#but that failed and now i share her with you

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

..

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.  

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

..

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

[floraisunwell]

Invisible string | s.r

who: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff (??)

summary: you've always loved reading at your spot in the park, getting lost in books and daydreams. what you didn't realize was that someone had been noticing you all along

lyric prompt: “green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park, I used to think I would meet somebody there/ time, curious time, gave me no compass, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn’t see? and isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?” Invisible string, t.s

word count: 1.1k

a/n: my entry to @mggslover 1k event, congratulations once again darling

t.w: none

divider by @esote-rika

The park had always been your favorite place in the whole city—a patch of green and calm right in the middle of the metropolis' restless buzz. Exactly what you needed after a long day. Alone, but surrounded by people; that weird in-between your introverted personality had always loved.

Beneath your favorite tree, you'd lay out a towel, open a book, and let yourself slip away. Between the pages, you'd been a poet, a painter, an elderly woman reminiscing on her youth—someone's lover, even.

And sometimes, in the spaces between sentences, you'd let yourself dream. You'd imagine meeting someone, falling stupidly, hopelessly in love—just like in your favorite romances.

You knew it was silly, highly unlikely, but the thought alone was enough to make you smile. Enough to fill you with a quiet kind of hope.

And then, as if crafted by destiny, you did meet someone.

☆

Near-Miss #1: The Coffee Shop

The first time Spencer saw you, it wasn’t at the park. It was at a coffee shop, long before he ever noticed you beneath that tree. He hadn’t even been paying attention at first, too busy watching the barista prepare his drink. But then he saw you—leaning against the counter, absently tracing circles on its surface while periodically checking your watch. Something so ordinary, so insignificant, yet he couldn’t look away. He thought about getting closer, maybe striking up a conversation. But by the time he worked up the nerve, you were already walking out the door.

☆

Lucas was a lovely guy. You met on a rainy day—"Mind if I help?" he had said, noticing how you were struggling to juggle your things and an umbrella at the same time. He ended up with your number, and soon, the tree that used to be your spot became your shared spot.

☆

Near-Miss #2: the train ride

A familiar giggle caught Spencer’s attention. He looked up and saw you.

Curled up by the window, book in hand—as always. He watched as you absentmindedly twirled your hair, scribbled something in the margins of your book, let out the occasional quiet laugh. It was just like all the other times he’d seen you, and yet, he was still mesmerized.

The thought of approaching you crossed his mind. Maybe he could finally say something, maybe this time—

The train jolted to a stop. You stood, tucked your book under your arm, and stepped off the train before he could find the words.

☆

Picnics, reading sessions, coffee breaks, cloud-watching—beautiful moments. But now it was Valentine’s, and you were alone at your spot. Turns out Lucas wasn't the one after all.

For the first time, you sat under the tree alone, thinking about all the little moments that, maybe, had been clues.

The way he never understood your love for books. The fact that he never got your bakery order right—"It’s too complex, and you know that, babe." You’d chuckle, brush it off, but it unsettled you.

You knew it was dramatic. Of course, he wouldn’t be like the men in your books. He was good enough. But something was missing.

A sickly kind of romance filled the air—people of all ages showing their love for each other. You were sure you’d witnessed a failed proposal a few minutes ago. Amid all this love (and some heartbreak), you felt invisible.

But maybe you weren’t.

☆

Near-Miss #3: the collision (and almost first conversation)

Spencer had walked past you countless times. A hundred, maybe more. But one time, he almost spoke to you.

You were heading in opposite directions. You looked hurried, eyes glued to your book even as you walked. He was distracted too, skimming a page of his own. And for a moment, just a split second, you almost collided.

At the last second, both of you stepped aside. Hushed apologies, barely more than whispers, before you kept walking.

He took a few more steps before his brain finally caught up and registered who you were. He stopped in his tracks, only to turn around just in time to see you disappear into the crowd.

He cursed himself for losing another opportunity.

☆

Spencer loved the park, too.

He came to play chess, to read, to watch people—not in a creepy way, just something he enjoyed. You had always been one of his favorites to watch.

He loved how you’d giggle at a line in your book and then glance around to see if anyone had noticed. How you’d twirl your hair when you were deep in thought. How you looked so utterly lost in your stories, as if the world around you didn’t exist.

☆

But now, it was Valentine’s, and the young man who usually accompanied you was nowhere to be seen.

His chance.

"Can I sit here?" His voice startled you. You looked up to see a tall, slender man watching you.

"Uh... sure," you replied, still a little confused.

"Why are you alone?" Fuck. That probably sounded weird.

You huffed a small laugh. "Well, not anymore." He smiled at that, a little softer now.

"I'm Spencer, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer. I guess now you're my partner for the day."

"I guess," he echoed, his smile was so wide it could seem fake

☆

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Spencer looked at your book and said "You were reading a book by the same author on the train a few months ago"

"Was I really?" you blinked

"You were," he affirmed "I was in the seat across from you. We sat across each other many times in fact"

"I guess we were bound to meet sometime then" you mused meeting his gaze

"Yeah," he mumbled with a smile"Something like that"

thank you for reading!

[ultramaga]

I don't miss having to wade through feminist posts, but it is quaint and almost nostalgic to see them now.

They are written by people with no idea how to argue except to pile up words like a bad brick fence, only for all of it to collapse the moment anyone asks questions.

So what is the argument here buried in the verbiage?

#BelieveAllWomen.

Hey, remember when people took that seriously? Then Biden was accused by multiple women.

Pfft, feminists back tracked hard.

-----

So let's look at their 'argument'.

They claim feminists are not allowed to be miserable cvnts. But they are - there's no law that stops them whining until they perish, having accomplished nothing.

In fact, I believe all feminists should identify loudly as a feminist, then do the autist screech, every single time they share space with humans. Make sure that everyone associates your movement with your behaviour.

Brie Larson isn't just hated because she is bad at human interaction. She's sexist and racist. Wrinkle in Time was written by a white woman for a mostly male audience of white children. Larson repeatedly told us that the movie wasn't made for us.

Then was staggered when it flopped.

The captain marvel movie was horrendous - again, it was horrendously sexist, with the protagonist acting nothing like the character was created to be.

She acted like the audience failed her, because as straight white males they should have been attending, but as she had explained - IT WASN'T MADE FOR US.

So you don't get to bitch when we ain't there.

Since then, Brie Larson has had huge amounts of cosmetic surgery, despite claiming to despise the Male Gaze.

She also pissed off every male costar in the Marvel movies, so now only seems to appear in the chickflick marvels - where the only romance was with an underage girl.

She's trying to become a sex symbol after a lifetime of pissing on men, but sorry darling, your expensive implants and revealing clothing don't compensate for the stream of shit from your face.

Brie killed her own career. As did Rachel Zegler, Mud Brown herself.

What was it she said?

It's Hollywood, baby.

Yup.

It says something when people prefer an AI song repeating the mockery of her to hearing her speak.

Rachel Zegler hurled abuse at Gal Gadot because Gal is Israeli. Rachel Zegler is racist. But feminists think that's the right sort of racist.

No, fvck off. We know what you are.

_____

Feminism is dead, and it won't be missed.

Feminists didn't fight for women's rights. Their enemies did. Trump did more for women and girls than all the feminists, who just spend their lives moaning about men on social media.

Feminism is over.

Like Brie, it's passed the use by date. Time to chuck it.

Hey, you know a woman who hasn't shit on men?

If Marvel wanted to make money - now the USAID cash is drying up - a bit of recasting, and you could make a movie men would pay to see.

While the feminists sit at home, screeching until they die.

Women are allowed to be annoying, bitchy, mean spirited, unkind, lousy, lazy, finicky, anxious, disinterested, disingenuous, disrespectful, and also be believed when they come forward about sexual harassment or assault. Women are allowed to be unliked and also believed. We cannot keep equating our own inability to like someone to our ability or lack thereof to believe them. I don’t see this inability when it comes to men. In fact, I think so many people love a redeeming arc in a man, but hate it seen in women. Why? Why? Why do men get to have comeback stories from things like addiction, theft, bad workplace behavior, even things as heinous as manslaughter… but a woman can’t come back from a bad interview? A bad press junket? A bad relationship? I can’t think of men so hated the way women like Amber Heard and Blake Lively are hated right now. Even beyond them. It’s so easy to hate women right now. Cynthia Erivo, Lea Michele, Jennifer Lopez, Brie Larson, Rachel Zegler, Chappell Roan, Taylor Swift, and so on. I see unprecedented amounts of hate for these women and more nearly everytime they make a headline, but I don’t see the same energy for men. And if any one of them were to come out about sexual harassment or assault, I guarantee I’d have to see more comments about how it doesn’t matter because they’re famous, or how they brought it on themselves, or how they’re probably lying because they need the engagement or sympathy. It is so much more important to believe women than it is to belittle them, even the ones you dislike or distrust. Even if she did lie, I promise you, the men that they “ruin” the career of can always come back. The internet will open their arms to any man with half a jawline or lukewarm wit.

[utilitycaster]

I've seen some people compare Vax's resurrection in C3 to bringing back Molly (later revealed to be Kingsley) in C2E140. How do you think these two scenarios differ and why does one work and the other doesn't? Also, do you think C2 scenario would still work if Taliesin played it like it was in fact Molly that was brought back (as Mighty Nein originally believed) and not Kingsley?

Hi anon,

I mean, you kind of answer it here: Molly wasn't resurrected. Kingsley, a different aspect of the same fragmented soul within that body, was. This isn't bringing back someone who died; it's starting a new life from what was left. It's thematically coherent with the rest of the Nein's stories, both in terms of many of them coming together still getting over a devastating loss or change and becoming someone new in the ashes of that; and with the very specific endings of many of their stories: probably most obviously with Caleb, choosing to leave his parents to their rest and instead building his own life in the model of what he wanted before the Volstrucker training, but also with Beau embracing the Cobalt Soul, Yasha finding new love, Veth and her family restarting their lives in Nicodranas, Jester with a deeply altered but intact relationship with Artagan, Fjord with a new patron, and Caduceus with a renewed grove.

I admit in 2x140 I cheered that nat 1 on resurrection, and the success of the Divine Intervention gave me pause, particularly on the heels of such a fantastic moment between Essek and Fjord after it failed. I went into 2x141 with considerable trepidation, so Taliesin's choice to have Molly remain dead while still making the Divine Intervention mean something was an unexpected joy and some truly excellent storytelling. I do not think it would have worked well had he brought back Molly, though it wouldn't have been quite as egregious as Vax coming back, and I'll talk more about that at the end.

Vax coming back fails on every single level. On a basic level, there is really no mechanical or logical justification for it to happen. There is no attempt from Vox Machina to bring him back as a mortal. There is no reason for him to revert from celestial to mortal (and the fact that he'd already left at the top of the episode really underscores this; I'd still have my other complaints had he still been with Vox Machina at the time of Catatheosis but this really makes no sense); angels of the gods canonically remained such during the first time the gods became mortal. It is not something he asked for, nor Keyleth asked of the Matron. It simply occurs. Then, of course, there is what it means for the characters. What does it say that Keyleth never moved on? What does it say that Vax never gave her the space to do so and now she doesn't have to - particularly in the statements during 4SD that their actions both were somewhat unhealthy and that Vax's inability to let go is what enabled Ludinus's plan to succeed in the first place? What does it say, as this post points out, about Scanlan's choices?

And then there's what it says thematically across the entire decade of storytelling: What does it say about such stories as Orym's or Yasha's, about finding new love after loss? In a narrative where the party was faced with an incredibly difficult choice with far reaching effects (whether or not that narrative was well done, it was a story of choices) what does it say that Vax's conscious choice to become a revenant and have a few more days with the people he loved rather than remain dead was ultimately simply a long inconvenience?

And finally, what does it say about the casts' past statements? I was struck with the grace with which the cast handled the backlash from Molly's death. Liam spoke of the meaning of death in narratives; Ashly Burch shared an incredibly moving essay on the death of her partner at a young age; and the conversation on Talks in which Matt talked about the importance of death was one that at the time I dearly loved. In it, Taliesin pointed out the ephemeral and physical nature of Molly and the concept of that character, and how there was no way to bring back Molly without destroying the entire premise. The reason Molly wouldn't be as much of a failure is because at least it would have been driven by the actions and choices of the Mighty Nein, and that we did not have insight into how Molly felt about his demise.

Because that is the other thing. We've seen Vax multiple times since his death, at Vex and Percy's wedding and at the Malleus Key, and both times he was greatly changed and did not agree to stay. He didn't change his mind; it was changed for him. And in the casts' past statements, Liam has been an advocate (as he was in Molly's death) for the importance of death and tragedy. How does that square with all of what they said then?

It's damning that the only defenses of this decision have been entirely Doylist (when I have both Watsonian and Doylist critiques) - that Happy Endings Are Good. The thing is, Keyleth's story could have been a happy ending, as the Mighty Nein's was despite their loss. It was a choice to have Keyleth never get over it. That is, ultimately, the only choice that was honored. I do understand a desire for a happy ending, but I find this desire for not just a happy ending but a vanishingly narrow and particular one to be childish, self-indulgent, and destabilizing of previous storytelling integrity. The song Tokyo Sunrise always was in a major key, after all.

One thing that came to mind while I wrote this up was something a few people have pointed out about Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which is that it consistently has a message that prioritizing immediate catharsis often feels hollow in the end, and cuts off opportunities for growth and redemption, and the gameplay is consistent with that narrative. It can feel good to punch the First Warden, or to leave the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing to his fate, or imprison Illario, in the moment; but these all ultimately serve as a detriment to your goals. Even fighting or tricking Solas rather than giving him an ending on his own terms, the last choice you can make in a game that ends immediately after, is something many players have reported as feeling unrewarding after a day or two. I do wonder whether this decision, to bring back Vax, felt good in the moment, but will similarly sour and curdle in time.

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of ​​cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of ​​friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of ​​being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of ​​being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

[mrs-hatake]

YANDARE CALEB REQUEST HERE!!

Caleb and Mc walking around Linkin City, but Calbe notices all the eyes on MC and her cute outfit! Even the cashier at the ice cream shop gives her a free ice cream!!

word count: 1.2k

warning: yandere!caleb and mentions of gore.

a/n: y/n is not mc! she is an entirely different entity from mc (i see them as two different people)

Summer comes to Linkon City early this year. 

Just a few weeks ago, the air was filled with a chilly breeze. It was so cold that no one could wear their spring clothes without a coat on top. Then, one morning, the temperature suddenly rises and the flowers are in total bloom, decorating the guardians in a canopy of pinks, lilacs and soft blues. The bees are dancing while the birds are singing their songs and any trace of their chilly spring vanishes.

The weather has been so beautiful the past few days that everyone’s mood elevates with the heat. Jenna, Y/N’s usually strict boss, suddenly announces that she’s giving every hunter in the association an extra day for the weekend, no one has to come to work on Friday. 

Ecstatic by the news, Y/N is quick to text Caleb of the good announcement.

That’s how we find the childhood best friends strolling around the Grand Central Park of Linkon City. Tales of the past on their tongues as they meander through the winding paths of the park, vibrant hydrangeas, reminiscent of Caleb’s eyes, surrounding them.

Y/N’s smile is as radiant as the sun, her lips parted in an ecstatic laugh as Caleb retalls the tale of when he was nine years old and Y/N tricked him into thinking she can eat ten earwax flavored candy simultaneously. Naturally, Caleb hadn’t believed her. But when she shoved several handfuls of those nasty jelly beans, he was equally horrified and awe-struck. 

Think you can beat me? She challenged him. Not one known to back down from a challenge, Caleb opens his tiny hand, heart stuttering in nervousness when those sugary sweets plop into his hand. Little did he know, Y/N had switched out the lemon sorbet flavored jelly beans and handed him ear waxed flavored one. The poor boy gagged for five minutes before Y/N showed him mercy and gave him a refreshing, tall glass of melon soda. To say he was skeptical of the drink was an understatement but it was either Caleb trusted her or suffered the lingering taste of ear wax.

Caleb’s eyes soften as he watches Y/N laugh, sounding like windchimes and hummingbirds. He can never look away whenever he is with Y/N, entranced by her beauty. Even now as she clutches her tummy, tears streaming down her face as she muffles her giggles, butterflies flutter about in his stomach. His fingers itch to reach out and wipe away the stray tears from her cheeks but Caleb glues his hand to his side, tempted to use his Evol to make sure he practices restraint. They are just friends, nothing more, and he can’t just caress her whenever he wants. 

Instead, all that Caleb can do is admire Y/N.

She is all dolled up today, no doubt excited for the extra day off and the gorgeous weather they’re having. 

A flowy pink dress with flower prints sways with the gentle breeze. The cotton fabric stretches along her body nicely, showing off her tantalizing dips and curves. The plunging neckline is a delicious treat for Caleb…too bad he isn’t the only one who shares this thought. 

