#but it's a dream if a memory at this point

[startaegi]

ON THE RUN, cho hyunju. 【 CHAPTER 02 】

⤑ pairing, cho hyunju x fem!reader

⤑ synopsis, where secret-not so secret lovers, hyunju and yn find each other in the unlikely of places.

⤑ series masterlist, on the run.

⤑ chapter three, coming soon!

⤑ notes, i’ve never written in this point of view before, i usually always write in a third person pov so please excuse how bad this is, i’m still learning 😓

⤑ taglist, @etta-huracan @littlegirlmin @mysatnin @taemin93 @ryoiii @sann1e @alexisabirdie @maiznamai @marsyay78 @learninglinesintherainn @noxitsnox @relaps3 @dbj444 @kiss-es (if you would like to be added let me know)

The bedsheets are scratchy against your legs. Your bare feet tangled in the ends keeping in the warmth. The lamp to your right lit up a small part of the room, just enough for your eyes to focus on the book in your hands. You couldn't afford a television or laptop, anything that could give you any form of entertainment but books came cheap, sometimes free and you quite enjoyed loosing yourself within the pages.

The door clicking open pulled you from the magical world in your lap. Hyunju entered the apartment, her coat flaked white with snow as was her hair. She looked at you with a bright smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. "Hi baby" She smiled in your direction, setting the small paper bag on the kitchen counter.

You instantly shut the page in your book, focused on nothing but her. She somehow looked more beautiful than when she left, not that it was possible because she looked beautiful every day. Her bangs where brushed to the side, most likely from the wind and the little bows you had added to her hair that morning - that she finally felt brave enough to wear in public, you almost cried tears of joy, had become loose.

"You look pretty" You said, eyes following her every movement. She reached for the bag, hands stopping mid air. You caught a faint blush making its way onto her cheeks before she turned away from you.

She refused to turn back, quickly going to what she was doing before. "I look the same as always" She replied, a little embarrassed.

This happened often you had begun to notice. Hyunju never accepted a compliment, she always found a way to brush it off or to turn it on you. She was pretty but you were prettier. Her outfit went together well but yours fit you better. It was a learning game, one you knew you couldn't rush. In time she'd learn to love herself as you did but in the mean time you'd be there to remind her.

"And you always look pretty" You assured her.

Hyunju doesn't reply but you can see a small smile forming on her face, aswell as the tips of her ears turning red. She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it with yours on the dainty clothing rack.

Her eyes shined when she turned to face you, fingers clutching the little brown bag she'd arrived home with. "I bought strawberries" She beamed. "I thought we deserved a treat" She took a seat next to you, placing the punnet of fruit between you both.

You giggled at her excitement, taking one of her cold hands in yours and pressing your lips against her palm. "I missed you" You said softly, tilting your head up at her. She was already looking at you, the same silly smile on her face. Your cheeks burned at her stare.

"Hmm" Hyunju hummed, reaching down for you. "I missed you too" She pressed her lips against yours, they were cold and cracked from the December air but you smiled into it nonetheless.

"Let's eat" She said against your lips, pecking them once more. "You can tell me about your book"

You didn't waste any time in pulling back, one hand reaching for the strawberries and the other your book. You flipped to the last page you had updated her on, strawberry half in your mouth. She laughed softly beside you, cupping her hand under your chin to stop any juice from spilling onto the pages.

Your eyes reluctantly opened, the brightness of the room stinging them. You'd been dreaming of her again, this time a memory from one of the first winters you'd spent together. Your mind felt foggy, all of the days suddenly muddling together. A raging headache was slowly forming in the base of your skull, a heavy thudding pulsating against your head. You lifted a hand to touch the area only to realise your entire body felt the same, as if someone had weighed you down with a ton of bricks.

You sat up slowly, dazed and confused as to where you'd ended up. Your eyes widened in surprise, only now noticing the green sleeves on your arms you hadn't been wearing before. You hurriedly kicked away the thin blanket, a puff of air escaping your lips at the green pants on your legs. Someone had changed you from the jeans and coat you'd been wearing. You frantically scan the room, mouth falling open. Countless people were gathering in the centre, all in matching outfits. The beds were one too many, piled high on top of one another. You shook your head in disbelief, of course it was too good to be true, you'd practically led yourself right into the kidnappers arms.

The doors pulled open jolting you backwards. You took a long shuddering breath, bravely pulling yourself from the bed and to the crowd. The same masked guard who had taken you from Hangang Bridge was there but now there was 8 more of him. You noticed the different shapes on their masks, mind swimming in confusion. What had you gotten yourself into?

"I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you" The masked man called. This one with a square printed to the front. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days, those who win all six games receive a handsome cash prize"

You don't have a moment to think, not when her voice is calling out from across the room. "Excuse me?" She asked. Your heart beats against your rib cage threatening to break free. She was here. She was okay. She was alive. But she was here? Of course she was. Your mind is scrambled, a million emotions passing through. "You said i'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me, so how can I believe that?" She called out again, you hear everyone murmuring in agreement.

You follow their line of eyesight, in search for her but too many people block your view. You need to get to her, the game now forgotten, you just have to see her face. You don't hear or see anything going on around you, only focused on the fact Cho Hyunju, the same girl who has ignored you for weeks was here in the same room as you.

You're lost in your thoughts when a girl steps into your path, touching your arm lightly. "Are you okay?" She hesitantly asked, an anxious smile on her face.

"Oh, uh-" You stuttered.

She takes your arm gently, sitting you on the bed. "You don't look okay" She keeps a soft grip on your arms. "Do you think you're going to faint?" She questioned.

You shake your head. "No, i'm okay" You replied, meeting her eyes. "I get these headaches sometimes, just the stress of everything going on I think" You awkwardly laughed, brushing her off.

She looked you over, not fully believing a word you'd said. "Let's just stay here for now" She smiled, taking a seat beside you. "I get the same way so I understand"

You raised your head at that, fully facing her. "You do?" You asked.

She doesn't open her mouth to reply instead her eyes land on her stomach. Only then do you notice the obvious bump she hadn't done well in covering. You let out a gasp, looking from her stomach to her face. She giggled softly, caressing her swollen stomach.

You don't get the chance to reply as the unknown girls attention focuses on someone else. A boy in the crowd currently shouting at the masked guards. You only see the back of his head from where you're sat, countless others surrounding him. His voice is loud and clear. "Do you know how much i've invested?"

"Player 333, Lee Myunggi" The square masked guard replied.

The screen above the doorway changes from the number of people in the room to a scene you notice all too well. A train station, ddakji and too many hits to the face.

"Age 30, used to run a Youtube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappear"

Your eyes widen at the number. Your debt seemed silly in comparison.

The guard continued. "You're wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws." They paused. "Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won"

You hold in a breath as the screen changes, you hope not to see your own face. The embarrassment of your debts was already enough for you to face never mind a room full of people, no matter if they're in the same situation or not.

It changes once again and you see an all too familiar face. You recognise the day it happened because she's in a shirt you'd picked for her. It was the same day she'd left you the goodbye message. All the missing pieces were starting to fall into place.

"Player 120, Cho Hyunju, 330 million won in debt"

Taking a deep breath you sit up straight, hands reaching for the necklace around your neck. She was wearing the same one on the screen. Your first couples item.

The next half hour passed in the blink of an eye, you don't register anything, your mind is still focused only on one thing. You know you should be listening, you can tell from the reactions of the crowd you're missing out on important information but your brain doesn't allow you to concentrate.

You blinked back to reality at player 222 tapping your shoulder. "We have to move" She said, gesturing towards the crowd. Everyone had slowly begun to form lines of four, a table and guard at every end.

It was a fast process, the lines moved with ease each player signing a consent form - which you had come to learn from who you now knew as Junhee.

PLAYER CONSENT FORM.

1. A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit.

2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

3. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie players will vote again.

4. If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

SIGNATURE _________.

The pen in your hand hesitated for a moment, hovering ever so slightly above the paper. You faltered but in the end it wasn't a difficult decision, you hadn't a clue how much the prize money was but anything was more than you had now. You had to win it.

𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𐙚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

You moved quickly through the crowds, bumping into countless people on the way, their faces scowling in your direction. You ignored them, on a mission to find Hyunju. You abruptly came to a halt, face to face with a queue of people and pink screens. You heard the clicks of a camera, noticing the people dressed like you smiling into them. They're taking ID pictures? You thought. This situation couldn't get any stranger.

"The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff's instructions and proceed to the game site" A woman's robotic voice echoed through a speaker.

Your eyes flickered around the bright coloured room while you fidgeted in your spot. You raised on your toes, looking out for that familiar short haired girl but to no luck. The man in front of you smiled for his photo, then walking off to the side. The guard ushered you forward. You furrowed your brows, staring at the camera, unsure what to do.

"Please look into the camera and smile!"

The corners of your mouth upturned awkwardly. You were glad to not have seen a preview after the machine beeped, you didn't need to see how you looked right now. You dragged your feet off to the side, turning back to see if you could yet catch a sight of Hyunju. Again no luck.

You pressed your fingers against your eyes in frustration. Your teeth bit into your lip as you followed the direction of the other players, the woman's robotic voice still blaring through the speakers. The stairs seemed to be never ending, every corner was a new staircase until finally you came face with an open door leading outside. You felt the breeze against your face, breathing in a deep breath of fresh air. Your feet scuffed against the sandy floor, sticking to your white shoes.

Only when you weren't actively searching for her, she found you. "Y/N?" Hyunju's voice called across the yard, surprised.

You looked up from your shoes, relief flooded your veins at the sight of Hyunju's face. You swallowed back your tears, throat feeling tight.

She reached you, hands grabbing your shoulders then moving to caress your face. You couldn't quite tell how she was feeling. Scared, shocked, confused and happy. Her face was a mix of emotions. She quickly dropped her hands at the scoff of an older man passing you by.

"What're you doing here?" She questioned softly, tone still full of shock.

You chuckled bitterly. "What are you doing here?" You bit back.

Hyunju flinched. "I deserved that" She admitted. "I deserve a lot worse"

You took a deep breath trying to regain your cool. "So, this is where you ended up?" You questioned, disappointed and hurt.

She reached a hand towards you, not expecting to be ignored. Hyunju's face fell, her eyes glistening. "Please, you have to understand, Y/N" She begged. "I did it for us" You know she's right, you'd already come to terms with that after seeing her on the screen. You were here for the same reason. But that didn't excuse what she had done, leaving you without an explanation for so long.

You're interrupted by a manic males voice. You both turn to look at where the commotion is coming from. Player 456 is pushing his way through the crowd, arms waving wildly. "Everyone" He shouted. The silence between is uncomfortable, everyone's focus turned to the unknown frantic man. "Everyone listen up! Pay attention!"

You look at Hyunju, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her expression matched yours.

"Listen carefully! This is not just a game, if you loose the game, you die!"

The silence doesn't last very much longer, laughter echoes across the courtyard. "Hey!" A woman's voice called, somewhere from the front. "What are you talking about? We're going to die playing red light green light?"

You're playing red light, green light? You asked yourself. You hadn't been paying attention too busy in conversation with your missing, now found, girlfriend.

"Yes that's right" He replied. "If they catch you moving, they will kill you. They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes, if you get caught you die. That dolls eyes are motion detectors" He pointed to the massive doll behind him adorned in an orange dress and pig tails. "Stay on your toes" He repeated.

Your chest tightened. Surely he was lying, there was no way any of you would die playing red light, green light, it sounded ridiculous. You eyed Hyunju, her lips pursed clearly in the same battle with herself, to believe him or not.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The same man who scoffed at you earlier, questioned.

"I think he's trying to scare us so he can win the prize money" The man beside him said confidently. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Don't pull any tricks, asshole" Another man called out.

Player 456 desperately pleaded, "You have to believe me"

You look at Hyunju again, you can tell she's also feeling the same way. He seemed too sincere to be lying, the panicked look on his face was chilling. The doll behind him began to turn, the creaking sound scraping against your ears.

"Don't be alarmed or panic. No matter what happens, don’t panic and start running" He bellowed, voice strained.

The same woman's voice came from another speak once again, "Let the game begin"

"What do we do?" You whispered to Hyunju.

She faced you, voice a little shaky when she spoke back. "Stay beside me, just in case"

You nodded, moving closer to her. The older girl looked down at you, eyes full of sorrow. She sadly smiled with a nod turning back to face the doll, you followed her eyesight. A five minute timer was now displayed on the wall and the game began.

[ranchstoryblog]

Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

[betweenthescarletmoon]

Random Thoughts on the Arcane Fandom about Jayce

this is gonna be a mess but I have nowhere else to talk about this.

I've recently noticed how Jayce Talis has been subjected to all kinds of sexualization since the drop of Act 2 of the second season. People have mentioned many times how trauma has made him "hot". A good and well-known example of this is Danny Motta's reaction to episode 5, where he said, "Holy shit, they made Jayce hot! [...] My dude went from looking like a Muppet to the king of Rohan, and all it took was a little bit of trauma."

This isn't entirely new for him? If people didn't hate Jayce back in S1, they ogled him in the scene where he works on the Forge shirtless, which IS kinda the point because the animators are making him very obviously attractive. But most importantly, he as a character has been reduced to his sexual or romantic relationships since the beginning of time.

