#doomed to suffer for entertainment

[hannibal-is-my-comfort-show]

[thatswhatsushesaid]

shitpost dispatches from the unclean realm - [????/?????]

i'd say thank god you're both fictional guys so neither of you are alive in the first place but i don't want to make it weirder for you

[eldragon-x]

Ford and Stan and Bill are all characters of all time to me in different ways

[ltcolonelcarter]

aaaaand @leelany-world @dattebae for good measure

living and dying for my friends in the group chat we sure do like to hurt each other with characters

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Luffy gets into an alluring tin of mysterious cookies. One thing leads to another, and he ends up in your room, disoriented and distressed. What will it take to help him feel better? ~5k words.

CW: Smut with a bit of plot. Afab reader, gendered language (“princess”), overstimulation, dry humping, begging, aphrodisiacs, penetrative sex.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Luffy stumbles into your cabin late at night. The door is wide open and it seems like no one else on the Sunny is awake. You’re messing around on your phone, doom scrolling to pass the time and entertain yourself. You wish that you could fall sleep, but it won’t come any time soon. It’s a restless sort of night.

He almost trips over his feet as he crashes onto the chair by your desk.

“Luffy, what’s up? It’s late.”

A closer look at him reveals that he’s sweating and bright red. His eyes look off and he looks sick.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried—he looks seriously unwell.

“I feel funny. I think I ate something bad, my tummy hurts.” Luffy’s brows are bent in the middle and he’s grimacing.

You’ve seen Luffy when he has food poisoning before. He literally turns green and complains non-stop. It’s his own fault, he’s like a racoon. He’ll eat anything, regardless of how questionable it is. Old leftovers wherever he can find them, almost-rotting fruit, poisonous fish, none of it matters for Luffy. If it looks edible, he’s taking it to the neck. He frequently suffers the consequences.

But right now, he’s not green, like he usually is when he’s eaten something spoiled. He looks different.

You get up and walk over to him, placing your hand on his forehead. When your skin touches his, he lets out what initially sounds like some sort of moan, but you shrug it off—that must have been a wail of pain, right? He’s concerningly feverish and sweating bullets.

Does he have the flu? Should you wake up Chopper?

“Luffy, you’re burning up. Like, you have a really bad fever. I’m going to get Chopper.”

“Wait, I feel—I feel weird inside,” Luffy’s voice strains and he sounds like he’s in pain He’s visibly shivering. “It’s like my stomach is on fire, but I feel cold.” He continues almost babbling, so obviously in distress and discomfort, feverish nonsense falling from his lips impulsively.

You don’t realize it yet, but his hand wanders to his crotch and starts to fidget.

“Your stomach is on fire but you’re freezing cold? Did you eat something that went bad again? What did you eat?” You raise an eyebrow at him, vaguely annoyed. He sure doesn’t look like he has food poisoning. Also, there isn’t usually much spoiled food on the ship. Sanji keeps the fridge nice, tidy, and clean.

Why did Luffy come to you, instead of Chopper? He’s distracted, eyes zoning out somewhere and his face wrinkled up. He must not have heard you.

“I said, what did you eat? Luffy!”

“I ate—fuck,” Luffy’s brows furrow and he closes his eyes in anguish. “Ate Sanji’s cookies.”

“You did what? Sanji’s cookies? The ones with the huge note that says ‘do not eat’ on the tin?”

Luffy lets out another wail of pain and shifts in his seat. His fingers squeeze his crotch again. He’s hard, rubbing his massive erection, sliding his fingers over it, squeezing it and playing with himself.

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” You’re incredulous when you realize he’s touching himself. You’ve never seen anything like this before. He’s your captain, for fuck’s sake. What was he doing touching himself in your room, with a raging fever and chattering teeth?

Putting the pieces together, you remember that Sanji had devilish smirk as he brought his special souvenir onto the ship. It was a pretty box, made of metal, covered in some sort of light blue paint, filigreed with gold accents and illustrations of pretty pink ribbons. The chef put an obnoxious “DO NOT EAT SANJI’S COOKIES” sign on the box and slid them to the top shelf of the pantry, almost out of reach. It was, admittedly, extremely naïve of Sanji to expect Luffy to pay any heed to that sign.

You put two and two together. The cookies must have had something in them.

As a response to your indignance, Luffy squeezes his erection harder and gasps quietly. Sweat drips from his temples and down his cheeks. His mouth hangs open, and his pupils are huge. He’s a fucking mess, and you have no clue what to do in this situation.

“’m so cold,” he whines and shakes. “Too c-c-cold.”

This is wildly inappropriate, but… you are kind of turned on, just because he’s touching himself. You have some sort of repressed crush on your captain—how could you not? You usually push it to the back of your mind, though. Pining over him is a waste of time when nothing would ever come of it.

“Fuck,” Luffy’s voice is gravelly and his hand moves of its own accord. “Feels like it’s helping. Feels warm.”

Your heart does a flip. Luffy is palming his cock in front of you, panting with arousal, head thrown back. He can’t help but touch himself. It’s the only thing that’s relieving his discomfort, evidently. You feel awkward, but it’s almost starting to get you going. You’re blushing up your neck and frozen still.

Luffy’s eyes wander to your chest—he’s staring at your breasts, drinking in the shape of them and the outline of your nipples though your shirt. You start to turn red, matching his color rapidly.

“Luffy, what the fuck? Stop! You’re a wreck.” You divert the awkwardness for a second. “No wonder the sign says do not eat! I’m going to get Chopper. You need to rest. Go do that in your room.”

Luffy grinds his palm down his erection and a stifled sound of pleasure gets caught in his throat. You pause, against your better judgment. That sound—the sound of Luffy in pleasure—makes you feel some sort of way. You start to warm up between the legs.

“I want you to do it.” Luffy’s voice gets lower each time he talks. He’s still shaking, freezing, sweating, and unwell. But he’s touching himself, and you had imagined this before. It’s hard to look away.

“What?” You respond reflexively, caught completely off guard. Did you hear him right?

“Want you to touch me,” he whines and continues to rub himself. The friction feels electric. “I think it’ll h-help.”

Luffy’s eyes are half open and glossy, still riveted on your tits. His pupils are really dilated. His fingers grasp and stroke his hard cock through his shorts, and each sound that leaves his mouth goes straight between your thighs.

“You want me to touch you? Are you… Are you sure, Luffy?”

“Need it,” he scrunches his face up. “’m going crazy.”

You bite your lip and pause for a second. If your captain was asking you for help, you might as well assist him… Also, this didn’t feel like that crazy of a request for help, considering the fact that he’d literally die for you (and has gotten close to that on multiple occasions). And you could tell he wasn’t being malicious or predatory about his request—he was just being Luffy, asking plainly for something. If you said no, he would be fine. He may whine a bit, but he’d never genuinely pressure you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But fuck, was he in his right mind? You shake your head. You want to touch him. But you are genuinely worried about him. It must be 2:00AM, so you need to wake up Chopper. You might want to touch Luffy, but you have to do your due diligence. You care about Luffy. If he’s sick or in danger, you have to make sure he’s okay.

“Luffy, no. I’m going to get Chopper. Just wait here.”

You speed-walk down the hallway, heart racing. What a bizarre turn of events. You didn’t expect that to happen when Luffy initially walked in your room. When you reach the door to Chopper’s cabin, you knock.

No answer. He’s obviously asleep.

You knock again. “Chopper? It’s me. Please get up. Luffy’s sick.”

Another knock. Rustling blankets. You can hear Chopper hobble to the door. He opens it and pokes his little head out, squinting. He’s wearing one of those sleeping gowns and a cute hat. “Mhm? What’s wrong with him?”

“Uh... He has a fever. He’s burning up and he’s shaking. He’s sweating a lot, too.” You figured you’d save the ‘and he’s masturbating’ part for later. Maybe you didn’t have to say it at all?

“Does he have food poisoning? Did he eat anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, I don’t think he has food poisoning... But he ate some of Sanji’s cookies.”

“What’s in the cookies?” Chopper is shading his eyes from the dim hallway light. He’s half asleep and you feel bad for waking him up.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe there was something weird in them?”

Chopper yawns. Fuck. He looks like he’s falling asleep again. You can’t blame him, really, it’s way past his bedtime.

“Chopper, can you please come look at him?”

He yawns again. “I’m sleepy. Can you ask Sanji what’s in the cookies and get back to me? I just want to go to bed a little bit longer.”

You huff and frown as Chopper shuts his door. So now you were supposed to play telephone? If it was anyone else you would have chewed them out, but you couldn’t do that to Chopper.

Extremely aggravated, you storm down the hallway to Sanji’s cabin and knock on the door, loudly. It’s an angry knock. A fuck-you knock.

“Sanji. Get up.” Silence for a moment while the blonde jolts awake. “I said get up.”

His door opens just a tad until he realizes it’s you. Then he opens it wider. His hair is all rustled up and he’s shirtless, in boxers. If he wasn’t half-asleep, he’d be blushing and acting ridiculous because you’re seeing him half-naked.

“Oh, hello beautiful.” His voice is scratchy and he’s blinking. “How may I help you? Are you finally going to crawl into bed with me?” He flashes a cheeky grin and you almost slap him.

“No, Sanji. Luffy ate your cookies. He’s a mess.”

The cook’s half-asleep composure immediately drops. “He did what?”

You can tell he’s fully awake now.

“I said, he ate your fucking cookies, Sanji. What is in those things!?”

“FUCK. How many did he eat?”

“How many? How should I know?! He’s in my room with a fever right now. It’s Luffy, we can assume he probably ate the whole box.”

Sanji smirks and laughs out loud. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that. Good night, princess.” He winks and shuts the door in your face.

“Sanji, what the fuck!?”

You knock on his door again, but you can hear him get back in bed. You’re beyond pissed. You’re ready to kick the door down and wring his neck. But… you have a sinking feeling that you know what the cook is getting at. Fuck. The cookies have some sort of aphrodisiac in them.