He was so engrossed with Y/N, he failed to see dozens of pairs of hungry eyes lingering on what is his. Caleb can practically hear their disgusting thoughts whenever the two walk by, lusting over Y/N like some piece of meat. 

He has half a mind to gouge out their ugly eyes and break their dirty fingers that are no doubt desperate to smear their grime across Y/N’s smooth and clean skin. Caleb is fighting a losing battle. 

“Caleb, look!” Saccharine sweetness wraps an arm around Caleb, delicately pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

Turning, Caleb faces Y/N who is staring at him with large doe eyes. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

Y/N wants something that Caleb is probably going to refuse. 

Following where Y/N is pointing at, his gaze lands on an ice cream vendor. They’re only selling two flavors today, honey vanilla and lavender flavored ice cream. But the vendor also sells a serving of half and half, the one Y/N is silently begging for.

“Y/N,” Caleb sighs, “You know you shouldn’t eat dessert before lunch. It will ruin your appetite.”

“Caleb,” Y/N whines. Caleb has always known that his name always sounded so sinful on her lips, “Pleeeeaaassseeee.” 

Let the record show that Caleb did try to persuade her but how can he say no to someone as cute, as adorable, and as beautiful as Y/N?

Caleb is a weak man when it comes to Y/N and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

“Fine.”

“Yaay!” With a blinding smile, Y/N stands on her tiptoes and lands a loud and wet smooch on Caleb’s cheek. “You’re the best!”

Thankfully, Y/N is already running off to the ice cream vendor to notice the vibrant red decorating Caleb’s ears and cheeks. 

God, this woman will be the death of him.

“The total will be 2.99.” The sweet old man says as he gives Y/N two ice cream cones of half honey vanilla and half lavender flavored ice cream.

Y/N tilts her head. Her nose scrunches up adorably as she asks, “Shouldn’t it be 5.50? I ordered two ice cream cones.”

The man’s gentle smile becomes lecherous, making the muscles along Caleb’s sharp jawline clench. 

Seemingly unaware of how Caleb slammed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, ready for a fight, the old man continues to stare shamelessly at Y/N’s cleavage. Eyes old with age drinking up the sweat glistening on the curves of her tits. 

Y/N chuckles awkwardly, “Thanks.” Hands Caleb his ice cream, grabs his arms and yanks him far away from the vendor.

“What a creep.” Y/N shudders at the encounter. 

“Caleb, your ice cream’s melting!” She screeches once she spots the cool cream dripping down Caleb’s thick wrist.

Like a balloon popping, Caleb snaps back to his surroundings. He hurries to lick away the stray streams of melted ice cream but he chokes when the liquid glides down his parched throat, it tastes like ash on his tongue. 

“L-let’s go back.” the words come out in a shaky exhale and they make Y/N face him with concern written all over her face.

Caleb is instantly drowning in a bottomless ocean of guilt for ruining Y/N’s day off but if they don’t return home and if Caleb doesn’t hide Y/N from the dangerous world, he’s afraid he’ll do something that Y/N will never forgive him for. 

Guilt hangs heavily around Caleb like an oppressive fog, anchoring him to the earth as if he were a ship caught in a relentless storm. His breath grows thin and ragged, tongue thick and unyielding as he speaks of a lie that feeds his selfishness and greed. 

Possession is a dangerous thing and it has long since ruined Caleb.

Yet, in an instant, the guilt morphs into conviction. Caleb reminds himself that he is doing this for Y/N's sake.

If a small, white lie will protect her from those hungry beasts lurking nearby, then Caleb will sing endless songs to Y/N, deceit underlying his lyrics. 

All for Y/N’s safety.

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Director's Commentary:

First of all, THIS HIT 200 NOTES IN LESS THAN 2 DAYS????? 🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝🥺💝 Thank you SO MUCH EVERYBODY, I have never had any of my self ship art get this many notes this quickly!! I've also screenshotted every tag I've gotten and will continue to do so! Thank you so much everyone 🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖🥺💖

Second, I hope that everyone knows I did this 100% original! I have actually had more than one person call this an edit, which makes me very proud of how convincing this apparently is as an imitation of the PPG style! 🥺 But no, I did all of this by hand myself! The screenshots were just referenced :D

Y'all should also know that I don't have any type of tablet or way to do digital art with a pen, I use Adobe Illustrator and only use my mouse. For the first image I did a sketch of the pose on paper and traced over digitally, but I'm proud to say for the other two I did it entirely originally using just reference images and my own imagination! That's something I'm usually not really able to do so I'm very happy that the final result came out so good

The context of the original scene is that Ms. Keane and Professor Utonium just went on a failed date that was set up by the girls, but ended up sharing a little moment after Ms. Keane accidentally tripped and the Professor ended up catching her. I'd like to think the context here is essentially the same, but I'd consider it an AU scenario because there wouldn't be a time in my ship canon where this setup would happen before Cherry and Mojo are dating.

I came up with Cherry's outfit kind of on the spot, it's basically just a fancy version of their normal outfit, with a low cut white shirt, yellow and orange cardigan, and some nice tan boots. They borrowed the choker with the pendant from their cousin, Ms. Bellum :3

I find it funny to think that Mojo wouldn't really wear an actual outfit out on a date, because in his mind, what fit could possibly be better than the villain outfit he designed for himself? He just put on a bowtie to be slightly more fancy 💖 That's actually a reference to the panel below from a DC PPG comic where he's trying to find a date for Valentine's Day and failing... I would have been there for him 🥺

Also I liked the idea of the moon being bright enough to shine through the back of Mojo's big ears, which is why the shading on them if a bit oddly shaped. No one has mentioned anything about that yet so I'm not sure how obvious that came across 😅

Ngl I struggled a bit on the background of Mojo's panel just because it's a unique perspective that I hadn't tried before, so I went and laid down on the floor in the corner of my room to see how the perspective of that looked 😂

In fact now that I think about it... This is the first time I've ever done a full color background at all, digitally OR traditionally. I'd say for my first time it came out pretty good!

In general I'm very happy with the end results, although there are a few mistakes here and there, like there's a secrion of Cherry's shadow that's not filled in all the way, and I think some of the background colors could be better adjusted so they don't blend together as much (especially the bench, what was I thinking making it so similar to the wall color aaaaaah)

That's all I can think of for now that I'd like to comment on. Once again thank you to everyone who has liked or reblogged and an even bigger thank you if you read this far! 🥺💝💝💝💝💝

There are benefits to being clumsy... sometimes you get to fall into the arms of a handsome chimpanzee 💜🩷💜🩷💜

Screenshot redraw of a cute scene from what's basically PPG's Valentine Day special! This was so fun to do, I feel like I learn more abt using Illustrator every time I go back to it :3 🩷 Reblogs are all seen and appreciated, click for higher quality!! Tag list + Screenshots referenced will be under the cut 💜

Tag List!! Click here to be added or removed.

@absentmoon, @avas-wonderland, @bee-ships, @beetleboyfriend, @berryshipbasket, @bugthecalmchild, @canongf, @cloudyvoid, @derelictdumbass, @dissonantyote, @edencantstopfallininlove, @final-catboy, @chickenout , @flowering-darkness, @gibles-lovely-selfships, @hoppinkiss, @hyperionshipping, @impulse-exe, @iwishihadfangs, @iyamifucker, @kissingarthurclaus, @lex-n-weegie, @lficanthaveloveiwantpower, @little-miss-selfships, @little-shiny-sharpies, @loogi-selfships, @mandrakebrew, @midoridayz, @mintpecks, @mothfinite, @mrs-kelly, @nameless-self-ships, @nerdstreak, @odysseyyaoi, @oleanderspride, @orbitingaroundyourlove, @paper-carnation, @reds-self-ships, @rotten--cotton , @spacestationstorybook, @squips-ship, @theheroand, @toogayforthistoday, @winterworlds, @yuzuibanagi

[saebyeokbliss]

could u do a fic of saebyeok in college, but she sells drugs. Only cocaine, marijuana, and ecstasy. She does it so she can take care of cheol ofc. Saebyeok is also known to be a hoe. Constantly flirting with girls around campus so they can buy wtv drugs she has, sleeping w girls and then treating them like the don’t exist the next day. Yet saebyeoks fast life came to a complete stop when she met you. A shy girl who’s very clever. Saebyeok noticed a guy hitting on u w u visibly uncomfortable so saebyeok came to rescue you. After she asked if u had any money to buy some drugs off her to which you said you did’nt. Saebyeok asked if u smoked. The truth is you didn’t, you hated all drugs. It was embarrassing ur a 21 yr virgin hanging around saebyeok who has had her head in between a fair share of womens legs. Any ways you and saebyeok become fwb (friends w benefits). She acts like she doesnt like you,she says you guys are only using eachother to get off. She’s not entirely wrong but what happens when u both start developing feelings and saebyeok tells u a bit abt her personal life when shes high?

(Can we pretend saebyeok is 22 and reader is 21 🙏)

-💝( still dk if ur doing emoji anons it’s ok if not! No pressure)

ALL THE STARS

pairing: dealer!college au!kang sae-byeok x fem!reader synopsis: kang sae-byeok had a reputation around your college. the dealer, the girl who could get anyone she wanted. however, just like anyone else, she had a past and a life beyond what people called her. and you just happened to be the one to change her. warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, illness, past trauma, drug use (past), recovery themes, slow burn, emotional moments, hurt/comfort

a/n: had this one brewing for while hehe

The red ink on the paper burned into your vision, each stroke of the professor’s pen a reminder of your failure.

72%.

It wasn’t failing, not technically, but for you? It may as well have been. You had always prided yourself on your intelligence, on your ability to stay ahead of the curve. But this? This was unacceptable.

Slumping in your seat, you shoved the paper into your bag, avoiding the pitiful glances from classmates who knew how much this would bother you. As soon as the lecture ended, you all but stormed out of the hall, only stopping when a familiar voice called after you.

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Ji-min grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop. Her brows furrowed as she studied your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You exhaled sharply. “I bombed the exam.”

Ji-min blinked. “Wait—bombed?” She scoffed. “What’d you get, a 90?”

“…72.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise before she quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral. “Okay, so not your best, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It feels like it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Ji-min sighed, looping her arm through yours as she led you out of the building. “You need to relax. You’ve been overworking yourself for weeks, and it’s catching up to you. It’s just one test, and you’ll bounce back—like you always do.”

You didn’t respond, letting her drag you along as you sulked in silence. Ji-min was probably right, but that didn’t make you feel any better.

“Which is exactly why,” she continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “you’re coming to the party tonight.”

You groaned. “Ji-min—”

“Nope. No arguing.” She tightened her grip on your arm. “You need a night to unwind. And don’t even try to say you have studying to do.”

“I do, though,” you huffed.

“You always do.” Ji-min shook her head. “But just this once, let yourself breathe. Have a little fun. You don’t even have to drink—just come, dance a little, talk to people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Yes, actually.” She grinned. “A distraction.”

You frowned, hesitating. The idea of going to a crowded, sweaty party wasn’t exactly appealing, but… maybe Ji-min had a point. Maybe you did need a night to forget about everything—just for a little while.

“…Fine,” you relented, sighing.

Ji-min squealed in victory, squeezing your arm excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”

You had a feeling you just might.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, second-guessing every single choice you had made for the night.

The black miniskirt hugged your waist just right, and the red lace top was a little more revealing than what you usually went for, but Ji-min had insisted that you “embrace your hotness.” Paired with delicate white lace socks and Mary Janes, you looked… cute. Maybe even really cute.

But was it you?

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Come on, let me see you!” Ji-min’s voice rang through your small apartment.

You sighed, smoothing down your skirt before stepping out. Ji-min’s eyes widened the moment she saw you, a grin stretching across her lips.

“Oh my God.” She grabbed your hands and spun you around. “You look adorable—but also kinda sexy? It’s giving ‘innocent but could ruin lives.’” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being correct.” Ji-min smirked, looping her arm through yours as she led you toward the door. “Come on, let’s go before you change your mind.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. The bass of whatever rap song was playing vibrated through the walls, and the air smelled like a mix of alcohol, weed, and sweat. People were packed into the house, some dancing, some making out in corners, and others just drunkenly shouting over the music.

You hesitated in the doorway, already overwhelmed.

Ji-min, on the other hand, was in her element.

“Alright, I’m gonna go kick some ass in Apateu,” she said, referring to the drinking game she was obsessed with. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine, yeah? Just get a drink, talk to people. You look too good to be standing alone all night.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with a wave.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, feeling out of place. You weren’t much of a drinker, and you weren’t interested in hooking up with some stranger, so what were you even doing here?

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when someone stepped into your personal space.

“Hey,” a voice drawled.

You blinked up at the guy standing way too close to you. He was tall, decently attractive, but the cocky smirk on his face made you uneasy.

“You here alone?” he asked, his eyes shamelessly roaming over you.

You shifted uncomfortably. “No, I’m with a friend.”

He chuckled, taking a sip of whatever was in his red cup. “Haven’t seen you at one of these before. You new?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Just don’t go to parties much.”

“Makes sense. You seem… different from the usual crowd.” His smirk widened as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “In a good way.”

You forced a polite smile, wishing Ji-min would miraculously reappear and drag you away.

“So, you wanna dance?” he asked, stepping closer.

You took a step back, your heart starting to race—not in a good way. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Oh, come on.” He reached out, fingers brushing your arm. “Just one dance.”

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t scared, not exactly, but the way he was looking at you, like you were something to be convinced, made you uneasy.

And then—

A voice, smooth and slightly amused, cut through the tension.

“She said no.”

You turned your head, and there she was.

Kang Sae-byeok.

You had seen her around campus before—everyone had. She was infamous. Mysterious, sharp-eyed, and always carrying that lazy smirk that made girls fall at her feet, only to be discarded by morning. She was trouble, the kind of trouble that came wrapped in leather jackets and cigarette smoke, the kind that left a mess in its wake.

And right now, she was looking at the guy in front of you like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“She said no,” Sae-byeok repeated, her voice firm, yet almost bored, like she had dealt with this kind of thing a hundred times before.

The guy scoffed, his grip on his drink tightening. “And who the hell are you?”

Sae-byeok tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes glinting under the dim party lights. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you back the fuck off.” She took a step closer, her presence alone enough to shift the energy in the air.

The guy hesitated, glancing between you and Sae-byeok, clearly debating whether it was worth pushing his luck. He must have decided against it because he let out an annoyed huff and muttered, “Whatever,” before disappearing into the crowd.

You exhaled, realizing you had been holding your breath.

“You okay?” Sae-byeok asked, her gaze flickering to yours.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

She studied you for a moment, then smirked. “He bothering you before I showed up?”

“Kind of,” you admitted, shifting on your feet. “He wouldn’t take the hint.”

Sae-byeok hummed, like she had expected that answer. “Guys like him are everywhere,” she muttered. Then, her smirk widened slightly. “Good thing you’ve got me, huh?”

You blinked. “I—uh—”

She chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered expression. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.” Her eyes flicked over your outfit, and she let out a low whistle. “Didn’t know girls like you came to these parties.”

You frowned. “Girls like me?”

She shrugged. “You just seem… different.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Ji-min dragged me here,” you admitted.

“Ah.” Sae-byeok nodded knowingly. “That makes sense.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked. “That you don’t really belong here.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught between offense and curiosity. “And you do?”

Sae-byeok chuckled, but there was something unreadable in her expression. “More than you think.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she leaned in slightly, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cigarettes and something sweet—maybe perfume, maybe something else.

“You got any money?” she asked, voice low.

You blinked, confused by the sudden shift. “What?”

“For a little something to take the edge off.” She smirked, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Coke, weed, molly—I’ve got whatever you need.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t do drugs. You didn’t even drink.

“I don’t—” You hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t do that stuff.”

Sae-byeok raised a brow, clearly surprised. “Really?”

You nodded.

She studied you for a second before her smirk returned, this time softer, almost teasing. “Cute.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—I should probably find Ji-min.”

Sae-byeok chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated for a moment before turning to walk away, but you barely took two steps before her voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

Sae-byeok tilted her head, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “See you around, yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”

And with that, you disappeared into the party, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason than before.

The children’s home was always quieter than you expected.

You had been coming here for nearly a year now, visiting your little sister, Yu-jin, whenever you could. And yet, every time you stepped through those doors, the sterile stillness of the place made your chest tighten.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, her small frame practically tackling you in a hug. “Unnie!”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around her. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me?”

She pulled back just enough to pout up at you. “Obviously.”

Your heart ached. She was only eight, still too young to really understand why she was here, why your parents—if they could even be called that—had decided she was too much to take care of. But she understood enough to know that you were the only one who still came back for her.

You spent the next hour with her, playing board games, helping her braid the hair of one of her dolls, and listening to her ramble about the latest school drama—who stole whose eraser, who got in trouble for talking too much, and how she definitely deserved extra dessert at lunch today.

It was a small escape, a moment where you could pretend things were normal.

But eventually, visiting hours started to wind down, and you had to say goodbye.