It seems that S2 is a response to this in a way. His arc from the ending of S1, where he took responsibility of his actions out of guilt for the child he killed, was slightly set aside for Viktor. Well, ALL of his life, dreams, decisions, everything about him was eclipsed by Viktor's shadow because of the whole "all times, all possibilities" twist. He wasn't expected to show up as a Councilor in any of the meetings, and we must assume he quits at some point, but he surely hasn't resigned from his position by the time Viktor wakes up. Apart from that much needed scene between him and Cait, and the one where he attends the memorial (and is attacked by a vengeful mother), we don't see many of his decisions or what leads him to make them, other than Viktor. This is beautiful in a way because we can SEE how it is a trauma response to losing him. He is obsessive by nature, and he clings to what keeps him and his loved ones safe excessively, but I still had to do a bit of mental gymnastics as to why he went back on the second promise: to not build Hextech weapons again. (Hint: it has to do with the fact that VI saved him with HIS weapon, but it went so fast it's hard to process in the first watch.)

Now back to the sexualization problem. Every time I look up his name and trauma, or PTSD, 95% of the results are thirst edits on Tiktok about how hot he is. No joke. One of the more serious results is my own edit. Of course, a lot of people connect with his suffering without naming it as trauma, and that is great. My concern is that there has been so much focus on Jinx's trauma, Viktor's trauma, even Silco's trauma (which are all valid and fascinating to explore), but there's less attention for other characters who clearly show how their own traumatic experiences has shaped them. Vi, Caitlyn, and Jayce are some of the clearest examples of this, and they've experienced some truly heinous things in the show. Trauma cannot be compared, ever. But why is it that Jayce, who lived through an apocalypse that HE knows HE caused, and lives in complete isolation except the "company" of metal watchers, to the point that he loses touch with reality, and is changed so irrevocably that he loses the naivety and starry-eyed optimism that has always defined him...is seen as hot? And more importantly, why is it that there is very little attention to his experiences on that cave? Every scene between him and Viktor is uploaded in 1080 HD quality, but the scenes of him alone? Fighting to survive? Showing remarkable resilience in the face of his suffering? No, that's not as fun. Not a single one of those scenes is uploaded fully, and I have checked many times. (Some people have actually skipped those scenes to focus on Timebomb. I'm...)

I went online and looked up "why do people sexualize traumatized characters" because let's face it, it's real, it's interesting, and I cannot judge or else I am a hypocrite. Bucky Barnes, Loki, Ellie Williams, Dean Winchester, Vi herself, the list goes on much longer but I can't think of others off the top of my head. We connect with their suffering, and we are pulled by their experiences.

However, Jayce is such a complicated case because he is usually thought of as the greedy himbo that fumbled two baddies, or the confused bisexual, or the guy who lost it because of a situationship (much like Vi, who DID NOT lose it because of a failed romantic endeavor bfr). And then the plot goes and tells us, "Actually, yeah, his life outside of Viktor doesn't matter, he's not even supposed to be alive, because Viktor saved him. All of time is completely inextricable from Viktor." People hate meljay because she manipulated him and "trapped" him in a relationship or something, only to celebrate it when something suspiciously similar happens with the male romantic interest? I initially thought it was beautiful too, bc Soulmates, but man. Mage!Viktor really left the man he loved to rot in complete isolation, eating raw reptiles until throwing up, losing his mind. Say what you want about the allegory for Viktor's life, at least Viktor's isolation was metaphorical up until the Glorious Evolution.

Despite us being shown this, people make thirst edits of him in his black fit, and fighting with sexual tension with Viktor. I fear...that I am the only one who finds this tragic. The man forced to create a larger than life persona to sell his work and be seen as an attractive pawn of the system, has become the attractive pawn of the narrative. Viktor's narrative.

Perhaps Viktor was forgotten by the world. But Jayce's kind heart, and brave soul, were forgotten by us.

Just some thoughts to chew about my favorite character and my wish that more people focused on his arc with me

[sorceressofthesky]

It's really interesting to me that in the sequence of Vander/Warwick's memories in S2E6, Silco vanishes once Powder and Vi are in the picture. We see Silco and Vander in the mines together, then Silco at the bar, then the scene from the flashback with Felicia... and then he's just gone. We see Vander with young Powder and Vi, but never Silco. I see a lot of people say that the Blisters and Bedrock flashback spoils Silco's character motivations, but I feel like this sequence is specifically showing us that it doesn't.

As detailed very eloquently in this post, Vander and Silco's promise to Felicia was never to look after her kids. Their promise was to keep fighting for Zaun so that her child(ren) could have a better future. And that's exactly what Silco did. His priority was always Zaun over anything else, right up until the last episode of Season 1. Meanwhile, Vander was heavily involved with the kids while Felicia was alive. Silco was presumably still a part of his life given that they started the bridge riot together, but Powder and Vi had become much more important to him, enough that his memories from that period favour them over Silco. It seems like Silco distanced himself from Felicia and her kids for the sake of pursuing his dream, while Vander tried to have both.

In Vander's apology letter, he blames his actions on Felicia's death, but I don't think he was saying that the mere fact that she died was the reason he tried to kill Silco. I think he's saying that was the catalyst for a decision that was most likely many years in the making. He tried to fight for Zaun and be a father figure at the same time, but Felicia's death was the turning point at which he realised that he couldn't have both. The cost of independence simply wasn't worth it anymore, now that he had so much to lose. So, he turned his back on the nation of Zaun for the sake of the kids.

It definitely doesn't seem like he regretted that choice in itself; but even in S1E3, he says that he has "never forgiven [him]self" for what he did to Silco, and I think that's where the "lost my head" part of the letter comes in. In the moment, he was angry and grieving, and convinced himself that killing Silco was a necessary course of action in the shift towards peace for the undercity - despite both being responsible for the destruction they had caused up to that point. He might not regret giving up on Zaun's independence, but he regrets the violent, brutal way in which he went about it. So when you look at it that way, Silco is the one whose ideology has always remained consistent, kids or no kids. Vander is the one who went rogue and broke his promise.

[d3lly1000]

I finally watched Sonic 3!!!!! (IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST EXPERIENCES OF MY LIFE)

I had been holding back so I could talk without worrying about spoilers, but I think I can now comment on my general opinion of the movie.

There will be spoilers, so you have been warned!

I’ll admit that I found the first act a bit rushed. I understand that they had a lot of characters to “reintroduce” and new ones to add (especially Shadow), but I felt a bit lost with what was happening—it was really convenient how the script handled a lot of things just to get to the point.

For example: Shadow attacking in Japan with no real explanation, Rockwell quickly finding Sonic and the others. Even Commander Walters showed up just to explain what happened in the past, only to die unexpectedly right after. Even though he's not a particularly memorable character, I felt like his death didn’t carry the weight it should have, even for Team Sonic who witnessed it.

There was also the fact that a lot of what happened in the first act had already been revealed in the trailers and TV spots, which kind of deflated my excitement, knowing what was going to happen. But as I said, things were happening so fast that I couldn’t process all the information right away! XD

I have to say, I absolutely love the interactions between all the characters. The relationships and how they were developed felt so unique to me. I’ve always had the headcanon that Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic acted like siblings, and in the movies, I got to witness that in a meaningful and very loving way (shoutout to Tails saving Sonic and Knuckles protecting them, my boys <3).

One of my favorite scenes is definitely the argument between Knuckles and Sonic, as it really shows their maturity. It shows how much they are changing with each movie, which is so valuable to me because it demonstrates that the characters are really learning from their experiences. In a franchise, this deepens their moral journey and enriches who they are — it’s truly wonderful.

Speaking of siblings, I can’t not talk about Maria and Shadow. Right from the beginning, I could already feel the heartache hearing Live and Learn in an acoustic version. I think for fans who know how iconic this song is for the franchise, the idea that MARIA COULD HAVE BEEN THE ORIGINAL COMPOSER of it (at least in the SCU) hits so hard.

The narrative of Shadow talking about Maria always moved me, and the film managed to emphasize what she meant to Shadow in such a sweet way. Seeing the scene where Shadow recalls the day of the accident and then carrying the Eclipse Cannon gave me chills.

The parallels between Sonic/Shadow and Tom/Maria were something I was really looking forward to! The franchise often makes these types of comparisons between characters, not just in the games but also in the movies. As I mentioned before, I think this makes everything richer — it gives you a new perspective and helps you understand the complexity of characters by revisiting the "same memory" through a different person. I love when they do that!

ABOUT THE FIGHT SCENES, ALL OF THEM. I was breathless! I have to confess I was cursing A LOT during the third act. It was so epic, something you wouldn’t even think you'd see! Super Form battles were such a great concept for the situation, seeing Sonic get so angry really fed my fan dream of seeing him want to destroy everything XDD. Shadow literally crushed him, both physically and mentally. He REALLY IS THE STAR of this movie. The whole year was his. And he delivered in every possible media!

((I screamed so much when they did the pose, Live and Learn, it was so epic.))

Jim Carrey’s performance is always amazing. I’m still stunned at how naturally Gerald and Eggman felt together. It really seemed like a completely different actor, and that’s insane! I think the only thing I wish we’d seen more of was scenes between Gerald and Maria in the past, but who knows, maybe they’re planning something for a "Shadow solo spin-off."

The light shines, even when the star dies. – I was already emotionally losing it inside, there were just so many things to process.

AND THE POST-CREDITS SCENE HAUSFHSAIFHGVSNUHGUSAHGUSAH

OK OK I’M >TOTALLY< NORMAL ABOUT MY BABIES

Literally my two FAVORITES showed up. METAL WILL BE THE MAIN VILLAIN, I have so many theories and DEFINITELY it will be an adaptation of Heroes and CD. I CAN'T WAIT to see him in action, the whole Artificial vs. Natural thing is something that really resonates with me in the rivalry between him and Sonic.

AND HAUSHFUASFHUASFH AMY MY GIRL!!!

She’s so cool, she appeared in SUCH A UNIQUE way, the cracked moon in the background, revealing herself by taking off the hood... I can’t wait to see her in 2027... I need it so much aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I definitely loved the movie a lot. I still want to rewatch it in English since I saw it dubbed in my language, but I think I’d give it an 8.5/10 or 9/10! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS MOVIE!! I’m still shaking remembering the action scene sahufzahghaghs

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi that ground hog day Jason prompt has me in a head lock. The absolute angst and trauma the batfam will experience. Especially the first time before the loop resets with Dick, Bruce and Alfred who have already lived through Jason's first death. The bad memories this will stir up. You could go for extra angst, since Jason's death into he first loop probably wasn't intentional and go with the classic bomb in in warehouse for an extra guy punch. Just really drive all the bats to the brink of their remaining sanity.

Then you look at the fun Jason gets to have, with all the different ways he can kill the joker. Like, you could have some really jaring and comedic tone switches with the pov switches.

Just, I am so looking forward to anything you bless us with from this idea.

The first thing I just thought of was the song Headlock by Imogen Heap and I think it’s funny cuz it sorta fits the differing POV of this particular groundhog AU pretty well hehe

Alrighty! So, I most likely won’t be writing a fic for this, but I do have some plot points written down as some food for thought/inspiration ✨

!!! Considering the mechanics of this particular prompt please mind that these include mentions of suicide !!!

A stranger cryptically tells Jason they’re gonna do him a favor and create a time loop for him ((this could happen in some random supermarket while he’s getting spaghetti. So… the usual Gotham weirdness. Nothing to be concerned about quite yet))

Going with the first death being accidental and happening at a warehouse, we could add to it by having it be a malfunction of Jason’s helmet. Like the detonators being triggered by a stray kick or bullet ((or batarang))

For Jason it’s an instant reset of the day. The Batfam have to experience an hour post Jay’s death before everything starts anew.

Bruce usually spends that hour cradling Jason’s body the way he did after Ethiopia

The first time the day resets the Batfam just think they had a spectacularly bad dream and keep everything to themselves. Jason spends all of ten minutes in a daze, and then he starts making a list of all the things he wants to do to Joker

Jason tends to opt for quick ways to kill himself at the end of each day. Usually as soon as Joker is dead, because that’s when he loses interest. And because he doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. Unfortunately the Batfam assume that all they need to do to end the loops is to keep Jason away from Joker and any explosives.

The batfam start reading into every interaction they have/had with Jason and become increasingly frantic trying to convince Jason that life is great and worth living. Jason is confused. And annoyed. Mostly because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to steal away from them.

By the time the loop finally ends for good, Joker has resolved to stay tf away from any and all Robins forever. He’ll go work at friggin seven-eleven and become an upstanding citizen as long as the Red Hood just STAYS AWAY from him. He regrets many of his life decisions.

Bruce has a full blown meltdown when he realizes that Jason is actively killing himself. Dick isn’t far behind.

Alfred tries to end the loop by sedating Jason, but the loop resets anyway

The batfam are feverishly looking for the catalyst that keeps driving Jason over the edge. Meanwhile Jason is having the time of his life and healing some of his trauma.

The longer the loop continues the more Jason takes notice of how frequently the batfam tell him they love him, and his focus starts shifting from Joker to spending time with them. Telling them things he never would if he didn’t think they’d forget it anyway.

Heartfelt talks and, eventually, teary begging from a batfam member for Jason to please not die again because they can’t take any more. And Jason’s horrified realization of what he accidentally put the batfam through.

[yourownutopia]

Ultraviolent Heart

You know how it ends. From the very beginning, you carried that knowledge like an inescapable burden, a quiet ache that shaped your every choice. Yet you stayed—for him. Jin Woo—your confidant, your light in a world of darkness—could never walk with you to the very end.

And so, you leave, knowing your place by his side was never meant to last.

Left behind is Jin Woo, with questions no one will answer and a gaping void where your presence once was. You are gone, and yet the emptiness you leave lingers longer than any memory.