You trudge back to your room, flabbergasted and defeated. Luffy is still in your chair, letting out wails of “pain” which you are now realizing are just fucking moans. Not to say that he isn’t in pain but… if the placement of his hand is any evidence right now, he’s feeling pretty good.

“Y-you’re back,” Luffy gasps as he grinds his palm on his erection for what is probably the 50th time.

“Fuck, Luffy. What did you get yourself into tonight? You can be such a bonehead. Goddamn.” Your hands are on your hips and you’re looking at him, weighing your options. You could kick him back to his room and tell him to masturbate.

He looks downright pathetic. His face is twisted up in agony and his hand is putting in work. “T-touch me,” he whines. “P-please.”

“Luffy, are you sure?” You walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek in pity.

He opens his eyes and weakly croaks out, “Not there. Lower.”

You tut and frown. “Ohhh Luffy. What am I going to do with you?”

He tries to give you puppy dog eyes and fails. Another erotic sound escapes his lips as his palm grinds on his cock particularly hard. He whispers, one last beg before he’ll do all the work himself. “Please.”

You cautiously reach your hand down and place it on his erection. Luffy throws his head back, hissing in air through his teeth, and fidgets under you.

“Fuck, that feels weird. Feels tingly, like—like it’s on fire,” he whines.

He grasps your wrist and makes you rub his cock harder, widening his thighs. His grip is so tight that it hurts. He’s forcing your palm down on his cock so hard that you can’t believe it isn’t hurting him.

Luffy’s eyes are closed and he’s actually drooling. He’s still shivering, and his cheeks are crimson. Sweat plasters his hair down on his forehead and temples.

The obscene sounds leaving his lips make you hotter between your legs—you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to mitigate the rising heat, but Luffy’s desperation is making it worse. He’s starting to rut his cock up into your hand.

“Ah, that feels—feels so hot and—fuck—feels funny, like it, it feels good.” You can feel his cock twitching under your fingers. He’s writhing around and whimpering, and fuck, he looks good. “Need more.”

“Y-you need more?” You ask hesitantly.

“C’mere.” Luffy grabs you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, guiding you to straddle his lap. You freeze up. There’s no way this is really happening.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.” He murmurs in your ear and his hips buck up, cock craving friction through the layer of his pants and yours.

“W-want you to rub on me,” his voice is wretched and depraved. “Feels good.” When you lock eyes, you can see animalistic desire plainly. You’ve never seen him look like this—it’s like he’s a different person; lust is completely driving his movements. It’s like primal instincts took over the second the aphrodisiac cookies went to his stomach.

Luffy dry humps you and it’s starting to feel good. His hands are gripping your hips and he’s doing all the work, dragging you over his cock, pushing you down on it and making your hips roll while needy noises trickle from his parted lips.

As friction builds on your clit, you stifle a moan that threatens to jump out of your mouth. Luffy’s so aroused that he’s panting and slobbering down his chin.

It’s like he’s in heat, the way he humps and grinds on you. Seeing him like this is making you wetter. Your panties must be saturated by now—the friction is already making you buzz, and he hasn’t done much other than rub you on his cock a bit.

“It’s helping,” the words fall carelessly from Luffy’s mouth. He has no clue what’s going on. He’s on autopilot right now, lost in lust and barely cognizant. “Wanna be warmer, ‘m still so—so cold.” His teeth are chattering amidst his moans. Considering how hot his cheek was, he must really be freezing.

Luffy’s hands wander to grip your chest through your tank top so hard you let out a yelp. He pulls it down and starts to greedily squeeze and knead your breasts. Your breath hitches when his fingerpads move back and forth on your already stiff and sensitive nipples.

When he leans forward and wraps his lips around one, you let out a gasp. His tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves and he starts to suck on it hungrily. Luffy is making you wet beyond belief—the suction on your nipple is feeling dangerously good. You’re on the verge of losing it, totally giving in to the nagging animalistic voice in your head that’s telling you to fuck him like crazy.

His erection is huge and hard as it grinds on your core. It feels good—no, he feels good. The noises he’s letting out add to the effect. Your core is throbbing and sopping wet.

“L-luffy,” you moan, finally, as he grazes your clit and sucks your nipple particularly hard. He lets out a muffled hum in response, vibrating your nipple. “Luffy, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

He goes faster. He thinks that if he sees your face contort in bliss and hears you moan some more, it’ll fix him. He’s starting to feel better already with each hump. Maybe if he sees you cum, he’ll stop pulsing and his body will stop screaming at him. Maybe if you cum from his dry humps, he’ll be satiated. Maybe his fever will go away.

Luffy can hardly form cognizant, coherent thoughts like this, though. His mind can only focus on two things. First: you. Your pleasure. Your cunt. Your tits. Your smell. He wants to devour you. Second: he’s freezing cold. He needs warmth—twenty blankets, a cup of hot tea, a heating pad, something. He feels like he’s in a vat of ice water.

“Can’t stop,” he chokes his words out with effort, somehow picking up the pace of his cock humping your cunt through your pants. “Need more.”

He grinds your clit just right and it sends you over the edge of orgasm. As you spasm over his clothed cock and soak your panties in ecstasy, he never once lets up the pace. He pushes you back and forth on his erection and doesn’t pay attention to your whimpers from overstimulation.

You collapse forward into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck while he uses his grip on your hips for leverage to rut harder into you.

“Wanna put it in,” Luffy groans and his voice is deeper than usual. “L-lemme put it in. Wanna feel you. Need it. N-need you to—to help me feel better.”

You whisper a hum of affirmation in his ear and he picks you up. Fuck it. He already made you cum. He’s begging for it. You decide to let him ravage you.

Luffy basically throws you on the bed and rips your clothes off. You realize that the door to your cabin is wide open—anyone could walk by and see this. You don’t have the willpower to care right now.

You’re lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Luffy grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand, pinning you down on the bed. His other hand steadies his cock flat on your inflamed, wet folds. He starts to thrust forward a bit, rubbing himself on your cunt, teasing himself before he finally fucks away the ice-cold blood in his veins and stokes that roaring heat his belly.

His cock gliding over your clit feels too good. If he keeps it up, you’ll cum a second time. “Luffy, fuck,” your whimper makes his heart pound. Reality fogs up more and he can’t think straight. He rubs his cock flat on your lips until you’re arching your back, then lines his tip up with your weeping entrance.

When Luffy pushes his cock into your slit slowly, he groans the whole time. “So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you’re swallowing me whole, fuck. Y-you’re so warm, feels good.”

He’s shaking and shivering still. After a moment of being bottomed out, he starts to fuck you at a measured pace. He’s entranced by the way your tits bounce. He’s still drooling shamelessly, his pupils are blown with lust and he’s sweating. His free hand gropes up for your tits and plays with your nipples. Every time you moan his name, he feels like he’s an animal.

“Nnnnggghhhh, fuck, fuck, you’re—you feel so slippery,” Luffy feverishly grinds his hips into yours, hitting your deep and sensitive spots just right. “Feels weird and hot in my stomach, like s-something’s gonna happen.”

“Luffy, it feels too good,” you keen his name and squirm. “’m gonna cum soon.”

“W-wanna see,” he chokes out an answer between breathless thrusts.

He brushes your hot and soft spot, and you once again are drowning in pleasure, toe-curling and delicious. You cum, squeezing his shaft and milking out as much precum as possible.

He sounds like he’s hyperventilating. He’s truly going crazy. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm and you start to squirm. The sight goads him on.

“More,” he groans. “Please, more.”

Luffy rocks his pelvis into yours. His abs and arms are muscly and defined, his hair is sweaty, his eyes are totally dilated, and he’s looking at you like he’s going to fuck you for hours.

When he feels your walls clench down on him, he starts to cum. He seizes up and his cock plunges into your cunt. “F-fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m cumming, it—feels too good, feels so good, fuck.”

His thrusts are erratic while he pumps ropes of cum into you. He pauses and looks down at your cock-crazed face, closed eyes, and slack jaw. His cum is currently seeping out of your slit, coating the base of his shaft.

But even though he just came, his cock is already starting to pulse again. That one orgasm? It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He feels better than he did before, but still not back to normal. The fire and ice in his veins still runs strong, he feels like he's buzzing, like he’s an animal looking for a mate.

You think that he’s had his fill until he starts thrusting again, just as hard as before. After a minute, he shifts you. Luffy pulls out and picks you up again, maneuvering you so you’re laying on your bed with your stomach touching the covers. He gets on top of you and—fuck, he’s heavy. And his skin is boiling hot. You can feel the sheen of sweat on his chest when it presses on your back.

He has you in prone bone now, spreading your thighs wide with one of his hands. When he finally presses his cock into you, your back arches. It feels much deeper than before—is he using his devil fruit powers, or is his cock just this big?

“Fuck,” he’s rasping in your ear. His husky voice goes straight to your throbbing core—god, he sounds hot right now. You can feel his hot breath. One of his hands is braced next to your head as his cock rolls into you. He’s hitting the perfect spot and it’s starting to feel so good that you’re seeing stars. “Your pussy—feels so, so warm and good, I think it’s working.”

You lose track of time while his cock caresses your sweet spots. Before you know it, you’re cumming again. You hardly have the energy to let him know what’s happening. Is it the aphrodisiacs making his performance this good, or does Luffy just know how to fuck? How is he this good in bed?

When you squirm and cream on Luffy’s cock for the second time, he reaches a hand under you and thumbs your clit. He draws circles on it and presses it like a button. It feels like an electric shock—he has neglected it until now but still managed to coax three orgasms out of you. And while you are mildly overstimulated, when his fingers start dancing over your clit it turns up the notch of pleasure inside of you.

“Luffy, fuck that feels good,” a sort of guttural moan escapes your lips and you can’t help but buck your hips up and back onto his cock. “Don’t stop. Fuck.”

