#and she thinks SHE’S being selfish??????

[adieutristana]

hi, i do! i’ve just yet to receive any requests for vi by herself, but i’d be happy to write this :) thank you for the request!

summary; quiet mornings with vi and her girlfriend.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, casual dom vi, butch wife material or whatever they say, domesticity, maaaaybe a bit suggestive?

men and minors dni.

you’re awoken to the smell of breakfast cooking.

the spot next to you is empty, an indent on the mattress from where vi once laid. the light shines through open blinds and you reflexively bring an arm up to cover your eyes. groaning, you turn away from the window to look at the bedside clock: 8:41 am.

you wished vi was still with you, it would’ve been nice to wake up in her arms like usual… oh, well. breakfast is nice too.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and try to rub the sleep from your eyes, slowly making your way to the kitchen. you’re greeted by the sight of vi’s back turned to you, white sports bra and black sweats. she’s clearly too absorbed to have noticed you, intently working on whatever she’s making.

you approach her slowly, a bit cautiously as to not startle her while she’s over a hot stove, but slowly snake your arms around her waist, pressing your cheek into her shoulder. vi lets out a little ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment, but doesn’t turn around.

“up already, babe?”

she remarks, right hand busy with a frying pan.

“yeah. couldn’t sleep without you there.”

“sorry, sorry. wanted to do something nice for you.”

you hum in acknowledgment, pressing further into vi’s back and grazing one hand over toned abs.

“what are you making?”

“surprise.”

she remarks. vi knows just how much you hate surprises, not knowing things. although you know you could very easily look over vi’s shoulder and see for yourself, that could ruin half of the fun. you simply hold vi from behind her, relishing in the warmth that her body offered you. it was always so peaceful, getting to hold her, to be close to her like this. this morning, it seemed as if time stood still.

vi could be moving throughout the kitchen, you’d seen her do it several times while cooking, but she was also considerate. you knew that she’d never want to ruin your fun. dating vi meant that if she had to give little things up, she would. wether that meant her not moving an inch when you slept for hours on her lap, or staying still while cooking because your arms were around her, vi was sweet.

sweet in a way that not many people got to see.

and yet, you found yourself excited at the prospect of eating breakfast she had prepared because her cooking was always so damn good. not many people would think it, but with vi leading a group of ragtag teens and tweens- as well as being an older sister, she’d learned to cook quite young. she frequently cooked for herself, used whatever scraping the kitchen to throw together something edible.

she hadn’t put too much effort into making her meals nice since the incident on the bridge, until she met you. now she feels as if she has a point to prove. or maybe it’s just that she loves you.

“almost done, cupcake. you just sit down and be patient, okay?”

she says, voice laced with affection. you nod slowly, pouting the slightest bit behind her as you let go of her. but you sit down at her dining table, elbows propped as you observe her. it’s almost effortless the way that she moves. it’s admirable.

vi walks over to you, holding out a plate of simple blueberry pancakes. she knew you had a taste for sweet things. she sits down opposite you after you take the plate, a soft smile playing at her lips.

“are you gonna eat anything?”

you ask before you even pick up your fork. you don’t want to be selfish, not with vi especially.

“i already ate. woke up early today, fixed myself something, and figured you’d be up later.”

she says, pointing to your fork. cueing you to start eating. you do, picking up a knife as well to cut the stack into slices. after covering it in sweet syrup, you take a bite and immediately close your eyes in contentment. this is good.

“you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

“of course i did. i’m your girlfriend, remember?”

you sigh, continuing to eat. swallowing the last of what’s in your mouth before you speak to her again.

“but i’ve never done something like this before.”

you sigh, looking off to the side. you hear a low chuckle from your girlfriend.

“trust me, hun, you do plenty for me in other departments.”

this elicits a slight flush rising to your face, deciding to just focus on eating the rest of your pancakes. as you finish the last of the sliced bits, you look up to see vi wearing that same soft smile she wears whenever she’s genuinely admiring you. it’s adorable, one of your favorite looks your girlfriend gives you. one you’ve become accustomed to.

vi stands up to take your plate from you, but not before you tug on one of the straps of her sports bra to bring you to her level. moving your lips slowly against her own, free hand resting on the small of your back. she gives a light giggle as she presses back into you, toned arms slowly wrapping around your neck.

“i’ll do the laundry today, since you cooked.”

you say, face still mere millimeters from vi’s. she smiles softly before shaking her head.

“nope. you’re relaxing today.”

“but-”

“no.”

“you cooked for-”

vi shakes her head again, brushing your jawline with her lips.

“i cooked because i want you to take it easy, and i like doing things for you. now, you’re gonna take your pretty self to the couch, or bed, and relax. and i’ll do the work today. alright?”

you groan in slight annoyance, but sigh. you know there’s no winning when vi gets in these moods. she only wants to see you taken care of, and she’ll be damned if that isn’t what happens.

count on vi to always put the needs of others before her own. she’d gotten better at taking care of herself during your relationship, but the way she put your wants and needs before her own never wavered. if anything, it got stronger with time.

“alright. but i’ll still do things tomorrow.”

“you can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

she hums, sitting down on the chair you were previously using. her arms are still draped around your neck, pulling you to sit on her lap. the second you make contact with her thighs, her lips are on yours again.

it’s breathless, a bit more rushed than the delicate kiss you had shared a few moments prior. but it’s perfect, it’s vi. the way her scarred lips move against yours is always so skillful yet so sweet.

“i love you, okay? i just want you to unwind sometimes.”

you nod slowly, pressing your forehead to your girlfriend’s and closing your eyes.

“i love you too, babe. just feel a bit… bad, not doing anything in return.”

“i don’t want anything in return,” she whispers. “this-” she points between the two of you, “is more than enough.”

[solvicrafts]

You know, I've seen a few people online making shitty comments about the fires in SoCal right now, and about all the rich peoples' homes burning, and I'm disgusted and just so exhausted over how crass, mean-spirited, and downright nasty so many people are the moment they think they're in the clear to feel good about someone else being hurt, just as long as it's, you know, one of THOSE people and not them.

Meanwhile, I'm over here thinking about when I used to work at the hippie woo store a few years back, and I was waiting outside for the bus after a night shift, and one of our regular customers (a pretty wealthy woman who I'm pretty sure LIVES in one of the areas that's affected by the fires right now) drove past me, then pulled around and gave me a ride home.

And then I remembered the time she waited until nearly closing time one night hoping to confront another regular customer who had been horrendously rude to me.

Hot take: I have had coworkers that were full on MAGA, anti-vaxxers, anti-choice, etc. and as much as I absolutely could not stand those people, as angry as I was that I would get punished for reporting their inappropriate behavior, as resentful as I was about the times I was told to apologize to my racist old coworker for offending her by pointing out that she can't be going on insane rants while ringing up our fucking customers, at the end of the day, if I ran across that same coworker bleeding out in the road, I would run out to help her.

I fundamentally disagreed with her on every single thing that came out of her mouth. I consider her one of the most vapid, selfish, and ignorant people I've ever met in my life. And I would still help her if I came across her and she needed it, not because I particularly want to do something nice for her, but because it's the right thing to do.

I would not take pleasure out of watching her suffer, or lose her home. I would not enjoy watching my most hated customers go through that. I sure as hell don't enjoy seeing complete strangers suffer and lose THEIR homes. I could sit here and whine about how at least THEY have homes to lose, or I could do the bare minimum thing that any decent person can do, and just not be a huge asshole.

I'm sure a good at least a few of those people who lost their homes were probably some of my worst customers. I know the area (well, a little bit, anyway), and I know we had shoppers that would come out to our store from there. And quite a few of them were absolutely insufferable. And still, I hope that they are safe, and that their homes are okay.

[aonemanarmy]

If Jenova were capable of true emotion then in that moment she would've felt a sense of sadistic glee at her triumph over Lucrecia. To the eldritch abomination the scientist was merely a means to an end, a foolish creature that had thought herself capable of using Jenova to achieve her own selfish ambitions. She had thought herself to be so intelligent, so superior that she was above her own specimens, but in reality she was never in control and had dared to dabble in things that were better left alone. Now, due to her own hubris she had lost everything and Jenova wasn't about to surrender her prized puppet to the woman.

Sephiroth belonged to her.

Regardless of the fact that Sephiroth had seized the reins of control from her, Jenova still would not relinquish her hold of the man. Naturally, there was no true emotional connection or bond there, but the madman was a powerful tool and she would wield him in whatever way she saw fit – it would only take some more time before she could fully reassert control.

'He was mine the moment you created him for me – or have you forgotten?' Jenova knew that Lucrecia hadn't forgotten, since the whole reason Sephiroth existed was because the scientists had sought to recreate the Ancients. Little did the humans know that Jenova wasn't of Cetra origin, but rather something else entirely and the very entity that had been responsible for the Cetra's destruction. 'It is too late for you to regret things now.'

As Jenova toyed with Lucrecia the madman also struggled against the pain that the creature inflicted upon him coupled with the onslaught of old memories that bombarded his tortured mind. It was almost too much to take in all at once and it felt like his mind was being torn apart all over again.

Professor Gast wasn't like the others.

In the midst of that internal struggle he dimly heard Vincent's words which caused a new wave of bitterness to fill him. Yes, Gast hadn't been like the others at first; Sephiroth could recall in his early years that the man was kind and didn't intentionally harm him, but then one day he left and never came back. For the longest time he'd wondered why Professor Gast had left him behind to be tormented at the hands of Hojo without so much as saying goodbye, but he'd learned the truth of things just recently through Cloud and it was yet another knife buried in his fragile psyche.

“True, the man was far kinder a master than the others, but in the end he was little different than all the rest.” Sephiroth let out a bitter laugh at the remark, shaking his head as he did so. “When he was granted the opportunity to fulfill his own self-interests he took it without any hesitation and abandoned me. All so he could go off and have his own happy little family once he could no longer benefit from the project.”

It hardly mattered that Gast never got to enjoy his new family for very long, because he still had the luxury of experiencing happiness that Sephiroth had never known. Even now Sephiroth knew that he would never truly experience happiness, at least not until Meteor wiped humanity from the face of the world and rid the planet of their taint once and for all. Only then could he be happy.

“And yet, you still live.” Sephiroth turned his attention back to Lucrecia, still not quite believing what she said, but deciding to humor it as if it were true. “So tell me then, where were you? Why did you never come for me?”

Why did you abandon me too?

The unspoken question had always haunted Sephiroth when it came to thinking about everyone around him that was supposed to care for him. Anyone that should've been there for him never was and as such he'd grown to realize that such a life was never meant to be. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he wasn't someone to live in denial even in the face of an ugly truth.

He'd always been alone and he always would be.

Images of the past flashed before Vincent’s mind, bringing him back to those days of agonizing over Lucrecia’s plight. The feeling of helplessness once again wormed its way into Vincent, gripping his throat with the pangs of regret. Her pleading voice, her trembling hands that sought to hold her beloved son, the fear of her once again being forever denied as her right to motherhood--- it tore Vincent to pieces.