Yu-jin clung to your waist as you knelt in front of her. “You’ll come back soon, right?”

You smiled, brushing some hair out of her face. “Of course. I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

She huffed. “Too late for that.”

Your chest tightened again, but you just pressed a kiss to the top of her head before gently prying her arms from around you. “Be good, okay?”

She nodded reluctantly, stepping back as one of the caretakers came to usher her inside.

You watched until she was out of sight before turning to leave, your heart heavy.

And that’s when you saw her.

Kang Sae-byeok.

She was walking down the hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of her oversized hoodie, her face unreadable. But what caught your attention wasn’t just her—it was the fact that she had just come from the same visiting area you had.

For a moment, she didn’t see you. But then, just as she was about to walk past, her dark eyes flickered up and met yours.

Recognition flashed across her face—followed immediately by something else. Something guarded.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe a simple “hi,” maybe a question about why she was here, but before you could get a word out, she brushed past you without a single glance back.

No smirk. No teasing remark. Nothing.

Just silence.

You stood there, stunned, watching as she disappeared through the exit like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

And for the first time since meeting her, you saw a version of Sae-byeok that had nothing to do with her reputation, with the confident, untouchable girl who flirted with strangers and sold drugs like it was second nature.

This was something else entirely.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it.

You really needed to start saying no to Ji-min.

Another party, another night of being dragged into a place where you didn’t belong. The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and weed, and bodies moved together in a sweaty, chaotic rhythm.

You sighed, nursing the same half-empty cup of soda you had been holding for the past twenty minutes. Ji-min had already disappeared into some drinking game, leaving you to lean against the wall, watching the party unfold around you.

And then—

A familiar voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the noise.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

You turned your head, heart stuttering for half a second.

Sae-byeok.

She was dressed in her usual effortless way—baggy jeans, a fitted black top, and her signature leather jacket slung over her shoulders. But it wasn’t just her presence that caught you off guard.

It was the fact that this time, she was actually talking to you.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, raising a brow.

Sae-byeok smirked. “Pretty sure that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “What do you want?”

She tilted her head like she was considering something, her dark eyes scanning over you in a way that made your skin heat. “Maybe just some company.”

You blinked. “You? Want my company?”

She chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you. “Yeah, why not?”

You hesitated. After what happened at the children’s home, you half-expected her to keep avoiding you. But now, here she was, acting like that moment had never happened. Like she hadn’t practically run past you without a word.

Maybe it was better not to ask.

So instead, you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Fine. But I’m not drinking, so if you’re trying to—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted, smirk still in place. “Just talk to me.”

And so, you did.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow, you and Sae-byeok ended up spending the rest of the party together. She wasn’t as closed-off as you’d expected—she was sarcastic, quick-witted, and had a way of making you laugh without even trying.

She also had a way of making you nervous.

Because the longer you talked, the closer she got. A hand on your waist as she leaned in to hear you better. Fingers brushing against your arm, her breath warm against your ear when she made a teasing remark.

By the time you realized what was happening, it was already too late.

You wanted her.

And she knew it.

Which was probably why, an hour later, you found yourself pressed against your apartment door, Sae-byeok’s lips hot against yours.

You barely remembered how you got there. One second, she was murmuring something about leaving the party, and the next, her hands were on you, her jacket discarded somewhere on the floor as she kissed you like she had been waiting all night for it.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, a soft gasp escaping you when she pressed her body flush against yours. She tasted like cigarettes and something sweet, something undeniably her.

“This okay?” she murmured against your lips, her hands slipping under your shirt, warm against your skin.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

That was all she needed.

The rest of the night blurred together in a haze of soft moans and tangled sheets, of Sae-byeok’s lips against your skin, her hands exploring every inch of you like she was mapping out something she planned to return to.

And when it was over, when you were both spent and lying in the quiet of your room, you half-expected her to leave.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lay next to you, her breathing steady in the dim light. Not touching, not speaking. Just existing in the same space.

It felt like something shifted in the air between you.

Something unspoken.

Something neither of you were ready to acknowledge.

Not yet.

The thing about sleeping with Kang Sae-byeok was that it didn’t just stay in your apartment.

It bled into your everyday life—subtle but unmistakable.

At school, it was the way her hand would brush against your waist when she passed by in the hallway, her fingers just barely ghosting over the fabric of your skirt before she was gone. It was the way she’d smirk at you across the library, eyes dark with implication, as if daring you to recall exactly what she had done to you the night before.

It was in the stolen moments between classes, when she’d pull you into an empty classroom or an abandoned stairwell, pressing you against the wall with her lips on your neck, her hands slipping under your shirt just long enough to leave a mark—something only the two of you knew was there.

Yet no one ever caught on.

Not Ji-min, who still dragged you to parties without realizing you had already found the ultimate distraction. Not your professors, who had no idea that the reason you were sometimes a little dazed in class was because Sae-byeok had been between your legs just an hour before.

And certainly not the girls who still fell for Sae-byeok’s effortless charm, unaware that no matter how much she flirted, no matter how many lingering glances she gave them, she always ended up in your bed.

But if anyone should have noticed, it was Chae-won.

Chae-won was one of Sae-byeok’s old hookups—one of many, from what you had heard. She was also a regular customer, which was probably why she was currently pressed up against Sae-byeok outside of one of the campus buildings, whispering something in her ear.

You weren’t close enough to hear, but you didn’t need to.

You could tell exactly what was happening.

Sae-byeok, however, looked… bored.

She handed Chae-won a small baggie—probably molly, maybe coke—and took the cash in exchange, slipping it into her pocket without a word.

Chae-won, clearly expecting more, leaned in closer, her fingers trailing down Sae-byeok’s arm. “Come on, babe,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to catch. “It’s been a while.”

Sae-byeok didn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

Chae-won blinked. “What?”

Sae-byeok sighed, stepping back slightly. “You got what you wanted,” she said, nodding toward the baggie in Chae-won’s hand. “Now go.”

Chae-won’s expression twisted into something almost petulant. “So that’s it? You’re just done with me?”

Sae-byeok’s gaze was flat. “Yeah.”

For a second, Chae-won looked like she might argue, but then she scoffed, shoving the drugs into her pocket. “Whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel and stalking away.

Sae-byeok watched her go, her expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing your gaze, she glanced up—directly at you.

You raised a brow.

She smirked.

And just like that, she was walking toward you, slipping her hands into her pockets like nothing had happened.

The room was quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic outside your window and the soft rustling of sheets as Sae-byeok shifted beside you.

She was staying the night again.

It had started as just another hookup, another night tangled in each other, breathless and flushed against the sheets. But now, hours later, she was still here, lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she took another hit from the joint she had rolled earlier.

You watched as she exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily in the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re gonna stink up my room,” you muttered, but there was no real annoyance in your voice.

Sae-byeok smirked, turning her head to look at you. “You say that like I haven’t already.”

You rolled your eyes, but she wasn’t wrong. The scent of weed mixed with the lingering traces of sweat and sex—of her—was all over your sheets.

You expected her to just enjoy her high in silence, like she usually did. But tonight, something was different.

Because tonight, Sae-byeok started talking.

“You ever think about how fucked up everything is?” she mused, her voice slightly hazy from the weed.

You blinked. “That’s… vague.”

She chuckled, but there was something bitter underneath it. “I mean life. How some people just get fucked over from the start while others have everything handed to them.” She took another drag, then exhaled. “I used to think I could change that. Like, if I worked hard enough, I could make things better.”

You stayed quiet, sensing something deeper in her words.

Sae-byeok let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “But that’s bullshit. No matter how hard you work, if you’re born at the bottom, you stay at the bottom—unless you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

You swallowed, watching the way her fingers tightened slightly around the joint.

“That’s why I do what I do,” she continued, staring at the ceiling again. “Selling, stealing, fucking people over if I have to. Because no one’s ever given a shit about me or my brother, so why should I play by the rules? The rules were never made for people like us.”

Her voice cracked slightly on that last part, and your chest ached.

You had known—or at least suspected—that her life wasn’t easy. But hearing it from her, hearing the raw frustration, the exhaustion, the pain in her words… it was different.

You hesitated before reaching out, gently taking the joint from her fingers and setting it aside in the ashtray.

She turned her head toward you, blinking slowly, her pupils blown wide from the high.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

Sae-byeok scoffed, but it lacked her usual sharpness. “Maybe I’m too high to shut up.”

You studied her for a moment before murmuring, “Or maybe you just don’t want to be alone with it anymore.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way her jaw tightened told you enough.

You moved closer, hesitantly brushing your fingers over hers. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she turned onto her side, her dark eyes searching yours, something vulnerable flickering beneath the usual guardedness.

Then, suddenly, her lips were on yours.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses.

This wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a means to an end. This was slow, deep, desperate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with something neither of you were ready to name.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer, grounding her.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m here for you,” you murmured. “Not just for this. For you.”

Sae-byeok tensed slightly, like she wasn’t sure how to process that.

But then, after a long moment, she exhaled and pressed her lips to yours again—softer this time.

The children’s home always had a certain stillness to it, but today, it felt different. Heavier.

You had barely stepped through the doors when the head caretaker, Mrs. Park, approached you, her expression unusually serious.

“Ah, you’re here,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

Your stomach twisted. “Is Yu-jin okay?”

Mrs. Park hesitated, and that hesitation alone was enough to make your heart drop.

“She hasn’t been feeling well lately,” she admitted gently. “Nothing too alarming, but she’s been fatigued, hasn’t had much of an appetite, and she’s been getting a lot of bruises.”

You frowned. “Bruises?”

“She says she doesn’t remember how she got them,” Mrs. Park continued, concern etched into her features. “Normally, I’d assume it’s just roughhousing with the other kids, but… I think it would be best if you took her to a doctor.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Yu-jin was small, but she was tough. She rarely got sick, and when she did, she never complained about it.

If she was acting off, then something was really wrong.

“I’ll take her,” you said immediately. “I’ll call around and see if I can get an appointment for her soon.”

Mrs. Park nodded, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She’s in the playroom. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You forced a smile, but your mind was already racing.

You didn’t have much money. Your parents had made sure of that when they dumped Yu-jin at the home and left you to fend for yourself. You could probably scrape together enough for a basic check-up, but if something more serious was going on…

You swallowed hard. You couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Taking a steadying breath, you made your way to the playroom.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, but as she ran toward you, you noticed it.

She looked pale. Too pale. And when she threw her arms around you, she felt too light, like she had lost weight since your last visit.

“Unnie!” she chirped, but her voice had a slight rasp to it.

You pulled back slightly, trying to keep the worry off your face. “Hey, baby,” you murmured, brushing some hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Mrs. Park said you’ve been tired a lot,” you pressed gently.

Yu-jin pouted. “I just get sleepy. And my legs feel weird sometimes.”

Your stomach clenched.

You needed to get her to a doctor. Soon.

But how the hell were you going to afford it?

And Sae-byeok wasn’t stupid.

She noticed things.

She noticed the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you greeted her. The way your responses were shorter, more distant. The way you barely reacted when she slid a hand along your waist in the empty hallway between classes, when normally, you’d roll your eyes and tell her to behave.

At first, she didn’t say anything.

She just watched.

Waited.

But when you barely looked at her during the entire party Ji-min had dragged you to, she had enough.

The moment she got you alone—outside on the balcony, away from the swarm of drunken students—she pressed you against the railing, her hands bracketing you in, her dark eyes scanning your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Her head tilted slightly, searching your expression. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Sae-byeok didn’t buy it.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You never get tired of this.” Her fingers brushed against your hip, her touch light but suggestive. “So what is it?”

For a second, you almost gave in.

Almost let her kiss the thoughts out of your head, let her hands distract you from the weight sitting heavy on your chest.

But you just… couldn’t.

Gently, you reached down and pushed her hand away.

“I’m just not in the mood,” you murmured, barely recognizing the words as they left your lips.

Sae-byeok froze.

It was small, barely noticeable, but you felt the way her body tensed for half a second before she pulled back.

She studied you, her expression unreadable.

Then, she scoffed lightly, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, glancing away. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing back into the party without another word.

You exhaled, gripping the railing tightly as you shut your eyes.

You knew she wasn’t mad.

But you also knew that Sae-byeok didn’t do feelings.

And for the first time, you worried that she might take your distance as something it wasn’t.

That she might think you didn’t want her anymore.

When really, she was the only person you didn’t want to push away.

Sae-byeok hadn’t planned on staying long.

She never did when she came to visit Cheol. The children’s home always felt too sterile, too full of things she didn’t want to think about. But she came anyway—because Cheol needed her. Because she was the only one looking out for him.

But today, something was wrong.

The moment she stepped through the front gates, she noticed the emergency vehicle parked outside, its flashing lights casting eerie reflections against the windows. A group of caretakers stood near the entrance, their faces tight with concern as paramedics wheeled out a small gurney.

A child lay on it.

A little girl.

Sae-byeok barely spared the scene a glance. Kids got sick all the time. Accidents happened. It wasn’t any of her business.

She walked past them, slipping inside the building and heading toward the playroom where she knew Cheol would be.

When she found him, he was sitting on the floor, his coloring book open in front of him—but he wasn’t coloring. He was just staring at the page, gripping a crayon so tightly his knuckles were white.

Sae-byeok frowned, crouching down beside him. “What’s with you?”

Cheol glanced up, his face unusually serious. “Yu-jin got sick.”

Sae-byeok blinked. “Who?”

“My friend.” He pointed toward the door, as if she should’ve already known. “She was here with me. We were coloring, and then she said she felt dizzy. She tried to stand up, but she just—” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “She fell, noona. She wouldn’t wake up. The teachers called the ambulance.”

Something in Sae-byeok’s chest twisted uncomfortably.

She exhaled, ruffling Cheol’s hair in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “She’ll be fine,” she muttered. “Hospitals know what they’re doing.”

Cheol didn’t look convinced, but he just nodded, his small fingers still clenched around the crayon.

Sae-byeok sighed, about to change the subject—

Then, movement outside caught her eye.

She turned her head, glancing through the window just in time to see you rushing toward the caretakers, your face pale, your breathing uneven.

You were crying.

Sae-byeok went still.

You barely even spoke before one of the women gently grabbed your arms, trying to steady you, trying to explain something.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

The little girl.

Yu-jin.

Your sister.

Sae-byeok’s stomach dropped.

She had never asked much about your life. Never pried, never pushed. But she had seen you at this home before. She had known you were visiting someone.

And now, she knew exactly who.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched you wipe at your tears, nodding shakily to whatever one of the caretakers was saying before turning toward the emergency vehicle.

Sae-byeok wasn’t sure what she was doing before she was already moving.

Sae-byeok barely spared Cheol a glance as she stood up.

“I gotta go,” she muttered, ruffling his hair quickly before heading for the door.

She ignored the way he called after her, ignored the way her own pulse pounded in her ears.

Because right now, nothing mattered except getting to you.

By the time she stepped outside, you were still standing near the emergency vehicle, your hands shaking as you wiped at your face. The paramedics were already inside, shutting the doors, preparing to drive off.

Sae-byeok barely hesitated before striding up to you.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.

You startled slightly, turning to her with wide, tear-filled eyes. For a second, you just stared at her, like you couldn’t believe she was actually here.

Then, your face crumpled, and you exhaled shakily.

“It’s Yu-jin,” you murmured. “She—she’s been sick for weeks, but I thought—” You swallowed hard, gripping your arms as if to hold yourself together. “She collapsed. They think it’s aplastic anemia.”

Sae-byeok frowned. “What the hell is that?”

“It—it means her bone marrow isn’t making enough blood cells. She’s been pale, getting bruises, getting tired easily…” You inhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I should’ve taken her to a doctor sooner.”

Your voice broke on that last word, and Sae-byeok felt something clench painfully in her chest.

She wasn’t good at this. At comforting people. At knowing what to say.

But fuck, she hated seeing you like this.

So she did the only thing she could.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing your wrist firmly but gently.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

You hesitated, your lip trembling. “Sae-byeok, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But I’m still going.”

You stared at her for a moment, like you were trying to find a reason to push her away.

But then, something in you gave in.

You nodded.

And without another word, the two of you got into your car and drove to the hospital.

Sae-byeok didn’t let go of your wrist the entire way.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something sterile, something cold.

You hated it.

You sat in one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting room, your knee bouncing anxiously, your fingers twisting together in your lap. The fluorescent lights above you buzzed faintly, but everything else had faded into white noise.

You could still see Yu-jin in your head—too pale, too small, strapped to a gurney with an oxygen mask over her face as they wheeled her away.

Your stomach twisted.

Beside you, Sae-byeok sat silently, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

She hadn’t left your side since you got here.

She hadn’t said much either—not since the nurse had told you that Yu-jin was being stabilized, that a doctor would come speak to you soon.

At first, you weren’t sure why she had come at all.

This wasn’t her problem. She didn’t do emotional support. She didn’t do waiting rooms or hospitals or sitting next to you while you tried to keep from falling apart.