[Implied Jin Woo x Isekai'd!Player2!Fem!Reader] | Songfic | Maybe Part 2 | Heartbreak | Goodbye | Pain & Agony

Crywolf - ULTRAVIOLENT [adrenochrome]

Your heart is torturing me.

Knock.

The dull sound of his fist striking rotting wood echoed through the air.

Once—not too hard.

Twice—with more force.

Three times—before the rigid concrete wall could no longer withstand the immense power of the Shadow Monarch. Cracks spread across the structure, and where solid stone once stood, now a large, gaping hole remained, with Jin Woo’s hand at its center—much like the gaping hole in his heart.

The overwhelming anger he felt threatened to consume him entirely. Beru flinched violently, fear creeping up his limbs as his master’s eyes glowed dangerously. He had brought bad news—perhaps the worst Jin Woo had received in a long time.

"Search more thoroughly."

The black-haired man’s voice cut through the silence like his blades through flesh. Yet, despite his usual composed demeanor, his voice quivered with rage.

Beru wanted to point out that it was a pointless endeavor. If you were still there, he would have already found you. But his master would not accept that answer.

"Yes, my king," Beru replied reverently before retreating into the shadows, leaving Jin Woo alone in his fury.

This couldn’t be true. No one could simply vanish without a trace. And yet, it seemed that was exactly what had happened.

A thousand miles an hour again.

It had been a week, and none of his shadows could locate you. Even the Hunter’s Association had been unable to find any information about your current whereabouts. There wasn’t even a hint that you had left the country.

But giving up the search would mean it was over. It would mean that a part of him was gone forever and that the memories you shared were nothing more than illusions.

He clung to the last shred of hope he had because, no matter how furious he was with you, he desperately wanted answers.

And all that stays with me

How could you do this to him? He had trusted you so much, and you had abandoned him in the most cowardly way possible—without a word. No goodbye, no note, no message—as if you had never existed. And with that, you had torn a massive hole in his heart.

The anger began to ebb, only to be replaced with a suffocating fear—a fear that had gripped him time and time again in recent days.

Is the fear inside my gut.

It felt as though he was bleeding out, choking, drowning in place. As though his heart was overflowing with pain, longing for your warmth and softness, and all the things he had never been able to say—the things you had denied him. The fear that he would soon no longer remember you gnawed at his soul.

Memories were all he had left of you, yet even they were beginning to fade. What did your voice sound like again? Your beautiful face, once so vivid in his mind, was now blurring. Were you only a beautiful dream from which he had now awakened?

You're the fear inside my gut

Two years had passed since you had been pulled into this world—the world you knew so well, almost like the back of your hand. The world that had accompanied you through so many sleepless nights as you eagerly read each chapter on your smartphone.

But just as you were about to finish the story, with the last chapter ahead of you, the universe intervened. You were pulled into the story yourself, long before Jin Woo set foot in the double dungeon.

You became Player 2. The system welcomed you like an old friend, and you quickly adapted. At first, you wanted to return home, but the system refused your departure with a single window:

[You can only leave the game when you truly want to.]

And, evidently, you didn’t truly want to leave. You wanted to stay, to experience firsthand the world you had come to know so well. And so, you stayed—with the goal of making life a little easier for Jin Woo, as though that was your purpose.

Starting as a C-rank mage with a few healing spells, you participated in every raid Jin Woo was involved in, which quickly made you friends. He had admired your strength from the beginning, just as you had admired his courage and determination.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t always lend him a helping hand. Every time something story-relevant occurred, no matter how you tried to intervene, it would inevitably happen anyway—only the timing or the path there would show minor deviations.

Whenever this happened, the system would display a message:

[The story will not change.]

The system made it painfully clear that you had no influence over key story elements. And though you had never had issues with the system before, these moments felt like mockery—a cruel reminder of your limitations.

No matter how heavy your heart felt or how deeply you wished you could change things, events unfolded as they were meant to. Ultimately, all you could do was make Jin Woo’s journey a little lighter, which he accepted with gratitude. The two of you were like light and shadow—one could not exist without the other.

You’ve been my reason to breathe

Not only were you an incredible team in battle, your abilities complementing one another seamlessly, but everyone who knew you—or even those who didn’t—could see that you belonged together. He trusted you; you were the light in his life. The lifeline that kept him from drowning in a sea of darkness. The one who reminded him he was still human whenever he no longer felt like one. The one who had held his trembling hands whenever he needed it—even after those hands had taken lives.

You were the one who stayed with him through so many nights, just to keep him from being alone with himself. The one his shadows respected and whom Beru grandly referred to as "his queen."

His shadows had known from the start how Jin Woo felt about you. But he feared telling you, terrified that it might drive you away. No heartbreak in the world could compare to the thought of you no longer by his side.

Of course, you had noticed, probably much sooner than anyone else. How his behavior changed—how his cheeks would flush whenever you complimented him. How he sought your company more often, how his voice would falter when you came close. Things that had always been intimate but normal between you suddenly left him flustered.

How deeply you wished you could give in to it, but you knew better. There was no happy ending for the two of you. You knew it, and the system knew it—perhaps that’s why it had never responded to his advances. Only Jin Woo remained blissfully unaware, while you locked your feelings away and buried them deep.

The gravity that pulls me in

Despite your efforts to keep him at arm’s length—to keep yourself at arm’s length—those moments grew more frequent. Moments when your gazes lingered a second too long or his hugs lasted just a little longer than necessary. Moments when his hand found yours, and your fingers intertwined. Moments when the two of you lay side by side, silently watching the stars, just to have an excuse to share the night.

It was almost impossible to push him away when he looked at you with such tenderness, smiling at you as though you were all he needed. The thought that the two of you didn’t have a chance began to fade into the background, and as long as the system didn’t intervene, everything felt fine.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

Until that day.

*

The Jeju Island raid had been about two weeks ago, and life had returned to normal. People mourned the fallen S-Rank hunters but celebrated the victory of reclaiming the island. You hadn’t participated in the raid yourself, only watched from a distance—at least until the moment when Hunter Cha was injured and Jin-Woo rushed to her aid.

The thought sent a pang straight to your gut.

What disgusting and pathetic thoughts to have. After all, Cha had nearly died—you knew that all too well. And yet, you struggled to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest, which worsened when she showed up at the guild's office building.

As usual, when there was nothing to do, you lay sprawled on the couch, your head resting lazily on Jin-Woo's lap while he scrolled through his phone.

At first, Jinho had been a little taken aback by the closeness between you two. But he’d quickly adjusted to the fact that his two best friends behaved like a couple—despite not being one.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, and Jinho looked up from his computer.

You were momentarily confused before realization struck. You’d spent so many days here that you’d completely forgotten about when Hae-In was supposed to arrive. If it were up to you, you would’ve bolted; the less interaction with her, the better. But that would’ve raised too many questions.

You felt Jin-Woo shift, and you immediately sat up, unwilling to give the wrong impression. The black-haired man gave you a confused look as your warmth left his lap—though he made no move to get up himself.

“Who could that be?” Jinho asked, heading toward the door. You could already hear her soft voice as he opened it.

“Is this Mr. Sung’s office?” she asked quietly. When the door opened fully, all eyes fell on the blonde beauty in the doorway.

She wasn’t just pretty; she was immensely strong. Not stronger than you, but far more graceful in everything she did. She was perfect in every way, much to your dismay.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw you, but she quickly masked her surprise with a polite cough.

Jin-Woo had now risen as well, his gaze cool and appraising as he looked at the young Hunter whose life he’d saved.

“What brings you here, Miss Cha?” he asked, his tone cold—devoid of the softness he reserved for you.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before stating that she wanted to join the guild.

Jin-Woo’s expression didn’t change, though Jinho looked like he’d just been hit with a bombshell.

This wasn’t a surprise to you, of course, but the words still felt like a blow to the stomach.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Hae-In on the sofa. Jin-Woo sat beside you, once again asking why she was there. The blonde reiterated her desire to join the guild, causing Jin-Woo to frown in confusion as she sipped nervously on a cola. She dismissed his speculations, her cheeks growing redder with every passing moment as she avoided eye contact.

It was almost ironic how Jin-Woo, despite his overwhelming strength, had no clue that Hae-In was flustered. Of course, you knew better. She wanted to be near him because, unlike others, he smelled good and intrigued her. And you had to accept that.

When her face turned beet red and she began fanning herself nervously, Jin-Woo paused and asked again why she was going to such lengths to join the guild.

“I want to live a comfortable life. Is that so wrong?” she replied softly.

Jinho popped up behind you, whispering, “The Hunters Guild must’ve overworked her.”

Jin-Woo’s eyes darted to you, silently asking a question: What do you think?

Of course, you hated the idea. You didn’t want to lose him to her—but what could you do?

Your contemplative expression and brief hesitation were all Jin-Woo needed. He turned back to Hae-In and rejected her request.

Your eyes widened, staring in disbelief at the black-haired man. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go—the conversation wasn’t over yet.

Hae-In lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“I understand,” she murmured, looking utterly dejected.

Panic surged through you. What was happening? A deviation?

“W-wait!” you blurted out, drawing everyone’s attention. Hae-In’s gaze flickered with hope, while Jin-Woo raised an inquisitive brow.

“P-please give us five minutes, Miss Cha,” you said, quickly standing and grabbing Jin-Woo’s hand to drag him into the adjacent room.

Almost disappointed when you released his hand, Jin-Woo looked at you as the door closed behind you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, hands on your hips.

He seemed genuinely confused by your question.

“What?”

“Why are you rejecting her?!” you demanded.

Jin-Woo shrugged, his expression indifferent.

“I don’t want her in the guild,” he said flatly, his gray eyes avoiding yours.

He wanted to tell you that you were more than enough for him—that she was unnecessary. But saying so might’ve been too much in this situation.

“This is a one-time opportunity!” you argued, hoping he’d use his brain for once.

“I have you. We don’t need anyone else,” he countered, his cheeks tinged pink.

What the hell was he saying?

No, things couldn’t go this way—it would disrupt the entire timeline. Your thoughts spiraled.

“Then… have her fight Beru!” you blurted out. Jin-Woo stared at you, dumbfounded.

“And why would I do that? She’ll lose,” he said, still not understanding why this mattered so much to you.

“Then it’s a win-win. She doesn’t feel rejected, and you… get rid of her.”

He seemed to consider your words for a moment. From his shadow, the winged ant manifested.

“What do you think?” Jin-Woo asked.

The insect clicked its mandibles excitedly.

“Kekeke, that’s a wonderful idea, my queen,” it replied, clearly far too enthusiastic.

Why could you understand it? No clue. It was probably because you were also a Player, and Jin-Woo had drilled it into Beru from the start that he should listen to you as well. Besides, you liked him—and he liked you.

You looked expectantly at the Shadow Monarch, whose lips curved into a smile as he turned back to you.

“If it makes you happy,” he said, placing a hand on your head. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

*

"Why the hell?!" you asked the moment your feet touched solid ground again.

You, Jin-Woo, and Hae-In now stood in the middle of the training arena. You hadn’t wanted to be part of this situation in the first place, and when the black-haired man had pulled the blonde closer, it had sent a sharp pain through your chest. You wanted to leave. But Jin-Woo had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you here, knowing that words alone wouldn’t convince you to stay. For once, he had chosen to be selfish.

Clearly irritated, you pulled yourself free from his grip and moved away from the two of them, seeking refuge at the edge of the arena. You trusted Beru to avoid accidentally hurting you, but the ant could be reckless in battle.

Jin-Woo watched you walk away, his mouth opening as if to stop you, but you were already storming off. This would have consequences later...

While Jin-Woo and Cha retreated to the armory, you were finally alone with your thoughts for the first time that day. Worry gnawed at you. Everything was unfolding differently than the story you remembered. Was it your fault? Had you interfered too much? If so, why hadn’t the system reacted? And if not... then what was the reason? Something was terribly wrong... but what?

Your mind drifted back to the manhwa, trying to recall the exact details of the events. Yet they eluded you. Meanwhile, the two hunters returned. Cha was now equipped with a weapon, and Jin-Woo stood several meters away. It wasn’t until Beru’s overwhelming aura enveloped your senses that realization struck.

This wasn’t right... She was supposed to face Igris first.

Before you could voice your concerns, the battle had already begun.

The fight went horribly wrong. Beru had lost control, and if Jin-Woo hadn’t stopped him, he would have torn Hae-In apart. The arena lay in ruins, and the black-haired man stood protectively in front of the blonde, while Beru fell to his knees, apologizing profusely.

Slowly, the conversation from the manhwa came back to you. She would tell him that she was interested in him.

I’ve been splintering apart

Badump.

Your heartbeat grew louder in your ears as the other sounds faded into the background.

Badump.

Your heart clenched as your eyes remained fixed on the two of them. They looked good together... too good.

Badump.

Panic slowly but surely crept up your limbs. You didn’t want to be here when she said it. You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want to face the truth. You had known it all along, but you had willingly ignored it. They were meant to be together.

Badump.

Breaking open from the start

Your breaths became shallow, and your pounding heart grew louder as you watched Hae-In’s cheeks flush pink. Soon, you would see his eyes light up as he realized why Hae-In had taken on all these burdens. The pain in your chest made it hard to breathe, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Badump.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t even hear the black-haired man call your name as you bolted out of the arena. The cold air outside whipped against your face.

But you didn’t get far. A warm hand gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, forcing you to stop.

“Hey!” His voice was both frustrated and worried—clearly not understanding why you had left without a word.