Tears streamed down Lucrecia’s pale delicate skin, chilled by the breeze that carried the voices lingering in the cave. She looked as though she would collapse from the weight of emotions overwhelming her senses. It took everything in Vincent’s will-power to hold himself back from rushing to her side to engulf her in his arms. This was between her and Sephiroth; he was merely the enabler. Sephiroth’s discomfort slowly began to unveil. The more Lucrecia pleaded with Sephiroth and revealed their bond, the more Vincent could notice Sephiroth’s expression crease with disdain. Vincent was well aware that the reception wouldn’t be mutual, but the longer Vincent observed, the more he began to sense Sephiroth’s anger rise. Whether it was due to the overwhelming realization, a steadfast denial, or the cruel bending of reality by Jenova’s works, Vincent could only fathom. Seeing Sephiroth take a step back and grip his head, Lucrecia looked on helplessly, at first confused about what her son was going through. But just as her motherly instincts kicked in, Lucrecia rushed forward and extended her hand in an effort to comfort Sephiroth. But just as her hand was about to touch the soft silver tresses of Sephiroth’s head, Lucrecia froze in utter horror. That voice… what is this feeling…? Is it… Lucrecia gasped sharply in terror once she realized who the voice belonged to. Trepidation seized hold of her, and a cold shiver went down her spine. “N-no… this can’t be…” Her voice trembled, her efforts to compose herself not yielding the necessary results. “Lucrecia?!” Alerted at once to her affliction, Vincent momentarily forgot his aching legs and rushed to her side, biting back a searing pain that reminded him he was not fully healed. He caught hold of her shoulders in an attempt to steady her, but Lucrecia immediately attempted to push Vincent away. “Lucrecia, please—what’s wrong?” Vincent maintained his grip, not wanting her to fall and unwilling to let her fight this on her own. Even if Vincent couldn’t hear Jenova’s voice, just from his own experience, and knowing how Jenova cells affected their victims, he had an idea of what Lucrecia was going through. “Stop it--! You don’t own him! He’s not yours!” Lucrecia cried out in anguish, knowing her words were reaching the alien dwelling inside her, but also knowing she was mostly helpless to resist it, let alone affect its intensions. Vincent knew she was fighting a battle he couldn’t fight for her. All he could do was assure her that he was there for her. Sephiroth’s voice diverted Vincent’s gaze; the betrayal and bitterness dripping from his words in copious amounts. It cut deep into Vincent’s heart, but he knew it was searing Lucrecia’s even deeper. “Sephiroth…” Lucrecia wept, looking up at her son through a blur of tears. As painful as those words were, she didn’t have a heart to deny them. “I… I just…” Even if she had been denied access to even see Sephiroth, she knew all too well what had been done to him. After all, she was once a scientist who was all too willing to put aside morals in the name of science. That was, until she first felt the kick of her son in her womb. Vincent felt Lucrecia’s body suddenly sink under the weight of sorrow and defeat, prompting him to ease her down as she knelt on the ground, her head lowered in dejection. “I’m so sorry…” Lucrecia’s voice faded, overcome with grief and regret, allowing her tears to flow freely. She knew there was nothing she could do. Jenova’s words did little to hurt her. But Sephiroth’s tore wide the wound that had never healed. Kneeling beside Lucrecia, Vincent looked up at Sephiroth; his brow creasing pensively. “That’s not true.” He bore his eyes into Sephiroth, mainly directing his energy towards the entity he knew was striving for Sephiroth’s mind. “Professor Gast wasn’t like the others. And had you not been torn from Lucrecia, you would have known differently.” Vincent knew he couldn’t convince Sephiroth. But he wasn’t about to stand by and let Sephiroth dwell on lies, either.

[candyheartedchy]

Part two of this, so if you want more context on this analysis, please read the first part!

In part one I went over the struggles of SpongeBob’s desire to fit in and how he falls into this perfectionist nature. And because of this, he also falls into being a people pleaser A LOT. Where he’ll put the needs of others (mostly his friends) before his own. He also gets tricked and manipulated constantly by folks for their own personal gain and selfish reasons. Not to say SpongeBob doesn’t have any himself, but he tends to put his own on the back burner in order to please his friends. Again, he’s a people pleaser, he wants everyone to like him. The episode “Not Normal” is another example of him worrying he’s not normal enough and changes his personality and appearance because he thinks he’ll be better. He also worries what his own parents think of him, even though his parents don’t mind his energetic nature and childlike wonder.

Once again trying to prove himself to people. But the question still stands, will he ever “grow up” and “be mature”?

Well, that’s where Coraline (my self insert) comes in.

Coraline is a sea monster. Her species is well known for being scary and dangerous. But she’s not. She’s an outcast. Spending her entire youth bullied by other sea monsters due to being seen as “sensitive” and “weak”. And once old enough, she leaves her trench. Going from town to town trying to find a place to call home, before finding herself in Bikini Bottom and ends up working for Plankton because no one else will hire her. Already sealing her fate of crossing paths with SpongeBob. And once the two do meet, SpongeBob of course wants to befriend her, offering to show her around because he wants to make a good impression. But due to Mr. Krabs threatening him when they find out she works for Plankton, the sponge once again puts others before his own needs, causing Coraline to get stood up by him. And then SpongeBob ends up having to apologize later on.

[More context of this in the first two chapters of the fanfic about them here!]

Eventually he forms a friendship with the sea monster, almost in secret from his own boss.

Right away the two hit it off, discovering that they share a few similar hobbies and interests. But the two also start to notice that they share the same struggles as well. People pleasing. SpongeBob does it to avoid being alone, while Coraline does it to not be seen as a threat. Unlike SpongeBob, Coraline accepts her loneliness, purposefully avoiding folks and will sometimes deny the sponge’s offers in fear of scaring him off, but because she wants to keep peace, she keeps accepting them.

But SpongeBob is scared. Not because Coraline is scary. He’s afraid of being tricked and disappointing his boss. With Mr. Krabs filling his head with the idea that Plankton is using Coraline to get to him to get to the secret formula, SpongeBob starts to get paranoid. While Coraline on the other hand feels trapped because she has to do what Plankton tells her or else she loses her job. But because she’s honest, she’ll let SpongeBob in on the plans, allowing the two to be one step ahead of their bosses to avoiding any conflict between them. The two then start to make a game out of it, sneaking around and being very tongue in cheek whenever they have to “confront” each other during work hours. But once the two starts to catch feelings for each other, it gets messy really fast.

Coraline believes she’s a mistake. Believes every time SpongeBob is nice to her is out of either pity or as a joke. She wants to avoid him but can’t, SpongeBob is stubborn, but so is she, so it’s a constant push and pull between the two. SpongeBob genuinely enjoys her company. He never met anyone who treated him gently before and he doesn’t want to mess up whatever they have going between them because he’s afraid he won’t find it again.

Skipping forward to them dating. For another analysis post on the whole thing about SpongeBob and dating can be found here!

Neither have any dating experiences. The only time SpongeBob had form “relationships” was with a boat, a spatula and a krabby patty.

With “Spatula” he had to get a replacement in order to continue his work and the episode is kinda treated like a “cheating” allegory in a way that SpongeBob chose his work before the spatula, later in tears asking “Spatula” for forgiveness. Again we could see this as an internal battle SpongeBob most likely have that he himself worries about being replaced and sorta acts the scenario out. I know this (and the other episodes) is played for laughs, but I’m making this deeper than it should because I like him to have depth dammit!

“Boatie” comes from SpongeBob’s loneliness of everyone leaving town and once again starts to believe the boat has it out for him while he talks to a puppet of Patrick, again most likely acting out a scenario he most likely fears will happen to him one day. I could also go on about the whole “National No Spongebob Day” subplot at the end of that episode, but that would end up being a rant…

Heck even Bubble Buddy plays into this since SpongeBob created him out of loneliness due to all his friends being busy (before it’s revealed that the bubble is alive).

And then there’s “Patty”. He becomes infatuated with a krabby patty and I think the little teasing comments from Squidward about it triggered the attachment into an obsession from SpongeBob. Because if we once again go by the one comment in the episode “The Chaperone” where he never had a date to prom, it’s most likely he never dated in general.

He wants to feel wanted, but doesn’t know how to get it without it backfiring.

Once getting closer to SpongeBob, Coraline catches on right away that SpongeBob goes to desperate measures to make her happy, which makes her uncomfortable. To her SpongeBob is more mature in her eyes since he has more life experiences than her and she’s the only one who treats him with respect because of it, so once noticing his people pleasing nature, she tries to step in out of concern. Because he doesn’t need to change for her, she already accepts him as is. Which of course throws SpongeBob out of loop because this is what he always does, he has to help others however he can, and he recognizes Coraline’s struggles and wants to help her too. Eventually the pair starts to get frustrated by each other due to this, not realizing that they are both not only forcing themselves out of their comfort zones, but also growing as people from their impact on one another. Causing them both for the first time in their lives to “grow up” and accept being different.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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When you arrived back at the manor, it was clear that you needed to get your shit in order.

The situation was crazy to begin with, but this newest revelation was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around. It was one thing to reincarnate into the past, or even in a separate world, given the very high likelihood of multiple galaxies existing. But this was just a game. It wasn’t real. So then, how was this possible?

Obviously, you didn’t have the answer to that question, and you weren’t even sure if you ever would find the answer. But that was really beside the point. It didn’t matter how you ended up here—what mattered was what in the hell you were going to do.

For the time being, you decided to lock yourself in your room and try to rack for your brain for just about everything you could remember. Thankfully, you’d just recently finished the game, so most of the details were still relatively fresh in your mind.

The most pressing issue was obviously that the game you found yourself in was by no means a happy one. It was marketed as a dark fantasy for a reason, because the love interests were dangerous and hardly good people. The yandere genre had become explosively popular over the course of the past decade. It was particularly enjoyable due to the strange thrill it provided people with, the mystery and suspense, but yanderes were far from desirable. The game had both a good and bad ending for each of the love interests, with all of the bad endings being remarkably messed up, and even the “good” endings were plenty concerning in their own right.

Which is why it was quite a bitter irony that the game was called Zodin’s Benevolence, given that there was nothing truly benevolent about the twisted challenges the protagonist was forced to undergo. She repeatedly found herself tangled up in all sorts of sinister plots after being adopted into a baron’s family and acquiring a noble status.

The good news was that you hadn’t been reincarnated as the protagonist, which meant that so long as you kept your distance from the main events of the storyline, there shouldn’t really be any reason for you to get dragged into that mess.

A grimace fell upon your lips. Thinking about it like that, it sounded a bit selfish to intentionally ignore a poor woman’s suffering, but you’d finally been given a chance at a proper life. The last thing you needed was to suffer a gruesome death at the hands of yanderes simply because you’d interfered with their twisted obsessions.

“I will do absolutely nothing,” you stated determinedly. “There’s no way my character even existed in the first place. When I woke up in this world, it sort of created a little slot for me to fit in. In other words, I’m a side character, and my actions should have no effect on the story so long as I don’t get involved.”

Yes, that was the plan. Do nothing. You could do that. You were very good at doing nothing.

The rules of this “game” you found yourself in—both literally and figuratively—were rather simple. Actually, there was only one rule at all, and that was to stay as far away from the protagonist and yanderes as possible. Which, given that you’d accidentally run into Cassius today, meant that you already weren’t off to a very good start. But a simple bump-in shouldn’t be reason enough for him to go after you with a vengeance. Apart from deliberating angering him, the only thing you could of think that would incur his wrath would be to prevent him from interacting with the game’s protagonist.

Speaking of... how far into the game am I at this point?

The game began with the protagonist being adopted by a kind baron after dutifully waiting on him during one of his trips to the countryside. She then proceeded to move into his estate, getting acquainted with her new life, and promptly beginning lessons at the renowned academy in Zodite’s capital city, as per her adoptive father’s wishes to grant her a formal education. This was the catalyst that set the plot in motion, because it was at the academy that the protagonist met the first yandere—none other than Cassius himself.

As far as you could recall, Zodin’s Benevolence began sometime early summer, because the baron encountered the protagonist while in the middle of a leisurely seasonal trip. Given how warm the weather currently was, summer was either peeking right around the corner, or already here. Which meant that there likely wasn’t much time left until the official plot was set in motion.

Although you had no concrete benchmark as to when it would officially begin, one thing was for sure. If you wanted to avoid an early death again, you would need to keep your eyes peeled for the protagonist’s appearance and keep her away from you by any means.

You frowned, nibbling on your bottom lip.

It’s okay. I can be selfish. No, I have to be selfish. It’s the only way.

Dying from illness was one thing, but the things those crazy bastards were capable of... you had a feeling that dying by their hands would be a million times more painful than anything you’d ever endured.

This new life had been placed right in the palms of your hands, and you’d be damned if you were going to let go of it.

“Mom, dad. Do you think it would be alright if I stopped going to the academy?”

After having discovered that you were in a yandere dating sim, that was the question you chose to ask your parents the very next morning.

Naturally, they were completely flabbergasted.

“Is this another one of your jokes? You wanted to go to school so badly up until now. Sorry, we’re just struggling to understand where all this is coming from.”