But she was here.

And when your breath hitched, when your fingers clenched into fists against your thighs, she moved.

Wordlessly, her hand slid over yours, her fingers prying yours open, threading through them.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sae-byeok exhaled softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know.”

You turned to look at her. “She’s all I have.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened slightly, her dark eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

Then, after a long moment, she squeezed your hand.

“No, she’s not.”

Your lips parted slightly, your pulse stuttering.

Sae-byeok didn’t elaborate.

She just kept holding your hand, grounding you, keeping you tethered to something solid as the minutes dragged by.

The waiting room had never felt so suffocating.

Every second that passed felt like an eternity, stretching thin over the weight pressing against your chest. Sae-byeok’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from spiraling completely.

Then, finally, the doctor arrived.

She was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a clipboard tucked under her arm. She gave you a small, professional smile before sitting down across from you.

“You’re Yu-jin’s guardian?” she asked gently.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. How is she?”

The doctor sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “She’s stable for now, but her condition is serious. Aplastic anemia is rare, but it can be treated. However, it requires aggressive management—blood transfusions, medications, and in severe cases, a bone marrow transplant.”

Your stomach twisted. “A transplant?”

She nodded. “It’s the best chance for a full recovery, but it’s not easy to find a compatible donor. In the meantime, we’ll need to start her on immediate treatments to manage her symptoms.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “And… how much will that cost?”

The doctor’s expression softened, as if she had been expecting that question. “That depends. Do you have insurance?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Your fingers curled against your jeans, gripping the fabric tightly. You could feel Sae-byeok watching you, waiting for your answer.

But you didn’t have one.

Because you already knew the truth.

You had nothing. No insurance. No savings. Just barely enough money to scrape by, let alone pay for something as massive as this.

But you couldn’t say that.

Not out loud.

So instead, you swallowed past the lump in your throat and forced a small, polite smile.

“Thank you for your help, doctor,” you murmured.

The woman hesitated, her gaze flickering over you, as if she could see the weight of what you weren’t saying.

But she just nodded. “Of course. I’ll have a nurse bring you the paperwork soon. In the meantime, you can see Yu-jin once she’s moved to a room.”

You nodded stiffly, watching as the doctor stood and walked away.

The second she was gone, you felt Sae-byeok shift beside you.

“You don’t have insurance,” she said flatly.

You inhaled sharply, keeping your eyes on the floor. “I’ll figure something out.”

Sae-byeok didn’t respond right away.

Then, quietly—

“You can’t pay for this, can you?”

Your throat tightened.

You couldn’t look at her.

Because if you did, you’d break.

So instead, you just squeezed your hands into fists, forcing yourself to take a deep breath.

“I’ll figure it out,” you repeated, but the words felt empty.

Because you had no idea how.

Lunch at school was usually loud—full of chatter, laughter, and the occasional shouting match over stolen food.

But at your table, it was quiet.

You barely touched your tray, pushing food around absentmindedly with your chopsticks. Your mind was still at the hospital, still stuck in that suffocating waiting room, still haunted by the sight of Yu-jin lying in that hospital bed, too small, too pale.

Sae-byeok sat across from you, watching.

She had been watching you all morning.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was calm. Steady.

“Here.”

You blinked, looking up just in time to see her slide something across the table toward you.

A thick envelope.

You frowned. “What is this?”

Sae-byeok didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Take it,” she said simply.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the envelope before finally picking it up and peeking inside—

And your breath caught.

It was cash.

A lot of cash. Stacks of bills, neatly bundled together, more money than you had ever held in your hands before.

Your stomach twisted. “Sae-byeok…”

“For Yu-jin,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head immediately, pushing the envelope back toward her. “No. No, I can’t take this.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do!” Your voice was quiet but urgent, pleading. “Sae-byeok, this is your money. You worked for this. I can’t take everything you have—”

“I don’t need it,” she interrupted.

You swallowed, shaking your head again. “Please,” you whispered. “Don’t do this.”

For the first time, something flickered in her expression. Maybe frustration. Maybe something else.

But after a moment, she exhaled, grabbing the envelope and shoving it back into her bag.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I won’t force you.”

You sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Sae-byeok didn’t say anything.

She just nodded, finishing her food in silence.

You thought that was the end of it.

You thought she had listened.

But you should’ve known better.

Sae-byeok skipped her afternoon classes.

No one stopped her when she slipped out the back of the school, her bag slung over her shoulder, her hood pulled up.

She had a job to do.

Getting to the hospital didn’t take long. She had been there before, knew her way around well enough. And it wasn’t hard to figure out where to go—she had overheard the doctor say Yu-jin’s name, had seen the forms in your hands.

Kim Yu-jin.

When she reached the billing office, she didn’t hesitate.

The receptionist barely glanced up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pay a bill,” Sae-byeok said smoothly, pulling out the envelope of cash and setting it on the counter. “For Kim Yu-jin.”

The receptionist blinked, clearly surprised. “Are you a family member?”

Sae-byeok didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

The woman hesitated before nodding, typing something into the computer. “Alright. The family still has a significant balance, but this will cover a large portion of the immediate treatments.”

“Good.”

The receptionist paused, glancing at the cash before looking back at her.

“No questions?” she asked carefully.

Sae-byeok met her gaze, unblinking. "Nope."

You knew something was wrong the moment you walked into the hospital.

The nurse at the front desk greeted you with a polite smile, the kind that only made your stomach twist.

“Good evening, Miss Kim,” she said. “We wanted to let you know that a substantial payment was made toward Yu-jin’s treatment earlier today.”

Your breath caught.

“What?”

The nurse nodded. “Yes, a young woman came in this afternoon. She said she was family and paid in cash.”

Your fingers curled against the counter.

A young woman.

Cash.

No.

No, she wouldn’t—

Your heart pounded as you spun on your heel, barely muttering a thank-you before storming out of the hospital.

You already knew where to find her.

Sae-byeok was leaning against the gate in front of the school when you found her, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But the moment she saw your face, her expression shifted.

You didn’t slow down.

The second you reached her, you shoved at her shoulder—hard.

She barely stumbled, just blinked at you, unimpressed. “What the hell—”

“What did you do?” you hissed.

Sae-byeok exhaled, rolling her eyes. “You already know.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I told you not to—”

“And I told you that you didn’t have a choice.”

Your chest tightened. “That wasn’t your decision to make!”

Sae-byeok scoffed. “Yeah? And what was your plan, then? Huh?” She took a step closer, her voice low but sharp. “Just sit around and hope the money magically appears? Let Yu-jin get worse because you’re too fucking proud to accept help?”

You flinched, your throat tightening. “That’s not—”

“She needs treatment,” Sae-byeok snapped. “She needs money. And you don’t have any.”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “And you do?”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t have to.

Because you knew.

You had always known.

Sae-byeok didn’t have a normal job. She didn’t come from money. The cash she had given you—it wasn’t clean.

And she had spent it all on you.

Your eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered.

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well.” She looked away, exhaling sharply. “Too late.”

Something in you cracked.

Because this—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to need her. You weren’t supposed to owe her.

But now, you did.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

So instead, you just inhaled shakily, shaking your head. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Sae-byeok studied you for a long moment.

Then, quietly—

“I don’t want your money.”

You swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly in her pockets.

Then—

“You.”

Your breath hitched.

But before you could even begin to respond, she turned away.

“Come on,” she muttered. “I’ll walk you home.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

But the weight of her words stayed with you the entire way back.

[zaundads]

Ultimate Zaundads Quote guides

All the important Zaundads Quotes

I was reading this post on iconic couple quotes and I realized that this is kinda hard for Zaundads considering they have like two scenes where they actually talk to each other. So it's hard not to do "well, just everything". Still, here are all the best ones, highlightes for my faves.

"I trusted you. And you betrayed me."

"I'll show you what you really are."

"I hated you, but you kept my respect."

"I hated you for what you'd done. But as time passed, so did my hate. "

"What I did to you… I've never forgiven myself."

"Greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive."

"What's the point if we can't raise an ankle biter or two?"

"We shared a vision, Vander. A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground, united as one. The nation of Zaun. Do you even remember?"

"I had no choice." - "Perhaps. But now you do. Shimmer. We have the power. We can finally realize our dream,"

"Silco. Let her go. This is between you and me." - "You had your chance."

"You'd die for the cause, but you won't fight for one? "

"I knew you still had it in you."

"Ever wonder what it's like to drown? Story of opposites. There's peace in water. Like it's holdin' you, whisperin' in low tones to let it in. And every problem in the world will fade away. But then there's this thing… …in your head, and it's raging. Lighting every nerve with madness. To fight. To survive. And all the while, this question lingers before you: "Have you had enough?" It's funny. You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a choice like that. But it changes you forever. For that, I thank you… old friend."

"Oh, it all makes sense now, brother."

"A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this. All we ever wanted."

"You hear that, Bozo 2? We made it. We're done. Oh, you're sadly mistaken. I'm Bozo 1."

"I've looked everywhere, but… it's clear you don't wanna be found. God, I'm shit at this. I'm sorry. When she died, I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and bedrock. V."

"If he found this, everything might have been different."

Bonus "indirect quotes"

"Benzo, stay back. […] Wait!" (Vander not wanting Benzo to attack Silco)

"We had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back-to-back against whatever the world threw at us. Now I'm forced to share the air with parasites like you, who leach off their legacies."

"Tonight a harebrained scheme these two bozos cooked up to turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community became a reality."

"So there's a chance for us yet." (Silco to Vander in 2x07)

Merchant: "This is vile." Vander: "You'll learn to love it." (Vander about Zaunite tobacco)

"There's worse things than enforcers out there." (Vander about ?? Silco? Other Zaunite criminals? )

"Fear haunts us all, child." (Silco about ?? The dreams he has about Vander drowning him?)

"Betrayal, that pain that feels like it'll eat you from the inside out,"

"You two are gonna figure this Zaun thing out. I don't care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters. You're not allowed to fail anymore."

"Nearly forgot. I ran into an old friend of yours. He had some stories. You weren't always the peacekeeper, were you? - Yeah, well, you can't escape the past. Right?"" (Marcus and Vander about Silco)

"You told me a million times. [...] Blah, blah, blah [...]" (Jinx complaining about just how often Silco talks about Vander)

"Silco thinks he made Jinx, with all his rants and his hard-won lessons. "Excise your doubts, Jinx." "Be what they fear, Jinx." Like everything was the same as when Vander left him."

Did I forget any? What is your ultimate Silco and Vander quote?

Bonus:

Full dialogue of selected scenes under the cut:

Silco and Vander in 1x03: S: It's a little crude, I'll admit. The base violence necessary for change. But we both know topside won't listen to anything else. V: Even with your monsters, you won't win a war against Piltover. S: I don't have to. I just need to scare them. They won't dare set foot in the underground again. V: You'll get people killed. For what? Pride? S: For respect. Opportunity. Everything they've denied us. V: You had my respect. The Lanes' respect, but that… that was never enough for you. S: We shared a vision, Vander. A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes, but the whole of the underground, united as one. The nation of Zaun. Do you even remember? I trusted you. And you betrayed me. V: What I did to you… I've never forgiven myself. You were my brother. S: No, you still don't understand. Can you imagine what it's like? When your blood mixes with the filth and the river toxins eat through your nerves. Oh, I hated you for what you'd done. But as time passed, so did my hate. And I was left with an understanding. The only way to defeat a superior enemy is to stop at nothing. To become what they fear. I hated you, but you kept my respect. Until you made peace with them. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. V: I had no choice. S: Perhaps. But now you do. Shimmer. We have the power. We can finally realize our dream, brother. V: Look at what you've done. Benzo. These kids. In fighting topside, you'd sacrifice everything that we are. It's not the way. Can't you see that? kill me if you have to, but please spare the Lanes. S: You'd die for the cause, but you won't fight for one? V: I'm just… not that man anymore. S: I'll show you what you really are.

Jinx and Silco 1x05:

S: I almost drowned in these waters. J: You told me a million times. S:Vander wasn't the man you thought he was. J: Right, he was like a brother to you, and he turned his back and blah, blah, blah. Did I miss anything? S: I've got a new one for you. That day, I let a weak man die. And another was reborn. Betrayal, that pain that feels like it'll eat you from the inside out, can either break you or forge you into something greater. You need to let Powder die. So the fear of pain will no longer control you. You're strong now. Just like you were always meant to be. Jinx is perfect.

Silco vs Chembarons 1x07: Have you forgotten where we came from? The mines they had us in? Air so thick it clogged your throat. Stuck in your eyes. But I pulled you all up from the depths. Offered you a taste of topside. And fresh air. I gave you life. Purpose. But you've grown fat and complacent. Too much time in the sun. We came from a world where there was never enough to go around, Finn. That is why we fight. Do you remember?

Silco vs Finn 2x09: S: I'm busy. F: When you took Vander out of play, I thought, "Now here's a man who understands what it takes to run an enterprise." The attitude, the instinct, the eye. The whole package, you were. Always two steps ahead. But time's lapped you, old man. S: You're with him, are you? F: You screwed up, Silco. S: You're too young to remember what the undercity was before it became an "enterprise".We had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back-to-back against whatever the world threw at us. Now I'm forced to share the air with parasites like you, who leach off their legacies. F: Today's the day you die, Silco. S: That's a risk I've known all my life. But I still believe in loyalty.

Silco at the Vander statue: S: A thousand times I've imagined this moment. Never like this. All we ever wanted. The boy didn't even haggle. And what do I lose but problems? Oh, it all makes sense now, brother. Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 14

read it on ao3

Chapter 16

When morning finally calls you back to consciousness, you wake with Sevika’s arm wrapped around you, holding you tenderly to her chest. You can feel her lips pressed to the back of your neck, a soft, relaxed smile stuck to your skin. Sinking into the moment, you are at ease for the first time in nine years, protected on all four walls guarding the most dangerous woman in Zaun. You rest your hand overtop of hers, slowly lacing your fingers with hers, taking what you can like a starving dog.

Sevika must feel the shift in states, as a moment later she’s yawning against the scruff of your neck. Your hand tenses, worried she’ll pull back, heart thundering in your chest. Yet, her arm remains firmly wrapped around you, thumb now stroking back and forth across your stomach.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Sevika hums, her voice full of gravel from slumber.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, resting your eyes in the safety of her watch.

“’Course I did, I –“

A loud crash sounds from downstairs, and both of you bolt up in bed. It’s a mad scramble for pants and socks, feet thundering down the stairs as your hand tenses over your holster. Both of you fearing the same thing: infected.

Sevika’s around the corner first, freezing when a kid loudly shouts her name, giggling happily. You run right into her back due to the sudden stop, nose colliding with hard muscle. Pulling back, you rub your nose with a cranky groan. Sitting in the kitchen are Jinx and Isha, with Isha covered in pancake batter (flour mostly, if you’re being honest) and Jinx holding a flipper, a mess of pancakes already in the pan.

“What are you two doing?” Sevika sighs heavily, like she’s on the verge of scolding a misbehaving child.

“Making you breakfast, duh! Isha wanted pancakes, and then she wanted to share them with you two, so we came here,” Jinx says innocently, as if she hadn’t just broken into someone’s house.

“Why couldn’t you just have invited us over?” Sevika grumbles, straightening out her shirt as Isha launches herself at her. She catches Isha effortlessly, holding the kid on her hip. “You know, instead of teaching the kid to break into people’s houses.”

“Because this way, you can’t say no,” Jinx states matter-of-factly, flipping the pancakes. One of them smears against the pan, making a bigger mess. “Oh, maybe that one wasn’t ready.”

“She has a point, Sev’,” you butt in, walking around Sevika to help Jinx so she doesn’t make a worse mess of your kitchen.

“Don’t agree with her! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Sevika sputters, standing in the living room, flabbergasted.

You shrug: “I want pancakes.”

Sevika groans half-heartedly, trying to put on a show more than anything. You can see it plainly written on her face; you’ve already won her over. Just as she opens her mouth to argue further, Isha taps her on the shoulder, getting her attention.

Isha signs, her eyebrows raised upwards, an anticipatory smile on her face: “Can we draw together? Please?”

Unable to sign back as her only hand is holding Isha, Sevika nods her head and says “okay” as clearly as she can.

Isha grins, clapping her hands and squirming until Sevika puts her down. Then she runs off to grab some paper from the coffee table, stuffing a purple crayon in Sevika’s hand. Sevika chuckles, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table and accepting the paper Isha gives her. Isha rapid signs at Sevika, who does her best to keep up with the kid, asking her to repeat what she doesn’t catch the first time. Isha, happy someone’s playing with her, continues until Sevika understands completely.

“Hey, love-sick, you going to help or not?” Jinx demands after failing to flip another pancake.

Snapped out of your lovesick stupor you turn around, face flushed and take the spatula from her. “Let me do this; you can layout the spreads and syrups.”