“Let me go, please,” you said softly, tugging lightly to reinforce your words. But Jin-Woo didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he held on tighter to keep you from walking away.

You bit your lower lip, holding back tears. You avoided looking at him, unable to face the concern in his eyes.

“Hey... it’s not your fault this happened. I shouldn’t have let her fight him in the first place,” he said, his voice quieter now. Was that it? Did he think you felt guilty?

The evening continued its quiet work, slowly but surely extinguishing all the colors. Deep blue blended with pale orange where the last warriors of the sun made their final stand.

Gates of heaven are closing

Much like your emotions, fighting against the encroaching darkness—the images of the two of them vivid in your mind.

“That’s not it,” you replied, your voice strained.

Jin-Woo’s concerned expression hardened further. Was it... because he had dragged you here against your will?

But that wasn’t it.

Your throat felt tight, and you swallowed hard.

“That wasn’t fair of me... I’m sorry, I—” Jin-Woo began, but when he saw your face, the words caught in his throat.

Your expression was equal parts hurt and angry. Your [E/C] eyes, usually so bright with joy, were brimming with tears.

Why was this idiot here and not with Hae-In? Had he left her standing there? Why was he making it so hard for you to do the right thing?

His eyes widened, and his heart sank into his stomach as he took in your pained expression. What was wrong? What had he done?

“Why aren’t you with her?” you managed to ask, your voice trembling. Jin-Woo reflexively released your wrist in shock. What? Who?

You seized the opportunity and ran, leaving Jin-Woo momentarily speechless as his mind raced.

Did you mean Hae-In? Why should he be with her? That made no sense to him at all.

Until suddenly, realization struck. Could it be that...? No. That couldn’t be it.

He quickly caught up to you, your gaze fixed stubbornly ahead.

“Stop,” his voice was calm, and his tone commanding, but you had no intention of listening.

When you ignored his second plea, he firmly grabbed your wrist once more.

The protest died in your throat as he pulled you into his chest, trapping you in a warm embrace.

What did you do in my head?

His scent filled your nose, and the warmth of his body spread through your limbs as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

Why?

Jin-Woo held you tightly against him, one hand on your waist—the other buried in your hair.

“Wha—” you began, your voice trembling, but he silenced you with a soft sound.

“Because I want to be with you,” the black-haired man murmured into your hair, before gently pulling you away to look into your eyes.

The cool gray of his eyes softened, as it always did when he spoke to you, catching your [E/C]. But this time, there was nothing playful in his gaze. He was serious.

Jin-Woo noticed the confusion written on your face.

One of his hands found its way to your cheek, a warm tingling spreading across your skin as he cupped your face.

What are you doing?

“You asked me why I’m not with her,” he explained, gently wiping away a tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye. He had never seen you cry before, and he didn’t like the sight. Especially not if he was the reason.

Weren’t you laying in my bed

He had never intended to tell you, but he couldn’t keep it inside any longer. It had to come out. You needed to know how much you meant to him—that she didn’t matter and that you were everything he had ever wanted.

“I just want to be with you,” he repeated, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He leaned down slightly, as if even this close wasn’t close enough. His breathing quickened as the sun’s rays fought valiantly against the darkness creeping over the sky.

Your heart pounded wildly, and your thoughts raced. Your palms grew sweaty, and you felt as though you might faint at any moment. The tension between you was palpable, begging for resolution.

You wanted to bridge the remaining inches, to tell him how you felt—to throw all your plans out the window.

Jin-Woo took a deep breath.

“[Y/N], I lo—”

[The course of the story remains unchanged.]

The window that flickered behind the black-haired man for a fraction of a second was a knife in your heart, now riddled with cracks, as you reflexively pressed a finger to his lips, stopping his sentence.

He fell silent immediately, looking at you in confusion, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Had he misread the signs after all?

Telling me I was chosen

“Don’t,” you whispered softly—your voice barely audible, but he heard it clearly.

If he said those three words, it would be over—there would be no turning back. If he said those words, you would break. If not now, then eventually—when fate ran its course. Because if you had learned one thing, it was that the system would find a way.

His throat tightened, and his chest constricted.

"I can’t—" you began haltingly, stumbling over your words. You couldn’t think of a single sentence that would make this situation any less painful for him.

You lowered your gaze, feeling Jin-Woo give up. His embrace loosened, and his arms fell limply to his sides.

You didn’t want to do this, but you had no choice. There simply wasn’t a happy ending for the two of you. Happiness together wasn’t meant to be.

Jin-Woo was hurt—he couldn’t believe how wrong he had been.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered before daring to look into his eyes one last time—eyes filled with anguish—before you turned and walked away.

*

The following weeks were quiet. Too quiet.

Jin-Woo and you hadn’t spoken since. Both of you were waiting for the other to take the first step, but neither of you dared to break the uncomfortable silence.

For Jin-Woo, the situation was clear: you didn’t return his feelings and wanted distance, just as much as he did. Yet it still felt wrong.

Your presence had taken over his life; he saw your shadow everywhere. Your absence had left a gaping hole, and the simplest things no longer brought him joy. Even Jinho was dejected. His shadows, too, felt the emptiness your absence had created in his heart—his inner turmoil and recklessness as he threw himself into battles reflected it.

Beru, in particular, wasn’t happy about your absence and kept asking after you until Jin-Woo firmly explained that you wouldn’t be coming back. The insect accepted it, albeit with a heavy heart.

Now I don’t even know you, and that’s the best part of it

Weeks turned into months, and Jin-Woo had regained much of his strength. He had grown more ruthless, focused solely on his goals. He had achieved so much, but none of it mattered if you weren’t there to cheer him on.

Neither the recognition from the Hunter’s Association nor the countless media articles praising him to the skies brought him any satisfaction. It wasn’t your recognition, so he didn’t need it.

He buried his heavy heart behind a wall of indifference, but he realized he was drifting further and further from any semblance of a normal life. He was rarely home, found himself in increasingly precarious situations during battles, and noticed how little he cared.

No matter what he did, nothing could fill the void.

It simply couldn’t go on like this, so he decided to do something he usually resisted.

He resolved to ask Hae-In on a date.

All I know, you’re the only thing that I see in color

While Jin-Woo threw himself into leveling up, you had shut yourself away at home for some time. Jin-Woo’s wounded face was burned into your mind; after all, it was the last thing you had seen of him.

Guilt gnawed at you, sapping your strength and will to move forward.

You had lost weight, only left your home for absolute necessities, and spent most of your time sleeping. You cried so much that you began to believe you had no tears left.

Every fiber of your being missed him.

His voice.

His scent.

His laughter.

Even his reprimanding tone when you and Beru got into trouble.

Everything about him. Your heart cried out for him, whether you were awake or asleep.

This heart is torturing me

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your phone screen—the numerous missed calls from Jinho had gradually become fewer, but he never gave up.

More guilt.

But what could you do to fix this? Calling Jin-Woo? Just tell him the truth? Maybe that would be the fairest way…

Countless times, you had typed his number into your phone, only to stop yourself at the last second. The fear that he wouldn’t believe you was too great.

You shook your head and stood up. This couldn’t go on. You had to talk to him, at least one last time—to come clean before you returned home.

You couldn’t bear the silence between you anymore.

The only pain I understand

Your eyes widened as you stared at the TV screen. A photo had just appeared on the display—your hands instantly dropped the paper cup you’d been holding, spilling the hot coffee it contained onto the ground.

With your mouth slightly open, you stared at the screen, which was displayed in the shop window of a store you had just been walking past.

You had stopped in your tracks as the image suddenly changed, revealing a paparazzi photo.

It showed Jin-Woo and Hae-In, with his arm around her shoulders.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything—maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding—but in your current state, you didn’t want to hear any of it.

Your heart had already cracked when you had to reject his feelings, but this time it felt as though it had shattered into a thousand pieces.

Your mouth went dry, and you couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

You stared at the picture as if hypnotized.

You half-expected a spiteful inner voice to appear, taunting you and telling you it had been right all along—but it stayed silent.

I can't escape the weight of your ultraviolent heart

You tore your gaze away from the screen, and your legs started moving on their own.

Faster.

Much faster.

As if you could somehow run away from it, as if these images wouldn’t follow you for the rest of your life.

Your body instinctively reacted to the pain in your soul, numbing it.

The pain ebbed away, leaving behind an emptiness that took over, shielding you from breaking down—at least for the moment.

When the door to your apartment finally closed behind you, shutting you away from the public’s eyes, every bullet hit you at once.

Your stomach churned, forcing you to vomit into the sink.

Your body doubled over, and you clung to the edge of the counter until the shaking subsided, until you rinsed your mouth and collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest in anguish.

Your body trembled uncontrollably as you screamed out the pain you had been holding back for so long. You screamed until your voice grew hoarse, until no words could escape your throat anymore.

How had it come to this? Why had he entered your life if he was never meant to stay? Why was the universe so cruel? What had you done to deserve this?

It’s a poison in my gut

It took an eternity for your body to stop trembling and the sobs to subside. Your tears dried up, your body too exhausted to produce any more.

You sat on the floor, your back against the wall, drained of all strength. Your head throbbed, and every trace of willpower had left your body.

Weakly, you lifted your hand and swiped downward in the air.

[Do you really wish to leave the game?] [Yes] / [No] [Yes]

Jin-Woo woke with a silent scream from his nightmare, his hand outstretched, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps as he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes darting frantically around the room.

A few seconds passed before he realized he was in his bedroom. The full moon shone through his window, bathing everything in silver light.

It was just a dream…a damn nightmare. But it had felt so incredibly real.

His hand clutched at his chest, which ached under the crushing weight of emotion.

He had seen your tear-streaked face as you looked at him, whispering a faint, “Goodbye.”

He felt so hollow, as though a giant hole had opened in his chest. As if something was terribly wrong.

Relief washed over him as he realized it had only been a dream. He rubbed his eyes, only to notice the glimmer of tears on his hand under the moonlight.

His resolve hardened: tomorrow, he would visit you and ask for your forgiveness, hoping you would be willing to forgive him. Hoping the empty feeling would finally disappear.

With that thought in mind, he drifted back to sleep. But the emptiness remained.

You’re the only thing that I see in color.

[The End]

Wow, this story just came to me while I was on the bus, listening to music…what can I say—I had to write it down before it was too late!

English isn’t my first language! I hope everything was understandable and legible.

I already have an idea for a part 2~ Would you like one? ~

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like a Phoenix (2)

Pairing: Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Series Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Bucky is a dick; Bucky has issues; mentions of murder, fire, death, knives, dead parents, sexism; prejudices; attitude

Author’s Note: Here is the second part already. Thank you for all those lovely comments!! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Once again, you follow Barnes through the woods, wondering if this is what you are destined to do now for the rest of your life.

You’ve been walking the whole day. Through the same forest. With the same mountain of a man in front of you. It’s almost about to get dark again.

Leaves whisper around you, birds cry in the distance and you try - you try so hard - to find some sense of peace in those sounds since it really is the first time you get to listen to this so near, but it still doesn’t match the dreams you have imagined for so long.

The hem of your gown is tattered, stained with mud, and torn by thorns. The embroidery that once shimmered in candlelight is dulled. The fabric used to be so soft against your skin, but it feels abrasive now, like sandpaper scraping against a wound.

You want nothing more than to rip it off.

But you can’t.

This gown, as ruined as it is, is all you have left of who you were. A princess. A daughter of a king and Queen. A girl who once walked polished marble floors, who dined beneath chandeliers that glimmered brightly.

This gown is your last tether to that life, and you hate it for it as much as you need it.

Your feet are still aching and you stumble a few times in trying to keep up with Barnes's fast pace again.

The soles are raw and blistered.

But your senses seemed to have dulled enough to not care about that at the moment.

Your stomach growls.

It might be the fourth time now in however many minutes.

Barnes hears it. You know he does, because he sighs - an exhale so sharp and pointed, he might have used his whetstone to sharpen more than his blade.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around, doesn’t offer a single word.

His broad shoulders remain squared and rigid.

The last meal you had was at the banquet - if you can even call it a meal. You barely ate, too consumed by the intensity of the watchful eyes of men who saw you as anything but a person. Your skin still crawls at the memory of those gazes.

You try and stretch your limbs out a little. They are still sore and weak from the night before, from the contorted position you were forced to sleep in because of the cold wind.

The ground had been unkind, its hard surface pressing against your ribs and hips, you might believe you have bruises.

When you woke up this morning, the fire was burning. It had been cold when you fell asleep.

You don’t know when Barnes lit it. You don’t know why. He didn’t say a word to you when you stirred, didn’t even look at you beyond a cursory glance.

He simply tossed you a get ready to move before turning his back and tending to his blade. Did he sharpen this stupid thing the whole night?

Part of you wanted to thank him for the fire. But the larger part bristled at the thought. And who is to say he put it on for you? So, you said nothing, stood, and got ready to move on.

You glance at Barnes’s back. The muscles beneath his worn brown armor shift with each step. You find yourself looking at his back quite often.

The trees grow denser. The air is damp and earthy and you are sure the scent of moss and decaying leaves won’t leave your hair any time soon.

Barnes stops suddenly. His head tilts to the side faintly as if listening to something beyond your comprehension.

As before, you nearly collide with him, too lost in your thoughts to notice his abrupt halt.

He turns to look at you then. His blue eyes piercing and assessing. There is something in his gaze you don’t know what to make of. Not kindness, not really. But it is not the coldness or indifference you’ve come to expect either.

With his eyes on you, he jerks his chin to a fallen log nearby.