It had been your hope that in not attending the academy, you could prevent any run-ins with both the protagonist and the yanderes. But truthfully, you did want to go to school, because your sickness had prevented you from actually attending college back in your old world. It sounded like the version of you in this world was interested in pursuing an education as well, so perhaps it was for the best that you went. You couldn’t stand to see your parents’ disappointed expression once more, even in this reality.

From what you recalled seeing in the game, the campus was quite large, so if you were cautious, there was no reason for you to get wrapped up with the yanderes.

That being said...

You still didn’t want to be ill-prepared for what this world had to offer. There was only so much that had been outright stated in the game; you would have to find out the rest for yourself. One of the key points that you wanted to look into was the usage of magic. In this world, magic was mainly used through magical ores, which helped to supply certain buildings with things like electricity, heat, and even reinforcing walls with something akin to a barrier. Some people were blessed with magical abilities themselves, although it was exceedingly rare. The topic of mages had been briefly touched upon in the game, and it seemed as though with every passing generation, fewer and fewer people found themselves capable of such feats. Dwindling bloodlines, or something like that.

It did make you curious, though. Was it at all possible that you might be fortunate enough to be a mage yourself? If so, you could train your abilities to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself from harm in the event that something really did go wrong.

You didn’t really know how to use magic, though. After all, the game didn’t exactly expand on this detail very much.

So, you tried various methods to see if you could channel some hidden power. Reciting cringy incantations, straining your body so hard that it made you feel like you had to rush to the bathroom—you even drew a horribly misshapen pentagram on the floor of your bedroom, with leftover jam from your breakfast, and Lizbell nearly fainted when she saw the mess.

Needless to say, none of it worked, so you decided to just come out and ask.

“Can I use magic?”

For the second time that same morning, your parents gaped at you.

“My dear, what’s the matter?” your father chuckled. “You’ve been going full throttle since yesterday. Your mother and I can hardly keep up.”

“Does that mean I can’t use magic?”

“Of course not, good heavens. You know very well we don’t come from a family of mages.”

Despite their immediate dismissals, you knew that it was possible for people to potentially grow into their magical powers. Magical ability was traditionally passed down by blood, but it could just as easily manifest in an unsuspecting individual. Hopefully, that individual was you.

“I haven’t been able to use magic up until now, but something may have changed recently,” you persisted. “That’s what I meant. I’m wondering if my abilities have awakened by now.”

Fortunately, your parents had always been the patient sort, so they merely shrugged their shoulders. “If you're really still holding out hope for a thing, then you can always go and get tested at the Bureau of Magic.”

You decided to do just that. The Bureau of Magic’s central headquarters was a large, impressive building. You didn’t really know anything about this organization, but you were tickled pink by the thought of being magically gifted on top of having perfect health. You could already imagine it, shooting fireballs from your hands and creating geysers out of nothing.

You were going to be the best mage ever—

“Zero magical affinity,” the man testing you stated. “Although there are cases where people may develop magic over time, by looking at your mana reservoir, I can tell that there is absolutely no chance of you ever becoming a mage.”

Well, that was certainly a short-lived dream.

The man then frowned, peering closer into the strange device he was measuring your aptitude with. “Come to think of it though, this is really strange. Even average citizens have very trace amounts of mana in their system. Mana is present in all living things, whether or not they can actually manifest that mana and convert it into magical energy. I’ve never seen a case like yours before, not in all my years of working here. You’re an anomaly. Almost as if you aren’t meant to be a part of this world...”

Uh-oh. It sounded like he was starting to get suspicious, so you hurried to wave him off. “Your machine must be broken,” you dismissed flippantly. “Anyways, I’ve already lost interest in becoming a mage, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“What? Miss, if you could just—”

“Gotta go, bye!”

Since magic was clearly a no-go, you figured you should at least have another plan to fall back onto. You were weak and sickly back in your previous life, but you had a perfectly healthy body in this one. There was no reason you couldn’t pick up a weapon and learn how to protect yourself. For instance, sword-fighting!

“You want to do what?” your parents blanched. It was the third time today that they were confused beyond belief, though they looked particularly horrified in this instance.

“Sword-fighting,” you repeated calmly. “I just think it’d be neat.”

“Oh, [Name], but why that of all things? Those blades are seriously dangerous, you know. You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, not if I’m good at it.”

“Someone in your position will never have to worry about their safety,” they insisted. “We can hire more guards to keep watch outside the manor if it’ll help you feel better. Come on now, what use have you for a weapon like that?”

“It’s not that I’m worried about my safety.” That’s a lie. “I just want to challenge myself and see if I can do this. Plus, I think it’d be pretty amazing if I could pull something like this off. I’d be bragging about it constantly.” Okay, that part isn’t entirely a lie.

Their reluctance was plain as day, but as expected—they just couldn’t seem to say no to you.

“Very well,” your father sighed. “But we’ll at least be hiring an instructor to ensure that you have someone watching over you and making sure you’re safe while you train. Please allow us at least this much.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you beamed. “I’ll learn faster with a teacher, anyways.”

So far, things were looking good. You had your plan to stay out of everyone’s way and make sure you didn’t become a target, and in the event that it all failed, you would at least have some way of fighting for your life.

“Oh, and uh, the sooner the better,” you said. “I’d like to start learning as early as possible, since I’m just so excited! Okay? Okay!”

You proceeded to skip out the room before they could mutter a protest.

It was actually incredible how much your parents loved you. They were parents from a different reality, but your parents nonetheless. In spite of their visible concerns to allow you to wield a sword, they’d managed to secure you a personal instructor in less than twenty-four hours.

Currently, you were out in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting your guest. You were dressed in a loose tunic and comfortable pants that were perfecting for working up a sweat in. It was a shame you couldn’t wear clothes like these more often, though you had to admit that your collection of dresses was rather delightful.

It was hot out. Definitely summer, you were sure of it now. It was a good thing you were starting your sword-fighting lessons so early on. Even if you never ending up needing your soon-to-be lethal skills, you would definitely feel more at ease knowing that you had them.

Your personal instructor was apparently a knight, so you were already inclined to trust that he had hands-on experience. You wondered what he’d look like. Knights in fantasy settings like this one were always so damn attractive. Hopefully he wasn’t much older than you...

Ah, focus, goddammit! What does it matter what he looks like? The most important thing is staying alive.

You lightly slapped yourself upside the head. Right. No distractions. You were no longer the same weak person from your miserable previous life. You were a living miracle, and a future sword-wielding badass.

Hardly a minute later, your tortuous wait seemed to have come to an end, and you were able to get a good look at your new instructor.

Wait, is that...

“Good day, Lady [Name],” the knight greeted, bowing his head courteously. “My name is Sergei Garin, member of the Cavalry Brigade. I am humbled to be in your service.”

You couldn’t quite seem to hide the shock on your face. Sergei Garin. You knew this character. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the yanderes—otherwise, you would’ve probably feigned a heart attack to get out of this situation. No, he was nothing but a supporting character, although a character that you admittedly had a soft spot for.

Why did you have a soft spot for him? Well...

Probably because he was fated to die.

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[auguryofjellyfish]

i read something that made me think deeper about Kamimura's death and how i feel about it....Tsuno's death left me catatonic on friday because i love her deeply, but Kamimura's got wedged in my gut like a shard of glass. or: why Kamimura's death feels worse to me than Tsuno's.

it mostly comes down to the matter of his potential as a person and the circumstances of his death put together.

Tsuno…she had already found herself. just as some other characters, we have met her after she had already grown into herself, and "completed her arc". she knew who she wanted to be and worked tirelessly to uphold that ideal. she had loving family and friends and lived her best life, one that brought her fulfillment. she kept being herself in the killing game. connecting, caring, and loving with all her heart. she remained true to herself until the end.

she died doing what she's always have…trying her best. losing her is deeply tragic because she shone so brightly in life. she didn't manage to do everything she wanted, and it's not like she didn't have problems or flaws, she could have grown further. she didn't die with 0 regrets. it's not like she was done, no, nowhere near. but she was complete.

but..Kamimura... what…did he have? years of suffering and depression, multiple suicide attempts, shaky and uncertain future. barely any family, no friends. Kamimura entered the killing game having almost nothing. but that's not the worst thing.

it's that he was just starting to grow. the killing game and the motives made him absolutely miserable but at the same time...he was starting to form positive relationships. he had started to accept at least some level of support, after years of having to be independent. and obviously, there's Ken- who, if they all had gotten out, would 100% have stayed in Kamimura's life.

he contemplated his life and his dreams. he set a goal. even if small, he was still looking forward. he was starting to become more connected, to gain things he didn't have before...ever so slowly, he was starting to change...and i'm sure, despite his cynicism and ever-present struggle, despite the possibility of dying at any moment...that deep down, the littlest seed of hope for his future was just starting to grow.

and then he died.

it's not only him. it's also his massive unrealized potential. unexpressed feelings, unsaid words. un-lived life. he didn't manage to build a life that brought him satisfaction. he didn't…he didn't manage to do a single thing with his life that he wanted. he was nowhere near his full potential. he died as he lived and he's just gone and he got NOTHING. JUST after he was presented with the hope of his life possibly becoming different.

if Tsuno was at her best, a beautiful tree in full bloom cut short, then Kamimura was a little sappling slowly unfurling, and then getting stomped on and set on fire.

and you know what the worst part is? it didn't need to happen.

none of the previous deaths needed to happen, but they were forced to. this time, nobody snapped. nobody made a mistake, it was an active choice. there was NO good reason for him and Tsuno to die. just one person's selfishness, not even only to save their own hide but to also cause suffering. Tsuno's death was senseless and cruel but compared to Kamimura she at least retained some dignity. he didn't HAVE to be disrespected even in death, body torn apart and desacrated, like he was NOTHING. but he was, for the sake of a convoluted ass bullshit fucking plan.

yes, someone would have to die eventually with this motive. yes, not traumatizing hasegawa this badly thus incapacitating him would have added more risk for the culprit. idgaf. i'm not this upset that he died per se, it's that he died like this without being granted peace in death, with Hasegawa and everyone else unable to say proper goodbye because Kamimura's body's in fucking pieces.

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 9; "Never seen that color blue."

“No, yeah, of course! Noo…no! Thank you! I seriously appreciate all of your help and understanding during this! I hope you have a wonderful day! Yeah, aw, thanks! You, too! Yeah- okay- bye!”

My faux smile dropped as soon as my hand did, phone falling to a silenced settle on my left thigh. I breathed a shallow breath of somehow anxious relief, so ironic that it made me want to scream.

Max reached across the bed and rubbed my knee comfortingly, “You okay?”

I wanted to snort, yell, kick my feet, and laugh hysterically. Throw a temper tantrum, wish on a star, kiss a fucking frog. Fall on my knees, beg the skies. Change fate's cruel course of time.

But my expression was blank as I shrugged, “What can ya do?”

The corner of his lips lifted into the saddest smile. His thumb brushed my skin, “It’s gonna be alright. Once you settle back in, things will start to feel normal. You can start…moving on. And, hey, I’m visiting in just a month. You have that to look forward to. School starting, your new role at the clinic. So many good things, Daz.”

He was right- I had so much to be excited about. I really should’ve felt excited, grateful. A better woman would have. A better woman would have seen the blessings all around her and felt so full of life and love. God, she would’ve respected herself enough to not be in this situation in the first place.

Yet I couldn’t help but feel resentful, knowing that I would trade all of it for-

for him.

For Oliver.

I would give up everything for just another moment, hanging onto his lips like a vine. Just a second of growth, even if being ripped away meant digging up the roots and my leaves dying.

I just gave Max that fake smile, knowing full well he was aware that it meant nothing. “You’re right. It’ll be good for me to be home.”

He squeezed my knee before removing his hand. “You wanna finish packing? Or maybe take a break? Get some food?”

I glanced around at the mess of clothes across Sam and I’s hotel room. My bags lay open, a few piles of my stuff already stuffed inside. But there was more than half to be done. So much to be done before I went…before I went home tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Less than 12 hours from now. I’d be heading back to reality. Closing the doors on Europe, on everything and everybody I’d be leaving here.