“If you want to fail at pancakes, be my guest,” Jinx surrenders immediately, turning around to root through the cabinets.

“I’m going to be the one cleaning up the mess afterwards anyway,” you point out, managing to flip a pancake without ruining it.

“Hey, we’ll help clean up, I won’t leave you with this mess. Not after Isha dropped the flour – not a lot of it, but if you wonder why there’s white handprints everywhere, she’s to blame.”

“Oh? Pinning your butterfingers on a kid now, Jinx?” you tease her.

“Dodging the fact you’re head over heels for my aunt now?” Jinx counters, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Hey!” you hiss, shooting a glare at her.

“Oh, shit you’re not even denying it,” Jinx whispers, staring at you with an open mouth. “You’re fucked, bottle-rocket. Good thing I like you already, otherwise, I would make you go through a grueling trial before I kept your secret for you. But fear not! I shall keep your secret safe and sound.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking your head to focus on the pancakes.

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx giggles, grabbing a wet cloth to clean up the floury mess she’s made all across the kitchen.

By the time you’ve finished cooking the pancakes, Jinx has cleaned up the whole kitchen, making it shine (as best as it can in the apocalypse, at least). Sevika manages to drag Isha away from the coffee table long enough to get a plate in front of her. Isha stops whining the moment she’s presented with sweet, fluffy pancakes, scarfing down at least six (you’re not sure where she puts them all in her tiny body, but you’re not about to stop her; there are a lot of pancakes). Somehow, Jinx manages to wrangle Isha into helping with dishes, the kitchen cleaner than you’d left it by the time the four of you part ways. Jinx is off taking Isha to school, and Sevika’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you head to the printing shop. You vow to do laundry that night (hopefully), but today you need clean clothes.

As you walk in the store, you nearly run smack into Grayson. Thankfully, she moves at the last moment and the two of you share an awkward laugh.

“You are now the proud owner of a printing press. Make something good,” she teases you, winking as she slips out the shop. “I’ve got orders to fill, so if there’s any problems come find me!”

“Thank you!” you call after her as she walks off into the slowly thickening crowd of commuters.

“Need help?” Sevika asks, lingering in the doorway as if she’s still not sure whether she’s allowed inside.

“As if I’d say no,” you giggle, pulling her inside. “Come on, I’ll need someone to help me figure out what to print first.”

“Make it something useful – basic first aid or survival skills. Something we can print a lot of to get a hang of the press,” Sevika suggests, following you into the back.

“You’re so smart; what would I do without you?” you ask, beaming up at her as you hold the door to the press room open.

“You’d have come up with it yourself,” Sevika shrugs, stepping past you.

“Maybe, maybe not – who knows? Who cares? You’re here with me now, and that’s much better than doing all this myself. I wouldn’t even have gotten to this part by myself, I’d probably be dead to that horde back when you found me,” you say, taking in the (slightly underwhelming) sight of the printing press.

It’s gorgeously crafted, with carvings in the legs and as accurate to the design as possible. Yet, after weeks of waiting, it felt more like a mute point. You’re anticipating the process far more than the press itself, so you set to work figuring out how to get started rather than staring in awe at the truly gorgeous creation Grayson has delivered to your workshop. Besides, everything pales in comparison next to Sevika.

Together, the two of you spend the next eight hours printing pamphlets, getting covered in ink, and giggling – genuinely, actually giggling. You stop short the first time you hear it escape Sevika’s lips, floored at the beauty of her smile. Your heart swells in your chest, craving to kiss her tender lips – to take her right there and then on the workbench. Yet, you carry on, tucking away your beating heart in the name of art. There’s a time and place to swoon over her, even if that swooning won’t get you farther than a few wayward looks. You’ve come to terms with that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When the sun’s finally setting, Sevika drags you out of the shop and to the grocery store. You pick up something easy to make, taking it home and stumbling through the door, already stoned from the walk over. Sevika had acquired new joints from God knows where, grinning as you tried to drag her sources out of her. No such luck.

“Alright, strip,” she demands the moment you step inside.

“What?” you squeak, face flushing scarlet.

“We need to wash your clothes; it’s disgusting at this point. You get dinner ready and I’ll wash ‘em for you,” Sevika explains, holding out her hand impatiently.

“Oh, right,” you giggle nervously, glancing upstairs at your bedroom. “Here, take this –“ you had her dinner – “I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick,” she grunts, disappointment flickering behind her eyes. You brush it off and race upstairs.

Ten minutes later, you’re standing in her shirt, preparing tacos as she fusses with an old washing machine. In solidarity, she’s stripped down and tossed her clothes in as well, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of plaid pyjama pants now. You admire her back tattoo, wanting to ghost your fingers over it, yet you’re covered in salsa, so you let the feeling pass you by. For now, you lean into the quiet domestic life with her, wrapped up in the gentle current of the universe

Clean clothes have never felt better. You’d nearly forgotten what they felt like all together, but nothing beat the next morning when you slipped into a freshly washed pair of jeans and a bra that wasn’t stiff with grime. Well, almost nothing – it couldn’t beat waking up with Sevika’s arm thrown across your chest, a small puddle of drool soaking into the shirt she’d lent you. As if the universe has finally fallen into place around you, and all you have to do is linger within it.

Unfortunately, Sevika doesn’t join you in the print shop that day. Vander arrives at the house in the early hours of the morning to request Sevika’s help with the windmill. You had almost forgotten about the project! Frankly, you were taken aback that it wasn’t done yet; after all, it has been a little more than four weeks now. Though you supposed building a brand new structure, and all of the pieces that go within it takes far longer when you have to do everything by hand (and can’t import pieces from other sites).

Craving fresh bread made from properly ground flour, you don’t even put up a fight for Sevika’s help. You can work alone if it means the next bun you eat isn’t a little gritty.

Your sacrifice leads to the loss of Sevika’s help for the remainder of the week. It isn’t all bad – Jinx and Isha do stop by occasionally to “help out,” but neither were really all that much help. Mostly, Isha sat on the floor colouring, and Jinx rambled about all the fun things you were missing out on cooped up inside. At least it gave you a distraction while you printed the same thing over and over again – you’d moved past survival pamphlets and onto your first attempt at a book, deciding to reprint the novel you were reading the night Sevika had come to you. Hopefully, Grayson will be satisfied with your selection… but printing a novel meant you had to print several copies of the same page over and over again, fussing over spacing and trying to ensure you had the words spelled correctly. All while Jinx tried to steal pages to read them for herself. In the end, you had to keep two bookmarks in the book, one for your work and one for her reading, as she got far too invested while you were making endless copies of the pages.

Slowly, the quiet rhythm of life began to crawl back into your heart, and you melted into the normalcy that used to pervade your life before the apocalypse. It felt good to finally have the rhythm back – it had tried to return while Sevika was injured but never quite stuck after everything that happened afterwards. Finally, it felt like it’s here to stay; a realization you came to in the middle of printing the heartfelt love confession, swooning over the words as Jinx read them aloud in her giggling mockery that gave away how into the plot she actually was.

Before you headed home for the night, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up something special: steak, baked beans, potatoes and carrots. A dish reminiscent of the first night you cooked for her. You’re giggling to yourself as you pick out a new steak rub, indulging your creativity as you grab a stick of butter. By the time you’ve got everything you need, the basket is nearly overflowing (you might have grabbed an expensive bottle of whiskey and some candles too).

Rocking back and forth on your feet in the grocery line, a voice pipes up behind you: “What’s got you so excited?”

You spin around to see Salo behind you, staring at you with a knowing smile, Mel holding his shopping for him.

“Salo! It’s been too long; how have you been? You haven’t given yourself food poisoning again, have you?”

Salo scoffs and rolls his eyes, his smile refusing to budge an inch. “Occupational hazard. I should be asking you how you’ve been; no one’s seen you all week, except for Jinx claiming she visits you every day in this new… print shop?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously and rub the back of your neck. “I guess I’ve been so hard at work I haven’t taken the time for myself. Jinx isn’t wrong; I do have a print shop, though we’re not open yet. I’ve got to get two more books printed before I open my doors, so I have something for all ages.”  

“Please let me know when you are ready; I would love to make a larger announcement to the community on your behalf,” Mel interjects, drawing your attention to her. She holds out her hand: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mel. Jayce has told me quiet a bit about you.”

You firmly shake her hand, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard about you too – probably not as much as you’ve heard of me. I’d love the help, a little foot traffic would do the shop wonders when I’m ready to open the doors.”

“Excellent. Have you considered collaborating with any local authors to print their works?”

“I have –“ you begin to place your groceries on the counter for the clerk – “I’m not quite sure how to find them, but when I open, I hope to take applications. Printing is a long process; I want to make sure everyone gets a fair chance to have their work printed.”

“A very good idea. I can work with you to connect with local authors; perhaps you could print one of their books as your remaining two.”

“That – that might actually help me decide. If you find anyone willing to work with me, send them down the street, please.”

“Of course.”

You leave the grocery store with a beaming smile on your face as you rush through the evening crowd to get home. Thankfully, Sevika hasn’t made it back yet, so you still have time to roll up your sleeves and get to work. The old cast-iron pan is put to use to sear the steaks as you toss the potatoes in the oven with the pot of beans. The carrots steam in a pot in the far corner of the stove. Everything is given a hefty helping of honey (and other seasonings) to bring out your desired flavours. As things cook, you set the kitchen up around you, lighting candles, setting the whiskey bottle near two glasses, and making sure there wasn’t any dirt on the floor. You’ve even dragged Sevika’s boombox downstairs, plugging it in and tuning it to a local radio station – you’d overheard a group of friends talking about it in the grocery store and wanted to tune in for its first broadcast. So far the music is energizing, painting the kitchen in bright colours that compliment the heavenly scent of your cooking.

You’re so focused on the task at hand and the music that you don’t hear the backdoor swing open, or the footsteps behind you. Until a hand wraps around your waist, her chest against your back, head pressed into her breasts. You squeak loudly, jerking your head up to see Sevika’s sly smile staring back at you.

“Smells heavenly, sugar,” she hums, making you swallow thickly.

“You’ve gotta be louder, I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer, trying to make sure you don’t burn the steaks.

Sevika snorts: “That’s not my fault. I even said your name when I came in, you were just too invested in all this to notice.”

“Oh…” you’re thankful she towers over you so she can’t see the way your face flushes in embarrassment. God. This kind of obliviousness would get you killed these days.

“What ya cookin’ anyway? Smells heavenly,” Sevika continues, oblivious to your sudden embarrassment.

“Steak and baked potatoes,” you admit sheepishly.

“Just like the first night, hm? You trying to tell me something?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?”

“I don’t know, but you should write these recipes down; makes the whole house smell divine. Could turn it into a cookbook for your print shop.”

Your head still spins from what she could have possibly meant earlier, so all you manage is a sheepish head nod. You don’t have the faintest idea of what she’s insinuating – it’s not as if you wanted to do anything more than celebrate the good week you’ve had. It’s not as if anything really happened, beyond Grayson flirting with you, that first day. You’d only made steak so that Sevika would talk to you again! Did she think you were mad at her? Oh, God, have you pathologized her with cooking to make her think steak means she’s done something wrong?

“Hey, you even paying attention?” Sevika asks, pulling you out of your mental doom spiral.

“Huh? What?”

“Don’t space out on me now; you’ll burn the steak,” Sevika chuckles. “I said they’re holding a barn dance in a few days to celebrate the new windmill.”

“We should go,” you say immediately, reaching for a plate for the steaks. Sevika grabs one and passes it to you.

“If you want. I usually don’t go to these things, can’t really dance,” Sevika shrugs, giving you space to plate the food.

“All the more reason we should go – you’ve worked hard to help them put on the finishing touches. You deserve a chance to appreciate your own work,” you insist, carrying the dishes out to the table on the back porch.

“You’re just saying that because you want to go,” Sevika points out, taking a seat at the table. The clatter of silverware sings through the backyard as she sets them in the middle.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you ask, sitting down across from her.

Sevika merely grunts, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a steak from the serving platter.

The conversation dies away as the two of you pile your plates high and devour the delicious meal. You listen to Sevika’s day at work – all the dangerous chances she almost died yet unfortunately survived (in her opinion). She listens to your day at work and how Jinx giggled maniacally through the last few chapters of the novel. An air of domestic joy wraps around the two of you, even as you hurry to do the dishes and grab the whiskey off the counter. Sevika puts her feet up on the table – something you scold her half-heartedly for – swirling her whiskey before taking a sip. A contented sigh escapes her as she melts further into the porch swing. You tentatively lean against her shoulder until she pulls you closer, whiskey sloshing in the bottom of her glass so that you’re pressed up against her side.

“This is the life,” she hums, staring up at the stars.

“Certainly better than where I was this time ten years ago,” you scoff, taking a sip of your whiskey.

“Anything’s better than ten years ago. I could get eaten by infected tomorrow and it would still be better than that shit show.”

“Indeed,” you murmur, staring up at her as her face relaxes from a scowl back into the contented smile. Desperation bubbles up in your stomach, craving her lips. You barely manage to temper it down, sating yourself by tracing the line of her lips. Your eyes catch over the piercing at the bottom, tongue escaping to wet your lips as you stew in your own pleasant puddle of arousal.

Sevika, oblivious to your staring, takes a sip of whiskey and continues to watch the night sky. Finishing her glass, she sets it down and wraps her hand around your shoulder, thumb stroking your shoulder. No matter how desperately you crave her, you’re not ruining this friendship over an unrequited crush. You’ll spend eternity in this pleasant misery if you must.

Even if you wanted her thumb stroking somewhere far lower. At least you have the barn dance – maybe you can sway her toward seeing you in candlelight rather than the daylight.

[cassiaa]

Fortis

Part One Part Two

Warnings: language, sexual content, violence (moderate to heavy – death, fighting, battles), substance use (mild?), other- (loss of loved ones, chronic illness, depression, migraines), mentions of suicide or suicidal thoughts or actions

(these warnings are for the series/all parts of this story)

Word Count: 2200+

Bria Sorrengail is forced into Basgiath by her mother. Bria wanted nothing to do with the Riders Quadrant or dragons or fighting and killing.

(OC x ?, undecided yet) (she makes friends though, so plenty of platonic relationships. Also a few OC's, Bria is Xaden and Garricks age, and enters the riders quadrant when they do.)

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

That’s what I had told my mother. But she knew that. Of course, she did. She didn’t care though. What she wanted she got. Her word was law, in our family and in Basgiath War College. Mom bent slightly to sign my name on an empty line on the roll after I just stood and stared at it.

“General Sorrengail.” Both Captain Fitzgibbons and the riders manning the table come to attention. Showing their commander, the proper level of deference her years of service and title had earned her.

“Captain.” Mom gives the slightest tip of her head, her eyes glancing my way a moment, “Bria Sorrengail.”

They eyed me.

“Looks like we’re down to the last one.” Captain Fitzgibbons says, giving a half smile. “You know the way General.”

Mom gives me a look to go first, and I do. There was no fighting this. The battle had already been lost. I was going to be a rider, or dead. We move in silence to the tunnel of stairs that would take us to the parapet. I don’t think Mom was supposed to come up the stairs with me, but she was the General. So, no one stopped us as we ascended the two hundred and fifty steps.

At the top, it was quiet and empty. Captain Fitzgibbons had been right, there was one person crossing the parapet and no other candidates. Just three riders two men and a woman, all in rider black. Their ranks showed them as second years.

“Cadets.” Mom greets, her voice steely, eyes narrowing in on them. They all stood at attention too. So stiff I almost rolled my eyes.

“General.”

Mom waits expectantly for me, they do as well. Waiting for my name, and probably a chance to get the hell away from my mom. Not that I could blame them. The burning rage nipped at the edges of the numbness that had overtaken my body.

“Bria Sorrengail.” I tell the second year with the roll and pen.

She was painfully familiar, even though I hadn’t seen her in years. Cara Tauri. We had been close enough when my mother had been stationed in Calldyr. Only being a year apart, we had gotten into our fair share of trouble together. Her royal green eyes gave no indication of her thoughts on my presence here, though the slightest bit of surprise tugged small lines into her face. Cara wrote my name and each of the second years backed away.

Mom ignored them, turning to me, she didn’t touch me, just looked down with that unreadable all-knowing expression only she could maintain. One she had perfected since my brother’s death a few years ago. “You are a Sorrengail.” She said it as though it meant something.

To me, right now, it meant nothing.

I couldn’t meet her eyes a moment longer, eyeing the opening that would potentially lead to my death.

“You will not die today.” Mom speaks quietly but not softly. Fierce even. Words only meant for me.

I brace my hands on the sides of the turret and step up. The wind hit me first, it was loud and overbearing, and I wasn't even out of the tunnel yet. I was going to blow right off the parapet. I could feel it.

“That is an order.” Mom’s voice was drifting.