You’re keening through the waves of pleasure that he’s pulling out from you while he rams you with his cock. His heavy grunts are like music in your ears—feral, low, and ravenous. Your captain is absolutely railing you right now, and you like it. He more than likes it.

“So tight and, ah, so warm inside, like—aaghhhh fuck—like you’re made for me.” He groans and his thighs shudder. Is he cumming again? How many times is this? Second? Third?

Your mind is in a haze. He’s devouring you like a rabid animal. How many orgasms will it take to fend off his fever? How many hours until the aphrodisiac cookies wear off?

In your haze, filth starts to slip out of your mouth.

“F-fuck me harder, captain—please,” you mewl, and you can feel just the slightest pause in Luffy’s thrusts, barely noticeable. “Your cock feels so fucking good.”

After his pause, he starts pressing his weight harder on top of you, moving his hips at an angle so his cock is literally ramming into your cervix. The sensation is overwhelming, to say the least—painful but so, so good. You’re gasping for air and it’s hard to breathe because he’s on top of you. He’s literally fucking you like he’s in heat.

“Say that again,” he grunts and thrusts with each word but he’s struggling to get them out because he’s barely breathing. “Say it.”

“Captain, fuck, y-your cock feels so good. Fuck, captain.”

He’s somehow going faster, bringing you to another cliff, another ledge of euphoria from which to free fall. His cock bullies your bundles of nerves and your cunt squelches with each pass.

“C-captain, Luffy, please, fuck.” You’re spasming under him again, cumming on his cock for, what was that, the fourth time? Maybe it was the fifth. You’ve lost count. You didn’t know it was possible to cum this many times. You’ve also lost track of what words are coming out of your mouth. “Cumming, I’m cumming, y-your cock ‘s too good, captain, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s right after you, jerking his hips deep into yours and cumming inside again. There’s so much cum leaking out of you that Luffy’s shaft is obscured by milky white goop. There’s a sizable puddle of it underneath of you. It’s going to leave an unfortunate-colored stain on your bedsheets. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

His hips are still bucking though. His cum just keeps… coming. It’s a visceral orgasm. It’s the final orgasm (for a brief refractory period). When he’s done shooting seed into you, he collapses on top of you.

It’s like you’re under a weighted blanket except its Luffy, he’s heavy as fuck, and his cock is in you. And damn, he’s sweaty.

But somehow this is the best sex you’ve ever had. And you have a sneaking suspicion that the night isn’t over yet.

When you protest and Luffy rolls off your back, you use all your strength to open your eyes and check on him. His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, his eyes are closed, he’s still drooling but he looks decidedly better.

You bring a hand to touch his forehead again and he lets out another quiet whimper. He must be so sensitive still. Poor thing. But his fever is considerably better.

Sanji must have been right when he said there’s only one way to fix this aphrodisiac frenzy. You wonder what Sanji was saving those cookies for. The day you finally crawled into bed with him?

Pfffft. No, thank you. After round six or seven with Luffy, you’ll never look back. You truly didn’t expect your captain to fuck like this. Or to like being called captain when his cock is in you.

“Luffy, are you doing ok?”

He hums in response.

“Use your words. Luffy, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Feels a lot better.”

When his chest slows, he starts to sleep. You’re left on your bed with a puddle of cum under (and inside) of you, and your captain sound asleep like a rock next to you. And fuck, the door is still open.

Hopefully no one heard that. Even if they had heard, oh well. Too late now to stress over it.

You close the door and turn off the light. Then, you get cleaned up and put your pajamas back on.

Luffy may be sound asleep, but you shove him around so he’s at a decent angle. You fall asleep together on your bed, cuddling, and sticky with sweat (and cum).

Of course, no more than two hours later, Luffy is awake and his cock is throbbing again. He tries to touch himself and make the heat go away but it isn’t working. So… he wakes you up. And that’s how rounds eight, nine, and ten go.

When his fever finally goes away, he’s left with a long-lasting craving that he can only satiate one way: you.

It should go without saying, but the next day you literally cannot walk. You hobble around, trying to play it off like you slept weird or something. Sanji rubs the whole thing in your face.

“How was last night, angel?” His smirk is sly and smug, teasing and suggestive.

“Sanji. Please. Not right now.”

“Do you want me to get more of those cookies sometime? Maybe we can eat them next?” He winks and you blush.

“Fuck off, Sanji.”

The chef chuckles and saunters away. He’s never going to let you live that down.

thank you for reading!!! ive been feeling a certain way about luffy recently. its just his fucking muscles in wano that have me in a chokehold. muscle make brain go brrrrrrrrr.

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[chenya-my-love]

Fictional Yuu

I see a lot of people basing Yuu off of characters on TV and in games. They'll have characters (usually Idia) make refrence to this fact but usually in just a throw away line. But nobody really leans into the idea of Yuu actually coming from some fictional media in Twisted Wonderland.

Like imagine some character like Cater, or maybe Vil while advertising the VDC, posting a photo with Yuu in it. Only for some random account to comment "That's an amazing cosplay, it looks so much like the character". And of course they're confused, they keep looking for who in the photo is cosplaying but nobody is there. Eventually just asking the commentor who was being cosplayed. The comment is simple.

"Right next to you. That's Yuu from (insert anime/game name here)". They don't believe it until they look up the listed media and sees the character they think Yuu is cosplaying and are shocked. They look identical to Yuu (except animated). Their name, looks, and personality are all identical to Yuu. It is Yuu.

I see two (techincally three) routes this could go. A RomCom route and an angst route.

The romcom route revolves around Yuu having a canon love interest making the boys jealous (regardless on whether they entered a relationship yet or the plot was still building it up) and trying to imulate them.

Like all the wikis say that Yuu's feelings blossomed after the love interest nursed them back to health when they were sick, so the moment Yuu gets sick the boy is just rushing to Ramshackle to take care of them. Or if Yuu caught feelings first and it was some romantic moment, the boys try to emulate that scene so Yuu will fall for them too.

But than we have the angst routes.

A scenerio where all the boys decide to watch the anime/play the game that Yuu is from. Only for Yuu to catch them, quickly learning that they're fictional.

Yuu realizing that all their memories were made up, and if their a playable character all their actions were being controlled. That all their suffering was pointless, that it was done simply to make them more interesting or to entertain a bunch of other worldly beings that Yuu didn't know existed.

Yuu having an breakdown over everything. Their life isn't even their own.

Or

While learning about Yuu's world and story, they learn Yuu dies. And not just a shock value death that could be removed from the plot without care, their death is important. Their death leads to the ending whether that be Yuu sacrificing themself for the greater good or Yuu's death motivating the protag to take down the villain.

All that matters is that Yuu dies and Yuu needs to die. The story can't progress without Yuu there.

The boys realizing that if they send Yuu back to their world, their pretty much signing Yuu's Death Certificate. And Yuu doesn't know. The boys now know that Yuu is doomed by the narrative and is destined to die in the end, but Yuu doesn't. They can't even tell Yuu cause Seven only knows how Yuu will take the news that not only are they fictional but they're also destined to die.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 11 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 (here) — Part 12 — Part 13

Like dominos, one thing led to another as predicted

With Alastor motivated to do his absolute to please you, Husk’s hellish training and push to be a worthy Overlord reached its heights. Though, to not cause suspicion to the other residents of the hotel, namely Angel, Husk made appearances here and there just so no one would claim that Alastor was being unreasonable

As for Velvette, she was being mentored by Rosie and Carmilla. It started with just exploring her new title as a ‘Threater Demon’. Her eye in fashion, her want to command, and her presentation skills were strong. Her role in your collection was to project information and messages you want Hell to know about

Because with Hell’s win over Heaven, big changes were bound to come. Not to mention, Trick would be wanting some action on their side and not just to watch their realm fret over yours. You understand the sentiment, after all, you enacted the system for Overlords for that sole purpose in the first place

Now, it was a lucky thing that the Vees actually divided territories before Velvette went solo, because those served as her base of operations and her new home. With Carmilla’s help in construction, Velvette has her own building to call home and workplace. With Rosie’s pointers, Velvette was capable of recruiting talents of worth to her growth

As an Overlord should, Velvette gathered souls to her side through contracts and slowly started to build her own base and support. Just as Alastor was supporting Husk in such a task, albeit it was more complicated since Husk was still under Alastor’s leash at the moment

Her souls comprised of individuals from the fashion and entertainment industries, not too different from her former work associates, so she was able to handle things all on their own. However, there was one thing that she made clear to her people or demons, which is; she was no long part of the Vees and when they sign a contract with her, it’s only to her service

That was something you’re quite proud to hear her say. Even when she is technically starting from rock bottom, she is not using anyone’s name to give herself a boost to start strong and fast, she was using her own. Granted that you allowed Carmilla and Rosie to help, but they were only serving as guidance and giving her advice on what direction to go in. After all that, they took a backseat and watched

To see her rise from the ashes of her own burnt flame was a spectacle and what you have been aiming and doing with your Overlords since the beginning. It was what you have designed when you took initiative to lead a group of overpowered Sinners. They were more than souls doomed to suffer in Hell

In your dark and cruel eyes, they were so much more. While around the majority of the deceased are destined for Hell, their crimes when living define their powers in Hell and their authority in a sense. You being the puppeteer behind your Overlords shows their potential but also their limits because they can never amount to anywhere above Hellborns of great destruction

You have your Overlords their domain of special title. Zestial of Fear, Carmila of War, Rosie of Dismantlement, Zeezi of Violence, Alastor of Domination, and now Velvette has joined their ranks. Velvette of Recreation. So you never let anything destroy or interrupt Velvette’s growth

It’s funny to watch was Vox’s panic over Velvette’s absence and silence. You had given Alastor a power boost to interfere with Vox’s persistent surveillance. The last thing you wanted was for your two new rising stars to have a stalker that will ruin plans and hard work. So now all Vox could do was try to make more public appearances to hypnotize others into staying relevant

Though it wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. You did, however, receive information from your other Overlords that Vox has been asking around as to where Velvette was. Well, you have to give him credit of being bold enough to ask others where his former associate was at, even though it showed his stupidity

“M’re tea, mine own Liege? (More tea, My Liege?)” Zestial offered with the hovering items. 