There was just one week left on the European leg of the two. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be leaving for Germany. I’d go to the airport with them, like normal, but depart at a separate gate, at the same exact time. Those who needed to know, well, I was going to tell them. And those who needed to know the reason why would, too. Sam was going to think I was going home because of an offer for a higher position from the clinic I worked at. But this was only partially true. Training for that wouldn’t even start for another 3 weeks. School wasn’t for a month.

I was leaving for me- for clarity, fresh air. Oliver was right- London was foggy, full of pollution and shitty, selfish men.

I needed to get away, out. Back to routine and home. Back to what I knew- what wouldn’t hurt me.

I looked back to Max, “I'm gonna finish packing. Get it over with. Before Sam gets back. I think it might hurt his feelings to walk in and see this…mess.”

Mess might have held a double meaning. I had looked better, for sure. Max understood, I think, for he knocked his shoulder against mine, then stood from the bed. “We got it, Daz.”

I stood up quickly, knowing the only way to get started was to just start. Stand. Move. (I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.)

It took us another hour or so to finish stuffing my belongings into their bags. I had bought maybe one too many souvenirs, so we struggled to find a place for everything. When we were done, I slew myself across the end of the bed, breathing heavily, sweating a little bit.

Max groaned from the floor, “Why do you own so many things?!”

“Dude, I don’t even know. It’s gonna take me 12 years to unpack!”

He chortled, half-heartedly, patting his stomach as an afterthought. “I am soooo hungry. What do you wanna eat?”

I sat up as he did so, shrugging a bit, “You pick. I don’t have the energy for all that.”

“I’m good with the hotel restaurant if you are.”

“Fuck it.”

So, we sludged our way downstairs. I hadn’t been leaving my room much, worried you-know-who would cross my path and shake things up again. Though, I doubted he was looking for me. He hadn’t so much as texted me since last week. Oliver was probably sulking, convincing himself that he was the victim in this whole thing. The thought made my blood rush a little bit. I clenched my fist as the elevator doors closed, trying to focus on breathing and not screaming.

The past three had been probably one of the worst of my life. I was so…so sad. So angry. Confused. Nothing made sense, yet all of my fears had come true. It was like I knew all the answers, but my bones felt so put off by how they manifested themselves. Like, what do you mean the cold, dark, distant boy turned out to be a cheating, manipulative liar? Right on the money.

My rational mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that it still felt so…disappointing? Wrong? Fucked the fucking fuck up.

The doors slid open. I followed, quietly, behind Max as we headed for the inlet to the left of the front counter. This was a usual part of my new found routine, grabbing food with Max. Albeit, sneakily, with numerous texts between the two of us (me, badgering him) ensuring nobody else (Oliver) was down here. In avoiding him, I had been avoiding everybody else, too.

I could already see their knowing looks. Sam could read me like a book. Ronnie was way psychic and usually felt the vibe of a situation long before it occurred. Adam, obviously, already was aware. And I'm sure he would have relayed the information to Cyrus.

I was exuding this aura of heartbroken, school-girl-fantasy-crushed, sad-puppy shit. I felt tired, and I’m sure my eyes looked it, too. Any passerby probably could have read my emotions pretty well. No matter, I’d be out of here soon. Back home. I could heal, rest, relax, find somebody else to fuck and get the fuck over this dumb ass white boy.

My dumb ass white boy. I’d tried not to think about him, so deeply sunk into this angry feeling that I couldn’t even fathom the idea of missing what had hurt me. Alas, every once and a while (between every other curse I thought of) something would flash through my mind. A distant memory, an image of his deep-ocean blue eyes shining with flames from the rooftop firepit, triggered by a breath, a catch of the wind, a sink in my heart. I’d feel a little moth flicker in my chest. An air bubble, taut in my stomach, would have me hiccuping from gushing tears in an instant.

I think it was the deep blue suede of the hotel bar’s stools that did it this time. I brushed a hand, slowly, watching the color shift from the movement of the fabric. The lighter color reminded me of a time he felt the way I did right now. Sadness. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him, maybe his depravity was not comforted by me. But that moment, when I held him, when he nuzzled his head into my neck and began crying-

“Wanna drink?” Max rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back from where I was trudging through fleeting, erasing moments.

I ceased my body from flinching, willed away the wetness in my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get a drink.”

Which was a mistake.

One drink turned to appetizers turned to three drinks turned to main courses, 5 drinks, 2 shots, and dessert. Before I knew it, Max and I were cackling over some typo on some Twitter post. I gripped his shirt sleeve and hoped I wouldn’t slide off the bar stool. For the first time in a week, I wasn’t concerning myself with the logistics of sticking around in this public area as long as we had been. I wasn’t even thinking of Oliver. In fact, Max and I were discussing some of our favorite shitposts about American politics. My mind was far away from dumb Brits and idiotic Europeans.

Of course, the world had a very funny way of spitting in my face.

Adam, Cyrus, and- low and behold- Oliver came strolling into the bar right when Max and I finished ordering another drink. I felt a little sick, watching as they neared us. Oliver wasn’t paying attention. He never did. His head, sunken into his hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets. He moved like the Grim Reaper. I wondered if he had come to take my soul away.

Adam and Cyrus seemed…on edge. They noticed Max and I only after they’d made it halfway across the room. Adam hesitated on his next step, catching my eye, worriedly glancing between me and Oliver.

Max was aware, at this point. He cut himself off mid sentence, swiping a hand across his lips. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “Daisy…let’s go.”

His fingers brushed through mine in a desperate grasp to pull me along with him, towards the door. I was drunk. I was not thinking. I was hysterical, sad, heartbroken, angry. I tugged my hand away, instead flipping into the air to wave and cheerfully catch the group’s full attention.

“Cy! Adam!” I couldn’t quite catch his name on my tongue. I thought I might puke. “Hey, girl!”

Oliver looked up at the sound of voice. He stopped, but three feet from our little round table. The light, dim from the overhead lamps and LED strips behind the counter, caught the round pupils in his eyes. I watched as he blinked once, twice. Blue.

“Oliver!” There it was.

He met my eye. The corners of his lids wilted, like the petals of a flower, aged, saddened. Drops of rain dropping them in weight. Max looked between the two of us. Cyrus busied himself with buying a drink. Adam slouched in the awkward, pregnant air. Oliver ignored me, moved around our group to sit as far away as possible.

I clenched my jaw. Rage. Utter, pure anger. How dare he deny me even now? The fact that he had not come to my door in the past few days, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness- I was seething. And, now, he goes back to his old tricks. Pretending like I don’t exist.

I turned to Max, who was bracing for impact. His hands were wary, held up near me as if to catch my fall. I shrugged, smiled cheekily, wrinkled my nose. I bumped Adam’s shoulder with mine and declared, “Shots on me?”

He continued his smug slump in the bar stool for the next hour. Adam, Cyrus, Max, and I hung like the old pals we were, cracking jokes, swapping stories like we were surrounding a campfire. I glanced at Oliver every once in a while, hoping to accidentally make eye contact like we used to. He stared down at his phone or his glass. I was surprised the device worked considering he’d fucking forgotten my contact existed or something.

Ugh.

What a fucking ass hole.

Adam asked me a question, pulling my attention back in. “Are you excited for Germany?”

Oh. I’d almost forgotten all about this little plot. I knew that if I spoke loud enough, Oliver would hear. He’d react. I could almost hear it, the little hitch in his breath. The tickle in his throat. The flit of his tongue across his lips, the patter of his holey heart.

I felt my own chest jitter with the excitement, the want of a reaction I needed from him. The shock. The idea that I would be an ocean away from him. No longer at an arm’s length.

I turned towards Adam and rested my chin on my fist. I frowned, almost playfully, “Ugh, I hate having to tell you guys like this!”

Cyrus slowly lowered his glass from his lips, having been mid-drink, “What’s up?”

“I’m going home,” my brows furrowed in a naive look. Adam and Cyrus’ chins dropped a sliver. I pouted my lip, “Stop! I know! I’m so sad!”

I wanted to wait until the conversation was over to look down the bar, to see if even a fragment of what I was saying had affected him. But, I didn’t need to wait. Oliver had flinched. He literally flinched.

“Yeah, me, too,” Adam touched my hand. “Why so soon? I thought you were staying through August?”

“I was planning on it, but…they offered me a better position at the clinic I work at. I have to get home to start training,” I continued, a satisfied smirk teasing my mouth.

Cyrus lifted his glass, “Well, there’s nothing to be sad about, then! To your new job.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” the smirk slipped into a genuine smile. I really would miss these guys, but my drunken, stupid mind wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted more from Oliver. I wanted a white flag or a look or a…fuck, I wanted him.

I pushed, “I’ll really miss you guys. Max, with your corny-ass pick-up lines, Adam’s mom vibes, Cy’s ability to knock back more drinks than fucking- I don’t know, Spider-man, and not get drunk? Shit’s insane.”

I drank in the laughter for a moment, eyes lingering down the bar to Oliver. Then, I added a name to my list and narrowed my gaze, “Oliver,” he wouldn’t look. “With your need to ignore me in every room we’re in. I’ll really miss your cold fucking shoulder.”

Any laughter that may have hung onto our past moment faded. I heard Max take a sharp breath in through his teeth. Adam pressed his lips together. Cyrus looked over his shoulder at their friend. I didn’t know if he really knew, but he had to understand just a little bit. The vibes were always there. We thought we were sneaky, but we were so sickly up each other’s asses. We’d even run into Cyrus and Adam in the hallway that one time. I guess we were all really good at being hopefully fucking stupid and blind.

I leaned on my palm and stared that man down. I watched as he kept his chin, pointed ahead, like he was playing brave in the situation. His Adam's apple bobbed. Oliver clutched his glass, swung it back, slugged the liquid down. Slammed it back on the counter. Then, he stood up, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw a wad of bills onto the bar. He adjusted his hoodie and left.

I was dizzy. I stuttered back a step. Max touched my wrist, murmuring something or the other about heading back upstairs. Telling me I was too drunk.

I felt slow, felt dizzy, felt scared, felt angry, felt sad. I felt so sad. I felt so angry and so sad and…

And, my eyebrows furrowed in anger, the shock erasing itself from my frame. I took a deep, drunken breath and followed his trail. Fast. Legs pumping, arms swinging at my sides.

He was at the elevator, looking down at his shoes. I couldn’t get his name out. I think if I did the tears were going to fall out, The sobs were going to ricochet through my whole body and knock me over and kill me and I’d die and I’d never get to see that dumb asses blue eyes any more. Ever again. I wanted to see his blue eyes again. I wanted him to look at me and see me for what he sees me as. I wanted him to touch my hip and wring my neck and tell me I was the only one he wanted. I’d take it. One more time, then he could go back to her. I just wanted a goodbye.

He was stepping into the elevator. The doors were closing. I jammed a hand between and he flinched, again.

I stepped in just as the doors began to shut again. His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He was frozen. Frowning. He looked…sad.

I almost reached a hand out, almost caressed his cheek and pulled him into me. But, I didn’t. Instead, I said (yelled?), “What the fuck is your problem?”

He stammered, “Wha-what?”

I struggled to repeat myself. I needed to cry. It was going to open. But, for another moment, the anger took over, “You fucking heard me. What is your problem, Oliver? What the fuck did I do to deserve this kind of shit? I don’t wanna hear more sad excuses about your fucking mental health and your-your fucking anxiety. God, I- I fucking…I don’t even k- you fucking ignored me back there! I looked right at you and I said your name and I smiled at you and…I’ve been so nice to you. I’ve been nice to you all summer and you treat me like a piece of fucking shit. God, I’ve…I’ve told you so much. I told you about my mom and…and you laid there and you told me all this bullshit about how much you liked me! And then you…youre a fucking-”

I cut myself off, out of breath. I was sweating a little bit. I think I had spit a few times. And I paced the elevator so much that I was flush against the wall. I leaned my shoulders back against the cool metal, wringing my hands, tugging at my hair.

He didn’t say anything. I breathed, hard, I thought, long. I kept thinking, and I kept getting angrier. I turned back to him, rearing up again. I had more to say, I just, I just needed to get some more concise- more thoughtful thoughts, right, exactly. Yes. I can…

“And who the fuck is F-”

“Daisy.”