I shot a panicked glance back, but I only saw a glimpse of her back as she descended the stairs. Something in my chest cracked. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like it was preferable if she stayed and watched. But if I did fall, if I died today her last words to me would be an order... an order that would be failed if I don’t make it. My breathing took a panicked turn. My chest almost heaving as tears filled my eyes, and my hands trembled as I stood, taking another step onto the parapet. I could feel the panic attack ready to take over.

“You’ve got this Bria-”

“Don’t!” My teeth clenched; I didn’t look back at her. I wasn’t sure what led her here. Why she was now a rider, when she had disliked riders when we were kids. But something about the sympathetic tilt her voice had taken. I couldn’t bear it. I faced forward and moved.

I would not die today.

Even if it wasn’t meant to be like this. Even Though I wanted to.

The parapet itself was awful but anticlimactic. But maybe I only think that because I survived it.

The storm clouds had descended, and the wind tore my clothes left and right. I went slow, trying to be careful of my steps, even when it began to sprinkle.

I also cried. But I had always been the crybaby of my family. I could cry over literally anything. It didn’t have to be a sad event. Something happy? Tears. Scary? Tears. Angry? Tears. The rain did hide my tears, which was a slight win.

I realized halfway across that I wasn’t alone. One of the second years had also decided to walk. And he made it look so easy. He was massive. Like huge. And the wind did nothing to him. I hadn’t even known he was there until he asked me if I intended to jump off when I had stopped three fourths of the way across. I didn’t answer him. He eyed me as I turned back forward and kept going.

Anticlimactic for the win. Nothing bad other than the weather. The last few feet of the parapet were in a dark tunnel, and thunder cracked and echoed so loudly I slammed my hands to my ears and stopped for a moment. Two riders watched me come in, watched me step off the parapet and to solid ground.

“Thought you weren’t going to make it,” one of the riders’ smirks. A third year. He was cocky and held an aloof air as he crossed his arms. “Was up there watching you, was sure you were going to off yourself when you took your little break.”

“Shut up Blaine,” the female rolls her pretty blue eyes. “Name?”

“Bria Sorrengail.” I ignore Blaine, seeing as he’s just here and not the one with the roll.

Blaine curses, turning away as he laughs. “Gonna be an interesting year, got a shit ton of marked ones, a Sorrengail, a Tauri, a Riorson… what a shit show. Let’s make bets Niamh.”

“Enough Blaine.” Niamh seemed to huff without opening her mouth. She seemed exhausted by the other third year.

“My bet’s on Riorson.” The second year who followed across the parapet hopped down, right behind me. Now stood way too close. Stood way too close and was publicly announcing his vote against me. It took everything I had to not turn or move or do something. Fuck him.

“Of course, it is Moray,” Blaine rolls his eyes, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. What could be taken as a relaxed position if I didn’t know better. Blaine is now in prime position to grab weapons and I am standing between him and his target.

“Enough both of you,” Niamh orders. “Why are you over here Moray?”

Moray steps from around me, the most casual one here, he stops at my side. I didn’t turn to look at him, but he watched me, towering over me, I couldn’t really feel any real aggression coming off him, so I didn’t balk, flinch, or breathe really.

“Captain Fitzgibbons says Cadet Sorrengail is the last one.” Moray shrugs, “said maybe there will be a straggler, but we weren’t all needed over there. Tauri sent me over to relay the message.”

“Go on Sorrengail, they’ll start separating everyone into squads and begin officially here soon.” Niamh tips her head to the side, gesturing to the open doorway. She probably thought she was saving me from Moray, the truth be told I didn’t care about him. Or anyone else here. I didn’t want to be here myself. I didn’t come to make friends, or enemies. I just wanted to get through this. One day at a time.

I nodded my thanks though and stepped away from Moray, who had crossed his arms over his very, very broad chest. The man was built. And being a second year meant he had this last entire year of combat training. No doubt he could wipe the floor with me. I didn’t want to find out.

All cadets gathered and were sorted and stood in formation. Commandant Panchek with his fake ass smile said a bunch of things about joining and the wings and the rules and trying to stay alive. The head Wingleader gave a fancy little speech. Not really, he didn't really look like he wanted to be there. Didn't seem to have the time for this nonsense. Couldn't even blame him. 

Niamh, it turns out, is Fourth Wing’s wingleader. Which was interesting. I almost figured Blaine would be her second, but he wasn’t, he didn’t hold a leadership position at all. He was in Fourth Wing and was in a different squad, and when he caught me watching him, he gave a cocky smirk and winked.

There were a few names I recognized. Mostly other leadership kids who I had seen at different stations growing up when we had moved place to place. Then there was Alic Tauri, was put in First Squad, Claw Section, First Wing. Fuck him. And Cara Tauri, who is Fourth Wing Flame Section's Executive Officer. Good for her.

Altogether through the four wings it seemed there were ten or so marked ones. Children of the rebellion, people had whispered since I crossed the parapet and came to the courtyard. People avoided them, giving a wide berth and they seemed to clump together. All standing off to the side until they were called and separated one by one. I don't think there was more than one marked on per squad.

My squad leader ended up being Moray. Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

My name was called last to this squad and Garrick Tavis, who had already been called and in formation, shook me to my core when I was called and he just smiled… the smile he gave me.... there wasn’t even anything evil in it. Just something humorous. Like he was privy to a joke I wasn't in on. Better than being in Riorson’s squad.. or Alic Tauri.  He also was glaring at me. There was no one else close enough that I could make an excuse and say he was looking at them. It was me. Riorson was looking at me. And his gaze was pure hatred.

The scariest moment was when the wingleaders’ dragons started torching people.

But something was wrong with me, because it wasn’t fear curling in my gut, but annoyance and something I couldn't name. I had been around my mothers dragon before, though not enough to make me not fearful of dragons but all these runners seemed to be people who crossed the parapet willingly. Not even conscripts. And it made me unreasonably angry. Because my choice had been taken from me. I tried to tell myself that I didn't know for sure and I had no business being brat about this but the feeling swirling in my gut were swirling, heavy and disgusting.

Heat curled over head as a runner was scorched twenty feet behind us by a fierce looking green. The green reared back, eyeing my squad one by one. He seemed to be going down the whole of Fourth Wing, trying to weed out the weak. Globs of spit dripped and splattered right in between me and a squad mate, who blenched. The man trembled and shook and lurched forward, throwing up everywhere. Including my boots.

“Can you fucking not?!” Disgust swirled heavily inside me, urging me to throw up as well but I shoved it down. Movement from the corner of my eye caught my gaze. My eyes widened seeing the green mouth open and tongue curl. We were about to be scorched. I launched myself at my puker squad mate, tackling him back along with whoever was directly behind him and straight into the squad next to us- who screamed and moved as fire spread. I found my feet quickly, not wanting to lose sight of the dragon again.

“Get up idiot!”

“That's nice!” Moray's sarcastic ass spoke up from the side, having been slear from the dragon fire. 

“Fuck off.” I roll my eyes, but only after the green retreats. Moray opens his mouth, ready to retort but was cut off by Cara pushing through the cadets, ushering them back to where they were supposed to be.

“Enough both of you.” Her voice and expression were no nonsense so Dain and I both looked away and let it go. “Moray get your squad in order.”

"Trying." Moray shrugs a shoulder, laughing.

 I flipped him off. Cara grabbed my hand and forced it down, disbelief overtaking her prim and prissy dainty features before she masked it. There was nothing dainty about her grip as she took my arm and steered me back towards Tavis, who now stood closest to me in formation, thanks to our meddling asshole squad leader. She gave him a look I couldn’t decipher, the corner of his lip tipped up and he gestured with his head to the side, almost as if saying "she's fine by me". The fuck I was. Asshole probably wanted to kill me to get back at my mother.

Cara gripped my arm, leaning into my space and forcing eye contact while breaking my previous train of thought.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” she says quietly, “but make peace with it quickly. Before you get someone killed.”

Outrage swirled in me. Anger bordering on wrath mixed with a heavy sense of betrayal had me ripping my arm from her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was an outright lie. But we were not about to have a heart to heart in the middle of formation.

Panchek brought everyone back to order. Niamh spoke some encouraging words. We were dismissed. That was it. Congrats, good luck surviving. 

I fucking hated this place. 

[quitealotofsodapop]

We discussed something relevant to century egg in the dms

It's possible that Macaque had not been ENTIRELY responsible for Wukong's first miscarriage. That doesn't absolve Macaque of his guilt, nor does it change much about the fact the unborn cub dies. It's still Macaque's attack that had been the catalyst, and he was still to blame for what happened...

But the thing nobody had noticed up until that point had been that the child had already been weak and sickly while kn the womb due to a few previous incidents on the journey. Primarily an attack from a scorpion that could harm even the Buddha that Wukong had still been trying to recover from when the injury happened, putting both himself and his child into an already fragile state. Since Wukong himself was still sick from it, he hadn't recognized the signs. Something was wrong with his baby, but nobody knew until it was too late

Prev.

Wukong had believed for the longest time that *He'd* failed his child. He knows that the deciding factor had been the fight with Macaque; whether the physical & mental stress of the fight itself, and/or the stress of losing his beloved mate.

There had been many factors in Wukong losing the First Egg. But the most dangerous had been the sting he received from the Scorpion Demoness in the previous arc - her venom is strong enough to permanently scar the Buddha himself. And in the novel, Wukong is envenomed so severely that Wujing and Bajie think he could be dying.

If Wukong were to be carrying a Stone Egg then well... it wouldn't be good I'd tell you that. The case studies I managed to find suggest that abrupt miscarriage happens more than often in the case of a pregnant person being stung.

Wukong, no matter what happens with Macaque, ultimately believes that he himself was the major fault. He put himself in danger far too many times, and now he's lost his child.

In another world, namely in the "jttw stone egged au", Macaque would have noticed the irregular heartbeat of the Egg, and drop his weapon to rush to Wukong's aid.

But alas, this is a more tragic Au...

Ksitigarbha, the bodhisattva of the dead, had been kind enough to assure Macaque that his and Wukong's child would reunite with them in their next life, but it would take some time. Macaque meanwhile, sank into a deep despair in the Underworld - dragged down into the cold hells by a primordial force even the Ten Kings couldn't recognise.

Then one day in the cold darkness; Macaque overheard that the little one was to be reborn very soon. When the Lady Bone Demon made her offer, he did not dare refuse. He needed to see Wukong, to finally meet their child - and spend the next eternity atoning for what he'd done.

Sharing some dialogue we did in the dms cus it's tasty. Taking place shortly after Guanyin agrees to give Macaque the Circlet so he can prove to Wukong and the rest of the found family that he's serious about his regret and want to atone for what he did;

Macaque: "It was a boy." Wukong, confused: "What?" Macaque: "The Egg. Our first one. The Underworld's Bodhisattva introduced me to him. He was so small and *perfect*. I hadn't even known he existed." Wukong, tearing up: "Mac..." Macaque, voice breaking: "He was so beautiful... he was already sick when we fought, if I had just stopped and got you help then..." Wukong, beginning to tear up: "You mean... I-" Macaque: "IT WASN'T YOU'RE FAULT! Peaches, it was NEVER your fault! I'm so sorry I ever blamed you for... for anything!"

The two monkeys hold each other and cry a millennia's worth of tears for their lost Egg. In a more kind world they could have greeted them far earlier than now. But at least they'll be here soon enough.

Later on, Macaque asks Wukong an important question;

Macaque: "Do you want to know?" Wukong: "Know what?" Macaque: (*glances down at Wukong's stomach*) Wukong, overjoyed & worried: "Oh! Yes! A million times yes!" Macaque: "He's sleeping right now. The chi is male but the body might not match at first."

Wukong feels a lot better after that. Knowing that his mate can hear and *tell him* what the baby is doing.

That their baby is thriving and alive.

[lenallu]

For a moment, I thought it was you.

Based on the text messages Zayne sends when you haven't opened the app in a long time. ❅ tags: angst, hurt/comfort ❅ word count: 2.4k ❅ synopsis: You go missing on the job. Zayne struggles with the thought that you might never come back. ❅ a/n: my first fic post!!!! I'm currently writing a part two, so let me know if you like this :)

"I saw a hunter wearing their uniform at the airport during my last trip. For a moment, I thought it was you."

His phone chimes when his message delivers. It takes him a while to look away, and he feels silly for it. It's been this long, and yet he has failed miserably to snuff out the habit of hoping you'll reply. He shoves his phone into his pocket, the weight of it tugging his jacket when it hits the bottom of his deep, wrapper filled pockets. Candy wrappers he pulled from your hands as you raved about the flavor, so he could throw them away for you later. 

You had been missing for just over three weeks when he put that jacket on again, and something totally irrational in the back of his head begged him to leave them in there. He shook his head. When did garbage become precious? You'll be back. His pockets will fill with the crinkled paper when you amble by each other's sides once again, soon. 

He decides to leave them in there anyway. He picks lint off the shoulder, lingering on the garment before pushing it back into his closet, near the back. He tries not to think much of that choice, and does his best to ignore the things his mind is trying to suggest.

He hears people talking on the street later that day, parroting rumors about a failed mission and 11 or 12 casualties, hunters. A team of them, sent out to do who knows what. You didn't tell him much about it before you left. You were legally barred from sharing details with civilians. It was standard safety protocol. He understood at the time, but now he wishes you could have given him something. Anything to figure out where you had gone, so he could go and get you himself.

A shrill meow sounds out near his feet, and yanks him out of his thoughts. He had stopped by a table of jewelry set up outside of a shop you used to stare at every time you passed by with him on your walks through town, but had lent all his focus to absorbing information from conversations that floated by. Scraping the world around him for any indication of you.

He stares at the cat, and recognizes her from the countless times you had reached down to pet her. You’d even started to carry loose treats in your pockets just for her.

He turns a ring from the table in his fingers, tracing over the small, sparkling embedded stones before setting it down. When you get back, he’ll remind you to check your clothes for cat treats before you wash them.

At work, none of his pens seem to stay put in his pocket. They're too busy whirling around his fingers, occupying his hands even when he isn't writing anything. He can't explain the fidgeting to himself or to his colleagues questioning gazes. He was a stable surgeon. A steady person. He started actively reminding himself of that, repeating it like a wish, as if it had stopped being true at some point.

🜺

A month and a half has passed. He sits tensely at his dining table, chin cradled in the space between his thumb and forefinger. The house is quiet like it always is when you aren’t there, but it bothers him more now. It unsettles him to think it might be like this forever, and he pleads with himself for the hundredth time not to go there in his head.

He started watching the news more often, almost religiously. The second he gets home and his keys rattle onto the counter, the tv is on. If the association releases any kind of statement, he doesn't want to miss it. 

A fatigued sigh blows from his nose after about an hour of menial news reports, and he's just about to get up to cook something when the newscaster's voice cuts out. 'Breaking news' flashes across the screen.

"We can't make any definitive statements, but we believe we were able to recover data of the last signals their watches sent out before everything went dark. Again, the location of this mission was incredibly remote and difficult to navigate, so this doesn't guarantee we will find them. That is all in terms of developments. It has taken a long time to regain access to our systems and grab those signals."

His eyes are wide, and all he can think about is storming your building and demanding information. He knows it doesn't work like that. He still considers it. He had hoped when an update finally came, he'd be sprinting through the door to his car to pick you up. The ghost of that hope lingers in his legs, and he doesn't know what to do with the residual energy. He feels utterly helpless.

🜺

Your body wakes before you, searing pain striking through your limbs. Your eyelids feel glued together as you struggle to open them, but once you do, all you see is white. Fear kickstarts the rest of your functions, and you start to regain sensation. Quick and panicked breaths scratch their way out of your throat as your eyes dart around. You become aware that you are encrusted in icy crystals, sunken about two feet into some snowy expanse. Moving proves difficult, but you manage. Snow slides off your form and you stumble and trudge forward with hardly any mental recognition that you are actually moving. Things are fuzzy. You're not sure you're even really alive.

You're not all there, if there at all, but you feel a tinge of what you loosely recognize as rage floating in you somewhere in response to the snow that never seems to end. That anger blooms in your chest as you plow through what seems like miles of pure white, and your body feels like it's stinging all over. It's all you have. 

This all just feels like an infinite dream. Maybe this was death. A cruel one, and maybe it came with a sentence. A punishment. Doomed to push through miles of numbing, freezing cold, thinking it'll end eventually, but it never does. All with half a mind, which is enough to feel the pain in your heart, but not enough to remember how to cry or scream or shout or plead. Condemned to carry a heavy sorrow that you don't even know how to put down.

Please let it end soon. You can't put the words together in your mind, but you feel them. You feel them for a while, until you don't anymore. You are none the wiser as your body collapses in a more shallow clearing.

🜺

Zayne doesn't even know how to describe what he just saw. Vocabulary wasn't an issue. He was well versed in nearly every medical term he encountered in the stacks upon stacks of textbooks and learning materials he revised in undergrad and beyond. 