“Zestial, this is a redemption lesson.” You politely and indirectly declined his offer.

“Th’re is barely anyone h’re. (There is barely anyone here)” Zestial laughed, still offering you your drink to which you accepted. “And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, m’rely… multitasking. (And I am listening to the princess’ lesson, merely… multitasking.)”

Currently, you were sitting in a lesson of the Princess in her endevours to make her hotel a success. While you admire her dedication, you can hardly see her plans succeeding and that’s what you show her despite knowing of Sir Pentious’ arrival to Heaven

As you were attending her class, it just so happened that Zestial was stopping by for tea with you and joined you when you said you were busy attending Charlie’s little class. Needless to say, Zestial saw no use in such efforts, labelling Charlie’s dream as ‘flight of fantasy’ rather than a goal to strive towards

Zestial taken great offence when Charlie was promoting her aim to him when he first passed through the doors of the hotel, claiming that he never wish or dreams of leaving Hell so long as you permitted him to stay by your side. He saw Charlie’s gracious offer to be good as an insult to him and his devotion to your services, going as far as to see it as a betrayal of your mercy had he paid half a mind to Charlie’s words

It was only because you’d be free after Charlie’s lesson does he stay at the hotel. As for why he was also attending the lesson? It was because it didn’t want to waste a second away from you when he can. Unlike the other Overlords, Zestial was the one to have known you the longest and that has given him some unique privileges 

For example, he could contact you physically or mentally while others have to wait for you to contact them. That was why he suggested for Carmilla to contact you about the matter of the angel’s death instead of waiting for your summons

Another was his authority to stand in as you to a certain degree while you were absent among the gathering of Overlords, that’s why he had that level of say and respect from the others (apart from the Vees, it would seem)

“Hey, Princess!” Vox’s robotic voice boomed through the doors to the room’s doors behind they slammed open unceremoniously to reveal a frantic technology demon. “Princess! I know you’re a good and kind person, er, demon, so I want your help—”

“Help in what?” You questioned but your tone made it sound like a challenge in it of itself.

The moment Vox heard your voice within the room behind him, he froze and like the technology he is, he robotically turned around to meet your eyes. “Ma- I mean… You’re here…” His eyes looked away then back to you and away again, repeating this as though it was a shy schoolgirl with their crush in a love confession. “What a coincident… Haha…”

“Charlie dear.” You got up and Zestial follow suit, indirectly sending a chill down Vox and everyone else’s spine.

“Yes?” Charlie tried her best to keep an unaffected expression, but the way her body trembled and her hands gripped at her sheets of papers till they were all wrinkled up was evident that even she was shaken up.

You smiled back with a small tilt of your head, “I’ll be leaving my leave and bringing Vox along, do continue your lesson on boundaries.”

Zestial followed behind you, “I too shall beest taking mine own leaveth, has’t a pleasant day, princess. (I too will be taking my leave, have a pleasant day, Princess.)”

Vox grudgingly followed along behind the two of you with his head down.

While walking down the halls of the hotel, the mere appearance of Zestial made any demon near you fear for their lives and left with screams and shrieks. Some wondering why such a fearsome character was even in a hotel for redemption and some wondering if such an irredempable demon can be sent to Heaven with Charlie’s help

At those demon’s whispers, Zestial was quick to show why he was still feared even after the emergence of newer and powerful demons that joined the ranks of the Overlord. You reminded indifferent as you continued onwards to your room while Vox held himself back from flinching at Zestial’s more violent and unseen side

Your head turned to the side as you stole a glance at Vox. He was still straightened up, but that was all a facade to hide his fear and anxiety. You internally sighed while Zestial was quick to make work of the disgrace he faced from the shadows and joined her side once more

As clear as day, you recall when there was a time where Alastor spoke praise of Vox and his powers. How he captivated your interest with the potential growth and rise his powers could bring, the thrill you felt when Alastor listed out all the things that he saw Vox could do

The only reservations Alastor had with Vox was his dependence on Alastor as they were sharing a partnership. While Alastor took credit for what he has down, Vox was eager to share his achievements and accomplishments with Alastor’s name, advertising that he was nothing without the help of Alastor who was already an Overlord

Alastor did tell you that Vox wanted and aimed to be an Overlord, but it was to be on the same level as Alastor. As anyone could see, Vox was doing his all to be on Alastor’s equal and to you, that was disappointing. Here Alastor was, recommending Vox to be within your collection when all Vox wanted was to be by Alastor’s side

Oh how you wanted to crush Vox and stuff him into one of your Cages. But you held back, instead, it was more pleasing to see him suffer and rise from the ashes of pain and torture. You gave Alastor a simple suggestion

Break ties with Vox and let him tred his own path

Followed your indirect order Alastor did. Within the minute Alastor broken any and all relationship with Vox, a battle broke out. One where Alastor showcased his power and strength to be leagues above what Vox had in mind

You were perched atop your throne while your other Overlords watched Alastor’s victory and Vox’s defeat within the space you’ve created for them all. The smile you had on you was so wide that your cheeks hurt afterwards when Rosie pointed it out

Then it wasn’t long before Vox seemingly bounced back from his reality check and came back into the spotlight. To your disappointment, Vox used the media in a poor attempt to push Alastor out of power. The little cat and dog fight was entertaining for only a moment’s time as Vox was biting out more and more of Alastor’s time and attention from his rightful duties

The excuse for your intervention only came when Vox claimed to have an Overlord title. Immediately, you brought him into your domain for such a daring claim. Contrary to your expectations, he fell a few feet down, but out of your favouritism for Alastor and trusting in him, you gave Vox a chance. You did need someone to fill in Husk’s place after all

While his offer to share his Overlord status was a unique and intriguing one, his choices were poorer than a human’s foolishness. At the time, there was promise in Velvette, but Valentino was another matter entirely. Still they did work well together, you’ll give them that. So for the first time ever, there was a group of three sharing the title of Overlord

Now that you look back on it, it was a misjudgment on your place. Trusting in Alastor’s words when vouching for Vox was one thing, trusting in Vox’s choice of companionship was another. Still, you see the issue and that somethings could never be changed no matter what

You lost counts on the chances you gave the Vees. If they were any other Overlords in your collection, they’d be long disposed off, but you let them stay out of the goodness of your nonexistent heart

It was a lie

Within your collection, you needed someone at the bottom to be the receiving end of your fury and for someone to be an example to when things don’t go as you please. There needs to be a system of rewards and punishments and who better than the Vees? They have their uses and they wanted to stay. Whether or not they see through your intentions is another story, but you like that they were naive

Before the Vees was Husk who was royally kicked out and still suffering today. Of course he’s aiming to change now with the help of Alastor. Before Husk was a few others not even worthy of your memory. Though the first and successful one? 

Zeezi, your perfect stress toy

It was through her that you realized the need for a bottom rank within your collection. What better to have something dull and trashy to better showcase your most prized ones? Just like now, Vox compared with Alastor. It’s obvious who’s better. The comparison and competition made you ever more pleased with your top favourites

So far, Velvette has been the only one that seeked help to break away from her consequence. You would bet Valentino still sees nothing wrong and would continue as he always had. The question remains… Will Vox change too?

In doing so, put Valentino up for elimination?

You chuckled darkly as you entered your room, taking a seat by the window. “Come on in.”

Vox followed in with a shiver while Zestial closed and locked the doors behind them. The room thrusted into darkness before their surroundings resembled the galaxy appeared before their eyes, something a Sinner can never witness again after their fall. 

“Now,” You smirked, Zestial taking his place by your side and poured you a cup of tea he magically made appear. Your melodious voice played like a record but your words were sharp as knives. “Why did you seek out the dear Princess of Hell?” Vox gulped as much as he wanted to stare at anything by you, he knew it was a death sentence. “Instead of looking for my assistance?”

Note: Been a while since this series was updated. Not sure how many of you still read this. I thought of dropping this series a lot of times because of the writer's block, but here's the next part. I enjoy the asks, ideas, and trivia you guys sent me! What you think would happen now?

Hope you enjoyed this one~

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay

[aereasrage]

Notes on The Favorite pt. 2

summary: as requested, i elaborate on the relationship between daemon, rhaenyra and alicent’s daughter!reader (but mostly rhaenyra and reader sorry😭) (links: part 1 /part 2/part 3 /part 4/ part 5/ notes 1)

cw: rhaenyra kinda preys on your mommy issues, manipulation, mentions of parent/child incest (but nothing actually occurs), platonic yandere, some…interesting undertones between these two sisters.

Rhaenyra was occupied with her own matters and her own miseries, too much so to truly be invested in the rearing of her youngest sister. She'd never spoken to the girl alone but she knew her eldest was fond of her. That was why she offered a betrothal in the first place, when she was shot down, she felt for her son but reconciled herself easily to the fact that having a relationship with her sister was simply never to be. Alicent guarded you like a hound and if not her, then Aemond. It was abundantly clear that her being around you would only be another point of contention in an already volatile family. After the night at Driftmark, she accepted that there were to be no mended fences and she, who had already been suffering the fallout for years, retreated back into minding her own children. The distance was final and irreparable.

She viewed Jace's obsession with you as a youthful infatuation which would fade with time as he realized the position they were all in. She was mistaken. Jace, at a tourney for your birthday, nearly killed himself trying to crown you Queen of Love and Beauty. And the boy didn't even have shame about it, he seemed proud when she confronted him. He was languishing in bed, bandaged and delirious, he could only grin when she spoke of you. She could not get through to him for the first time.

