plate as he cut through a sausage.

You clasped your ear against the door, eager to hear more.

"You don't have to be shy with me, Hyunjin."

"I do like her," you heard him say, "a lot."

Crimson crept up your face, and you could picture his face doing the same. You could imagine the tips of his ears going red, and his mother looking at him with a grin.

"You want to marry her?" she asked jokingly.

"I do," he answered. Confidently. Surely. Absolutely no hesitation. As though it was the one sole thing he was sure of in his life.

"Oh, my Hyunjin," his mother cooed, "you're all grown up now!"

You didn't know what happened next, how their conversation continued because you were too busy stifling yourself from giggling giddily. Your back was pressed up against the door, replaying the eavesdropped dialogues in your head over and over. Overcame by excitement, you failed to notice the footsteps approaching the door.

Before you knew it, your head came in contact with the wall as the door swung open. Hyunjin stood in front of you, confused as you rubbed your forehead.

"So aggressive, and for what?" you grunted, looking up at him with a pout.

"Who told you to stand by the door like an idiot?" Hyunjin huffed. Nevertheless, he reached towards your forehead, checking for any bruises.

"You'll be okay. Next time, don't stand by the door like an idi—" he paused, "wait. Did you hear anything?"

You batted your eyelashes innocently, playing dumb.

"Hear what?"

Hyunjin sighed out of relief, ruffling your hair, "nothing you need to worry your pretty self about. Just go shower. I saved you some pancakes."

"Aw," you pecked his lips, "you're so sweet, and so caring. You must want to marry me."

He smiled, but the face soon contorted into one of annoyance.

"So you heard!"

"Heard what? The fact that you're obsessed with me and want to marry me so bad?"

"You're so annoying, y/n."

"You still want to marry me though."

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "shut up, or I'll take it back."

He wouldn't.

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

Exhaustion lugged on Hyunjin as he exited the entertainment building. He's been a trainee for a couple of months now, and the burn-out was no joke. A day with you was exactly what he needed. A couple of days spent with his home, his solace — and he refused to come empty-handed.

Thus, he roamed around the park, in search of wildflowers. Anything he could get his hands on, just as long as he could form a bouquet from them. Hyunjin ducked and moved around, pulling out any flower he deemed beautiful enough. A black hair tie tied together the ensemble of florals. He wished he had managed to get his hands on some ribbons but alas, he couldn't. For now, the black hair tie on his wrist would suffice.

You arrived right when you promised you would. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, Hyunjin swore that you came right out of a daydream. He watched you wander around in the park for a while, admiring from afar. Even with a confused expression plastered across your face, he still found you gorgeous. A part of him wished that he was simply your secret admirer, so that he could keep watching you from afar for hours. Not being able to be around you would suck though, so perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Y/n!” Hyunjin finally called you out, waving his hand to catch your attention, “here!” 

You whipped your head towards his direction, lips twitching into the cutest smile once you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend. 

An arrangement of colourful flowers was handed to you once you were in front of him.  You vividly remember how beautiful it was — petals of yellow, pink, and white which coincidentally matched your dress. Hyunjin on the other hand remember how you looked, the pupils of your eyes practically shining at the ensemble. 

“For me?” you asked, looking at him with big, bright, eyes.

Hyunjin nodded, “for you, of course. Flowers for a flower.”

“Oh,” was all that you could utter, overwhelmed by appreciation. You gently pet the petals, “they’re so pretty.”

“Really?” Hyunjin queried, “I don’t have any money. I wish I could buy you pretty roses and tulips, but I really cannot afford them right now. This is the best that I could do, and I’m sorry my love.”

“Don’t you dare say sorry, Hwang Hyunjin. The fact that you spent time to find these flowers means a lot to me, and makes them even more special. I love them, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He nodded, smiling sheepishly. All the worries he previously harboured immediately disappeared at your words. 

“Okay, love. Let’s go then, find more flowers and I’ll make a wreath out of them for you.”

Years later, and the flowers had long wilted away — pressed and put in a frame for display, resting on a table with vases of flowers accompanying it. 

Hyunjin never stopped gifting you flowers. 

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

A yellow bus drove away, leaving two figures at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. 