It was you, but it wasn't. Your skin was nearly a shade of grey he couldn't even fathom on a living human being. That thought sunk something in him as soon as it passed through his mind. He stood there paralyzed as you were rushed past him, the team of doctors wheeling you shouting up a storm of vitals and medications. All of which, for the first time in Zayne's life, were incomprehensible. He couldn't make out a single thing they were saying, and not because it was unclear. He couldn't think at all. He didn't realize he wasn't breathing until Yvonne stood up from the reception desk to lightly lay her hand on his shoulder. A turbulent breath suddenly thrusted out of him like water through a broken dam, and he ignored Yvonne's voice calling out to him as his body carried him down the hall as fast as it possibly could.

He caught up, and grimaced at the sight of you. He catches bits and pieces of what the doctors are saying as you are rushed into a room and CPR protocols begin. At some point, a catheter is placed and they begin pumping you with warmed intravenous fluids. The door swings closed as a doctor rushes past, and the only thing that stops him from crashing through that door is Yvonne finding him again. He only looks at her for half a second before he's staring through the tiny window in the door. He wants to say something, but stands there in silence.

"She has a pulse." Yvonne addresses the worry she can see written all over him. She stares into the window with him, and her next words feel strange when they eventually come out. "They're doing everything they can." 

She's offered this line to countless anxious families, but never did she think a time would come where she'd be saying it to him. Greyson comes along at some point, having heard of the situation, and lightly gestures for Zayne to sit down. 

"She's gonna come around, Dr. Zayne. She’s in good hands. You know you're not in a state to do anything right now, anyways, or you wouldn't still be standing out here instead of in there. Come on." He says gently. "She'll come around."

Two hours pass, and he's beating himself up the whole time. He should be in there, saving you. He's studied all his life to do just that, and when the time came, he couldn't. Fear got in the way. He loved you so much it paralyzed him. When he looked at you today, grief crashed into him like he had lost you right there in that hall. He felt like a giant hole had been blown in his chest. He starts to sink in that powerless feeling. You’re here, and yet he still feels like he did when the news came on that night in his home.

Your hypothermia was severe enough that invasive procedures were required. Tubes were put in through your esophagus, which connect to an external heat exchange unit. Zayne clicks through your intake form, and through several tabs on the procedure they were currently putting you through. As he sifts through the information, there's a growing tightness in his chest and throat. It pulls tighter, and he tries to ignore the way his eyes are burning. Grief continues to brew inside him, venting out of his chest with periodical sighs as he scrolls, brows knitted. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t make it.

A knock sounds at the door of his office. It’s Greyson. He offers a tight lipped smile.

“She’s stable. The docs are done and her room is empty.” He hardly has time to finish his sentence before Zayne is up and moving. He hurriedly marches out into the hall and straight for you. All the energy built up over the last 2 months propelled him forward, but dissipated as soon as he got to your door. He’s not prepared when he does see you.

Your skin isn’t quite as ashen anymore. Color is returning to you, but you are clearly emaciated. His mind races with all the possibilities of the kind of trouble you might have been in, and it shakes him deeply. He stands at the foot of your bed for a while, idling. Almost in complete disbelief that he is seeing you again, and not in a body bag with a certificate of death being handed to him.

He pulls a chair up to your bedside. You’re covered in a few layers of thick blankets. He hesitates to touch you, but he reaches under the warm layers, feeling for your hand anyway. Out of pure need. He has to know it’s really you. 

He grazes something cold. His fingers find your hand, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly to warm you up.

He studies your sunken features as his heart starts to settle in his chest for the first time in months. The steady beeping from the monitor is music to his ears, lulling him into comfort as he settles into the chair, still holding onto you. You don't look well, but you're alive. That's all he needs. He falls asleep as he sits there for a few hours, the sky rolling into darkness outside. 

🜺

Your eyelids open with much less difficulty this time. Met with the sterile white of the hospital room, you panic briefly before realizing where you were. Your mind is still foggy as you blink lazily, comforted by the sheer warmth that envelops you. 

A soft noise comes from somewhere to your right, and the muscles in your neck ache as you turn your head to follow it.

Zayne. Slumped in his chair, head leaning toward one shoulder as soft breaths blow locks of hair from his face. Sunlight from the window falls over him, blanketing his features in warmth, and he’s the purest picture of paradise you’ve seen in a long time. The sight of him seems to activate some kind of primal instinct towards warmth, and adrenaline starts to pump into your blood. You long to hold him and ensure that this isn’t a dream, but you feel overcome with weakness, and you can hardly manage squeezing his thumb. 

He doesn't wake. You huff, body going slack after a wholehearted, but futile attempt to move. You stare at the ceiling and breathe deeply, begging for only just enough strength. You turn your head to him again, and determination washes over you. You pull your hand free from his grasp, mustering up all the strength you have plus what you don't, and feebly tumbling out of bed onto his chair and him.

He startles and instinctually tries to catch you, his sleepy, bleary eyes becoming focused on you and expanding once he realizes it’s you, and your skin beneath his fingers. His expression breaks into so many things at once: sorrow, pain, relief and others you aren't even allowed to finish distinguishing before he pulls you into a suffocatingly tight embrace. The sight of the whirling storm in his eyes, maybe even just his eyes alone, were enough to choke you up. You let out an incredulous laugh as he squeezes you, and tears collect in your eyes. It’s the warmest you’ve felt in months.

You wrap your arms around his head, settling your cheek in his soft hair when you start to feel him shudder. Guilt crashes into him, for not being able to do more. He should have stormed into the Hunter's Association, he should have gone out and looked for you night and day, across states and countries. He should have taken care of you when you got wheeled in. He should have, he should have. 

Excruciating recollections of what happened to you on that mission start to creep into your mind as his warmth begins to thaw you from the inside, so you squeeze your eyes shut, and hold him tighter.

[wildestheart4ever]

@stealingyourbones

Was reading a “Danny is Damian’s biological older brother” fic where he was with the Fentons due to mission reasons that Jack and Maddie are aware of

And seeing Danny treat Maddie with this “I’m your superior and you should remember that” attitude just woke something in me

There are a lot of Danyal Al Ghul fics where Danny winds up with the Fentons because of

a) He was a spare heir Ras didn’t want and killed or had killed leading to Talia having him moved to a humble little family in America

b) Danny ran away either for his own good or for Damian’s [i.e. Damian is the spare in this scenario]

or c) He was displaced via Lazarus Pit or failed mission

But there’s very few where Danny is with the Fentons for mission reasons [whether that is overseeing the Fentons’ progress or what have you], where he is a loyal member of the Al Ghul family

Now the fic I read? Danny is continuing to oversee this mission but is trying - and failing - not to get attached and implies he’s doing this for Damian’s sake [letting him live his life with their father while he keeps Ras’ focus on himself as the heir]

But of course like always, I got to thinking how things would be different in the DP world if he were loyal to the Al Ghul family

And how terrible he would be to someone like Vlad

‘Cause Vlad? That man would be small fry to someone like this Danny, a Danny who has lethal training, resources, protection and a superiority complex to outmatch Vlad’s - he’s not going to be threatened by Vlad’s experience with ghost powers

This Danny isn’t going to be blackmailed with their shared secret, because what does he care what the Fentons think? [If] The Fentons try shit there would severe consequences [Cut resources, cut throats, the works]

Vlad thinks he knows everything about Danny? He couldn’t be more wrong but Danny certainly knows everything about him once Vlad made himself a pesk

Because a pesk is all he’ll ever be

I’m just imagining a scene where Vlad is welcoming himself to the Fenton household as he does, trying to push his weight around and all that shit

He thinks he has all the cards

And Danny? Danyal Al Ghul? Well, they’re not in public right now so he has no reason to save face so he just pulls the rug from under Vlad’s feet

And now Vlad finds himself with a blade against his throat

“The only reason you are not a smear on the couch is because I see no reason to cut you down where you stand.

You think yourself such a superior dreadful opponent, when the truth is that you are nothing more than a small insect in my eyes. You hold no power over me, Masters, because you are nothing in the grand scheme of things - you don’t even hold title to most obnoxious rich man, that title belongs to Luther

but myself? Well, I already exchanged words with my grandfather of what could be done with you.”

The boy draws closer with a thoughtful hum, blade kept completely steady where it is against his skin

“You see, he finds you a…..curiosity he wishes to study once the time comes. The Fentons and yourself have certainly developed a myriad of weapons, so controlling you shouldn’t be an issue.”

Maddie walks into the room with a tea tray and for a moment Vlad hopes Daniel will retreat and put up what was apparently the mask he’s been wearing since they’ve met

She just pauses with a startled expression and looks at the two before quietly asking if she should come back later

Daniel just gives her a wane smile “Just for a moment, Dr. Fenton, I’m just clarifying some things for your guest”

And with that, Vlad watches as she quietly leaves the room and leaves him with this threat he suddenly found himself against

He looks down and finds Daniel watching him, smiling a benign, innocent smile and with eyes of a hawk, gleaming a toxic green. He can feel the blade against his throat turning gently, it’s sharp edge slowly digging into his skin and knows it’s been altered to use against ghosts

“You thought her presence would save you, didn’t you? Unfortunately for you, she and her husband are perfectly aware of who I am.

I only tell you this, Masters, because I tire of this ploy you think you have. This is me telling you your place - any advantage you think you have is nonexistent: Your experience, your power - what little of it you have, down to your money is irrelevant to me”

“I imagine your little friends will be very contrite with this revelation, Daniel” Vlad utters, looking for something to hold over this boy’s head and knows it’s futile

For a moment, Daniel pauses and Vlad feels the vicious glee that maybe he finally got the advantage and some semblance of control back

But then that smile turns sharp and mean, like the boy is perfectly aware of his attempt for control and finds it amusing.

“I assure you that they are perfectly aware as well. You see, despite their age and lack of experience - Sam already displays the traits Grandfather values and Tucker’s knowledge with hacking and technology - while limited, especially compared to others of greater experience - will be proven valuable assets given time and proper training.

And you? Well! Like I said, grandfather finds your duel nature a curiosity he has wished to study.”

Vlad wonders if Daniel’s equally duel nature could be held against him, if this grandfather could have his focus turned on a different much closer target

Something tells him Daniel’s place in his grandfather’s life isn’t as uncertain

So he thinks of any contingencies he has that might save him from this situation, what he has to do to keep himself in the public eye to ensure his absence will be noticed, what he has to look into to understand the threat he faces

“Of course, there is your position as town mayor, we can use that to our benefit - make you of use, I’m sure your sudden absence will be noticed after all…..

But you just had to annoy me.”

With a click of the tongue, Daniel finally pulls the blade away, wiping any blood away with a cloth before handing it over to a dark garbed woman Vlad hadn’t noticed before now

With a sharp inhale, he looks over his shoulder to find two others in the room with them, eyeing him like he were nothing more than a mouse. He feels further unease at the fact that he hadn’t heard or seen these people coming in, doesn’t know how long they’ve been laying in wait

For what, that is what he wished to know

With a shaken breath, he looks back to the boy with awe and fear, “Who are you?”

The boy looks back at him with sharp eyes, a derisive sneer curling at his nose, “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.

I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let you off with a little warning, Masters: Next time you fancy yourself superior to me, you’ll be gutted and strung up like a pig, left on the steps of town hall for all these town plebeians to see, with evidence of your extensive crimes up on display.”

With that, he picks up his bag from the floor and dismisses his silent companions, heading towards the front door with a quiet hum.

Vlad can barely keep himself from tensing up when the boy pauses, looking back at him with a perfectly innocent expression, any cold, lethal intent that was there beforehand completely gone

“Tell mom and dad I’ll be out with Sam and Tucker, will you? That won’t be a problem for you, will it, fruitloop? I’ll leave you to your nice and friendly visit with your friends.

Behave.”

[kingmaxstatic]

Goodmorning, Goodbye and Goodnight: A Post About Farewells.

... How do you break away from something or a piece of yourself for so long? Or at the very least, do so in the public eye?

Let's not beat around the bush.

I'm not happy in the Sonic fandom at the moment.

(More below the post)

So let me make this PERFECTLY CLEAR I have not fallen out of love for Sonic. I still adore Sonic and I will more than continue to enjoy it!

But I'm unsure if that enjoyment can really be.. public.. for the time being.

For a while I've always couldn't help but notice that the fandom is a bundle of bickerers. Makes sense. Most of us here are ND and VERY opinionated!

But this all came to ahead when I was watching a video about Amy Rose. And as I watched, as interested as I was. A video dissecting her current writing I realized something...

I was fucking miserable!

Why do I CARE so much about other people's opinions about something I enjoy? Even if I cringe at that one bumblecast clip of Ian saying "he wishes he could redesign Amy".

Even IF I understand the concern.

I still LOVE Modern Amy! I was letting this video give me insight, yes but it also made me feel guilt for even LIKING IDW's take on Amy (and IDW in general).

Infact guilt is something I've felt A LOT in the fandom.

Shit man, Starline is my FAVORITE character in sonic, period. But it feels like both the fandom (and the writers, to an extent) want to guilt you into not liking him.

That liking him is some moral failing on YOUR part? (Literally Ignoring the fact we've literally had a few years to grow attached pre-imposter syndrome and that he didn't just magically appear post-Chao Race Arc)

Yes, Starline sucks. Yes, he (in canon) used two random mobians for cyborg stuff. I know this. He's still an enjoyable character and I don't excuse his canon actions. It's even why in my own canon of him Imposter syndrome isn't canon.

I'm tired of the stress, man. I'm tired of not enjoying Starline. I haven't been able to properly enjoy him in a wile.

For my birthday I actually bought a Bad Guys physical copy!

And I have not touched it at all.

The stress of keeping up with this fandom has actually caused me literal anxiety shivers. I don't have fun any more. There's just.. too much discourse.

And I think it's best for me if I take a step back from it. At least.

So.. What Happens Now?

Well! What happens now is that I take a public step back from the fandom! Like I said I still very much enjoy Sonic.. I just don't think that enjoyment will be AS public any more. Gush about it with friends! Play the games! Draw art.. For Myself!

This doesn't mean I won't be keeping a close eye on my sonic moots (you haven't gotten rid of me JUST yet!) but it does mean I'll probably start blocking tags. Taking some breathing room. Finding that love for Sonic again on my OWN time. Be a lil selfish with it!

I still love and adore my ocs (and they'll still be around on Toyhouse and Art Fight!) But their stories are mine to share.. and sometimes I can just.. not share them!

What happens to this Blog?

SHIT MAN! I'll still be around! I probably just won't be posting in the sonic tag any time soon. I'm in OTHER fandoms right now (Nicktoons, Crash, Etc) If you like my writing and my art In THIS fandom surely you'll enjoy it in others!/pos

Even if those fandoms are more.. obscure to say the least? This Blog, at it's core, has always been ABOUT multifandom stuff and It feels like it's finally returning to that!

Nature is healing! KingMaxStatic is finally posting about WEIRD fandoms only 3 people know about again!!

What Happens To Starvoltz?

Though not an as.. urgent question. It's one I feel has held a lot of weight, at least to me. I know people are GENUINELY such big fans of Starvoltz and I think it's been the ONE BIG THING keeping me back from making me step back from the fandom...

So... I'm killing both Starline and Voltz off..../j (I would never)

I still LOVE and ADORE Starline and Voltz! They mean the world to me (and even the MOON to me!) But over the course of the past few months I've felt a nagging GUILT about them.. and I don't want to feel that anymore. I want to ADORE Starvoltz like I used to...

and In order for me to do that I GOTTA step back.

If you wanna get a lil cute about it, you can think about it like the two going on a honey moon or a vacation!

If you've made it thus far.. thank you. Genuinely. Thank you for understanding! I hope you understand. I love sonic, I will always love sonic. But I need my own space to love Sonic.

I suppose maybe like the main character I need to be free.

Free like the wind.

[doomwitctheories]

YOU and HIM - Upbringing Theory

DISCLAIMER:

YOU and HIM is an +18 visual novel. Therefore, minors, don't interact.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Religious trauma. (SA) Sexual abuse. Sexism. Helicopter parenting. Censorship. Domestic abuse. Suicide. Murder and violence.

I finally have some spare time to write this theory down. And by that I mean, I don’t really have the time, but I need some dopamine to start the tasks I actually need to be doing and what better way to do so than getting on this side quest that I’ve delayed for so long. Specially since chapter 3 is currently on the making.

The following post is a long theory regarding Adam’s childhood and upbringing.

Since YOU and HIM aims to be somewhat realistic, I will consider facts from the real world as valid evidence to support some of the ideas drawn here.

Please check the trigger warnings before continuing.

Great! Since I’m awful with introductions, let’s start from the beginning: what we know from the game dialogue directly.

When YOU first meet Adam, YOU mention both his parents in a teasing manner in an attempt to keep the killer talking, and he immediately gets defensive about his mom specifically.

YOU: A Christmas present for your dear ol’ mom and dad then?

Adam: Don’t talk about my mother.

That alone lets us know his mother is a sensitive topic for him. Some theorize Adam hate his mom and that’s the reason behind his visceral reaction to your comment and the terrifying nature of his nightmares. Even though that’s a possibility, I disagree. 