Daemon, in turn, went to Baela about the matter thinking that surely his daughter would have something to say about her betrothed's behavior. A wish to break from this betrothal in the face of such insult. Mayhaps, even, a wish for him to be thrown from his horse sometime. But what he found was not his daughter scorned but a steadfast image of her mother, her eyes betraying a certain thrill. "He has not insulted me, father. He is taken with another, but I have been taken before, mayhaps just as much." He hadn't known how to respond to such a revelation. Oh, the curse of having a daughter who was just like her mother. He'd never know how to be a father to her. He should have advised her then but all he could do was be somewhat…pleasantly surprised by the depth of his daughter's similarity. She had gained so many wants and nuances right under his nose and he'd not known until then. She’d developed a fervor toward something that she wished for.

So, they left it be and watched with a precognition of doom when you married Aegon, your mother having to hold your hand as you said your vows. She waltzed you away from the feast and Daemon noticed that you were nodding on your feet from one cup of wine but thought little of it until the queen did not return to the event to continue entertaining congratulations. Jace was sullen and Rhaenyra was in his ear, trying to cheer him, not having noticed the state you were in. Later, the two would compare what they’d seen and heard. Daemon would crassly, half jokingly suggest something between you and Alicent. Rhaenyra would propose that her son might have already had you and your mother, though remaining silent, sought irrefutable proof of your duty to Aegon so as to be certain of the cleanliness of all their reputations. Though, that never accounted for why she didn’t wed her eldest daughter to her eldest son. It was distasteful for you to be wed to him, Rhaenyra thought and it made something in her feel uneasy.

And when the first dark haired child was born, there was no surprise in it happening (mayhaps there was actually even a bit of relief) but rather how casually it was handled. Daemon and Rhaenyra surely had eyes just as well as Alicent but there seemed to be no commotion about the fact that her grandchild was surely sired by Jace. Rhaenyra didn’t have any desire to stir trouble but Daemon surely did and he made jokes whenever the family was gathered in one place. “My grandnephew bears such a resemblance to my other grandnephew, it seems my brother’s blood runs strongly,” he’d said smugly to Alicent as he came upon the three of you in the garden. He couldn’t help himself, the jokes were not toothless but he wasn’t serious about brooking any trouble. He even found you worthy of some credit given how firmly you seemed to have planted everyone’s heads up your arse.

The couple found it eerie how your mother was always hovering over you, Daemon would have liked to know how you got out from under her long enough to fuck his stepson. Rhaenyra had heard she’d even been in your chambers during your first night with Aegon. And it seemed her madness translated to the rest of the family. The image of piety all day long, your siblings always calling after you, always wrapped up in you so much so that they seemed not to even realize how their nephews and niece so resembled a certain prince outside of them. Not even your lord husband seemed to care or notice that all your children took after Jace, it was peculiar. The oddest part about it was that it felt sincere for most of them, when Alicent had told her that the children looked the way they did because of whatever nonsense she spouted, Rhaenyra truly thought she seemed as though she believed it herself. That was what frustrated and baffled her more than anything. She loved the girl so much she’d even gone blind.

In a way, it was perhaps a good thing for her cause that all Aegon’s heirs were sired by her son, although it made clear an upsetting double standard. If you’d been so endeared by her son, to some degree, you’d have no choice but to have sympathy to their cause. They could make something of that. And perhaps both of them would find out why their children were so enamored with you.

When she was finally able to separate you from Jace, she had you in her chambers, staring at you like a hawk, circling around your form. She didn’t intend to give you hell or be a nightmare of a goodmother but it was life and death, she wanted to know who you would be loyal to. If she’d have to keep you as a prisoner or a sister. You didn’t shrink under her gaze yet. You were always somewhat intrigued by your big sister. Such attention was paid her, such fuss. Her arrival in each room was like an event unto itself. Whispers carried on the wind about her. Your mother talked about her all the time. Maybe it was part of the reason you had your children the way you did, to pull some of your family’s focus back to yourself. She was your mother more than she was Rhaenyra’s enemy, after all. You envied Rhaenyra, you admired her. You were kin to her and so unlike her at the same time.

“I have always wondered how your mother had the audacity to ignore how much your children resemble mine,” She murmured, her eyes wide, pupils dilated and dark as she stared at you. She remembered also how her own children had been treated and that brought a flare of anger she was quick to quell. “They say the red keep is in a frenzy because of your absence. Do you long to return?”

Yes…and no. It was complicated. “I long to stay wherever we are safest.”

She smiled to herself, mirthlessly. “You would be safest a year in the past. Answer me this…you wear our colors, you have had my son’s children, but would you put an oath to me? Over your lord husband? Do you have that much love of my son if not of me?”

She startled you by taking your hands in her own, you hadn’t been anticipating her to touch you. You had never been so close to her, now that you thought of it. It felt like a domineering gesture, as though asserting that she could do anything to you. “I expect that I won’t have to keep you here as a hostage,” she murmured, catching your gaze. “Am I right in assuming?”

“I do love your son…” you hesitated, trying to think of some sly thing to say. You were trying to ride the fence as long as you could and she had cut through to ask you directly your position. She was full of hateful memories of the red keep when she looked at you, barely contained and her patience worn very thin. She had in her hands a potential tool and she wanted to be certain of what using it would entail. You didn’t know her well enough to be certain she wouldn’t harm you if she didn’t have the heart to hurt your children, you needed to tread lightly. “As I love the rest of my family.”

“Does your husband know his children don’t carry a drop of his blood?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” you admitted easily, it had been nothing to lie to Aegon. He was happier for it and what did it matter when it was you he loved and wanted rather than babes who need care they cannot return to him? “I’m not faithful to my husband in that way, I admit. And if this war comes to have his head, then I can only pray for him. It is his war to fight and win or to fight and lose. But I ask that you spare my mother and sister their fates, then you will have all my loyalty rather.”

Rhaenyra deliberated for a moment, letting go of your hands abruptly and stepping away from you a few paces as her eyes surveyed you closely from top to bottom. “If I have my way, they’ll not need to be harmed,” she said, finally. “There will be more bloodshed if you seek to betray me than if you do nothing. I can promise it.”

You, the very jewel that the rest of her family sought to keep away from her, in her grasp finally and looking at her as though she were about to eat you. She hadn’t known she wanted this but somewhere deep inside, now that she had you alone, she felt a certain modicum of satisfaction. You were…delicate, frightened, perhaps more willing to obey than she’d thought previously. A conquering desire overtook her caution and anger. Pull you away from your mother and your other siblings…what could she turn you into? Her own? …yes, mayhaps the endeavor of it would please her.

She hovered ever closer and reached out, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. She’d wanted to see how you’d react to a softer touch, a more intimate, motherly gesture. She’d wanted to know how to felt to do so as well. Your breath hitched at the semblance of touch which reminded you so much of your mother. You hadn’t meant to lean into it but it was reflex and a need for a mother who was not there with you. More disconcerting was the fact that your sister smiled softly at your reaction. “Give me your word and I’ll give you mine,” she commanded but in a softer tone she reserved for her own children.

She had you in her grasp. She was beginning to understand why your mother had held so fast to you. You nodded, struck dumb by intimidation and mild admiration, “I swear I would never betray you. On their lives.”

She smiled softly and you couldn’t keep yourself from feeling a strange sort of pride at her approval. She was to you what you were to your lady in waiting at the red keep, the one who adored your every movement simply because you were the princess and she couldn’t believe she was in your presence, at King’s Landing. This was your illustrious elder sister and to be near her…was it the fact that your father favored her so much that made you feel as though her presence were greater than it was? Was it all the whispers? Either way, you had a latent desire for her smile, for her to look at you and speak to you.

“No undue harm will come to Alicent or Helaena, I will not harm them so long as they stay only as figures of this war.” Her words were careful, sly, even but even that much assurance made you sigh in relief. “You’ll stay with me, with us, until the war has reached an end.”

She liked that idea more than she should. Liked the thought of her half-sister, apple of her stepmother’s eye trailing her skirts more than she should. She enjoyed the thought of having you.

[tragedy-of-commons]

killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car. 

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. 

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys. 

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on. 

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?” 

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.” 

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm. 

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

[nanakah]

hello hello, I took the alien stage pill. howdy fellow sufferers

Honestly, my first reaction to basically everything was "awww, they come in sets and are all without exception horribly doomed no matter their specs (loops cool music and vids)"

I'd seen some of VIVINOS' team works without realizing it was the same artist (my favorites being Beloved and Otomeroid) so it was rather shocking to learn of a "series" with a fandom as active/relatively large as Alien Stage without ever actually stumbling upon it before...

Anyways. I like the concept, and Hyuna+Luka in particular, a whole lot. In spite of all the jokes about only yuri and yaoi losing, my spider sense says they'll get their turn of crashing horribly soon and I wanna stay here to witness it burn beautifully, of course.

TL;DR OMG HYULUKA IS SO DELICIOUS

general yapping about all alien stage duos under the cut and some Hyuna/Luka considerations and theories

disclaimer: long, chaotic post ahead - i wrote most of it during revenge bedtime procrastination so I'm kinda just rambling/discussing my general impressions and vibes here instead of formatting it nicely or properly illustrating my points. good luck if you choose to stick around and make yourself comfy

alien stage impressions under read more - also SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

funny thing - I got into alien stage completely by chance after checking out some related vids to my Love and Deepspace twitter spree and avoiding my responsibilities. Ivan's Black Sorrow made a very strong impression and I loved his eyes, so I kept going deeper down the rabbit role and felt fascinated by the web of dynamics between the characters each time I took in a little more of the plot.

(His eyes are so cool and expressive.....I was already loving everything prior and was excited to continue, but Ivan was definitely the one to sell me on the concept more strongly and eat up the rest.)

It was interesting seeing "love" portrayed under such dire conditions and I kept wondering how come the aliens are so stupid they chose a 1vs1 PVP combat format with their beloved pets instead of the optimal formation of idol units and at least duos versus each other to utilize their feelings of love. Why would they do that?