There it was, my name. It was my name, soft and angelic, and holy. And a moment on his lips that he carved out of time and held a space for, for me to hear.

I stopped. I felt nothing for a moment. I looked at him and he was already waiting to see my eyes. My bottom lip wobbled.

“You’re obviously upset. And, drunk. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning? We can both get some rest.” He was always so good at two very distinct things: pushing stuff (people) aside and speaking to me in a way that felt like a cloud was wrapping itself around me. Like the cloud wanted me to lay in its arm and would coo me to sleep. Like I was safe and loved and-

Loved.

He made me feel loved.

I straightened up a bit at the thought. I pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Who the fuck is Fiona? What the fuck was that all about? Oliver, I’m not going to stand here and beg for you to love me. Or beg for you to come back to me. I just want a goddamn apology. For wasting my time, for playing with my fucking heart. For stringing me along. You knew-”

The tears came. Perfect timing. “You fucking know that I love you. You have known for a very long time. And you are an idiotic fool if you still don’t believe it. But I am not going to play this game with you. I told you that already and now I seriously mean it. I broke my back this summer to make sure that I was who you wanted me to be. So I was cool and chill and could take as much space as you wanted me to. I went with everything you asked of me, I was there when you needed a warm body. I comforted you and…and tried to fucking fix you like I knew you wanted me to. But, I am done. I am done with this. I am done-”

My voice cracked. I swiped an angry, shaking hand across my face. Vision blurred. “I am done with you. This is ridiculous. I don’t know if you meant to, but you have manipulated this situation so that you have been the one benefiting. I’m tired of letting you think you’re some broken, sad puppy dog on the side of the road that needs to be taken care of. Grow the fuck up. And, now I find out that there’s some other woman? That I- I’m the other woman, maybe? That you’re cheating on her with me? That I’m your fucking slut? Side hoe?”

I had paced again, this time, towards him. He was taller than me, but my anger was making me taller. He was almost…cowering. I pointed my finger again, nearly chest to chest with him.

“Fuck you, Oliver. Fuck you and fuck London and fuck your stupid fucking music.”

The doors opened, on our floor. I walked out, but turned to face him before he was really gone from me. I wanted to see his eyes one last time.

He was crying. I popped an arm into the door again, buying myself more time to kick him while he was down. I thought this would bring me closure. I thought I’d feel better if he knew, truly knew, the entirety. Every thought. Every hurt I felt.

“You asked me at the beginning of the summer what I was searching for. I thought that it was you. And I thought that I had found you.”

I shook my head sadly. The doorbell on the elevator rang. I stepped back, “I was right. There is no deeper meaning. Goodbye, Oliver.”

I stood there for a second, as though I could still see his blue eyes, boring through the metal doors.

Then, I sludged my way to my hotel room. I opened the door, shoulders slumped, body aching. I knew my makeup was smeared all over my face. My hair was wrecked. I couldn’t stop sniffling or whimpering. I walked into the room.

Sam sat up in his bed. Ronnie was beside him. I barely made it two more steps before Sam caught me in his arms.

–

The sky was gray. The weather in Europe usually was, especially up here on this side of the continent. I wasn’t surprised when, on our drive to the airport, it started spitting rain. I shivered underneath the cover of my hoodie, yet walked slowly through the entrance.

I remember when I had first dropped down in London, wide-eyed, hopeful. I think it had been raining then, too. But, I hadn’t cared. Come to think of it, it was raining pretty much everyday we had been in London.

Oliver was right about a couple things.

Back then, just three months ago, I hadn’t cared about the sun’s shadow curving from behind the clouds, nor did I mind that it was usually quite chilly outside. Now, I felt anger, annoyance at the weather, at the people, at the world.

At him. The stupid weight of my suitcase. The drag in my step. The wetness of my clothes and the chill of the wind.

I felt older, in the worst way. I was a different age, considering my birthday had passed while I’d been here. But, I felt old in a way that was draining. I felt like I had wasted so much time, energy, and all I had left were weary bones and sadness. Just how much I had left, I didn’t know. But I did know that as soon as I got back home, I would be rotting in my bed for a day or two.

Sam, Max, and Ronnie came to the airport early with me. My flight time had been pulled forward by an hour, so I needed to get here sooner than I thought. I wasn’t complaining, though. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the hotel. Out of here. Out of London.

I hurried the process of packing my last few things. Stuffed my breakfast down my throat. Impatiently waited in the taxi, knee bouncing, as Sam and Max loaded the trunk with all of our things. Ronnie slid in beside me and became the first reason that I cried that day.

She reared a look over her shoulder, out the back window, to check on Max and Sam. Then, with an awkward sigh, she turned her knees towards me, “Peaches?”

I glanced up from my lap and the bounce of my knee slowed, “Yeah?”

Upon noticing the somber gaze in her eyes, my brows furrowed. “What’s up?” I added, fully presenting her my full attention.

Ronnie rubbed her nose in a seemingly nervous manner, “I just wanted to say…um, ew. Sorry.”

I softly giggled at her disgust with whatever sentence she was trying to form. “What is it?”

She finally met my eye in a fervently forward manner, “I usually have fun on tour. But this summer was…it was extra special. Getting to know you has been…so cool. I don’t know. I just…I love you, Daisy. You’ve become like a sister to me.”

I couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in my eyes. “Oh, Ronnie,” I sniffled, hugging her around the shoulders.

She pulled me close to her and I swear I heard her sniffle a bit, too. “I’m sorry for not noticing what was happening. I should’ve been there for you more. I got caught up in my own-”

“Don’t even apologize,” I reared back with my reply, “No. It’s nobody’s fault. I’m not even blaming myself for what happened. It was a stupid, weird situation. It was my responsibility to come to you if I needed help. I just needed…I just need to go home now.”

Ronnie smiled a sad, peaceful smile. “I hope I get to see you again soon. I don’t know what I will do without your bright light.”

“Oh, you will. You guys will be in the US soon. Sam said he was gonna drop by. I am positive you’ll be there, too,” I dropped a sly wink.

Ronnie watched my face for a moment, “I mean, of course you know now. But…” she narrowed her eyes, grinning in shocked realisation, “Fucker. You knew the whole time?!”

“Of course I knew the whole time. Sam is-” I snorted, “Sam is not hiding his lovesick, puppy-dog eyes.”

Ronnie’s gaze widened slightly, “I-”

The doors of the taxi popped open as the boys joined us, Max in the back on my other side, Sam in the front. He saw our laughing, secretive expressions in the rearview mirror and turned back. “What are you two doing?”

I brushed my hands across my cheeks to clear whatever tears might’ve been rolling still, then shook my head. “Nothing, Sam-Ham.”

He turned his eyes to Ronnie and tilted his chin forward. She shrugged, a smug smile contorting her once saddened face. Ronnie dropped a wink, “Nothing at all.”

The second person to make me cry was Max. Out of everyone, he was probably my best friend at this point. We had spent so much time together, out drinking, dancing, holed up in my hotel room with trays of room service, movies on the tv. He had been there through one of the most terrifying, exhilarating, strange summers of my life. We were bonded forever, now. I could feel it.

He was helping me check in while Sam and Ronnie headed to drop off our baggage. They were all just planning on hanging for the extra hour until it was time to check in for their flight. I was grateful they all wanted to sacrifice the time for me. To them, though, I knew it was second nature.

Some people made it easy, loving me.

I shook away the thoughts because the attendant was handing me my ticket. She reiterated boarding time, twenty minutes from now, and wished me a safe flight. “Thank you,” I nodded before turning back to Max.

The tall blonde was watching me. I could tell he was on the verge of tears from just the way that his shoulders shrugged forward. It made my heart swell, knowing how much of an impact I had had on them.

He tried to straighten up as I looked him in the eye. Then, he opened his mouth to say something. I threw myself into his arms before he could. Hugging me tight, Max brushed a hand down the back of my head.

“Oh, sweet, lovely angel. I am going to miss you so.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else to start crying into his chest. Max felt the rock of my shoulders and sniffled into my hairline. “Don’t start, love. I won’t be able to stop, myself,” he chuckled shortly.

We stood like that for a few minutes, maybe more, before I stepped back. I rubbed my eyes on the inside of my sweatshirt, knowing my face was flushed and probably swelling. Max touched his fingers to my wrists and gently brushed aside my hands. He took in my visage, so delicately, and sighed. “Can I just say…”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed through a sob. More tears fell.

Max rubbed my shoulders, “No, no, no, love. It’s okay. No more tears, okay? We’ll be okay. Just…I just want- I need to tell you how important you are. I know you’re going to go home and things are going to start to settle and you’re going to start to think so many things about yourself. You are so easy to love, Daisy. It is like breathing to me, to Ronnie, to Sam, Sasha. It is breathing. And you are worthy of it, too. That’s all. I just…I just needed to tell you, okay?”

I didn’t say anything else. I just whimpered and pulled him in closer to me.

Sam was the worst.

Since the evening before, when I had broken down in his arms and told him, through my blubbering, a short synopsis of what had happened, we hadn’t spoken much. I didn’t know if it was simply because we didn't have enough time. But, I was feeling worse because of it.

I needed my big brother more than anybody else. Sam knew me better than anybody else, even if we hadn’t been around each other as often as we used to. He still understood me. We shared the same blood, for God’s sake.

Yet, as we sat there, in the waiting area of my plane’s gate, he didn’t even look at me. He stared down at the floor, hands folded in his lap. He sat across from Ronnie, Max, and I, making it known that he wanted nothing to do with the conversation. When he first sat there, the aisle a wide gap between us, I furrowed my brows. But, then, Ronnie and Max striked up some topic that I invested myself and my attention into.

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal until they called for me. I stood up, faster than I should’ve, to be honest, and began to gather my things. Phone, bag, jacket, passport. I ran the list over in my head, three times over.

All the while, Sam slowly stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and watched his feet as he scuffed his sneakers across the carpeted floor.

I passed my eyes over him for a moment, holding my breath. Surely, my brother would have something to say to me.

He didn’t make a move.

I began walking the short distance to my gate. Before I moved to get in line, though, I turned back to my friends. Max jumped for a hug first, barely allowing me enough time to fully settle back on my heels. I dug my feet into the ground to gain traction as his ginormous body came toppling into my arms. Ronnie joined in the hug yet struggled to toss her arms over Max’s tall frame. He adjusted as we all shared a laugh and tucked her in beside me.

He called over his shoulder, voice muffled, “Get in here, Sam-Ham!”

I heard my brother elicit a laugh. It felt refreshing to hear. Then, I felt the hug grow tighter as he joined in on Max’s other side. We didn’t stay like that for long. It was stuffy and I wasn’t getting much air.

So, I tapped Max’s back and said, “Alright. Let me go.”

I gave individual hugs to everybody, voicing my own grateful, somewhat short, goodbyes.

Then, I turned to my brother. He evaded my eye contact for a moment or two. Then he pulled me in. Tight.

Out of nowhere, “I’m sorry if he ruined your summer.”

Tensing up from the words, the mention of him, I slowly pulled back from Sam’s embrace. He held onto my back, sort of cradling me. The guilt lying in his eyes was far worse than anything I’d ever seen flash across his face. My own gaze softened from the taut expression it had anxiously contorted to.

“What?” I breathily inquired, unsure if I had heard him correctly, saddened that he was obviously carrying so much hurt from my stupid mistakes. “Why? Sam, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, Daz, I just…” Sam’s arms fell from around me. I missed the warmth as soon as the chill of the vast room settled in around my sweatshirt. He ran a veiny hand across his forehead, “I'm supposed to be there for you. Protect you. And I already suck at the first part.”

“Sam,” I grasped his wrist, slipping his fingers between my hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s…honestly, if my summer was ruined, it was because of my own shitty decisions. Besides, you don’t suck at being there for me. I can’t believe you would even think that!”

I clasped his hand tight between mine, brows furrowed. To hear him blame himself, to hear him look this way…This whole summer, I had spent my time obsessing over somebody who didn’t even want me. I should have paid more attention to my brother, who was part of the reason I was here in the first place.

The farther I got from the start of this journey, literally and figuratively, the blurrier my original dreams became. There was no meaning to find here- only what was already there.