“Sit,” he says gruffly, his voice low but carrying something that makes you do just that.

Obeying, you sink down onto the rough surface with a gratitude you don’t voice.

He unslings his pack and begins rummaging through it, pulling out a small pouch of dried meat and another of what looks like nuts.

He tosses them to you without ceremony, then pulls out a flask and takes a long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Eat,” he orders, his tone as brusque as you came to know.

The food is unappealing as it is necessary, but you don’t complain. The dried meat is tough, each bite requiring an effort that makes your jaw ache, but the saltiness is oddly satisfying.

The nuts are bland, their texture chalky, but they fill the emptiness in your stomach, if only temporarily.

You chew slowly, hoping to maintain the grace you’ve been taught your whole life despite living a different now all of a sudden.

Barnes is watching you. You are aware of his gaze but choose to ignore it. Perhaps there is something critical in his eyes and he is asking himself why the hell he agreed to take you with him. Or perhaps he is simply keeping track of your pace, ensuring you eat enough to keep up.

But something doesn’t sit right.

You glance at his pack, then back at him.

He is perched on the edge of a moss-covered stone, arms resting on his knees, and he is no longer looking at you, head tilted slightly downward, lost in thought as it looks like.

The flask rests by his side, but he makes no move toward the food he just handed you, or gets himself something from his pack.

You haven’t seen him eat anything since you met him. Maybe he ate something this morning when you were still asleep but that too is many hours ago now.

The food sits heavily in your stomach and you swallow hard. You prepare yourself to break the silence. Or, rather, you build up some courage to talk to him.

“Why don’t you eat?”

His head lifts, piercing blue eyes snapping to yours with an intensity that makes you flinch. There is irritation there, the faintest flicker of exasperation, but no answer.

He looks away just as quickly, his jaw tight. “I’m fine,” he says curtly, as if the matter is settled.

Your fingers curl around the pouch of nuts, frown tugging down your brows.

You are tired. Tired of all this. Tired of the silence, of the questions you don’t get answers to, feeling so unwelcome in the presence of this man you didn’t even want to have anything to do with. Tired of you being brushed off all the time.

“You have been walking all day, same as me. You need to eat.”

He exhales a vexed breath, shoulders rising and falling tensely with the effort of keeping himself calm. “I said I’m fine. Eat your food.”

But you don’t let it go. You reach into the pouch, pull out a handful of nuts, and hold them out to him. “Here,” you say softly, hoping your hand stays steady enough so he won’t notice your nerves playing with you.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His gaze falls to the offering in your hand, then back to your face. Something unreadable passes through his expression, too fleeting to make out. Then his lips press into a hard line. “Keep it,” he bites out, roughly. “You’ll need it more.”

You don’t lower your hand. “Why won’t you just take it?”

His patience snaps like a brittle branch.

He lets out a frustrated groan that might have been a growl, raking a hand through his dark hair. “Because I’ve got nothing else,” he snaps, his voice louder than you’ve heard it before. He looks away after his little outburst, his jaw working almost painfully hard.

It hits you harder than you expect. You glance at his pack, at the threadbare state of his clothes, the patches on his jacket that tell of years and tear.

He’s been rationing - not just food, but everything. He doesn’t have more. But he gave you the rest of the food he had, and he has been doing so without a word, without complaint. The thought makes your throat tighten.

You are silent for a moment, but an idea sparks in your mind.

Slowly, you reach for the clasp at your neck. You had almost forgotten it was still there. Your necklace. The delicate thing of gold with a single, small ruby at its center. One of the few remnants of your old life. The one you had been living just yesterday.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo it and hold it out to him. “Take this,” you say quietly.

His head jerks towards you, his expression shifting to confusion. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You can sell it,” you explain, trying to push down your nerves. “Get food. Supplies. Something.”

His brows draw together, gaze moving from the necklace to your face and back again. “Spare me your pity.” His words are gruff, almost angry. But there is a hint of something else. He is genuinely bewildered by your gesture.

“It is not pity,” you insist, trying to hold his gaze. “You… You’re keeping me alive. It is the least I can do,” you add a little hesitantly.

The muscles in his face tighten and loosen as he stares at the chain in your hand with an expression you haven’t seen before. It might be the softest he has looked since you met him.

He doesn’t move to take it, but he doesn’t refuse outright either. You seem to have gotten him off guard for a moment. He looks away for a while, gaze fixed on some distant point in the forest. For a long moment, the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the wind.

His voice, when it comes, is somewhat thick, quieter, and low, almost grudging. “Keep it. For now.”

You hesitate. But with a small sigh, you lower your hand, grasping the necklace tighter again so it won’t slip through your hands to the forest floor.

There is a tension in the air. It seems to bend it. Making you hold your breath as you avoid looking at him again.

He won’t look at you either but there is something in his posture that has changed. It is a shift in the way he holds himself. As if he is no longer preparing for the next hit.

You tuck the necklace safely into the folds of your gown since you sure as the devil won’t ask the man to put it back on you.

The silence stretches on. But it feels lighter somehow. Unspoken words easing just enough to let you breathe.

Yet the food in front of you feels uncomfortable now. Each bite you have taken feels like a theft - from him, from his dwindling resources.

You glance back at him, still perched on the moss-covered stone, his expression unreadable as he stares at the forest floor.

He’s been silent before, more so than not, but something about his stillness now makes your heart feel heavy.

Without thinking, you nudge the remaining food toward him, standing up swiftly, needing the act to be completed before doubt can settle. “Here,” you say, voice as resolute as it would go. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

His eyes are fixed on you in an instant again, narrowing warningly. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls, his voice low but biting, like the crack of a branch beneath too much weight. “You’re still hungry. Eat.”

“I’m fine,” you counter, echoing his earlier words with a stubbornness that surprises even you. Your heart is pounding. Your hands are getting clammy at the way he looks at you, but you force yourself not to back down.

You have never been good at pushing back against people, not like this, but something about your new situation makes you dive in your heels. After all, you’ve also never been without your parents to this extent, or without a home, a ceiling atop your head.

You feel like, you can allow yourself a little attitude. And when you have to find out that he has been sharpening his knives in that almost passive-aggressive manner just to kill you, well, then you will go down as the princess you are.

He sits there stiffly, clearly aggravated, but you turn away before he can argue further, deciding to continue your trek, following the narrow path that winds deeper into the trees.

Behind you, you hear him exhale, though it sounds more annoyed than angry. A muttered curse follows you and you almost can’t suppress the smile that tried to make its way onto your face.

His heavier footsteps follow, quickly closing in and he strides in front of you again, sighing once more. There still lingers a little displeasure at the whole situation but it sounds softer. And you might have heard it turn into a suppressed and breathless laugh for a second.

Amusement.

The path is uneven, strewn with roots that twist gnarled across the ground of the earth. You keep your eyes on the ground, not wanting to snap your ankle and become an even bigger burden.

Walking this path is tiring you out, considering the fact that you have been on your feet the whole day without getting a good night's sleep.

You don’t know how long you keep going, but it is completely dark again and Barnes's back is only illuminated by the moonlight barely sinking through the trees.

Your mind has been on edge ever since yesterday, so full of questions about yourself and the mystery surrounding this man.

They churn ceaselessly, those questions, clawing at the walls of your mind, making you almost wince. Each question is a stone dropped into a bottomless well, the echo spiraling down, down, down - never reaching an answer, only silence.

Your mind is as twisted as the tunnels you had escaped from and it only makes your head hurt so much more.

You are exhausted beyond belief.

Even your usually straight spine is turned into a question mark.

The part of the forest you are walking on is relatively straight but you feel like you are walking uphill. Through air turned to syrup.

The longer you walk, the more the world in your mind slows - not with peace, but with the sluggish drag of overuse.

Ahead of you, Barnes moves with the same annoying purpose as always, his tall, dark frame cutting a path through the thick forest.

You wonder if he is as unaffected as he seems, if his endurance is as unshakable as the armor he wears.

“Barnes.”

Oh, no.

You didn’t know your mind is that far gone already to let your mouth have a mind on its own.

The man in front of you freezes for a fraction of a second.

You should not have used his name. Not so directly. So you keep on talking, pressing the words out quickly but with a hesitation you are sure he hears.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere to rest soon.”

Barnes continues to walk in front of you, but you see the slight shift. His shoulders are still tense but in a slightly different way. He seems to contemplate something.

It takes a while for him to answer and when he does, his voice sounds almost hoarse. Rough. “It’s Bucky,”he mutters.

“What?”

A pause. A sigh. Another pause. “My name. Call me Bucky.” There is no warmth in his tone, but there’s something else - a reluctant offering, perhaps, or the faintest dent in his hard armor.

You blink, surprised. That is not what you had expected. And you are unsure whether to acknowledge it or stay silent. Your fingers fidget with the fabric of your gown as you search for the right response. You nod, more than for yourself than for him, and steady your voice. “Okay. Bucky.”

He doesn’t respond. His gaze is firmly fixed ahead, but now there definitely is a change in his posture. It’s not quite softness, not an invitation, but it is something - subtle and fleeting. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You barely manage to suppress a yawn when you notice his stride falter.

He glances back.

That’s the first time he’s done that. He never looked back at you while wandering through the woods, never even hinted that he needed to confirm your presence.

You have grown accustomed to the idea that he just knew you were there, trailing behind like a load he can’t shake.

But now, his head turns slightly and those deep eyes find yours.

The moment is so startling, that you almost trip, your foot catching on a root.

His gaze rakes over you, studying, but giving nothing away. There’s no gentleness there, no sympathy, but neither is there judgment.

His attention makes your skin prickle and your neck heat up.

He seems to focus on your trembling limbs, the way your shoulders sag.

He sees all of it, and for a brief second, you think you catch a glimmer of something. Again, it is gone so fast but you know it was there.

As quickly as it began, it’s over. He briskly turns around, the glance seemingly nothing more than an instinctual check.

“We’ll settle down soon,” he announces. His voice gives nothing away. There is no acknowledgment of the toll the journey has taken on you, but it’s enough.

Relief floods your chest, filling your lungs with something sweeter than oxygen, intertwining with the residual tension his gaze had created.

****

“Where are you taking me?”

Sitting a few inches away from you, Bucky lets out a sigh. It’s long and drawn out, but surprisingly not as sharp as you had expected. It sounds tired.

“What did I tell you about askin’ me questions?” He doesn’t say it like a question. His tone is dismissive. He sounds annoyed.

Your chest tightens. Your breaths are shallow.

Each exhale aches with want - wanting resolution, wanting action, wanting answers, wanting something to crack.

He didn’t say anything to you since announcing that you would settle down soon. True to his word, he actually stopped not long after.

But he basically ignored you. He didn’t even order you to go to sleep.

He just shrugged off his pack and sat by the base of a large tree - one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee. You watched him as he pulled out his dagger and began to clean his nails with the casualness of someone who doesn’t feel the need to explain himself.

And again, you hated him for it.

In fact, something starts to burn inside of you. A fire, burning low and smoldering, its smoke wafting into every corner of your mind and clouding your senses.

Each thought is a spark, feeding the flame.

It burns like your home has. Like your parents have. Like your old life has.

And the only remains left will be the ash, piling high, darkening everything, dirtying your title.

Your fingers tighten on your legs, having wrapped them around you in your seated position to try and make yourself warmer.

Nails dig into your gown, hurting your skin through the fabric.

“I deserve to know.”

That makes him pause. He looks up then. His blue eyes look dark in the dead of night. He fixes you with the kind of stare that makes you want to take a step back, though you don’t move. “Do you?” he asks with a low voice. Dangerous. “Do you deserve to know? You think this is a negotiation, princess?”

The title sounds like acrid on his tongue.

Like it burned in his throat on its way up and he needed to spit it out.

You crack.

“Yes!” you spit it out the same way he did your title. “I do deserve to know. Because in case you have not noticed, I’ve lost everything. My home is gone, my parents are gone, and I am here, in the middle of a forest, with you! I know you did not ask for this but neither did I. People have been making decisions for me my whole life. They don’t ask me what I think, what I need, or what I want. And believe me, this-”your hands point at your surroundings and him “-is not what I want. So, yes, I think I deserve to know where you are taking me.”

Each sentence feels heavy. It’s like carrying a stone all the way up a hill to the edge of a cliff, only to see it tumble soundlessly into a void.

Silence follows.

Blood pounds in your ears. It pounds like a ticking clock. The clock that might count the remaining seconds of your life.

Bucky stares at you with an unreadable expression.

His dagger is still in his hand. The blade catches the light of the moon for a second and you almost flinch as he lowers it.

The smirk you have seen before - the one that twists at the corners of his mouth in a taunt - is absent now. His expression makes you uneasy.

“You’re right,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual but no less hard. “You didn’t ask for this.”

His words are a concession, but his tone doesn’t make them feel like one. There is no apology in his tone, no softening in his gaze. He tucks the dagger back into his belt and leans closer. Even with the distance and your sitting positions, he towers over you. His shadow falls long against the forest floor.

“But here’s the thing,” he continues, voice colder than the night air. “Nobody will ever care for what you ask for. Nobody will ever care if you deserve better, or fairer, or easier. Life takes what it takes, and it leaves you with what’s left. Right now, that’s me.”

The space between you seems to shrink with every word he basically throws at you. Or maybe that’s just the force of them, pressing against your ribs, your shoulders, your head, your legs. Until you feel trapped.

“You want to know where I’m taking you? Fine. I’m taking you somewhere safe. That’s it. That’s all you need to know. Because if you start askin’ for more, you’re going to be disappointed.”