That first innocent musing made me realize how clever the team behind ALNST is. The whole thing seems to be operating as a metaphor/commentary about how predatory the real idol industry is (the concept of anakt garden really sounds like the average idol trainee camp experience and the bonds they form with their group mates) and how heartless guardian (parental) figures can be in a society that is heavily utilitarian and barely gives agency to either their own children or sentient beings like animals that we keep as pets.

So in that world, the sacrifices of being an idol are literal and humans themselves are "pets" - with all the implications that come with "being dependent on a species that does not properly comprehend them". At times, the way they refer to the fandom of each character even seems to be tongue in cheek as to how "we" too are watching the story for entertainment and making fanbases for each character and reacting like some of the in-universe alien fans.

Therefore, it's no brainer that the answer to my initial question was: aliens/Segyein don't understand how to utilize human bonds and emotions to their maximum efficiency in the first place. They know interaction between humans seems to be important and produces more beautiful songs. However, they probably experience those feelings differently and most of them are likely unable to truly empathize with human pain, ethics or feelings. (And believe me, even some people have a hard time believing other species benifit from socialization, so aliens being that way is understandable). Perhaps the awful acts of the Segyein mutilating their pet human is no different from pulling a butterfly's wings to a human or injecting colored fluid into a flower. The glimpses of their buildings and tv show that they have the same sort of "do they have rights?" feelings and similar moral conflicts to what we have in the real world about species we don't understand fully.

I think it's really challenging to analyze a work attempting to guess future developments when you don't know the creator too well. In spite of looping OTOMEROID I wouldn't say I know VIVINOS and her team deeply as an admirer. But from the overall tone of the videos in her channel, I could pick up on a fascination with "extremes" of emotion and exploring the hypocrisy of society. Human/animal experimentation and materialism/religion/consumerism are topics that come up often. Love is also hardly ever portrayed as a simple or benevolent feeling alone - there's unrequited love, obsession, insanity, many facets of that feeling on the channel. Some works are more straightforward and focus on the visual presentation, others seem to have a deeper story behind it.

The technical quality of the Alien Stage MVs is extremely impressive, I had a blast looking at the patreon storyboards and feeling like "wow, a person actually made this". It seriously got me inspired to feel like drawing more to get out of my own artblock and to pick up on old OCs to show them some love. In the era of AI, this is a joy to get to feel. It all definitely feels like a well-put together labor of love. I'm super weak to things brimming with passion like this, it's contagious!!!!

Now that I've tried my best to make an eloquent opening and act like I'm not at all just a fangirl foaming at the mouth with this intense concept (I keep crying that I wanna see either Aka or Ohkawa try their hand at a death game scenario) and at the sight of a tragic toxic duo with a backstory of a deeply rooted mutual obsession/love and fall out (wiping drool out of the corner of my mouth as we speak), let's talk a little more about the story. In order to make sense out of my ramblings and projections, let me explain my thoughts on the other duos besides my bias first.

Mizi and Sua set the tone to their universe as well as serve as an explanation as to why "idols" work well to represent their conflict and struggle - I'm fresh out of Oshi no Ko here, so this feels equal parts like a comfort zone and everything but comfortable and hellish to go over again. But, to put it briefly, the adoration of someone as an entertainer that you want to support also overlaps with the word reserved for adoring "an image or representation of a god used as an object of worship" - idol.

Humans, stripped of their power and autonomy after arrogantly believing they were superior to everyone else and were the only beings in the vast universe, have been subjugated by other species. Because of the bleak, unforgiving circumstances they were faced with afterwards, the surviving ones were turned into luxury pets and stripped of their freedom. Free will made them children of God before, so people have forgotten all about the "God" who couldn't answer their prayers/save them. But, as Mizi says, the belief in God is innate to human nature. You are more likely live in this world successfuly if you have someone to look up to or a reason to survive.

When God seems so far away and so cruel...what they can do is look to each other as their "Gods". Because a belief in God is ultimately, a cry for salvation and acceptance...."The Bible makes it clear that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). He isn't just loving, but he is the very definition of love."Therefore, all characters are, in some way, looking for salvation and being constantly tested and brutally being forced to show off their humanity through the lens of how love affects them - and not at the privacy of their inner thoughts or anything. All of that in order to portray different aspects of "love", adoration and what it means to be human. To have a belief on the unseen - "what is essential is invisible to the eye".

IT'S ALIEN AMERICAN IDOL MEETS DANGANRONPA. WHOO.

(gOD I wish we could have gotten Luka vs Sua or vs Ivan in some way. That feels like it would be extremely close and entertaining to see. Am I losing my humanity? Why is my keyboard slimy? Am I becoming a Segyein ....?)

Of course, because I fell for all those deliciously doomed themes like the good CLAMP/Akasaka foolish nerd I am, I bought patreon access day one. Although some setting details were unexpected, I was pretty satisfied with my overall initial grasp on most of the characters. If you found me through the tags and didn't already follow me, my disclaimer here so you get to know me is that I easily gravitate to polarizing characters or doomed ships like a curse. There are also certain Themes that follow me like a plague and I could see some of my favorite characters' shadows on the doomed kids I liked right away. Like an itch to spot something more to what is being shown.

Therefore right away, Luka and Hyuna caught my eye big time. (literally, when I watched sweet dream I kept pausing and going - whOA WHO IS THE COOL GIRL WITH THE CIG. Wait wait wait show me more of the boy that looks dead inside overstimulated by the flashing lights!)

I don't really have any pretension to be quoted on anything here or say things verbatim (Patreon says it's fine to produce derivative content based on what's there, but as expected, it's enforced not to directly share it so I can't really go argument-evidence here by presenting it) and have only seen pictures of the artbook secondhand by a friend, so I'll have my fun here making commentary loosely based on extra content and sporadically showing off pretty MV captures.

Anyway.

We're introduced to this universe through the jarring cruelty of ROUND 1, contrasting a harmonic, beautiful, lullaby-like melody with a harsh outcome. Like Mizi, unless we got spoiled beforehand, we don't really know anything about what's about to horrifically transpire. And though she got education, it feels like the teachings about what death or the Alien Stage would be like were horribly sugar coated or distorted to her, as incentive to give their best performances - like sacrificing themselves was a good thing. The extra materials back this up with Mizi's first interview about "My Clematis" - it's like they're told they're simply going back to their "origins" entity (The Grand Ankt) and it's a pretty and peaceful thing. We're shown how bad humans have it in their society and simultaneously get a montage of a cute, healthy, heartwarming relationship between the two girls and a deep "pure" love, as well as feel the weight of Sua's sacrifice and how badly it hurts Mizi. You're told that Sua is her God, her Universe in a Godless world - only to have her ripped away and "God" basically slaughtered for cheap entertainment. Some of the extra materials put it as a certain "mutual love" between Sua and Mizi.

It's interesting how we're shown a stage and don't know what to expect at first - since the girls seem "calm" and happy to express their love, but there's an increasing sense of dread until the finality of Sua's death hits and the pretty, shining girl we see in the flashbacks becomes an empty husk. The MVs seem all to be roughly designed around creating a surprise at the end or recontextualizing something we have seen previously.

I won't discuss Till and Ivan at length at this time, because that would get too long and demands it's own post (I sure as hell rewatched Unknown, Black Sorrow and Cure many times though), but the key part for me here is - they similarly express "love", but through another facet - obsession of a one-sided love and the desire to reach salvation or a reason to endure the world because of that, too. To the point of choosing the chance of love over salvation, expressed by Till letting go of Ivan's hand when they had a chance to escape (not wanting to leave Mizi behind most likely) and Ivan's kiss and decision to strangle Till to give his own life in exchange for his/finally getting to express his "shallow emotions" he perceives as something that won't deeply scar Till (but it does, and it mattered, far more than he could ever have known). It's interesting that although Mizi calls Sua a God, they develop something closer to a balanced, mutual relationship, as much as their lack of understanding of "human relationship" allows - they connect deeply. Ivan, according to the comics, sees himself in Sua, but it's deeply frustrating how he couldn't build the same sort of connection with Till and felt like he could only maintain a bond through violence.

Mizi seems to be the only human who was raised in a "stable home" (her alien seems to actually love her closest to a mother), but that's not enough to protect her from pain - after all, the alien's reasoning was that if Mizi likes singing, she should join. Yolo! Your human baby's life is so short! Sounds like outdoor cat owners to me. Ugh. All other pet humans are going through some flavor of parental abuse, and it all reflects in how they express their emotions and what sort of decisions they tend to take.

Till, in contrast to all that, more closely resembles the definition of looking at Mizi like an oshi/idol as a comfort to run from the pains of his life - he always looks hurt or abused, but Mizi is like medicine that even watching from far away makes him feel "saved" due to nurturing that "first love" that is heavily idealized. It's interesting how his character that is first introduced as somewhat violent or wild because of the smashing guitar and "addict"/drug imagery turns out to be one of the most sensitive.

The cloaked figure of Mizi in Blink Gone seems to resemble a saint or Mary (mother) holding a child in her lap as he takes his last breaths. She rushed into the crowd in a desperate attempt to save or at least comfort him in his predicament. Till's final position even resembles that of being crucified.

All that, however, makes Till unable to see Ivan properly - who is constantly around him and yearning for his attention, protecting and loving him in desperate ways that he doesn't realize until the very last minute. He is also seemingly detaching himself from the "real" world as a very "pure" child (shown in the way he loves with full devotion and his artistic inclinations), which of course, makes Ivan painful to face - who is a grounding entity and a reminder of the real world. The one who touches his wounds, who is "there" and not unreachable like a flower at the top of a mountain. That love between Ivan and Till got expressed in a way that was painful to both, but a very human act of a clashing selfish and selfless-ness.

None of them are built for this. They're trying to survive.