The outskirts of Seoul — only ever acknowledged as a place vehicles pass by. No stores, no houses in sight, just a lonesome bus stop surrounded by greens. 

Hyunjin would’ve never stepped foot in this place if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for you climbing into his window and hysterically crying, he wouldn’t have purchased tickets to the middle of nowhere. He would probably be in bed and wake up at noon. 

“I want to run away,” you told him, hours before.

“Okay,” he replied, “I’ll go with you.” 

Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t support your attempts at rebelling against your parents. Honestly, the words, “don’t be dumb and just say sorry,” sat at the top of his tongue, but they dissolved at the sight of your mascara running down your cheeks. He knew that even if he was to disagree, you would’ve packed your bags and left anyway. He would rather follow to keep you safe.

Plus, the boy knew that the rebellion would only last a couple of hours.

“Let’s sail off without a map. Just walk and see what we’ll discover.”

“Okay.”

God knows how many of those he already said to you that day. 

You walked, hand in hand, him siding with the highway. You looked far too relaxed for someone who was running away. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was terrified. If anything were to happen to the two of you there, nobody would be there to help. His free hand dug into his pocket, tightly clutching onto a butterfly knife. 

Minutes soon turned into an hour. Two people walking soon turned into one — Hyunjin ended up carrying you on his back after seeing that you’ve blistered your feet. He nagged about your choice of footwear, but amidst the nags, he still opted to carry you anyway. Your hands rested around his neck, chin on his head as he walked aimlessly, just waiting for you to finally cave in and ask to go home. 

“Hyunjin, look!”

“Hm?”

The boy turned around, gasping at the sight which greeted his eyes. A field of flowers stretched as far as his eyes could see, green plains decorated with splotches of colourful flowers. 

Before he could say anything, you were already running towards the field, screaming in glee. He followed in pursuit, taking in the breeze and letting blades of grass sway against his legs. 

“Hurry!” 

Hurry, Hyunjin did, running towards you and lifting you off the ground. Hyunjin took advantage of the seemingly infinite space to twirl you around, and run around until the two of you turned breathless, lying on the grass to look at the sky. 

“I love this place,” you mumbled between heavy breaths, “feels like something you only see in your dreams.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow. 

Quietly, he admired you. The tranquil expression your face held matched that of the sky. He couldn’t stop the hand reaching towards your face, calloused thumb caressing your face with the same softness of a feather. Each stroke of his thumb whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“Thank you,” your words reeled Hyunjin out of his daze, “for coming here with me.”

His eyes on you softened. 

“You don’t have to thank me. Just be around forever,” sat at the top of Hyunjin’s tongue and dissolved. 

Instead, he pressed a kiss onto your lips.

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

Hyunjin asked you to marry him five years after you started dating.

It was the peak of his career. He was everywhere around the world, collecting awards and breaking records. The little boy who loved football slowly turned into a superstar. He had to bid goodbye to his quiet life, making space for all the glory the world had to offer to him. His name sat at the tip of everyone’s tongues, talk of the town — Achilles reincarnate. 

That was when he decided that he would have to marry you. For amidst all that glory, you were the only stagnant thing in his life. You continued to annoy and nag him as you always do. You continued to be the first person he thinks of when he wakes, and the last person he thinks of as he shuts his eyes. You’re always the person he has in mind as he looks for souvenirs, and when he watches old couples sitting on benches in different cities.

You, you, you. 

Always you. 

Boxes scatter around the living room, some opened and some not. It’s been a few hours since the moving truck unloaded all of the boxes. Honestly, you could’ve gotten so many things done if it weren’t for the two of you constantly procrastinating. 

“Just a five-minute break, babe,” Hyunjin whines, landing on a (still wrapped in plastic) sofa. 

You roll your eyes, “you’ve taken breaks like three times just this hour, Jinnie.”

He whines again, making grabby hands, “need my wife here right now or I’ll die.” 

The sigh which leaves your lips cannot fool him, because the slight grin on your lips gives away that you like his clinginess. You seat yourself in his arms, burying yourself in his neck. The familiar scent of fresh laundry and cologne fills your nostrils, washing away the exhaustion from the day. 

“Me, my wife, and a new house,” you hear Hyunjin mumble, “feels like a dream.”