You push against the walls of your own limit, only to feel them close tighter. The space shrinks. Tighter. Tighter. Until you can no longer remember the purpose of breathing.

He takes his time to watch you. His gaze is like the steel of his blade - sharpened to perfection.

His eyes burn through you but without warmth.

Frost creeps across your skin, freezing you in place, though you refrain from tightening your arms around yourself.

Your pulse is in chaos, each beat shaking your composure, thudding loud, and reverberating in your ears.

You feel exposed. In your entirety. He might as well see through your skin, through your bones that seem to shrink under his stare, right to the tender places inside you, that you’ve worked so hard to protect.

“You think you’ve got it bad, huh?” Bucky sneers. “You lost your palace, your shiny crown, the cushy life of being waited on hand and foot? Poor little princess. Maybe that’ll teach you how to be thankful for simply being alive.”

Your hands tighten around your legs.

“So you think you can just shove me through the mud without a single explanation, without even the slightest bit of humanity-”

“Humanity?” His laugh is short, cruel, and humorless. “You think humanity is what’s gonna keep you breathin’ out here? You think I’ve got the time or the patience to coddle a girl who’s never had to survive a day in her life? Save the sob story, princess. It doesn’t change a bloody thing.”

He stands up then. His tall frame looks menacing in the way he stands above you. His gaze is so blank. So uncaring.

“You see, your Highness - your palace is ash, your parents are dead, your title means nothin’, and the only reason you’re here right now, instead of lying face down in a ditch with a blade in your back, is because of me.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you ground out, voice shaking but resolute. You rise to your feet yourself but still have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “Do you believe being born in a palace means living a perfect life? Do you believe you are the only one who suffers? That I’ve never felt trapped, or powerless, or suffocated because of the decisions all the others are making for me my whole life? I did not choose this life. I did not choose to have every moment of it dictated by someone else. To be looked at like I’m nothing more than a symbol. A prize. A pawn.”

It’s like speaking into a canyon. Your words echo back to you, hollow and distorted. Meaningless. Because they never reach anything. They only repeat themselves to you.

“You think your crown made you a pawn?” Bucky scoffs. “Your crown was the only thing keeping you alive-”

“I thought that was you-”

“-Out here, you’re nothing,” he continues firmly as if you never even talked, but his eyes flash. “Just another girl who doesn’t know how to survive. And if you keep wastin’ time whining about what you’ve lost, you’re gonna lose a hell of a lot more.”

“I’ve already lost everything!” you cry, your voice breaking, your hands trembling. The words just barrel out of your throat, rushing and violent, without pause for precision. “All that’s left for me is a man who treats me like I’m worth less than the dirt under his boots. I did not ask for you. I did not ask for any of this. So stop acting like I am the one who is supposed to be thankful. You are here because you were ordered to be. Don’t act like you’re my hero.”

He steps closer to you. His shadow falls darker than the night around you, covering you in its entirety. His eyes blaze with an intensity that borders on feral. He doesn’t take them off you for a second.

The tension he radiates crackles against your skin. Your instincts scream at you to move away from him, to cower and hide, to shield yourself, to run into the woods, and never look back. But you are rooted into place.

“Oh, but you should be grateful.” His voice burns itself into the air. “You think bandits in these woods are gonna stop and bow because you’re wearing a filthy gown and calling yourself royalty? You think anyone out here gives a damn about who you are or what you’ve lost? Or whatever dreams you have about what you deserve? No one’s coming to save you, your Highness. They’re all too busy tearin’ apart what’s left of your kingdom. All that matters now is keepin’ that pretty head atop your shoulders. And the only person able to keep it that way is me. So, yeah, you’re damn right you owe me. Every. Single. Breath.”

Your lips part but no words come out.

You don’t know if the ground gives way beneath you. But it feels like it might have. It crumbles and tumbles and falls into itself. You reach and you reach and you reach and there is nothing but air to meet you. But even as you fall, you will still be grasping, will still be fighting, until the very end.

Beneath the fury in his words, there is something else - a bitterness, a weariness that feels older than you can fathom.

It carries a weight. A gravity that demands not just your attention, but your surrender.

“You think you can survive without me? You think you’d last a day?”

Your skin flushes with color, cheeks burning crimson at the fire of fury that scorches your throat, making it feel raw and blistering. Making your next words sound rough as they come out.

“Maybe I wouldn’t. But at least I would die knowing I wasn’t at the mercy of a man who looks at me like I am already dead.”

Something shifts in his eyes for a second. His lips press into a line so thin, it might be a boundary you seemingly are about to cross. His eyes turn cold again. So cold. And yet, they feel alive. Piercing. Penetrating you with his unrelenting focus.

“I didn’t grow up in a palace,” he spits out. “And you know what that taught me? That the world doesn’t care about your sob stories. It doesn’t care if you’re a princess or a pauper. The only thing that matters is who’s still standin’ at the end of the day. And the only reason you are is because I’ve decided to keep you that way.”

You grit your teeth. Your body is holding a scream too big to let out.

“Oh so now I am supposed to grovel at your feet, is that it? Thank you, great and noble Barnes, for dragging me through hell without caring a damn bit if I even live or die. Should I kiss your boots while I’m at it?”

“Watch your tone,” he warns, his voice low and taut. “You’ve got no idea what it takes to survive out here, and you’ve got no idea how close you’ve come to being just another body on the road.”

“Then maybe you should have just left me,” you try to yell, but it sounds fractured, snapping and curling back on itself. “Maybe you should have left me to burn just like my parents did. Why didn’t you leave me behind? Why did you agree to this and drag me out here like some burden you can barely stand to deal with?”

His eyes flash with something dangerous, but you don’t stop.

“What did my mother-”

“Don’t,” he seethes lowly.

“You swore to her-”

“Shut up,” he shouts, voice rising for the first time. “That has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me? She was my mother!”

His chest is heaving with heavy breaths, his hands are gripping and releasing nothing, just the air that holds all the tension - akin to a hunter assessing its talons before plunging them into its victim.

You try not to shrink but your space feels diminished.

His shoulders are stone, drawn up and braced. He seems to thrum with energy. His eyes draw into a narrow, tightening at the corners.

“All you need to know,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, almost growling tone, “is that I’ll take you somewhere safe and make sure your head stays in place. So unless you want to lose it, you’ll keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand.”

You stare at him. The heat of all that’s been said burns in the air between you but you still feel colder than ever. A shiver creeps up your spine, muscles releasing with a shudder.

The breaths that fall from your lips are too shallow, as if the atmosphere is being pulled away, claimed by his intensity.

A thousand retorts claw at your throat, but none of them make it out.

You feel it draining out of you. The energy. The fire that burned hot, but now leaks away. Leaving your limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Your chest feels hollow.

Your heartbeat slows, not peacefully, but with a kind of aching fatigue.

Your hands fall open, fingers slackening.

Your jaw loosens, leaving your mouth slightly open. Making room for the words you were ready to speak to flee, leaving only silence for you to stand in.

But even standing in front of him feels precarious. The earth beneath your feet might tilt at any moment and your body would lack the will to catch itself. And you know Bucky wouldn’t dare to even lift a single finger for you.

It is a surrender not of choice but of inevitability.

Because he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t try to. He doesn’t care to.

“Now go to sleep,” he says so flatly as if nothing even happened. “We move tomorrow at dawn.”

“Silence just feeds the rage, a calm that screams with hurt, and there I was, trapped in the quiet, my mind a chaotic storm of pain. Every word I swallowed felt like a match, lighting up the ashes of my frustration, until the heat inside me became too much to hold back.”

- Jaelyn Young

Taglist: @cjand10 @unaxv

[a-driftamongopenstars]

a gift for the departed; Crow & Fikrul ficlet;

i finally finished Act III and the resolution was interesting and I'll think about it more, I really wanted some closure for Crow (and Uldren!) and Fikrul. So I wrote my own :D also on ao3

It is a pilgrimage. Crow ascends the ruins of the would-be Kell's hideout as the remaining Scorn watch him out of sight. There is respect for him, yes, but there is more. There is scorn. It is something that cannot be undone, far too many wrongs.

Crow walks safely through the courtyard, through the tunnels that burrow through the rocky dungeon. With the last Scorn Barons dead, nothing but tainted cinder left in their wake, there is no need for violence.

His destination lies far ahead, across the dark maws of the Reef. Every room is an homage to Uldren's and Fikrul's dream. Awoken statues left in shambles, their sacred designs corrupted and perverted. All that the Prince and the Fanatic wanted to see but never lived to.

But the crown to that dream, the final destination, is where Fikrul's body lies. Crow's footsteps echo in the massive throne room, and he cannot look away from the pointed arch of his Sister's seat.

But that will have to wait.

Crow finds Fikrul's remains untouched. The only mark of his defeat is the poison-green webbing at his chest, where the Guardian has filled his Ether with Light and reverted what the Darkness has done. Crow is struck with a flashback, his fingers trembling, his eyes wetting with tears, as he remembers Fikrul's Ether-bleeding wounds from times ago. How he wished, oh how he wished with his whole heart, that Fikrul be spared from the Guardians' violence.

A wish granted, a son born. That is how he became a Father.

Crow shakes his head, wishing that memory away. The part of him which is Uldren weeps, and he lets it. It, too, deserves to mourn the loss.

He was not a good Father. He left his wish-made off-spring into a bodyguard, a weapon, an undying font of loyalty. And when he himself was put into the ground, his son was left stranded, bound forever to live on. Perhaps, such is the fate of children, however they come to be.

But in this outcome, Crow feels happier. The other part of him, righteous and bold, is glad that the Fanatic's rule is over. No more tortured Eliksni. No more death and rebirth, not for him, not like this.

So he turns to the other thing that calls to him. The throne that looks like a dark fork against the blood-red window.

He seats himself upon it. He reaches up for the pin in his hair and removes it, letting black strands fall in a familiar fashion down his head. His eyes, shining brightly in this dark, scout the room where everything is dead, still and unmoving.

His vision feels out of bounds and distant, yet focused entirely on this throne room. A memory once again, or, perhaps, something that never happened. A gift for the departed, a vision and a dream come true, if only for a moment.

Strange, how in order to move on, one has to return to the origins of pain. Crow finds himself in that situation more often than he wishes to. And yet, it is cathartic.

He feels Uldren's voice coat his vocal cords with bitter honey, his words elevated with the Awoken slant.

"I release you from my service," he says quietly, royally, aiming at nothing in particular and everything at once. "Now go. Be free."

The silent room echoes.

[anotheroceanid]

Tbh with the WTHB x Athenide fusion everything could have been avoided (The prophecy of the triplets) had Zeus not made Perse fade back in WW||, so at the end of the day isn't everything his fault?

Also, Apollo has finally gotten with the goddess of his dreams but nothing ever seems to go right for this man lmao

Yeeees ✨✨✨

Like, if she never faded in the 40s, the triplets simply wouldn’t exist and probably Apollo and her would keep her pining.

We didn’t get to the point in which we understand how Percy and Apollo got together in WTHB, but I really wanted her to have agency and not just Apollo being the one to endlessly pursue her until she was too tired to say no. We’ll get to how this played out, but she wanted to be there just as much as him.

In WTHBxATHENIDE AU, a few things would have to be different, but not as much, because Percy was interested and she would make the first move in that context.

AND THEN SHE IS STOLEN AWAY BY GAEA AND EVERYONE FREAKS OUT BECAUSE PERSE IS GONE AGAIN.

Maybe the one different thing is that everyone would immediately suspect of Apollo, but putting that aside, the biggest change is that Athena would not back Zeus’ very desperate choices (that she only does because WTHB Athena is veeeery emotionally attatched to her dad, something that TTG Athena isnt because of ✨reasons✨)

Alsoooo, a few things going on with WTHB Percy’s mind because of Gaea, but imagine this being Gaea being the reason Percy cannot retrieve her memories as Athenide.

Oh, the TASTE.

[littleglutton]

Bare with me, I never post anymore, but with the release of Caleb's trailer, I have the need to SCREAM.

I am so excited because let me tell you, I firmly believed the only way they could do it right was by bringing him back as THE villain. Not a villain, mind you, THE villain.

Now, hear me out, ok. As someone coming from both the original launch of both MLQC and LADS, I've been playing these otomes forever. Am I an expert? Absolutely not. Have I poured an obscene amount of time, energy, and even money into these games because they bring me joy? Hell yes. #noragrets

Mind you, this is just me speculating and having fun, take what resonates with you 😜

Let me ramble a bit more.

Slight spoiler ahead for mid MLQC lore, so maybe skip or come back to this later if you need to

I thought for sure that when Sylus was introduced, he was the be-all, end-all bad guy. But nope, what he got instead was a super delicious, badass mafia boss whose interests actually end up aligning with MC (because honestly, what he really wanted was YOU), therefore eliminating the truly antagonistic part of their relationship, even if it started that way. Don't get me wrong, Sylus is absolutely morally gray and suspicious, but for the most part, he's not malevolent.

Now, idk bout y'all but the entire VIBE of Caleb's trailer was dark. Stormclouds, abundant. Lighting, striking. Traumatic memories/dreams, all of the above. The best part, watching Caleb suit up into that delicious black uniform. Did that honestly look like a uniform the good guy wears? Because I say hell no, not with those eyes and smile that are suddenly less endearing and more unnerving! Also, let's take a quick peek at those handsome eyes for a second, hmm? What color are they, again?