So far, what I've got is...Mizi and Sua set a standard of what is closest to a mutual love that was growing together in a relatively equal and healthy way. Ivan and Till were reworked to avoid overlap with them and are chosen to portray the sense of an immature, obsessive love and clashing emotions. It's interesting to me how much the creators stress the "one-sided" and controlling nature of Ivan for behind the scenes, and I feel like this does not mean that Till couldn't possibly return his feelings - after all, the Actor AU does show great chemistry between them. It's more like, within their living conditions and because of the emotional immaturity of both of them, they literally could not see eye to eye - Till looking at an idol out of reach (Mizi), and Ivan choosing to seek out his attention through violent means that confused Till, thus he was unable to respond to the intensity of what he felt and grow into it.

NOW. TO THE MAIN COURSE THAT IS ROTTING MY BRAIN: HYULUKA.

If we've got all those bases covered so far...where does that leave Hyuna and Luka?

(This is the most Mello/Near-like I've ever seen another ship pull off. My inner 13 yo is screaming. They're both incredibly gorgeous. How is a hetero couple simultaneously so BL and yuri-like in DRAMA AND IMAGERY? CLAMP would be proud...)

You see, there's no official answer about the true nature of their bond yet.

But I have a lot of speculations. It clearly looks like a rotten, strangled-by-the-red-string-of-fate sort bond that is just up my alley. THE MOST FUN IS GETTING TO BABBLE BEFORE GETTING AN ASSERTIVE ANSWER. I'm all for making a fool of myself, so let's get down to it.

To put it simply - I believe Hyuna and Luka's role is expressing the extremes of the setting itself and what "to love" means within it, with a turn for the worse and the tragedy of "not understanding" even if there is love.

How do you conquer an oppressive world in which all odds are against you? Would you overtake it through rebellion or would you strike at it from within?

In a world in which God's teachings have become lost to time and difficult to believe, does love strengthen or weaken you? If it causes pain and destruction, can it still be called love?

I think Hyuna and Luka are standing at opposite sides of those beliefs, and cannot understand each other's mindset.

Seems simple enough to write Luka as a mere villain final boss since he seems to be enjoying himself at the evil death game and Hyuna as the nice rebel who wants to save everyone, right? But it's confirmed Hyuna wasn't really trying to rescue more people like she had an opportune moment to do for Mizi.

The artbook also says something incredibly interesting about what the "Luka Syndrome" mentioned in one of the MVs really means - Luka's prestige as a performer is raising the prestige of pet humans. He also believes "Hyuna would be safe with him" - Why is that?

I think they might actually have similar goals and a similar stubborness in which they believe themselves to be the correct one and the other to be pitiful and foolish. Hyuna is trying to overthrow a system that is well-established and has far more power or influence than them, therefore she needs to resort to drastic measures and flashy means to assert dominance over the alien society.

Luka on the other hand, feels like he is using the system against it and exercising his own humanity while at it. Rather than tackling the incredibly daunting task of being a rebel with guns blazing, Luka became a master of the stage in a way that makes humans gain influence and thus become more valuable.Even if I try to think of it as "he's just trying to survive", that doesn't feel enough - because whenever he is not on stage, Luka looks dead inside already.

Especially in the arts he looks like a younger child or teenager, except for the ones after he seems more consistently approached by Hyuna. It's hard for me to think what moves him is a survival instinct. He is also portrayed like the typical "golden kid" syndrome victim - someone so systematically beaten to satisfy their narcissist guardian figure and submitted to so much pain that they eventually absorb part of that mindset as a way to have agency and autonomy over themselves. It gives the illusion of being successful and thus that the abuse was "effective", but it's like a curse that is difficult to break from.

I think both of them are older for a thematic reason. It feels like it could represent what it feels like, as adults, to no longer be able to hold onto naive or idealistic things about the world or society due to ignorance and having to choose a path to express your ideas and reach your goals through your "work".

Hyuna is guns blazing and "adult pleasures" - singing to an underground stage, trying to scrub off the wounds of her past with alcohol, and it's interesting that her guardian alien is portrayed like an "absent" parent figure - they have an interest in humans, but doesn't care about watching Hyuna when she first was eligible for Alien Stage. I wonder if they even are the one looking for her at all - seems to me it's more of an alien police thing because of her "crimes". Under that seemingly "thick" skin though, it seems clear that Hyuna is deeply affected by Luka still, and the loss of her brother. She deals with her wounds by not really dealing with them at all and guess what - it's a weak point. Her song is uplifting and refreshing, but she clearly demonstrates that closing your eyes to trauma and purely moving forward doesn't make them go away. In that sense, Mizi is a way she is trying to "mentor" someone navigate through loss.

I love outcasts and mildly autistic-coded characters, so I gravitated to Sua, Ivan and Luka right away.

(Extroverted cutie and the doomest doomer of the bunch. As a side note, their character design alone and contrast is genius and gorgeous. I'd expect 90% of the time for Luka to be the designated BL character and hardly do I ever see his archetype paired with the sort of sharp, striking beauty that Hyuna has so I definitely got giddy with them right away. She reminds me a lot of Michiko Malando and Luka reminds me of Near, two characters I love a whole lot and funnily enough have the same mbti types the artbook describes them as - ESTP and INTJ. Ankt garden Luka looks somewhat closer to the AU versions of Luka, so gotta love both his origins and his twisted post-alnst/hyuun woo self)

I believe Hyuna bundles Luka with that trauma of grief and loss, and it's still unclear what their roles are in it and after the fact. While singing all in verses "We only get one life, so I'm living mine for me/'Cause I'm the one from your wildest dreams", Luka's face flashes through Hyuna's mind before even her brothers, like it's something that's always on the back of it and barely suppressed.

See...since VIVINOS loves the "more than meets the eye"/twist concept, something I'm expecting is for Hyuna's feelings not to be as black and white as blaming Luka and actually. It obviously was dysfunctional and isn't that....delicious???

I feel like a one-sided love or obsession wouldn't make sense to repeat as themes, and because of the heavy trauma associated in the backstory, it's not like a "healthy mutual love". To bridge the themes of MiziSua and IvanTill, I think Hyuna and Luka are being told in a way to express love as something that can also destroy instead of save, and their clashing ideologies come from a place of wanting to think "-I'M- right and want to be your god", instead of ever having been able to understand each other properly.

They have a similarly "corrupt" love that has a lot of guilt and regret built into it. Even with something awful as what happened to her brother, it's curious that Hyuna's mind first thinks of Luka in an "enamored" light - the scene looks pretty tender - but that's also attached to the weight of Hyun Woo's death.

I think It's likely that the twist is Hyuna having been the one who hurt her brother, even, considering the dynamic in these comics:

Luka and Hyun Woo compete for Hyuna's attention, and it's to be expected that none of them understand the boundaries and definitions of love too well. Hyuna and Hyun Woo seem to be naive and relatively raised in a decent way, submitted to superiority tests like the rest, but not directly abused. They seem to express their love for each other in a cheerful, healthy way, Hyuna probably because of her closeness to her brother (which is unusual for other pet humans to be able to do) is extremely physical in how she shows affection. She doesn't really reprimand Luka, and that creates an unhealthy dynamic in which Luka plays the victim - in spite of starting things - to enjoy Hyuna's attention. There is a cute comic that looks silly, but encapsulates it all:

Luka is a little shit that wants to be pampered. He knows he is physically weaker - if you come across a rabbit being hurt by a wolf, you wouldn't suspect the rabbit provoked it. So Hyuna constantly seems to take Luka's side regardless of what happened, wanting to have that protector role.

Luka on the other hand, has no reference of what it's like to be "loved". He is systematically abused and treated like an object - therefore, he perceives relationships in terms of "ownership". And I don't think Hyuna truly understands just what she is enabling when she encourages Luka to act the way he does or thinks his neediness is "cute".

Honestly, I think there's strong sexual abuse imagery in Luka's art and the presentation of his stage image as someone taking charge of their objectification. His clothing for stage always shows off his body one way or another and both Hyuna and him have this sensual imagery and approach to others, as if "reclaiming one's own body". The contrast of Luka's blank expression and the red collar indicating a mental breakdown in that artwork above featuring Heperu's shadow approaching him is truly chilling.

That boy has no reference of what a familial bond or love is like. And both his introspective nature and abuse seem to make it even worse for him to connect with his peers- in the artbook his only relationships listed are Hyuna and Mizi, in very negative ways. He is also said to have retreated deeper into his own world, because "no one can understand him". Again, checks out with the imagery of "gifted son" that is treated like a narcissistic parent's doll and that becomes desensitized to many things over time.

His alien guardian Heperu even looks vaguely phallic and Luka has body language of "trying to disappear" or soothing himself when not up the stage - hugging knees, looking smaller, sucking on sleeves, stimming with toys (rubik's cube). The scars on his chest seem related to the abuse of submitting him to pain to overcome fear and I theorize the scars on the side may have been for plastic surgery like abdominoplasty or even possibly removing ribs. Normally that would be done from the back, but hey - alien science, and he already had "tainted" scarred skin on the front, so it would make sense to try preserving his back. His waist is drawn really really thin. It's also mentioned that he had a strict diet even though he is a big eater - that is, Heperu is deeply violating his agency in accordance with Lookism.

Luka has all the makings of a really tragic character and reminds me of Kamiki Hikaru's construction in Oshi no Ko. A victim turned abuser in some ways, as a way to seek autonomy, self expression and living for their ideals and love, no matter how twisted it has become.

There's a comic that has a "flashback" of anakt garden and Hyuna being asked by Luka if she likes to sing. The POV of Hyuna's face looks as soft as Luka's does from hers. She tells him that they don't have freedom for anything else, but when she is up at the stage, it's like her life is "her own", so she likes it. The image of Luka singing as an adult suggests that even now, those are the words he pictures and that is the image of Hyuna that is alive in his mind.

In a way, both of them are deeply attached to the past, and while Hyuna wants to shut it down completely and regrets it having happened, Luka's feelings are twisted.