You voice your agreement by humming. It’s when you stare at the boxes surrounding you that the reality finally sinks in. You’re married to the boy you met in kindergarten. His toothbrush will be in a cup next to yours, his mug will be in the dishwasher with yours, and your dirty laundry will be in the same machine. You’ll wake up next to him every day for what you hope will be your entire life. 

You smile at the thought, sinking yourself into Hyunjin even more. He’s holding you with one hand, the other rummaging through a box when he takes out a Polaroid, showing you it with glee.

A Polaroid of you and him under a cherry blossom tree, five years ago. 

“Isn’t this from the first day we started dating?” Hyunjin asks, blinking his eyes at you.

You tilt your head to observe the polaroid, “oh… Yes, it is, babe!”

He’s laughing, particularly at how red his face looks in the picture. 

“Oh my god, we have to recreate this picture soon, love.”

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[clockwork-carstairs]

“You made yourself a different person than the one I loved” – on Kit’s letter, his projections & idea of Ty

aka where i try to make sense of kit’s letter in the context of who ty was to him. basically i think that understanding that kit may not have had an accurate image of ty in his head helps to contextualise why kit believes the things he does, regardless of whether they’re fair to ty or not. it makes more sense reading lines like:

“in all the world, kit had never met anyone he believed to be so incapable of evil”

“all his energy had gone into ty, all his devotion and hopes for the future”

because you can see so clearly how much kit was projecting onto ty. ty, more than a friend—or whatever you might call it—was also the personification of this new world and all it meant for kit. kit saw him as this overwhelming force of good, beautiful as an angel, someone who not only wouldn’t do evil but was “incapable” of it.

so you can kind of see why everything was lost for kit once ty went through with the necromancy: because by doing so he was breaking the image kit had of him. of ty as a saviour of sorts from kit’s previous life, the person who convinced him to stay, who made kit feel like he was really a part of something, something magical and exclusive that not everyone got to be.

further evidenced by other lines:

“he had been too fixated on losing ty to tell him what he needed to hear” -> kit knows he should have told ty much sooner how he really felt about the situation. kit knows he deflected and in various ways lied to ty about trying to bring livvy back. but kit had wanted to stay by ty’s side, stay included in ty’s plans, more than his desire to tell ty the truth that he hated the idea.

“you made yourself a different person than the one i loved” -> ty as a person being shaped by kit’s projections of all his hopes and dreams, the face of this new world kit was drawn into, the first person he really got close to after he was pulled from one world to another, the person who convinced him to stay.

was the “person [kit] loved” an accurate reflection of who ty really was, flaws and all? unlikely. and the image of ty in kit’s head didn’t allow room for the real ty’s complicated, overwhelming grief, either, and the ways he would try to cope with it: and i believe this is part of why kit was so shocked by what happened and why he’s still so angry at ty. because ty proved to him that he wasn’t what kit believed him to be, and so all of kit’s hopes for his new life came crumbling down.

do i think it’s fair to ty? no, i don’t. but i think both can be true: that kit is upset and had gone through a traumatic situation, and has valid feelings about it while also understanding that he had a very skewed perception of ty that wasn’t fair to him.

mostly i think we need more room for understanding ty’s feelings*. how it must have felt to lose his twin sister in a horrifying way, devised a plan that (to him) seemed completely reasonable** only to have his best friend switch up on him last minute, tell ty he loved him mid-ritual, later say he wished he’d never met ty and basically tell ty that he was selfish and then on top of that leave without saying goodbye.

i also stand by my belief that “how long do you think it will take you to forgive me” is something both ty and kit could/should be asking each other, not just one way around. i honestly don’t understand why both kit and ty would think only kit needs to forgive ty and not both ways. mostly i just don’t think the narrative that ty’s the only one who needs forgiving is very fair, or makes much sense with their characterisation + the context + what actually happened.

in sum, when kit says “you made yourself a different person than the one i loved”, the person he’s referring to is an idealised version of ty whom he had projected all his hopes and dreams for the future onto, and by going through with the necromancy ty completely shattered kit’s understanding of him. this is consistent with other lines in his letter: “you wanted that more than you wanted me”, “when you brought livvy back, you changed yourself” (did ty really change? or did he just prove to be different from kit’s idea of him? genuine question), and perhaps most strongly evidenced by this line: “i don’t know the person you are now. you took yourself away from me. i can’t forgive that.” i don’t understand why he can’t forgive ty for not being the person kit thought he was, nor how on earth ty was supposed to know this, but i digress.