The thought made me lick my lips in nervous realisation.

Sam let out a frustrated, breathy chortle. “Don’t give me so much credit. I’ve been…gone. Running away from home. For so long. Worried about getting out of that apartment and town and away from…from anything that could remind me of her. Remind me of mom. I left you behind in the process.”

The wetness in my eyes began to pour over. “Oh, Sam,” my lips trembled out as I dove back into his arms. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as though an airplane would dive down and pull him away. I needed this. This kind of hug. This moment.

Clarity was nearer than ever before.

“Listen,” I pulled back, “I need you to understand, okay? My summer was not ruined. It wasn’t. This entire experience has been the most amazing, wonderful, awesome, cool time. I got to spend so much time getting to see you, getting to see your world. And, don’t ever blame yourself for getting away. You had to. I see it now- You had to come be a part of this wonderful band, go with them on all of their amazing tours. I see it on your face, Sam. This is what you’re supposed to do, okay? My mistakes are my own. Not yours.”

“I just…” Sam stared at the floor for a moment, tongue quick to go and defend his original claim But he paused and let the information process. “I…I just wish I could punch him in the face or something. What a douche. Dragging you into his mess. I should’ve known, too. The way he treated you- it was so obvious. For that, I am sorry, Daisy. I should’ve said something. Honestly,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I should beat his ass.”

Max and Ronnie, who had been trying to make it appear as though they were not eavesdropping, laughed at the last line. I opened up Sam and I’s moment by taking a step back. I gave them space to join us here. Ronnie clasped Sam’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder, “As funny as that would be, he is still your boss. And your bandmate,” she nodded to Max.

The tall blond rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it civil.”

It was my turn to scold. I punched Max in the shoulder to gain his eye contact, “Don’t try. Just do it. He’s not a bad person. He just…sucks. A little bit.”

Talking about him, living in the truth of the situation, confronting all the dark realizations- it was a heavy weight to bear. I felt my shoulder slinking forward, as though I were Atlas with the dark, cloudy sky above me. Though I didn’t want to be rid of these three, I needed to be gone already. I needed to go before it all came crashing down again. I didn’t want anybody else to see me cry again. It was…embarrassing, to say the least.

So, I allowed one last hug from each of them and then turned towards my gate. I boarded the plane, mindlessly, going through all of the motions. Like I was used to leaving, like I was good at it. Like I was strong. But, I felt weak. I felt heavy and sad and angry and…

The city was gray. I remember it being sunny, summer-weather, though there had been a chill in the air. He always said it was. Maybe it always had been and I was…crazy. Wide-eyed. Desperate or naive or whatever.

But it was clear as day now, how dreary it looked from this airplane window. The wind whipped at the airline workers, shuffling luggage to their places, green vests billowing up. My breath fogged at the window which narrowed my pointed gaze. It seemed the plane was being pumped full of heat. I hadn’t realized it was that cold outside.

I guess fall was coming.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is your reminder to place your devices on airplane mode. We are approaching take-off,” a thick, European accent declared over the PA system.

I wrestled to retrieve my phone from my bookbag, which was squished in between my feet. When I was able to lift it towards me, the screen lit up. There was a buzz from the device that vibrated my hand then the appearance of a text message.

Oliver: Daisy, I need to tell you…

The message cut itself off, only the sneakpeek visible due to the system settings I had on my device.

It was ominous, though, like it had chosen to cut itself off there.

The tail end of that message could be- anything.

Daisy, I need to tell you…you’re a dumb bitch?

…I fucking hate you.

I love you?

Please, stay?

I don’t think I wanted to know.

My thumb hesitated over the screen, barely gracing it’s smooth glass. If I tapped on the message, if I saw what he said…would it change things?

Would it make me hate him even more?

Would it make me want to stay?

I didn’t want anything else to make my decisions anymore. I wanted to make my own choices, based on my own actions, thoughts. I was tired of living up to everybody’s image of me. If that was all I learned this summer, to be true to what I wanted, to be true to myself…then maybe this summer wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe there had been something to find- maybe that something was me.

The shaking in my hands must’ve made the screen react to a ghost of my fingerprint. The option to scan my face ID came as soon as a flight attendant passed by my section, a bright smile on their face.

“Hi, friend! Did you put your device on airplane mode?” They asked with a slight gesture towards my phone.

I glanced back at the screen as she pointed. The message was open. That’s where it had ended, what Oliver had sent to me. “I need to tell you something.” But, he was still typing, still coming up with words to say.

My hands moved quickly, sliding down the menu and thumbing the airplane option. If he were still typing, I couldn’t see it anymore.

And any messages he may try to send would go green, undelivered, lost.

Forgotten, in the skies, somewhere between London and Germany, during the beginning of a cold, cold autumn.

[kathleenkatmary]

I will say it over and over again until I have no voice to say it with... FRAMING. MATTERS.

EDIT: Okay, I'm going to expand on this because I remembered that there have been multiple times when I've said this that someone truly did not know what I'm talking about.

Framing matters. The way a narrative frames a character and their actions matters. In so many different ways. It matters to the message the writers are trying to send. It matter to the message that is actually sent. It matter to what the character and their actions end up meaning or representing with in the narrative. And it matters to how the audience perceives and feels about the character.

Obviously, that last bit is what matters here. The way a character and their actions are framed within the narrative can be consistent with the things they do and say, or it can be inconsistent with the things they do and say. And Spike and Xander actually serve as a really good demonstration of this. As has already been pointed out, when Spike does something bad and toxic and fucked up, more often than not it's framed as such. Yes, from pretty early on he was written to be far more complex than just the unambiguous bad guy, and from season 4 on in particular he's given an arc that gives him more and more chances to do good things and to do the right thing, and for increasingly less selfish reasons. But the narrative never treats those things as some sort of get out of jail free card that frames everything he does as good and not selfish. His toxic bullshit is still framed as toxic bullshit. Are there a few moments here and there where things he does aren't appropriately framed? Sure, probably. But you're going to find that in a pretty much any show, because no show is perfect.

Xander, on the other hand, is pretty regularly (as the poster above says, at least 50% of the time) framed in a way that is not consistent with the way he behaves. Not only is he framed as the loveable loser harmless best friend, he's also more than once framed in ways that treat him doing the literal bare minimum of not being a horrible person as though he's some kind of ultimate good guy hero (him not taking advantage of Buffy when she was under the love spell and the way he's treated for that is a great example) or that treat his really gross and toxic ideas and attitudes as being completely correct (the bullshit he spouted when Riley gave Buffy the ultimatum). Even when his attitudes or behavior is framed appropriately, it's usually stuff that's brushed off pretty easily, even when it has dire consequences (like him not telling Buffy that Willow was going to do the spell to give Angel his soul back).

Now, of course, framing isn't the only thing that determines how an audience will react to characters. For one thing, there are plenty of instances of fans just going crazy over characters who are framed as being heroes or desirable romantic leads even though that framing is inconsistent with how they actually behave and the things they actually do. And there are plenty of other things that go into how an audience reacts to a character. There are certain character traits, from aspects of their personality to just bits of their design, that will make a character more appealing. Especially when it comes to online audiences.

So yeah, Spike as a character hitting a lot of those "fandom favorite" boxes almost certainly contributes to people favoring him to at least some extent. But I think the framing really is the big thing here that makes people so much more likely to favor Spike, and so much more likely to call out Xander. The narrative is pretty regularly calling out Spike. His behavior is weird and creepy and the narrative points that out regularly. So it's not really something the fandom needs to do. Going online and being like "so, Spike kidnapping Buffy, tying her up, and telling her he's going to kill his ex girlfriend in front of her to prove his love is so creepy and toxic, right?" isn't really necessary because... yeah. The narrative knows it, and therefor so does the vast majority of the audience. But with Xander that is not something the narrative usually does. When he, for example, condescendingly corrects Anya, the narrative doesn't treat that critically, it treats it as a funny thing that Xander is probably right to do. When he agrees with everything Riley said when he gave Buffy that ultimatum and treats Buffy like she's the problem in that relationship, it doesn't frame him as wrong, or as projecting so many of his own issues with women and with Buffy in particular onto the situation. He's framed as the man talking sense into Buffy. So it does fall on the audience to call it out, and to call the show out for not doing it.

Like I said, inconsistent framing isn't something that an audience always notices, but with a show like Buffy, where a lot of - really, I would even say most of - the characters are usually appropriately framed, and where you do have an instance of a guy's creepy, toxic behavior appropriately framed, I think that makes it easier for viewers to clock it when there's a character that isn't being appropriately framed. Even if viewers doing consciously realize it's why they're reacting negatively to a character. Personally, I think that's also at least part of the reason a lot of people don't react well to Riley. It's not because he's 'boring' or because they ship Buffy with someone else and he 'gets in the way', or whatever. At least, not completely. I really think the way his character was framed, especially in season 5, was often not really in line with what was actually happening with the character, and people could feel that.

Are there Spike fans who just completely ignore it all, ignore the framing and all the shitty, creepy, toxic shit Spike has done so that they can feel like they're allowed to like him 'guilt free', or so they can engage with the character completely uncritically? Sure. Of course. Any character with any amount of fanbase is going to have people who do that. It's just a part of fandom. And I'm not going to act like Spike doesn't check a lot of boxes of typical "fandom favorite" types, and that is going to make people more likely to be drawn to him as a character. But there's a lot of critical analysis of Buffy that happens, even just in online fandom spaces, analysis that goes far deeper than just that kind of more surface level fandom engagement. And even then, so much of what you see is incredibly critical of Xander and the way he's written while being much more favorable to Spike and the way he's written. That's not just fangirls ignoring the bad stuff their fav does while dogpiling on another character. That's people recognizing the problems with Xander's writing and the very stark difference in the framing between Xander and Spike.

At the end of the day, fictional characters are not real people. The way they're written and how audiences react to them is about a lot more than just the way a character behaves and the things they say and do. There's a lot more that goes into it, and framing is a big part of it.

ok I’m only on season 5 but can someone explain to me how Xander is the universally hated one for, from what I can tell, some bad choices and worse jokes, while Spike, the fandom’s babygirl and beloved heartthrob, literally stalks Buffy, holds her captive, and then commissions a robot version of her when it’s made clear he’ll never have her. like someone please explain it because the math is not mathing.

[theocddiaries]

[In a car, rushing] Knuckles: Could you stop yelling at me? I'm trying to concentrate here. Rouge: Oh, sorry, it’s just I’m a little sensitive because I got used as bait because you didn’t want to give that jerk a stupid little figurine! Knuckles: It’s not about the figurine! It’s what it represents! Rouge: Oh, nice! And what about me?! What— Watch out!!! [Knuckles crashes the car into a cake tasting stand, taking Sonic with him. Knuckles gets out of the car to check on Tails.] Knuckles: Oh, the kid! Tails, are you okay?! [hugs him]: I could never forgive myself if something happened to you! Plus, Sonic would kill me. Sonic [trying to push himself up with his elbows]: Don’t worry about that, you almost killed me yourself. Knuckles: How could I not hit you when you ran right into the car, you reckless hedgehog?! Besides, it’s Rouge’s fault, she wouldn't stop yelling at me. Rouge: You know what? Go to hell! I was tortured because of you! [Omega and Shadow approach to check on her.] Omega: WHAT? Shadow: What happened?? Knuckles: Nothing, an old childhood friend from a neighbouring tribe that ended up being enemies with mine and wanted me to return a figurine that my tribe won fair and square. And since I refused, they kidnapped your sister to make me give in. Shadow: Are you okay? Knuckles: Yeah, yeah, I don’t give in easily under pressure. Shadow: I wasn’t talking to you, idiot! Knuckles: What a temper this family has… Sonic: Excuse me, the one who got run over wants a bit of your attention… Can someone have the decency to call an ambulance?! Rouge: No, it's okay, I was just locked up inside the bathroom without my phone. It was hard, but I'll get over it. Thank you for your concern, though. [Shadow and Omega look at her, and Shadow pushes her, making a dismissive gesture] Omega: ROUGE, YOU MATCH PERFECTLY WITH THE ECHIDNA. Shadow: Yes, because you're just as dumb when you want to be. You scared me. Rouge: Haha! You care about me! In the end, this was worth it. Knuckles: You're welcome. Sonic: For the love of… Robotnik [approaches]: Hey, Sonic, how’s it going? Tell me something. Sonic: I think I’ve broken— Robotnik: No, man, about my cake! I win, right??? Sonic: …Look, Eggman, I’ll say this in one simple sentence: go screw yourself, your cake, and this stupid contest! Robotnik: What?? I spent the whole day sabotaging the others to—?? Amy: Sabotage??? Robotnik: …Who said sabotage here? Omega: TRUE. THE CORRECT WORD WAS SABOTAGING. Robotnik: Shut up, piece of trash! Amy: Seriously, it’s impossible to do anything in here, you mess things up even when we’re on the same page!!!! Robotnik: And if you know how I am, why invite me!? This is as much my fault as it is yours!!! [Sonic stands up with Tails’ help.] Knuckles: Damn, Sonic, you can run really well, but you still don’t know how to walk? Sonic: …Look, Knuckles, I’m not kicking you because you broke my leg. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m limping my way to the hospital. Amy [goes to support him by his free arm]: You’re right, Sonic, I’m sorry. [to the group]: Selfish!!!! Robotnik: Selfish, she says… Tell me, who’s gonna return my ten minutes watching baking tutorials??? [to Knuckles]: All because of you, idiot. How did it occur to you to drive a car when you can barely breathe and walk at the same time! Knuckles: Oh, here we go! It’s all my fault! Now it turns out I’m driving a car without a license and I run over a hedgehog and a dozen cakes, and suddenly I’m irresponsible…