His line sounds as a warning to me. “Watch your mouth, don't you dare disrespect my mother.” To back this interpretation, we have this image from the official Twitter account and this old tumblr post that narrates how Adam and his mother once took care of an injured crow. 

(Art belongs to @YOUandHIM_GAME on twitter)

So then, why does Adam remember his mom as this demonic ghost that haunts his nightmares? Well, because, as we’ll explore later, her mom was traumatized and perceived men’s sexual nature as something intrinsically damaging. She probably taught him this, directly or indirectly (with her actions and reactions), in hopes to guide and/or protect him, without realizing she was demonizing and shaming a natural side of his son. When Adam feels like he’s failing her memory and his promise, her mother appears in front of him, enraged and disappointed, a reflection of what he’s internalized about himself. But this doesn’t delete the fact he holds his mother dear to his heart. I doubt he would wear her pendant otherwise, even if it’s upside down.

On the other hand, he willingly shares some useful information about his father. YOU ask five questions, to which he replies shortly. Let’s examine them in order.

YOU: Does he snore like a boar?

Adam: No.

I would say this first reply is unimportant, but you never know.

YOU: Did he play catch with you as a kid?

Adam: No.

YOU: Does he make corny dad jokes?

Adam: No.

Adam’s father (who we’ll be referring to as Larry from now on) is clearly on the serious side. This lack of regard for fun and leisure may have conditioned Adam to mature early, ditch games and/or toys and focus primarily on studying and whatever chores were expected or him.

This could be subconscious (a very busy parent doesn’t care or give importance to play, so the child internalizes this and matures early in search of approval or attention) or indoctrinated directly (his father punished or was critical/controlling of his playtime).

YOU: Does he barbecue and watch football on Sundays?

Adam: Yes.

YOU: What does he do for a living?

Adam: he’s a preacher for my hometown church back in Tennessee.

Alright. Now we know his father was a Christian, but this alone isn’t enough to determine his belief-system, since there’s a broad variety of Christian denominations.

After some research, I believe Adam’s hometown church probably falls under the baptist denomination, based on:

The word “preacher”: this term is commonly used in protestant denominations.

Tennessee demographics: In 2014, the statistics for religious affiliation in Tennessee show the large majority of the population falls under Evangelical Protestantism. Baptism falls under this umbrella.

Lastly, according to wikipedia, Southern Baptist churches have historically had a significant and widespread presence in Tennessee. The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) is one of the largest Protestant denominations in the United States, and it has numerous congregations across Tennessee.

This religious oriented lifestyle relates to his father’s reported activity specifically on Sundays. He probably gathered with other church members after preaching.

Now let’s take a look at what we know about Clarissa: Adam’s mom. Let’s start with the old picture Aunt Ruth keeps like a treasure and the memories and impressions it elicits.

Ruth’s POV: The one where she’s in front of her old church the day after her high school graduation. [...] Back in those days, everything was sorted into neat little boxes and anything that stood outside of it was a menace to society. And those ideals matched that of her friends perfectly. So much so, her mother used to tease the six of them about being a hive mind.

YOUr POV: He presents you with a picture of your aunt and four other women. [...] You take your time studying the photo, when something about the woman positioned at the far left of the group [...] captures your attention. While the rest of the women laugh openly, hers conveys a distinct shyness. Almost as if she doesn’t want the others to notice. [...] She’s model-pretty. Distinguishable within any crowd, much like the rest of her friends. [...] and notice how her arms aren’t linked with the others.

Even tho this isn’t directly stated, we can guess from the looks of the women in the picture they're all related to CAKE. I suspect, Adam’s mom, Ethan’s relative, aunt Ruth, King’s relative and Cain’s relative.

From this paragraph, we can presume that the five women in the picture shared strict religious beliefs, and were weary and distrusting of outside sources. They live in a small world with no room for doubt or discussion, which lead them to unhealthy black and white thinking, even if at the time they weren’t aware because they were able to deny and disown the parts of themselves that opposed their ideals.

We get a glimpse of Clarissa’s personality. Shy, too unsure to reach out and link her arms with the rest of her friends. Maybe on the submissive side, the type to never talk back, keep her voice down and avoid conflict.

Ruth’s POV: His cross earring glints in the light, capturing Ruth’s full attention. [...] She knows that earring. But she hasn’t seen it since the unfortunate news about Clarissa came out, and back then it wasn’t an earring. In fact, it was a pendant that belonged on a necklace. A gift she gave to Clarissa for her birthday so many odd years ago.

Ruth’s POV: [...] with the face of the woman she once cared for. With the face of her first love.

We now know Adam’s famous earring is actually a pendant Ruth gifted Clarissa, Adam’s mom, back in high school (since she wears it in her graduation picture). 

We know that something unfortunate happened to Clarissa, and now she’s gone. It’s heavily implied she passed away. After that, Adam retrieved the pendant and turned it into an earring.

Adam’s dream sequence: Frantic black lettering bleeds through the paper as if the author was running out of time and scribbled down what they could. [...] Red drips onto the paper from above. [...]

Adam’s POV: 

A memory flickers like a candle wick, one of murky red water and the drip of a bathroom sink and-

Remember what I told you when we first met? [...] Recalling a memory of pink tinted water spilling over the lip of a bathroom tub, the water sloshing against his torn sneakers as he stood there with mounting horror. Tears streamed down his sore face. [...] 

We don’t know much, but from Adam’s flashbacks and dreams, I believe Clarissa committed suicide. The exact method she used is unclear (hanged in the kitchen/ bleed to death in the bathtub). Maybe she attempted against her life several times until, one day, she succeeded. What exactly she went through that lead to her bruises and a deteriorated mental health?

Firstly, I’m going to assume Larry and Clarissa met in church. Since it is said that Clarissa and her friends were religious as well and rejected those outside their religion, I think she must fall under the baptist denomination as well.

This implies Adam’s household was founded under two pillars:

Information control.

Since Clarissa and Larry rejected any input aside their religion and lifestyle, they would probably try to raise Adam away from outside influence. This includes supervised television, homeschool, etc.

This would explain why Adam has developed quiet interests over time (mainly reading) and doesn’t know many, if any, pop culture references or movies/tv shows (answered in the Official Old Tumblr account, deactivated in 2023).

His hobbies outside the home would also aim to trap Adam within the church social circle. That’s why he spent his time singing for the church chorus.

Not only was censorship promoted, but violence and persecution against "heretics" was as well. This may be partly why Adam grew up desensitized to violence.

Examples of hateful sermons in this video, also linked at the end in resources: https://youtu.be/W2I-59uDtIk.

Traditional values

I will specifically tackle the different and unequal treatment towards men and women.

Women must stay submissive to men, whether it’s their father, tutor or (and specially) their husband. As some ex-members of the church describe it: Women in church were constantly battered housewives, constantly afraid of everything. They have to ask permission for everything, even making a phone call.

Women are expected to take care of the house and the children, cradle their partners and comply to their every wish.

On the other hand, men make all the decisions and run every aspect of the house. They are in charge of finances and are encouraged to punish and correct any misbehavior. They aren’t supposed to have a sensitive side or show emotion, in hopes that compassion or emotion would cloud their judgment and prevent them from imposing their dominance.

We actually get a confirmation Adam was severely punished for crying, and it wasn’t an isolated episode:

Little Adam’s POV: He can’t get caught crying again. Not after last time. He can still remember the acrid scent of cigarette smoke and the suffocating darkness of the shed, his palms flat against the rotting floor as he waited with his head bowed. No, he’s learned his lesson too many times to count.

Both genders aren’t allowed to wear nail polish or piercings. Hair dye is also forbidden, specially since it’s a standard of feminism and the LGBTQ+ community, and those two diametrally oppose their beliefs and are seen as a threat to morality.

Power imbalance, desensitization and dogmatic thinking patterns are the perfect combination for domestic violence and cruelty.

In Clarissa’s case, she probably was often targeted due to her naturally shy and fragile nature. Softness is weakness to be taken advantage of. And retaliation is not an option.

By now, you can probably guess where this is going, but I suspect Clarissa was repeatedly abused (physically and sexually) by Larry. We’ve already seen Larry is capable and has beaten his child.

And Adam remembers his mother covered in scars and bruises, crying and begging for Adam not to turn out like his dad, and this memory surfaces the moment he’s about to masturbate.

Adam’s POV: Did his father think he’d give into his desires? Did he believe he’d grow up and become just like him?

Ruth: It’s your fault she’s gone! You’re the reason she endured everything she did. It was all for you, and yet you killed her! Your entire existence destroyed her! I told her she shouldn’t have gone through with her pregnancy, but she wouldn’t listen. What he did to her, you know that all started because of you, don’t you? But she never told you that because she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, but you should’ve. And now? And now she’s gone because of you. You took her away. [...] You Goddamn piece of shit, you took her away, again!

According to old testament bible laws, if an unpure woman gets assaulted by a man, they shall both be punished. But… If the woman in question was a virgin, the abuser must then talk to her father and marry her to pay for the damages.

Outside the bible, abuse is excused, justified or hidden in other ways. When someone influential in the church abuses someone, the victim is met with: God uses that sexual abuse to make you grow closer to him. As if the pain and trauma was a gift to be cherished.

Prior to the abuse, women are always aware of the hungry gaze of men. They can't show any skin, for it would be their fault to cause a fellow man to stumble. Men’s desires are perceived as not their own, but an impulse women have to cater and are guilty of awakening.

At the same time, sex itself is taboo and condoned outside of marriage. Abortion is also condemned, and it’s considered a synonym of infanticide.

So women walk around scared and uninformed, surrounded by men who won’t take accountability for their lust and will force the women they find attractive to own up to their twisted behavior. Even going as far as threatening the victim to stay quiet if they don’t wish the abuser to spread how the woman came onto them instead.

Ruth points the start of things spiraling with Clarissa’s pregnancy. Several reasons could explain this.

It’s possible that Larry didn’t plan on settling down and Clarissa’s pregnancy was an unexpected inconvenience. Since he can’t be at fault for anything, Clarissa is to blame for having the baby, and, in his eyes, she should accept the violence since she’s the cause of his frustrations.

Abusers may start to show their true colors after a baby, because if they threaten the child’s safety, then the mother has no choice but to endure the abuse in order to protect their kid. Also, since they become weak and maybe even lose their jobs after giving birth, they are completely at the mercy of their husbands financially.

Moreover, homosexuality was seen as a sin. Ruth was confronted about her love for Clarissa head on, and I suspect Clarissa knew about her feelings. If not, why treasure a simple birthday gift even after years of separation and “betrayal” ? (since Ruth didn’t support Clarissa in the slightest after her pregnancy, wanting to essentially escape and rewrite everything that happened, beside things we don’t know about that are probably far worse than a hurtful comparison). I think Clarissa returned Ruth’s feelings and would’ve never willingly slept with someone else. Her shy and prude demeanor in the photo further supporting this idea she wouldn’t come onto anybody with lascivious intent.

So, in summary.

Clarissa and Ruth were in love.

Larry sexually assaulted Clarissa. There are many possibilities here. I think probably Clarissa was ashamed and manipulated. She kept quiet and “started dating” Larry. Maybe she told Ruth, or Ruth ended up discovering the true nature of her relationship with Larry after the pregnancy was announced and the violence started.

Clarissa gave birth to Adam.

When Adam was a child, Clarissa and Ruth got separated by Larry for some unknown reason. Her comments and actions probably caused a lot of problems in the marriage, hence why she got confronted directly by Larry on her crush and why she’s deadly afraid since then.

Clarissa raised Adam alone and, meaning to protect him from his dad while sustaining a sense of normalcy, as many housewives do.

Clarissa died when Adam was already grown up. Seemingly, she committed suicide, but if Adam is looking for answers to this day and has a mysterious promise to keep, maybe her departure is not that simple.

How did this affect Adam and how he navigated his childhood?

For starters, he hates the smells and flavors that remind him of his dad, like cigars and alcohol.

He also can't handle being genuinely spooked, and heavily prefers quiet past times.

He was probably told directly or indirectly how her mother’s suffering was his fault. How being born was a long life burden to her mom, and one he must atone for.

(In this context, his name is another layer of fucked up. Adam is the original sin, he alone condemned the world to an existence of suffering, all because he let his obligations aside in favor of his lover. And humanity spent the rest of eternity repenting, awaiting a forgiveness that only came in heaven, after a life of unwavering devotion to God).

He believes himself to be inherently bad. All his actions and choices aim to correct this perceived wrong that was never a wrong in the first place.

Adam has a clear distaste of his father and grows up in fear he’s bound to become "just like him". I think this is where his rebellious nature comes in, questioning the word of God and the sociocultural perspective his parents feed him. Specially when he’s a first witness of hypocrisy, lies and irreversible harm.

Going back to the beginning, Clarissa probably nurtured Adam and shared with him the few happy memories he can recall from childhood. He wanted to make her happy and make life easy for her.

Adam’s POV: He’s never cared much for extravagant things despite people always offering them left and right. He was taught to never want them, to never accept anything beyond his means, something he holds onto to this day.

Notice the phrasing. He doesn’t say “I never liked that kind of thing” he specified he was taught to not want them.

You can’t be taught “unwant” something. You can be conditioned to reject something, tho. 

You can be taught to believe your wants and needs are immoral, and your objective is to suppress and act directly against them.

When punitive, shaming or guilt-tripping is applied to reframe the very nature of our innocent desires, that function as our inner drive and guide to our sense of self, we lose touch with who we are. Taking pride or shame in committing to the role, while suppressing any emotion, locked as unacceptable and disgusting.

Even if his mom loved him, she indoctrinated him to a certain extent and made him believe he can't trust his desires because they're intrinsically bad, even if she did it with good intentions. Adam is a bad seed and can only aim to "do the right thing" by sticking to her memory. That's why he sees her as this vengeful spirit, there's a duality within him.

This leads to a complete disconnect of the emotional self. You grow numb and uninterested, dedicating your focus to "performing at a high standard" and blowing off some steam in a controlled environment. How? By directing your inner rage towards the outside world. You see yourself in this filthy scum, and if you don't deserve to live, they should die for not being able to control themselves.

That's Adam's life. Guided by an Old Testament of rules too outdated for him to grow, but too engraved on his skin for him to set himself free. The only feelings available are "reward" and anger.

Despite going on tour after tour, Adam's world remains small; the same as when he was little.

That's when YOU come in.

It's not about the kiss itself. It's about the novelty. An unexpected (but pleasurable) occurrence that put his status quo upside down.

The lore alarms went crazy the moment YOU mention, you remember Clarissa, but can’t recall from where. Sure, it’s certainly possible that she reminded you of Adam, since they look alike, therefore explaining the sense of déjà vu. But let’s recall Ruth and Clarissa have been close friends since high school, at least. Maybe YOU met Clarissa when YOU were little. And not only her. Adam too. It’s been said multiple times in the official Twitter/X account that Adam managed to handle his sexual desires just fine until YOU came around, and not just because you kissed him. It’s like something about YOU specifically ignites something within Adam, and given the context, it’s very likely YOU and HIM met a long time ago and just don’t recognize one another, because you both changed a lot growing up. Ruth even says she only picked up on Adam’s identity due to his pendant. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have a clue who he was.

Regardless, his sexual attraction awakened a hidden side of himself. A vulnerable, sincere and needy fraction of his identity, which holds the key to solving his inner turmoil.

If he lets himself explore this part of him, it might be a strong enough catalyst to help him open up to other areas of his life.

I believe that's the deeper reason behind Adam's fixation on bondage specifically.

He wants to experience all these new pleasurable sensations, but he feels too guilty to do so. Being forced into it gives the conscious mind an excuse."You're restrained." There's someone else in control. It takes the blame off what you're feeling, so you may indulge in your secret desires.

If he sees nothing bad happens after the fact, he may allow himself to unwind in other ways and find himself again. The tender parts of him he abandoned a long time ago.

It would be naive to believe he can be completely redeemed after killing people. But I sincerely believe he's a sweetie at heart, and I hope he has the best outcome possible. But if the narrative demands otherwise (which is very likely, lmao)... welcome the angst and long live fanfiction, am I right?😭🔪💜

So, what do you think? AND WHAT’S THE MEANING OF Anthemis cotula !? 🌼 We’ll never now.

I can’t write a longer theory because all those extra juicy facts and snippets for the upcoming chapter are on the patreon. You can find the link on the twitter of the game. Please, support the creator if you're able.

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. I wish all your hopes will manifest in real life soon. Good night and sweet dreams, everyone.🌙🪄

Lovely commission by @you-and-him

RESOURCES:

Tennessee demographics: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Tennessee 

Evangelicalism: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evangelicalism 

Southern Baptist Church:

https://youtu.be/bPZTP9_0mbI

https://youtu.be/6gSjUpBxVEU 

Trans person infiltrates hate church: https://youtu.be/W2I-59uDtIk