* i hope this is addressed in TWP because between TDA and now, we’ve had FAR more insight into kit’s thought processes than ty’s and as such we’re only really seeing one side of the situation.

** i also think part of the glaring misunderstanding between kit and ty can be understood from their respective backgrounds. obviously for kit, growing up away from the shadowhunter world, something like necromancy is completely out of the question. the way it would be for you or me. but ty grew up in a world where bringing people back to life was something that could and had actually happened. so it’s a far crazier, more impossible idea to kit than it would’ve been to ty.

[pianokantzart]

My Theory on Pachacamac and The Iblis Trigger

There is talk about how much they changed Pachacamac from a warmongering, power hungry tribal leader, to a goofy grandpa figure, but I think the truth of Pachacamac's nature might be somewhere between the two interpretations. Despite his friendliness, you can't forget he did lead a clan that wiped out the owls with a singleminded focus on capturing Sonic and reclaiming The Master Emerald. Pachacamac, now a ghost, has visited Knuckles to tell him he needs to expand his tribe. There are no other echidnas left, so he asks the sole survivor to take on an apprentice. "Show him our customs, teach him our traditions, and soon our tribe will grow once again."

There is no acceptance or acknowledgement of the fact that the clan's current situation is the result of a bloody feud and the destruction of an entire race besides their own. There is also, unsettlingly, no acknowledgement of Tails, Sonic, or The Wachowskis as members of Knuckles' clan.

While there are questionable elements to Pachacamac's approach, his motivations are at least understandable. Knuckles is a minority– the last of his tribe and the only surviving member of his species, so of course his old chief wants to see their traditions and culture preserved.

Things only get really weird when Pachacamac takes hold of Wade– Knuckles' apprentice and the soon-to-be new addition to their clan–and rewrites history. Rather than the tale of a lone owl that the echidnas hunted down in a quest for power, the story is instead of an entire flock of owls that were the aggressors, killing off Knuckles' tribe and burning down his village for no reason other than for the sake of the slaughter.

Similarly, Knuckles isn't described as a lost child left behind, but a fellow warrior who battled alongside his father until the bitter end.

So, knowing that Pachacamac's version of events is wrought with lies leads to one very serious question: What is the true story of Knuckles' battle with Iblis? If there's one thing we know about The Echidna Clan, it's that they are fixated on raw power. They're a warrior-focused society where the best fighter gets the highest honor and the most privileges. They were the ones who crafted The Master Emerald from the seven chaos emeralds. They were the ones who tracked down Sonic when he was a child with the intention of obtaining his power, before Long Claw wiped them out in her final struggle.

And who else do we know that was accidentally unleashed in a reckless pursuit of power?

Iblis, the raw power of the sun god Solaris. Iblis, who was sealed away within a child using the power of the chaos emeralds.

Now, there's no doubt that "The Flames of Disaster" in the SCU are very different from "The Flames of Disaster" in Sonic 06. In the movie universe the flames are merely a type of wieldable power rather than the name of an apocalyptic event. However... what better way to rewrite the fact that the echidna tribe nearly caused the end of the world and locked an immortal fire demon within an echidna child, than by pretending that The Flames of Disaster is just an inherent ability Knuckles unlocked through an epic battle?

What if "The Flames of Disaster" wasn't a power he obtained through a magnificent fight, but a power he survived after it was thrusted upon him by his elders? ... What if one of the many, many reasons reasons his father didn't let him join the fight was out of fear of what would happen if he cried?

[wkr-47]

Name: Junpei "June" Itō

Alias: The Leech

Age: 24

Ethnicity: Asian

Origin: Japan

Occupation:

Eye color: Brown

Height: 5'4

Body type: Regular build, leaning towards slim. Metal components bound to her spine

Posture/Gait: Straight posture, prideful

Cleanliness: Maintaining good hygiene is an important necessity to Leech. Though, she's more lenient when it comes to organization. She's more clean than she is tidy.