VIOLET

In film and media history alone, purple is definitely a color associated with the more suspicious/villainous characters. And if we're going by Paper Games alone, you know who else has the dark hair/violet eyed wombo combo?

This shady bastard, right here:

My first love and the original, truly villainous LI of MLQC: Lucien, aka Ares.

When I first started LADS, being a Lulu girlie, I immediately gravitated towards Zayne, obvi. But then I realized the only thing that was really similar was their stoic personalities. While they are also similar in terms of looks and professions, they share completely different motives. In reality, Zayne's arc mirrors more of Gavin's - reunited childhood friends. And while Zayne is typically an icy person in general, throughout the story he opens up so much to MC, allowing their relationship to grow. And while he is secretive about some things, for the most part, he's honest, almost to a fault. I never got the feeling or vibe that there was always another shoe to drop, or that he was hiding one hand behind his back while distracting us with the other like a certain someone listed above. And that is Lucien's draw. As soon as you find out his alter-ego, you're never TRULY sure which Lucien you're talking to from that point on. Are you Lucien, or are you Ares? Also, much of the time, especially in the traditional-themed cards, Lucien is almost always referenced with a snake to really hit home the duality and suspicious nature of his character.

I honestly think we're heading this direction with Caleb. Caleb, whose symbol is an apple. (Original Sin, hello.)

I feel like he's been in-the-thick-of-it longer than we realize. Like...he was recruited for a reason and it's not what we think. That wasn't a rookie's uniform, guys, that was a big boi uniform 😳 if you go to his character profile, it blatantly states he's a COLONEL. WHAT THE HELL!

Why am I excited about this? Aside from the copious amounts of angst we're going to get, it means that Caleb is already established in his career just like the others and that makes him more sure of his personal motives and decisions. (And his bad decisions, I can't wait for his bad decisions 🫠) This is what's going to drive the tension and antagonistic relationship between himself and MC. Because I can tell you right now, whatever that boy is doing, HE probably firmly believes it's the "right" thing to do. There was not one ounce of insecurity or hesitance when he put that uniform on. Is he tied to Ever? I'm going to say, absolutely. The speculation before the trailer was the only thing keeping me interested. I feel like they gave us a bland start to Caleb on purpose so the reveal would hit a little harder. And now that this seems to be the route we're headed, I'm INVESTED.

Food for thought, before I wrap up this long-winded rant:

Caleb is also supposed to be a direct foil to Zayne.

We already know that personality wise, they are quite opposite, but let's check their physicality.

Physically, they are very similar: tall, pale-skin, dark shaggy hair that's cut only slightly different. So where is our visual cue to really cement this foil? Well, it looks like again, it's all in the eyes. Because, what's across the color wheel from purple?

Green

This is just my take on things. Could be right, could also be dead wrong to which I will come back to this post and say so and leave it up for posterity's sake. 😆

At the end of the day, let's all remember that it's just a silly otome game that we all enjoy and in this house we love ALL 5 of our boys, (10 if we're adding MLQC 😂) so if you're gonna say something disrespectful or mean, please scroll on. But if you're coming with fun takes and theories of your own, I'm always free to chat!

[niobiumao3]

Anyways, here are some random tidbits I swear I'm not actually writing this except maybe I am who knows anyways...

At the time she convinced herself it couldn't be him. They'd killed any clones whose chips hadn't activated. So it was just her imagination, a desperate attempt to find any excuse to cling to the hope he'd survived, as she had, probably for similar reasons: pure, stubborn refusal to let the Empire win.

***

Later she would accept that she'd known it was him from the moment she saw him standing in the line up. Not because she could see his face--they were all helmeted and wearing identical, dusky black armor--but because she'd have known him anywhere by stance and posture alone. They'd not fought side by side in the war for over three years for her to forget him, any of them really but especially not him.

But won they had. Memories of her life before the Inquisitorious were fragments, seemed more like dreams described by a different person. A wild young Jedi and her squadron of variant clones. It sounded like a children's story, in some ways was less painful to tell herself that's all it was. Otherwise--

"Your assigned operative will be CX-2."

The Grand Inquisitor's voice drew Fifth Sister back to the present. Though the armor the clones wore was all identical, not all of them were the same size. The one they'd stopped in front of was taller than average, shoulders broader. This was important somehow. (Another way she knew it was him.)

Fifth Sister looked the operative up and down. His hands were clasped behind his back like the others, and he stood perfectly still. This wasn't the stillness of rest: he was poised, ready, waiting. A knocked arrow.

"CX-2," she said, and the operative nodded an acknowledgement. She looked askance at the Grand Inquisitor. He and his own operative--CX-1, a shorter clone with a broad chest--were watching the two of them intently.

"How do I refer to him?"

"Operative should be sufficient," the Grand Inquisitor said. Fifth Sister made a face.

"Won't that be confusing if multiple of us are assigned to the same mission?"

The Grand Inquisitor shrugged. "You can use the designation in such cases."

She fought down a sigh, considered the operative in front of her. He gave the distinct impression he wasn't looking at her, which annoyed her for some unfathomable reason. Why should she care if he paid attention to her, as long as he followed orders?

The Grand Inquisitor held out a hand to his operative, who gave him a datarod. "Your first mission is to intercept a shipment of cargo bound for []." He offered her the datarod. Fifth Sister took it, eyes narrowed.

"Cargo," she echoed. The Grand Inquisitor arched an eyebrow at her.

She considered his expression. There was only one kind of 'cargo' with which the Inquisitorious concerned itself. "Force-users."

"Very good," he said. But he was still waiting. Which meant...

"Potentials."

The operative in front of her said, "Younglings."

It almost startled her to hear him speak. His voice was modulated, rendering it garbled and rough. And he'd just corrected her.

"Potentials are by necessity young," she said, voice sharp.

Either be didn't notice, or didn't care, because he said, "Not always. You were not."

Probably sensing the fury swirling into being within her, the Grand Inquisitor said, "Quite right, CX-2. However, that was only to found the Inquisitorious. From this point forward our potentials will be younglings."

The operative's head tilted for a moment, then he nodded. Fifth Sister took the time given by this interruption to reign in her anger. Killing her operative for the high crime of being precise wouldn't go over well with her superior.

The Grand Inquisitor continued, "You have three standard rotations. Report in if you require assistance or if the mission exceeds these parameters."

Fifth Sister nodded, jerked her head at the operative and strode towards the hangar deck. He was tall enough she had no hope of outpacing him without use of the Force, another minor irritation.

After a minute or so she realized he was careful to keep his distance behind her precise, even if she slowed down. He never allowed himself to be in front of her. In her way.

"It's going to be hard to address you if you're always behind me."

"I can hear you perfectly fine from this position."

"But you can't see my face. My expression."

"I am unclear on how that is useful."

"Depending on the situation I'm not always going to be able to say what I mean."

"I am more than intelligent enough to intuit such instances."

"*Really* . So this isn't just an excuse to get a good look?"

Confusion rippled around him in the Force. "At what?"

She sighed, shook her head. "Nevermind."

***

"It would be best if we--"

She tied off the bandage with a sharp yank, causing him to fall silence with a grunt. Between cleanup around the other gash, she said, "If you're about to suggest something *idiotic* like I should leave you here so I can return the [] and then come back for you? You can keep that shit to yourself."

Her voice was sharp and even, the way it was when she was well and truly angry. Yet unlike in those moments, when he sometimes thought he could feel the Force rising around her, aiming to strike down her enemy, there was something else hovering around her. Tenuous, wavering. Brittle.

"I was not going to recommend you return for me."

She made a frustrated sound, looked away. "You really think I should leave you hear for the sake of some--some fucking *missives*. We don't even know if they'll be useful."

"They are vital to the mission."

She started to say something, stopped. A sensation ripplied through him almost like fear. Almost. He didn't know what she'd been about to say, except some part of him *did* know, knew it was something they couldn't come back from. Best to not give voice to it, make it real.

She licked her lips. "I'm not likely to get out of here without you anyways."

"That is untrue." He took up his datapad, winced as the bandage on his side pulled. He took a moment to catch his breath, brought up the schematics. "There is a route here which will be possible for you to use. Together we would likely be seen or caught, but on your own it--"

"Not an option."

He held in a sigh. No one could move her when she dug in her heels like this, save the Grand Inquisitor, sometimes Fourth Sister. "If you are not back in one rotation they will depart without you. Those were the mission parameters."

"Then we find our way back on our own."

"My injuries are such that leaving this planet without the asistance of Imperial resources will be extremely difficult, if not simply--"

The medkit next to him rattled, the lantern jostled. He fell silent, waited and watched as she struggled her eyes shut, one hand formed into a fist so tight her nails would have drawn blood from her palm if not for her gloves.

The tremor abated. "I am not. Leaving you here. And that is *final*."

He sighed, considered his datapad again. In the corner of his eye he noted a hairline fracture in the lantern's shroud. "In that case."

[letstalkshipping]

Just pointing out that Elektra went to Matt's apartment when she was rediscovering herself In The Defenders, and it was the only place in the world she could associate with someone actually loving her. She sleeps in Matt's bed, dreams about Matt, and finds a memento from her memorial service which says "In loving memory of Elektra Natchios". Being loved by Matt made a difference. It changed her. She remembers that, if nothing else matters.

[hecallsmegirlieee]

blue couple

m.list ◦ askbox

synopsis: after months of breaking up, you and timothée meet again at your friends’ engagement party

He never learnt what your favourite flowers were—he never learnt many things.

You broke up in the last days of spring, but you didn’t realise what had happened between you until much later.

It all happened at a small café near the river. The place wasn’t symbolic or held any importance, just an équidistant overlap between your apartment and his. The weather seemed to mock you; air fragrant with dewy grass and basil, evening stretched infinitely. You ordered a tea you didn’t drink. He asked for a coffee he never touched.

There was no spectacle for the strangers in the audience, no dramatic scene, no theatrics. I’m falling behind, you finally said, after a million excuses and endless miscommunication. It took you everything to look at him in the eyes. Timothée couldn’t understand, he barely understood anything these days to the point where you didn’t even recognise him. He didn’t argue. And that’s when you realised, you had lost him. You left before he could. It felt important that you leave first.

Soon, summer came, and with it, a transatlantic barrier. You left for your island.

Deep down in memory lane, you didn’t mind the wind luring your hair or the sun caressing your cheek. You sat on the deck of the boat at those glistering white seats, gazing at the islands you passed by.

The summer before, you were together. You were leaning on the railings of the ship side by side, and he was pointing at an islet or an island rock, expecting you to know everything.

Timothée was the first person you met to your family officially, and they all fell for his charisma. It was important for you, you had explained.

All day you spent at the beach, taking him from village to village with your scooter, swimming in different waters every day and watching the green ray, from a million different angles. You walked the centre’s square, the cobblestone roads, all the places you’ve walked your whole life and felt as if it was the first time. He cut a jasmine branch as you passed by a small alley, the time was midnight, and he said he had never smelled anything like it, which you found strange.

Back then, you thought it would last forever. It’s strange how things change.

And change came with whispers. The word was out; he found someone new. It was as if he did it on purpose, as if he wanted to show you how easily replaceable you were, or maybe show you that you were never the only one for him. Suspicions clung up to you and never really left.

You felt like a fool, you wanted to hide from the sun.

That summer was long and torturous. Sunlight seeped into your chest, heavy and restless. You gazed at the sea, silent and craving, sniffing the swift of colours, as though it might carry something back. You prowled through the streets hunting for the liquid measure of his steps, for the curve of his mouth, his voice, his hair, his sleek laugh. But settled for the solace in fleeting angels of compassion that smelled of salt and stone.

How could he do this to you ? To you, who loved him. And still, after everything, you awoke every day hoping that he would be there, that he would wake you up and tell you that it was just a dream, you were sleeping, and that he would never let you sleep again unless you woke up the next morning beside him.

You wondered if in the midst of his chaotic life, he ever thought about you, just for a second.

Autumn arrived with golden days and silver nights. You were walking down memory lane, but now you were back. It wasn’t a place you wanted to live anymore. You harmonised with your new Heraclitean reality. Your heart flapped after a long time. And the thought of his hand grazing your face made your skin crawl in a way that felt like betrayal.

Yet life is a cruel comedian, and once you thought that everything was over, he was back into your life, squeezed into a small apartment with fifty other people, under a haze of dim lights and careless laughter. You couldn’t count the times you had dreamed of that moment, but simultaneously, you dreaded the time it came.

Cigarettes were burning low. Rippling faces circled around under technicolour lights, all posing and itchiness. In the middle of the cacophony, he was standing near a thrown-open window; cigarette on his lips, talking to some guys with someone next to him.

The evening breeze brushed past him. Shivers and obsessions straightened him, his gaze flickering to the people around the apartment, but his attention always came back to you. And every time he looked at you, the moment stretched and lasted as long as his eyes were on you. You considered leaving. His stare made you numb, your instincts were dying; a ridiculous figure.

His glance left an imprint on anything it dwelt on until his eyes fell on a foreign hand that sat on your shoulder as if it always belonged there. Tim lightly smiled in bitterness, everything was insultingly familiar. His heart was about to explode, but to you, he seemed quite relaxed.

You caught yourself glancing at her, the ease with which she stood beside him, all dolled up that you’d want to hit save, as if no one existed before her and no one after her. She made your shoulders deflate. You were curious as to what kind of a dancer she was. Did he call her babe ? Did she see you ? Did she even knew about your existence ? And just like that, your night was ruined.

The weight of the air around you heavy, almost suffocating. There he stood, and there you were, and the night refused to end.