[catboydreamer]

"overgrown anger" ajax/tartaglia x reader

you and ajax have a complicated relationship. he makes it complicated, as your feelings are quite simple. you love him endlessly but he seems to never be able to decide. 

it frustrates you to no end; endless nights of being awoken at one am by him knocking on your window and you let him in. you always do even with a pout dragged across your lips some nights. even if you punch him as soon as he gets inside. even if you have friends over, he will put a finger to his lips and say, “shh. i’ll be quiet”. and if you dare to try to move on, and how dare you, he will grab the man up by his arms and haul him out the front door (though he itches to throw him out the window but he knows better with you) (he cannot burn every bridge). he never directly confronts the problems he creates by one am visits. of course, in the morning he’s gone, the only traces of him are his ajax sized imprints in the mattress. 

there’s always more for you to comment on with him. he creates more scenarios wherever he goes, and god damn is he wherever you go. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was obsessed with you but you do know better. you’ve known this man since you were seven. you’ve seen him fall in love once and it wasn’t exactly pretty in the end but during? he was nothing like this. with her, he was straightforward in his affections; he spoke his affections clearly, brought her flowers at least once a week, and always held her hand. he was gentle and calm but looked at her with a smile on his face. 

to admit things you didn’t really want to, you were quite devastated discovering your own selfish feelings for him. you felt so guilty the entire time as you’d smile weakly and make an effort to become his girlfriend’s friend. she was kind, the type of person you could never hate and yet, every time you looked at her you felt a bitter taste in your mouth. 

secretly, relief flowed through your body the day that thye broke up. you were there for the entire thing too; you saw the cold and lifeless look he gave her as he tells her its over. its a side she’s never seen but a side you’ve seen countless times. 

you never ask him about it, just walk quietly beside him waiting for words to tumble out but he turns to you abruptly and asks you to accompany him fishing. he never speaks of her again. he never cries or looks upset, either. 

something about the break up felt wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on it…

bonus: you see her around town a few weeks after he broke up with her and she gives you the coldest glare you have ever seen. you simply assume its because you are associated with ajax. her mouth moves to say something but her eyes widen and she walks off… very strongly. minutes later, “boo!” comes up from behind your ear. it was ajax. 

since growing older, he’s not as prominent in your life as before but he still visits at one am if nothing else. its not every night but it is frequent. 

anxiety starts to eat at you about the whole situation. you don’t want it to stop per say because you really do miss him but you wish he would just be honest. constantly, you feel as if he’s hiding something from you. something unknown lays behind his icy blue eyes. you both know it and inevitably he will have to reveal it to you. 

still, he plays with you, giving you a toothy grin one day as he hangs onto your every word but he’s gone the next day. you won’t hear from him for weeks as you constantly look for him in the crowds and stay up until four am waiting by the window. and just when you think you are over him, he’s right there all over again. sometimes you wonder if he’s real and just once, do you let this slip. its gotta be the hundredth time he’s done this back and forth with you and you’re reaching your wits ends. you try so hard to hold back the lump in your throat. the air feels heavy again, if only on your end with your racing thoughts and sweaty limbs. he’s cold again, leaning against the window sill with a far off, faded look in his gaze. he isn’t even looking at you. your chest fills with a hot boil of overpowering warmth. 

you puff your cheeks with hot air and let it all out with a huff. for the record, the action does nothing to sizzle the heat. next, you wipe your hands on your fluffy pajama pants and stand up. 

your voice is so small when you speak(smaller than you’d like it to), “ajax?” 

for a split second, you see his gaze flicker to you, and is that a softness around the edges? no, you are imagining it within your dreary and delusional mind. “what.” he’s back to the deadness you are slowly starting to get used to. at least you try to tell yourself that. 

“just..” you pause, letting out a frustrated growl, “are you even real anymore?”

he twists his body towards you, a twitch of a cocky smile on his lips. “would you like to test that?”

before he can take back what he said, you are marching up to him. his icy blue eyes widen and he tries to put his hands up slowly but you are too fast. before you can control the bubbling anger that fills your senses, your hand comes in contact with the plumpness on his cheek. hard. 

he stares at you in shock, and you stare back. shocked and still very angry. you don’t even want to apologize despite not meaning to do it. 

your breathing is uneven and heavier with every breath. 

he doesn’t say anything, not sure what he could say at this point. he only watches you, seemingly searching for something in your gaze before he leans his head back and closes his eyes. a red mark starts to form on his cheek. 

“thats for leading me on.”

he doesn’t even move as he speaks, “i never-”

“oh, but you did. multiple times. or did you forget?”

his eyes fly open. oh, he remembers. how could he ever forget that? the one night he let himself indulge and become intoxicated by your touch. 

he gulps down the bitterness, “no. i didn’t.”

you take a step forward into his space, close enough he can feel your warming breathe. “then, explain it to me. all of it.”

he aches to trace a finger over your jawline. his fingers twitch at his side in response. he tries once more, “then, can i kiss you?” 

you frown. “no! you can explain your behavior. i’ve got time.” 

he sighs dramatically, “fine. i’m sorry to disappoint but there’s no tale to tell. i’m not worthy of you. that much became painfully obvious to me, quickly.” 

your hands move to grip into his biceps. “what. what does that mean?”

he rolls his eyes. “oh, you know? im unworthy of your love and affections. don’t you know this already?”

your grip gets stronger. he lets you do it without a sound. “uh, no? what the hell, ajax?”

for the first time all night, he truly looks at you. he devours you with his gaze, searching for any semblance of hesitation or deception in your eyes. they are as pure as ever. if not a little more blazed. “you’re not lying to me.”

you say nothing, your eyes give him all the confirmation he needs.

he wipes a hand across his lips. “shit. shit. SHIT. I fucked up,” you’ve never seen this raw, pure fearful look that creeped into his eyes. 

a bitter smile creeps in, “yep. you did.”

he’s frozen. “let go of me.”

instead, you creep even closer so that there is no distance between the two of you. your grip loosens on his arms and slowly travels up until they stop on his jawline. “i can’t,” your voice breaks in half. the same half he broke into a million little shards. and he’s responsible for piecing them back together. 

he stares at you wide eyed, bottom lip slightly trembling. you know better than anyone that he’s fighting back tears. not for long, not if you keep looking at him like that. “please,” he’s begging you at this point.

your heart breaks for him but your heart is more broken. so you whisper to him, “i won’t. i won’t allow it.”

he leans his forehead against yours and screws his eyes shut. tears slowly drip from his eyes down his cheeks. they don’t stop for a long time. 

at some point you have led him to lean his head against your chest as quiet cries leaving his mouth. 

he hasn’t cried in a very long time. 

your hand reaches to stroke strands of hair in a calming motion. 

once he’s ready, he slowly pushes himself off of you. his eyes are bloodshot red and he turns his head to the side. you aren’t holding him in place but you also don’t need to. he knows you aren’t going anywhere. 

“ajax. you need to hear this. please listen.”

he doesn’t make a sound but he doesn’t protest either. progress.

“i’ve loved you since we were thirteen. i never stopped, even for a second, despite what you put me through as a result.”

ajax opens his mouth to speak for a moment but clams it shut in the next. 

you sigh and out come the words, “you are worthy of a grand love. i don’t want to come off too strong but… if you’ve reacted this way, i must mean a lot to you, huh?”

ajax turns to face you, a fiery gaze lingering within his face. “you don’t understand. you mean the world to me. you’re better than the air i breath. i don’t need to breathe if it means you get to. i can’t live without you, and i’ve tried.”

you can’t help but grin, you’re just so happy. finally you can feel how you feel out in the open. you mind is racing at the same pace as your heart. 

ajax leans down, close enough that he’s only a hair away from your lips, “does this mean i can kiss you now?”

you wrap a arm around his neck and pull him down towards you. sealing the night with a kiss is all the confirmation anyone could ever need.

you just have to work on his self esteem issues because holy shit this whole scenario could’ve been avoided!

[tomlivingspace]

Wait, fernsong in your art is manipulative??!?!?!?

I thought he was uwu softie...

(Your art is fire tho, like it very much)

THESE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE!!!

A lot of people who claim to be "empaths" or say shit like "im baby" (do people say that anymore?) and have those bumper stickers like "don't honk at me or i'll cry" are some of the most manipulative and miserable people to be around. not a hard and fast rule obviously, but the expectation that someone being sensitive meaning that they can't also be a selfish asshole is exactly what they're betting on.

so generally the way i like to portray fernsong is that sometimes he really doesn't realize he's being manipulative, but he's realized at least that moping around and crying will get him his way. he generally has a low self esteem and takes things very personally. the perception of him being a "big ol' softie" or whatever is exactly how he gets away with subtle bullying and and guilt-tripping.

and realistically, what's ivypool going to do? she's bigger and stronger than he is, and she's notoriously got a short fuse. if they start yelling, who do you think people are going to assume started the argument?

[astralazuli]

I have vague recollections about a story or stories involving a girl making a wish at a well & running into an old woman who asks for help getting a drink from the well. It's extra fuzzy in my memory from here, 'cause I remember versions where the girl helps the old woman, doesn't help the old woman, & also one where there are actually two girls, one who helps the old woman & one who doesn't/one who is rude and selfish & one who is polite and helpful to others. There is a blessing/curse from the old woman that causes the girl/one of the girls to have tears that are pearls and laughter that is emeralds and I feel like there might have been sapphires &/or rubies &/or diamonds as well that came from her mouth when she tried to speak, possibly for different things she'd say or sounds she'd make. I feel like in any case, it turns out to be a curse after all, for reasons of being unable to speak or loved ones manipulating her to make her cry so she'd make more pearls or possibly a version where she couldn't eat?

Oh! Wait wait wait!

I think one of the folktales I'm thinking of with two girls, the one who was rude & selfish produced bugs when she spoke to represent the ugly things she said & the polite caring girl produced gems & the pearl tears were a part of it. & the moral was something about being kind to strangers because your words could have wildly unforeseen consequences. Also the polite girl's family was destitute & her pearl tears saved them from starving & poverty & the rude girl's family disowned her because all the vermin that came from her mouth when she spoke were ruining crops or something.

I still feel like there was a version where the pearl tears were related to producing gems when speaking being a curse somehow, but I'm having a hard time retrieving those memories.

Also I think Gail Carson Levine wrote a novella version of one these that I read when I was a kid, 'cause I was Obsessed with Gail Carson Levine's books back then & she had a series of versions of various fairy &/or folk tales.

If you answered yes and there's anything about the story you'd like to share, I would love to hear it!