Tics: Occasionally rolls her shoulders & compulsively taps her finger

-

Personality:

Leech is rather cold and blunt. Unapologetically crude as she uses a facade of a sweet voiced woman to mask her vindictive nature. However, she doesn't settle for weakness in others or herself, finding it pathetic. Being accustomed to violence from an early age, Leech finds it only necessary to return the same punishment to others. In part, she believes she's doing a service to her peers and lovers, guiding them to endure more and more trials as she exploits her relationships by force or manipulation. Yet, the truth of the matter is that she enjoys it all; motivated by the satisfaction she receives from the control she possesses.

Despite her cruel behavior, Leech is ultimately insecure inside. She yearns for acceptance and understanding, wanting a shared affection with someone with whom she can put her faith. She grows desperate at rejection, protecting herself by becoming hostile. Leech puts her effort into impressing those who she looks up to.

Loves: The Outdoors, People watching, Journaling, The Tyrant (platonic), and classic movies of all kinds, especially horror

Hates: Feeble personalities, Criticism, Pitty

Fears: Her Father, The Tall Man, Failure to meet expectations, isolation

-

How does she react to meeting people?

Public:

First impressions are everything to Leech. During introductions, she makes it her mission to gauge who you are and who she'll portray herself as. She'll go so far as mirroring mannerisms and feed into shared interests. Fronting a persona is her specialty. Mainly presenting docile and charming act.

Though, Leech doesn't try to make much of an effort when it comes to others who are or just about as depraved as her. She doesn't find a reason unless it's beneficial.

Private/secluded areas:

When there isn't a crowd to persuade, Leech is quiet and observant as she silently judges. She'll talk, but it's laced with animosity as she teases and pushes boundaries. Leech searches for any opening to put someone down.

Would she fall for your character?:

Leech is picky with her lovers. She searches for desperate and weak personalities, hoping to make them a subservient partner. Leech's 'love' is intense and ugly. She'll force them to wither by her hand before she'll show any type of affection. She obsesses, photographs, and jot down everything she could get her hands on. Everything from minor habits to forgotten regrets. Using it against them or as fuel to her fixation. At its peak, her devotion grows sour. A hatred is born as she becomes jealous over those very qualities that she relishes. Eventually, she'll tear you apart out of a deep-rooted insecurity. She needs total devotion.

Does she bond your character?:

As long as they're competent in their own abilities and don't nag n' complain, Leech can look past even some more rowdy personalities. Yet, she probably wouldn't take them seriously unless they're up to her standards.

Though, it isn't impossible to bond with Leech. She's more laid back, enjoying a good conversation over a walk or some outdoor activity.

-

Extra bits of info

Favorite Foods/Drinks: Yogurt, beer, sparkling water, Katsudon, hot dogs n' cheese fries

Favorite Movies: The Strangers (2008), The craft (1996), Halloween (1978), Kill Bill (2003)

Favorite Places: Wherever her newfound family is

Pets: N/A (She is most definitely a cat lover and has a fascination with cicadas)

Possessions of Importance: The mask that Leech dawns is a form of expression and has sentimental value. It's Leech in her raw form, revealing her perversion and brutality. She obtains it during her first relationship, wanting to experiment and satisfy a growing curiosity. Yet, her ex wasn't so accepting.

-

Following the Tyrant:

Leech and Tyrant are linked. They’re the same person but exist in an entirely different plane of space and time. Their encounter, purely coincidental, yokes them together. Their connection allows them to understand each other so profoundly in a way no one else can. Each was troubled by their incapacity to connect, being misunderstood, and worthless. However, as they build trust amidst desperation, they learn to accept that they can’t function normally, embracing their sadistic urges and turning their back on their humanity. Leech struggles with the realization, mourning the loss, but Tyrant has already strayed from it. Encouraging her to shed the false reality and to give in.

Both are inherently violent, finding beauty in their respective fixations, mutilating their playthings in hopes of conquering and preserving the qualities they cannot or won’t possess themselves. The duo appeases their insatiable craving to rend and destroy; enabling the very worst parts of each other with complete acceptance.