« What’s wrong ? »

« Nothing is wrong, » you shook your head very unconvincingly. « I’m going out for a smoke. »

« Want me to come ? »

« No, » you said, glancing back through the crowd.

You walked through the heavy mist of smoke and alcohol hastily, unsure of what you were doing or where you were going.

The staircase outside was empty. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back. You made your way down the spiral steps. The black and white floor seemed to be moving in waves, but you pushed past that green wooden door and cool night air hit you in a way that made your skin alive with the sting of memories.

You sat on the last step, your legs drawn up under you. The cat, always the same cat, that twirled around the neighbourhood, looked at you with half-lidded eyes as if she was expecting you. She purred, rushing closer in a playful mood, hitting her head on your legs. You reached down and ran your fingers through her soft fur.

You said you were going for a smoke, you didn’t even have cigarettes with you.

The sounds of the party turned into a distant melody. He was inside and you were out. You cursed yourself for leaving. You cursed yourself for staying on the dirty steps of that old building in the middle of winter. It was ridiculous, pathetic even, how you sat there with your back open to the cold, like a creature of the night, waiting for him.

The cat purred more insistently, pressing into your touch, and you let her distract you; her presence so familiar and unburdened by the weight that only humans can carry.

You thought of the café again, the way you had left before he could. The way you had always been so hasty to make your exit, even now.

The door slammed shut.

If it was anyone else, you’d be painfully disappointed. You looked at him on top of your shoulder. Your gaze moved back to the road.

Timothée didn’t speak at first. He lingered at the door, a little too far away but close enough. He had no jacket either, he left it behind in a hurry.

« You left without saying goodbye. »

« Didn’t think it mattered. »

Timothée stepped closer, devouring the meters separating you. He sat parallel beside you, his distance kept intact, just the way it always was when he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or leave.

The cat padded over to him, nudging his legs with her head and a soft smile grew on his lips. He bent down slowly, fingers reaching to her almost instinctively.

« There she is, » he said, holding out a hand. The cat sniffed his fingers cautiously before leaning into his touch, purring loudly. You watched as he scratched behind her ears, his movements unhurried, almost tender. He laughed warmly, and the tension vanished, just slightly. « At least someone’s happy to see me. »

« Do you blame me ? »

« I don’t blame you for anything. »

You sat in silence, and the frame slowly shrank. How did time pass like that ? It was sweet and sorrowful winter. The streets were empty. The smell of almond trees hung in the air, and an aeroplane passed among the stars.

So many thoughts drifted by. You wanted to tell him that back on the island, seaweed reached the shores, and a cicada froze right in front of your eyes. You also wanted to tell him that you had been waiting for him all summer.

Your hands were shaking. A breeze passed through you and tangled your hair gently.

« I didn’t think I’d see you here. »

« Yeah, I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t show up, » he said and then looked at you, longing to see your eyes. Your silence, his response. He hesitated. « Would it have changed anything ? If you knew I’d be here. » You shook your head. « Seb invited me. »

« He didn’t think you’d come either, » you mumbled. « He said you didn’t want to keep contact. »

« He said that ? »

« He also said you’re an asshole. » Tim laughed at that and your heart filled with warmth. Everything was familiar. Your stare moved to him and he retreated. 

« Yeah, things are a mess lately, but I wouldn’t miss it. »

The cat came by your feet. You wondered if he had forgotten how many hours you had spent there, in these very steps, with that very cat keeping you company, waiting for your friends to return or just for them to stop arguing and damn open the door.

« Can you believe it ? They’re engaged, like engaged to be married. » A genuine smile tugged on your lips, and you nodded. « You think they’ll last ? », he pointed with his head to the door. You glanced back toward the window, where the sounds of the party echoed. Nothing had changed inside.

« Why not ? »

« I don’t know, they were like the least likely to last, » Tim said, naturally leaning closer. Chin on top of arm, frighteningly intimate, he examined you and your responses. « They were fighting all the time. » You let a small laugh, almost self-deprecating.

« Petty acts of hostility. Nothing matters if the essential love is there. »

In the dim of the street lights, one could barely make out who was who. Cold had drawn you close, or maybe it was something else that filled even the most long pauses.

« Didn’t ask, how you’ve been ? »

« Good. »

« You look different. »

« You too. » Timothée chuckled boyishly behind his arm.

« It’s the hair. »

« No, it’s not the hair. It’s something else, » you murmured, already regretting the words that left your mouth. You felt shy and fearful, despite the proximity between you.

« What ? »

« I don’t know. »

« Good or bad ? »

« Forget it, » you shook your head dismissively.

He stretched his legs out, his shoes scuffing softly against the pavement below. The cat wandered off, her tail flicking lazily in the air. You figured he was about to leave. But he stayed, leaning down on his knees. His mouth was agape, and his eyes wandered away, thinking of the next thing he was going to say. In contradiction to you, he came more prepared.

« Nice guy inside, » he said, stare on you, gauzing your reaction. « Is it serious ? »

« Serious enough. »

« That’s not an answer. »

« That’s the only one you’re getting, » the words rang in your voice like an irrevocable verdict of a judge.

« Don’t be like that. »

You looked at him, taken aback. He shook your hitherto conviction of the nature of this encounter. Surprised by the turn of the conversation, you felt a strange anger warming your insides, maybe it was pain, but bitterness the most.

« And what about you ? Have you figured it all out ? » Timothée lingered on your words, they stang him. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.

« I haven’t figured out anything. »

You couldn’t think of anything to say and neither did he. Maybe there wasn’t anything to be said anymore. Maybe language was over. Tim glanced at you, noticing the way your eyes drifted into the darkness.

« You know, I’m thinking about it, and I really shouldn’t have come here. »

« You shouldn’t have. » A heavy, almost tortured exhale escaped his throat and pain rushed through you. Your stare found him again, and this time with voice warm and soft after releasing the venom, you spoke. « Why are you here ? »

« I don’t know... »

« You don’t know ? »

« I wanted to talk. » You were begging him for a look, but he refused to meet your eyes. « I don’t know. I think about you, a lot. »

« You have someone else to think about. »

« It’s not like that. »

Timothée met your gaze, and his eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He turned up unannounced in your life. A part of you wanted to hold his face, touch him, kiss him, but an ivy climbed your auditorium. And spring passed once again between you, breathing through the ivy, squeezing you until you broke.

Toothless now, blind, you sawed diligently at the branch of your soul, lest it bloom again, lest love resurrect, and spring dare to dance in the cold.

« Were you cheating on me ? », your tone was strangely calm.

« You think I was cheating on you ? »

« Can you stand the truth ? » His face distorted as he looked at you, unable to find his voice. You shook your head dismissively a small sardonic smile tugging at your lips. « Don’t answer... I get it you couldn’t stand being seen with what’s-her-face anymore. »

« You think so little of me ? » Pain misshaped his features, pure, unadulterated pain, you couldn’t have possibly imagined. You brushed it off with a long grieving breath.

« Not even a month, Timothée. How could you do this to me ? », your voice was sad, not angry as one might have expected. « You moved on so fast like nothing mattered to you. And you didn’t even try to be discreet. You humiliated me in my family and my friends. »

« That wasn’t my intention, » he mumbled.

« And what was your intention ? », you almost smiled. « You made me feel like shit, and now you come here acting like nothing happened ! »

« So, it’s all on me for moving on ? », Timothée raised his brows. You didn’t reply. « Remember that you were the one who ended things. I didn’t want to break up. »

« You didn’t want to break up ? Why didn’t you do anything about it ? »

« I should have, okay ? I think about that day all the time. I should have stopped you, I should’ve said something. » You shook your head and he tried to catch your eyes. « You knew I was in a really bad place. And you left. »

« I left because I thought you wanted me to leave ! », your voice cracked at the end. The overwhelming and unspoken nature of your feelings almost brought tears to your eyes. « I thought that’s what you wanted ! With everything that was going on, I was a burden to you ! »

« You were never a burden to me and you know it ! »

« I don’t—I didn’t. I needed you too, you know, » you looked at him. « You are a really hard person to be with, Tim. » 

« I don’t know what to say. »

« Don’t say anything. »

Timothée bit his lips, torn between staying and leaving. His words seemed to vanish like all the dreams you never lived. He came with the hope of telling you how much he missed you, that he still loved you, but you killed all his romanticism point blank. And the way you were looking at him as if he was a stranger, broke his heart. He didn’t know what to tell you because love doesn’t know how to speak properly.

« I wasn’t cheating on you, » he finally confessed.

« It doesn’t matter anyway. Not now. »

Timothée covered his face with his palm and breathed out. He murmured your name, and your heart sank.

« I just wanted to hurt you. »

« You wanted to hurt me ? »

« I wanted you to remember. You left so easy, I was angry— »

« Fuck you, » you said, pulling yourself away from him and stood up. His eyes followed you. « You’re an asshole. You shouldn’t have come here ! You shouldn’t have said anything to me ! »

« I know I’m an asshole but I wanted you to know because I miss you— »

« Stop this, I’m going inside. »

« And I love you. »

His words lingered in the air like the final note of a song, reverberating with an aching clarity. You didn’t look at him—couldn’t.

« You don’t mean it. »

« You want me to say it again ? », he asked, a faint, uncertain smile forming.

« No. »

« I love you. I never stopped loving you, » Timothée said softly, his voice swallowed by the pounding of your heart.

« It’s late, » you murmured.

« For us ? », his gaze searched yours, hopeful, desperate.

« The time. It’s late. »

The door creaked open, the sound pulling both your heads toward it. It swung wide with a heavy thud.

« Hey. » His voice cut through the tension, calm but laced with something unreadable. Timothée’s gaze shifted to him, his expression hardening as he stood in the doorway and exchanged a glance between you. « I thought you were on the roof. I brought your jacket. »

Your hesitation filled the air, thick and unspoken. You drifted between two words. Finally, you glanced at Timothée one last time, something unreadable passing between you.

« Bye. »

[writing-for-life]

Morpheus meets Matthew—The Rest Is History…

Swamp Thing: Final Payment (#84, March 1989)—Rick Veitch (writer), Tom Mandrake (penciller) & Alfredo Alcala (inker)

I’ve been itching to share these for our community re-read of “Into the Night” (#15).

Some of you might recognise these panels, but not everyone has read Swamp Thing (or watched the one season they gave us), and this is the first and only time Morpheus appears in it. So for those of you who don’t know and always wondered who Matthew was before he became a raven, here comes a bit of background info (spoilery, so skip if that’s not your thing):

Matthew Cable has been part of Swamp Thing since the very first issue in 1972. He was a government agent assigned to protect scientist Alec Holland and his wife (who were developing a biological formula to end world hunger) but failed to save them. He then mistakenly believed the Swamp Thing was the killer of Holland (the Swamp Thing initially also believed he was an altered form of Alec—all very convoluted, partly retconned at some point, too, but in short: When Alec was killed, his body was drenched with the formula, which affected the plants in the swamp. They basically formed a new organism that held his memory).

Lots of stuff happened in the years in between, and I won’t go into it all here, but suffice it to say that when Matthew the Raven admits he’s not always been a good person, that’s a bit of an understatement.

The Sandman #15, “Into the Night”

In short: He basically lost his mind, but that also gave him powers (to alter reality no less, ha! No wonder he piqued Dream’s interest 🤣). Unfortunately, Matt didn’t exactly use those powers for good (since he could only really access them when drunk or severely distressed, he had “wonderful” ideas like manipulating reality for creations he could have sex with, and those acts got more and more grotesque as time passed). That obviously wasn’t great for his marriage to Abigail Arcane (or rather: Holland at the time he meets Morpheus). Now you know why he got so excited about strip clubs in Brief Lives 🙈.

Matthew then had a car accident while driving under the influence in 1984.

Swamp Thing #84, cover art by John Totleben

Lots of goings on between this point and issue #84, but again long story short: Matthew eventually ended up in a coma, and since he was an organ donor, a corrupt hospital administrator uses him as an organ farm. Enter first Eve in dreams (ha! again) and then Morpheus, who basically advises him to end his life so his ex-wife Abby can exist in peace after all these years (she is pregnant with… something, which Morpheus also cryptically alludes to here. Plus the hospital administration tries to land her with a nearly 3 million dollar bill for all the years Matt has been on life support). Before Abby can unplug said life support herself, Matthew comes to, gathers all his strength for one final time and destroys the machines that keep him alive to spare Abby the guilt. In his final moments, he asks her to forgive him and move on. Also: He quite strictly did not die in his sleep, so how did that work? 🧐 Dream logic 🤣

Morpheus’ cameo had been agreed upon with NG at the time (he is mentioned in the credits). And since issue #84 has been published in March 1989, you can also tell that we’re pretty firmly in Sam Kieth territory, and that Mandrake & Alcala tried to replicate Dream’s look accordingly. Plus: The first issue in which Matthew the Raven appears in The Sandman (“Moving In” of The Doll’s House arc) was published in October 1989. So they had this cooking for a bit.

Oh, John Constantine also makes an appearance in that issue. They worked really hard at the time to tie it all together…

[cowinatrenchcoat]

Guys...am I hallucinating? Wasn't there a "blue eyes silver dragon" meme or joke?

Like, "Oh, you're trying to mug me with a gun, well, good thing I have BLUE EYES SILVER DRAGON"

Like, i'm dying over here. I swear this was a thing. My spouse thinks i'm crazy. Idk if this was a Pokémon or a Yugioh thing and the only thing I get in my search results are cards to buy on amazon 😭

I need like, a historical meme/reaction joke library. So I have come to tumblr. Pls help.