[akhillaous]

@wlfhardinc here’s my response to the jayvik and patrochilles post! it was too long for a comment section sorry 😓

I can understand a few of your points if we are only discussing the Song of Achilles versions of Achilles and Patroclus but I disagree overall. I think their stories are not all that similar in terms of character ideals and dynamics and given their circumstances I don’t expect them to be either. Additionally I think some of the parallels you mentioned are wrong. For example; you say that Patroclus has no fighter genes but that’s simply not true. Both him and Achilles were formidable opponents and Patroclus did train to fight he just didn’t do so in the same Achilles did. I can’t remember if song of achilles has him as a fighter or not it’s been so long since I’ve read the book but regardless he does still fight very strongly at the end so this point makes no sense. There is no reason to try and relate season one Viktor to Patroclus by making Patroclus seem weaker in comparison.

Another point you mentioned is that they both have the same principles which is also just… not true. Achilles does vow not to kill Hector so he won’t die in turn but he also refuses to fight in the war wholly. I don’t see how this could align with either Jayce nor Viktor’s principles. To my understanding, Jayce and Viktor want to use their invention to better the world and by the end they advocate for an independent Zain which are very admirable goals they are aiming to accomplish a lot of things. These goals are not so similar to Patroclus and Achilles’. Achilles joins the war to gain everlasting glory because it is prophesized that he will gain it if he fights, something he’s been training and preparing his whole life to do. Whilst at the war he gets increasingly agitated with the way things are handled and feels that this war is not worth sacrificing his life over anymore if he won’t gain adequate glory in return and the Trojan people have done nothing to him personally so this isn’t his war to fight. Patroclus does not indulge in the war but he repeatedly berated Achilles for being selfish and sustaining from fighting while their comrades are dying on the battle field. Both Patroclus and Achilles are trapped in a war they no longer want to be in. Forgive me if you’re trying to say something different and I misunderstood but I don’t really see a connection between these principles?

The point you mentioned with the women Briseis And Deidameia is kind of pointless because the circumstances in which those women met those men are completely different. Briseis was not in love with Patroclus in original mythology and she was basically just their slave. Patroclus was kind to her in the original text but Briseis should not be considered as a romantic or platonic option for either of them because she has no ability to consent to any relationship. Also Deidameia and Achilles’ marriage was out of love in the original myth and Madeline Miller’s decision to make Deidameia sexually assault Achilles is very misogynistic as it simply villainized Deidameia so readers are more inclined to like Patroclus and Achilles together. This could be similar to Mel and Jayce however it would only similar because it’s a heterosexual ship and Mel and Jayce are both more prominent and powerful figures like Achilles and Deidameia were.

For season two you mentioned that Achilles and Viktor have the same principles which is again, no true. Achilles does get high on the glory he receives but that does not in any way parallel viktor’s ascension or whatever the hell it was that he did idk he went crazy in season two. Viktor starts a new ideology and quite literally creates a cult because he believes in a certain higher purpose/power. Achilles simply refuses to fight because Agamemnon is incompetent as a leader and he feels that fighting is beneath him now if it is for a leader such as Agamemnon. So I don’t really understand the similarities here either because they aren’t really there? Achilles goes crazy at the very end of the Iliad when Patroclus is killed and it is not that he goes crazy with like newfound knowledge or extraterrestrial power like Viktor he goes insane with rage. He makes a bloody mess of the battlefield during it and has no care of his own life or anyone else’s. If anything this is more like Jayce in season two when he returns back. I guess you could say Jayce and Patroclus both sacrificed themselves but Patroclus was not planning on dying or sacrificing himself he was simply just killed by Hector at the hands of Apollo. The last point is pretty sad I’d say I’d agree with that.

I know that I’m probably coming off really strong right now so please don’t take to offense anything I’ve said I’m simply far too fixated on Patroclus and Achilles. 😭 I only asked because I didn’t really understand what parallels you were trying to draw and in your explanation post it’s very clearly you were only referring to the TSOA versions of the characters which I already have problems with in multiple ways regarding characterization so just off the bat I was already disagreeing with many of the points made because I feel that if TSOA doesn’t represent them correctly than neither can and explanation using the TSOA versions. Overall I think patrochilles have to be mischaracterized in order for this parallel to work and most of the parallels even then are shallow. And that’s alright! Jayvik don’t have to be similar to Patrochilles to be tragic they are vastly different and that’s a good thing. It would be boring if we had the same ships and dynamics all the time.

With all that being said I appreciate that you took the time to go into depth with your thoughts. I’d suggest reading Fagles’ or Wilson’s translations of the Iliad if you want more of Patroclus and Achilles or you could play the hades game where they have a very heartwarming story!

[dykedvonte]

Hi, I am sorry if someone already asked you this and I completely missed it, but why do you think Anya asked for Jimmy’s help to feed Curly his pills? Swansea and Daisuke were still high-functioning and available when she asked for help. I am having a hard time understanding her thought process about leaving his patient at the mercy of her rapist, someone she was afraid so much that she felt the need to hide gun. Not to mention, she hid that gun under a secret drawer of Curly’s med bay bed too. If I was Anya, I would be scared of the possibility of Jimmy accidentally finding the gun the most. Yet she still took that risk.

We know that it shows how Jimmy can force things to people without their consent, but this is a very meta reasoning, and it says nothing about Anya’s thought process imho. I don’t think Anya was quietly and secretly taking revenge on Curly either. I interpret it as mix of wishful thinking and submission born out of fear due to Jimmy’s new captain status, but I am curious about your analysis as a psych major.

I personally think with the gun, Anya was not concerned about him finding it or looking for in medical. He doesn't know she specifically hid the gun and of all the places he'd look he wouldn't assume she'd keep it in medical, mainly cause he likely believed Curly preemptively hid it instead. Part of the reason I think he committed to crashing the ship is his belief Curly was no longer in his corner in a major way, confronting him about Anya finally proves as much to him but perhaps believing Curly hid the gun, believing that Curly thinks he's dangerous, and that he's screwed at all front at that point.

Anya probably assumed he'd never look under Curly post-crash and she was right in that assumption despite how risky. To be honest, we can take her trying to relieve him of the dealing with Curly is tied to her getting more panicked by the idea of him finding the more he lingers in medical.

I have talked about why she would even ask Jimmy in the first place and honestly I can chalk up the first time he feeds Curly to Anya wanting to get away from him, since he is demeaning and pointed to her the entire conversation since the other times she is comfortable and even implies she's been taking care of Curly herself between the segments Jimmy does it. It's been picked up by some other people but Anya is likely just giving him the tasks because he needs something to do to feel useful and feel fulfilled in the now worthless role as "Captain". I don't think she assumed he'd be so violent with Curly and even if she noticed what is she supposed to say that won't make Jimmy take it out on her or Curly more?

I have to say Anya is consistently concerned in the game with protecting herself and keeping herself safe. I don't think in the moment that she was 100% concerned about Curly being harmed compared to herself. It sounds selfish but its just a basic fear response. She fawns and tries to make Jimmy feel important even tho he's not because it keeps her safe. Making it seem like too much for her or letting him do it after he is aggressive with her or after the likely heavy/nerve-wracking convo with Swansea are all things were she just doesn't want him around anymore. Even if it would be better for Curly for her to stand ground and insist to do it, there is the likely going to be at cost of her mental security and even physical safety when it comes to Jimmy.

[natequarter]

so who wants to talk about the pain of sarah, an orphan who never knew her parents and was raised by her aunt instead, gladly abandoning her adopted son to the people she believed to be his blood relatives precisely because she believed they were his "real" parents? that must have come from her own longing to know her own parents, believing that giving luke that experience is better than "condemning" him to the same childhood she had and projecting her own self-image issues onto other people, as per fucking usual. she thinks she's not good enough for luke, because she was raised the same way he was, by a single woman who wasn't "motherly" and, no matter how kind her aunt may have been, she never really dealt with that grief and pain. in her own selfish attempts to improve luke's life, she misunderstands what both of them really want - each other. and, i suspect, if she had been in his situation, she too would have been angry and upset about being taken away from the woman who raised her for two strangers who she'd barely know.

[petorahs]

I would love to hear your thoughts about Sunday. (Please rant about him)

free reign to rant about my favorite character.... omg. I hope you know what you've just unleashed

first of all look at him. he is like a cat.

now where to begin...

I know what kinds of characters I like so I knew immediately that I was in for it when I first saw Sunday, "the most handsome man on Penacony!" with Robin in tow, who was his sister. for reference, characters with siblings almost always end up having my heart. for example Ayato is my favorite character in genshin, Arlecchino following close second. my affection for Aventurine rose drastically the moment I learnt he had a sister. found family Stellaron hunters makes my heart melt. I will always love sibling dynamics, characters who put their families first.

then his interaction with Aventurine happened. his questions were so very clearly a projection, not an interrogation. "Do you love your family more than yourself?" he was so clearly grieving. this is where Sunday starts to set apart from Ayato in my head. Sunday was more emotional and fraying at the seams than we ever saw Ayato throughout the story. he was a grieving brother who barely hides it. and... "Do you wish to destroy this world?". this is where Sunday starts to clearly set apart from Aventurine. Sunday would rather remake the world than destroy it.

and then. 2.2 - In Our Time happened. this is where I knew that he would become my obsession for months and months and months to come. it's where we saw his kindness, his bleeding heart, his pessimism on full display. his love for humanity - but never for himself. his evangelical themes, his Maruki persona 5-esque plan, his own grand orchestra, he himself being orchestrated like a puppet on strings. his Luciferic fall from grace.

...and being caught instead😭

this was so poignant i almost cried. idk like everything clicked here. s*icidal characters being caught (not saved) but held is so important to me. the light in their eyes dimming and the framing of the scene reminded me of how Scaramouche fell. and like how Aventurine held Kakavasha's hands.

PLUSSS sibling characters growing apart the older they get. Robin and Sunday arent that close in the present, that much is clear. they even fought before this. BUT SHE STILL CAUGHT HIM I JUST-- 😭 LIKE FUCK BRO I DIDNT EVEN THINK PENACONY AS A WHOLE WAS GOOD AT THE TIME NOR WAS I EVEN PLAYING HSR AT ALL I ONLY STARTED DURING JUNE 2024 but this still got me. it ended me. it just had everything i ever loved every theme i found dear and personal

also my favorite writing choice they did for Penacony was continuously mentioning Robin and Sunday's "paradise of our dreams" and the "promise" they made and how diametrically opposed they are despite both pursuing that vow, but... we only properly learn what it is at the end 😭

i. just cried at this i think. its such a simple wish but things went so far than Trustful Boy and Guileless Girl could have ever thought.

so that's the journey. ultimately i just came to the conclusion that this guy is just too cute for his own good and he wants the best for people he's never ever selfish or mean 😭 he's as loving as Elysia hi3 i think and his 7 rest days philosophy is just so cute of him.

he truly truly TRULY advocates for resting rather than having to work 9-5's, he would tell you to eat the extra dessert and to sleep in a little. HOWEVER. he would not extend this same leniency to himself. that is the duality and complexity of Sunday. (like look at this)

HE DOESNT RELY ON GODS!!! faithful church boy that he is, he denounced both Xipe AND Ena while still honoring THEM and he makes such good philosophical points and its just crazy that the trailblazers didnt really want to listen to him bc he was cooking. and regardless, he takes his fall with grace. GRACE!! he WANTED to be proven wrong he's just so reasonable and i love his faith and devotion and care and and and

as a kid he dissed the teacher that said little Robin's singing was bad. and then he ate an eggtart out of spite. THE LITTLE BIRDIE HAD SUCH AN ATTITUDE!! and he has piercings in his wings and metal choir in his boss theme of course he's a little alt.

i adore this side of him:

he just. needs to know that he's deserving of all the love in the world he desires for everyone else. i hope he doesnt put himself on such punishingly high standards anymore. i hope he learns more from Aventurine and takes more chances. i hope he gets his :3 smile back on his model.

i am so ill for this man.

also i think this message i sent to my friend after I saw Sunday's animations explains how i feel at all times. I got nothing to hide. (I'm sorry women) (NSFW text warning)