Their kinship is fueled by their narcissism; being the reflection of each other, they share the same mindset and standards. They go out of their way for each other, but in reality, they’re looking after themselves. It’s the first bond they’ve ever had where someone could relate so intimately. They regard each other with the utmost respect, fearing the potential loss of their bond. As a result, they remain platonic. Treating each other as the siblings; brother and sister in arms.

-

With the inclusion of Leech in Blessed Be the Wicked, @anton-morrow has been a major support in developing Leech and her role in the story.

[acourtofthought]

There's a post on the other side claiming that Lucien wanted to see Elain just once to see if she was worth fighting for and after he did, he immediately turned around and decided he'd rather rescue another female.

This is one of those "IG versus Real Life" Posts. They like their filtered version the best but it's not actually the truth.

Lucien arrived at the HOW where Feyre told him to stay away from Elain for now, only for her to see Elain in her depressed state then turn to leave and found Lucien standing in the door, devastation written across his face.

Lucien was told to stay away from Elain but when he accidentally stumbled upon her in the library, he stayed, thinking on how she was too thin, offering her a biscuit, thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen (something that made him feel guilty because of Jesminda - but sure, he went on and immediately started fixating on Vassa. Makes sense).

Nesta demanded that he leave the library and he in turn demanded that they get Elain outside, that she needed fresh air.

Feyre calls down to Rhys to have the sisters moved from the HOW because of Lucien's insistence to get her outside (it's clear THIS is the reason Az took Elain out to the garden, because they wouldn't let Lucien remain near her and Feyre told Rhys to relay Lucien's insistence that they take her outside).

Elain begins eating, drinking, and sleeping after this and continues having riddles which began within a day of Lucien's arrival to the HOW.

Despite the sisters treatment of him, Lucien tells Feyre he'd still like to help and suggests that a healer look over Elain, asking that Feyre tell him what she says and whether he can do anything more. At the healers suggestion he sits with and attempts to reach out to her through their bond while Feyre, Mor, Amren and Nesta sit around them pretending like they're not staring the two of them down which makes for an extremely awkward situation for someone who has never attempted to explore his bond with a female before. He doesn't have the time he needs before Elain stands up after feeling the tug and Nesta interferes but when questioned about what he felt it causes him to blush.

When he's not thinking of ways to help Elain, Lucien has been offering his assistance to the IC, heading to the library for them, telling Az about the Autumn Court, making suggestions regarding the High Lords meeting, secretly talking to Nuan in hopes she could create an antidote to the faebane.

Elain has the vision that reveals Vassa and Koschei to them and Mor begins arguing in favor of seeking Vassa out. Azriel, despite his proclamation that they need a seer doesn't seem to believe Elain's vision is worth pursing and just as FEYRE is about to volunteer, just as she realizes how much the others are needed in the NC, Lucien offers up his own life because he realizes he is the one that they don't need in the NC. That Elain is still mourning Graysen, that he doesn't really belong in this court, that he is the expendable one.

Please show me where in the text that he's eager to find Vassa because he has any sort of romantic inclination to find another female? Please show me where this was EVER about rescuing one person? The text shows he went after her so he could try and bring back an ARMY. You know, to help them win the war? So they could have a chance at surviving?

As Lucien leaves on what in canon is a dangerous mission, in order to support his mates vision, one even Az wouldn't let Rhys go too far into the human lands for, he bows his head to hide the longing and sadness he has for Elain, not Vassa. While Lucien is willing to pursue Elain's vision, it does not read that he's relieved and happy to be leaving her. He's doing it because he believes it's the right thing to do.

This constant twisting of the events is not going to change what happened in the story no matter how often they try. If Sarah wanted us to believe there was anything romantic about Lucien saving Vassa she would not have written Lucien still looking at his mate with longing nearly two years after the scenes above.

"Longing is almost a genre unto itself. We think of longing as being wrapped up in romance and desire, but it's broader than that. I think of how an intense longing for the past, a person, an experience, or a life drives a story or a character."

This act of longing as it's written for Sarah's males is not about only romance and desire but the longing for a life they want to have with their mates. And when every male that has longed for his mate ended up with her I'm not sure why some in the fandom believe it's not going to work out exactly the same for Lucien when it comes to Elain.