We don't know much about the kiss. Considering the "sucking on forehead" comics, I get the feeling Hyuna was startled by the sudden escalation from Luka acting as a passive, cute pet and jumping her with so much intensity, but may not necessarily have pushed him away. The following fight could either have happened because Hyuna became withdrawn as a result of suddenly becoming aware of the effect she was having on Luka and what their feelings for each other were (since previously, she might not have been able to tell the difference between being all over her brother and all over Luka) /or/ the scenario played out like the forehead sucking. She didn't dislike it, but Luka became insistent or they got caught in a way that Hyuun Woo had no context for, thus assuming Luka was forcing her.

And there is a third option too that now I think about it, seems the /most/ likely: the growing proximity to Hyuna made Luka's feelings of "wanting ownership and exclusivity" even deeper because of love and lust, as simply being assured he is "loved" doesn't seem to be enough for Luka. It could be that Hyuna in fact disliked his attempt of kissing her and became more distant to him. Thus, he orchestrated for Hyuna to take his side once again for validation in a reckless way - but the results were "better than he thought" when it resulted in Hyuun Woo's death. Because, that is a price so heavy that it feels like "wow, you actually chose me".

This scene is super interesting, I love Luka's expression. It's joyful in a "perverse" way. He was successful in trapping his beloved Hyuna. And it seems that the emotion is so intense, like he is finally free from the mask of pitiful wounded animal with no agency over himself that the sheer ecstasy might have caused a seizure or heart attack, hence his eyes looking glassy afterwards and his fingers finally turning the blue/purple hue we see on his older design.

Skimming through the patreon posts, I was pleasantly surprised to realize my gut feeling about Ivan and Luka having a similar core wasn't wrong. Sua in comparison is the scenario of someone who doesn't go off to the deep end as the two of them. It's often stressed that the team was worried about establishing Luka and Ivan as distinguishable - their personalities are similar, but their masks are different. Ivan presents himself as the "big bro", while actually being a boy struggling with properly expressing emotions that went as far as practicing smiles and expresions at the lake. Whereas Luka is like a porcelain doll and passive - austere, even...but what about his real self?

We're cleverly prevented from seeing an introductory MV for Luka, as round 4 doesn't happen. And for the subsequent videos, Luka shows himself partially by not disclosing his POV, but showing important sides of himself - the urge to control and the attempts to "become whatever is desired of him". A blank slate.

In a sense, that's implying to me Ivan and Luka's stage presence is an expression of their "inner selves", where their feelings and thoughts become bare. Ivan does so by casting aside his big bro warmth and stepping in as the image of a serious-faced, strongly devoted man that is coming apart at the seams with the weight of his immaturity, sadness, love and obsession.

Luka's stage presence is a distant cry from his image of passiveness and class behind the scenes. On stage, he is a seasoned performer and a calculating prince that enjoys pulling the strings to reach the ideal performance as seen in his inner world. He cunningly displays a different expression between the audience and his partners to achieve the ideal results. Luka acts like both a director and an actor while performing, in order to construct his vision - He's bold, confident and invades people's personal spaces.

(What a condescending little shit. I love him. His expression seems to be saying something like..."Done already? Hmph. I expected more of you. You need to do something for me to do my part and shine, too."

A point I theorize about Ruler of My Heart - Hyuna says in the artbook, I think, that Mizi reminds her of herself. Luka would be able to pick up on that also, especially since Mizi had just been broken by the loss of the one she loved most and formerly had that spark of "hope and dreaming high" in her eyes. Luka may have chosen the song specifically to have Mizi recreate the "role of Hyuna" envisioned for it - as in, he never expected her to be obedient at all. He was riling her up to feel what Hyuna might have responded like to this song. But the Hyuna in his idealization is probably "blazing, absolute and strong" - instead of shutting down and giving up singing. Mizi lets herself get intimidated by his provocation into silence, but when she loses it to punch him in the face with no regard for the consequences - like Hyuna surely would do - is when he finally smirks. It's also a mockery of letting emotions take her over, securing his win and further reinforcing he is "in the right". )

Another interesting tidbit is that Luka's personality isn't of the ethereal "pitiful-but-nice" character, but rather something that "fits VIVINOS taste". He is also compared frequently to Ivan in personality/mindset, who is described as a "bad boy" with a possessive/manipulative streak. If the sides of Ivan we get to see that related to Till are fairly tame and the team worries so much about contrast, that seems to imply that Luka embraces the more extreme parts left out of Ivan.

Even more interesting than that is the core of Luka's character inspiration - "the little prince", which I assume most people have read before. It's a children's book about an adult meeting a little prince from space and basically sharing life lessons.

If we look a little beyond the "cute blond kid"/moon motif...the most striking aspect about the Little Prince is probably the idea of the rose and the fox. The immature prince is taught the concept of love and responsibility by a wild fox - that to tame someone is to make them unique, and it's the time spent nurturing that love that makes it precious. The prince had been frustrated by a Rose he thought he loved, but grew annoyed by because he could not understand her. He also was confused upon realizing there were many roses in the universe, but his was too selfish and flawed. So is she not as unique as he thought? He starts missing the rose, and learns that there IS a difference - none of the roses are "his" or sound like "his" - because if they have tamed each other, going forward, he isn't just any little boy to his rose anymore - he is "the" boy, and she is "the" rose, unique in the universe.

This feels extremely relevant to a character presented as a "product" of gene editing and, basically, being created in a lab. The implication to me is that there may be many other "Luka"-like humans - the vast array of congenital diseases he manifests such as heart disease, Raynaud syndrome, asthma and chronic migraine all make him sound like their universe's equivalent of a white pug dog with dubious origins to boot.

What makes that test tube baby, raised by a ruthless alien that doesn't care about him as more than a way to vicariously live a life of success and luxury, unique in that case?

Love.

And my take is that, the fox and rose to his little prince are the siblings Hyun Woo and Hyuna.

(I'm suddenly reminded of the Vanitas no Carte Louis-Domi-Noé trio. Why do those never end well?)

IMO the rift created between Hyuna's brother and Luka wasn't necessarily there from the start. Before getting more strongly attached or opening up to Hyuna, Luka looks extremely detached. Hyuna's brother looked like the picture of excitement and youth, so it feels like he could have reached out to the quiet boy first and Hyuna tagged along. The settings mention something along the lines of Hyuna not quite being the origin of the "dreamer" outlook, but being inspired by her brother, and I can picture it.

Hyuna's MV All in and her relationship with Mizi painted to me the picture of a girl that is naturally attractive - her drive and sunny disposition are simply dazzling. But, underneath, there seems to be "something" doesn't it? I think Hyuna's charm comes from a mix of strength and vulnerability. She seems like the type of person to cope with humor and being flirty in order to lift people's moods and surprise them, but Hyuna herself can have quite heavy and serious feelings. The somber look suits her, and it's overall impressive that she didn't completely break because of her brother. It's like her innate talent for performing draws people to her, but at the same time she can sustain an illusion of "closeness", her true worries and wounds are kept deep inside and she doesn't let others truly see into her.

So.

What's shown in Blink Gone to me is that Luka's not merely surviving a death game, he is enjoying the show and trying to feel alive. To someone like him that probably already feels dead inside all the time and was "abandoned" by Hyuna, there is nothing much to look forward to. We don't know what happened between Hyuun Woo's death and their first alien stage run (quite a lot, since Hyuna even lost a leg) ot the timing of their relationship fall out. Given their memories and image of eachother, it does seem to be implied they were already going separate ways right after the incident.

It's likely that what connects Luka to Hyuna's memory the most is the feeling of performing itself - the one time he gets to be free. Luka acts like he is superior to the other pet humans for having "figured out" the system and feeding into it, and looks down on them for having no control over their emotions. But does he really have total control over his own?

In spite of all the abuse he embraced as his own will or believing he could truly get any power by playing the game according to its rules and "overcoming fear", someone as unpredictable and impulsive as Till is the natural enemy of someone like Luka. He had the upper hand as long as it stayed within his plan, but Till suddenly going as far as going back to the green light indicator was worrisome. Luka's Stamina is actually rather crappy, so if Till did decide to go all out, he might have been cooked.

I think, to Luka, it's probably about more than keeping himself alive. And Till flipping the game then would have made him waste his life on a performance that was supposed to be easy -and- it must be annoying that Till strayed off-script. My hypothesis is that he wants to reach out to Hyuna, still - either by increasing the influence of humans to shift the world closer to the one she envisioned, or by putting his life in the line at the stage as many times as possible to feel the "weight" of her presence as if she still were by his side or to grow so famous that she cannot ignore or escape him.

Deliciously hypocritical of him to look down on others so much, when Hyuna's unannounced presence shook him so badly he turned his back to the stage and stared at her with an expression we'd never seen before.

My take is that her walking in like this is seriously the worst scenario to him. Luka expresses in the artbook that he pities Hyuna and that her safety would have been guaranteed with him, so - because of his influence - I think he might actually have gone to the Alien Stage again to secure his power status AND request to keep Hyuna out of it. A condescending sort of domestication we know she would hate, but would keep her safe.

But see. Even if she wasn't under his care, being out there causing a ruckus is one thing - she's alive and kicking, not really in the slaughterhouse. He can live with that. So, he sings to his heart's content. And...

His sneering that people are suuuch rookies at controlling their emotions...

Sooo weak to let their emotions and regrets dominate them and make them lose sight of the stage, compared to his Super Competent self that can overcome fear and control his own heart rate...

All came back to bite him in the ass, like an idiot.

All other characters were pitted against their worst case nightmare scenario, and I doubt the Prince will be an exception. I really don't think his type of obsessive is wanting to be superior to or beat Hyuna at performing either, even if it's his guardian's mindset (it seems Heperu feels inferior to Hyuna's guardian and adopted Luka simply as a means of beating him - so seems very possible he will push for having the two face off and prove Luka's "superiority").

No matter what he does now, it's either Hyuna against Mizi at the risk of death or Hyuna against him. Hyuna's a wanted criminal - there is absolutely no talking a way out of that one. Not only that, Hyuna's bleeding from her wound already. Luka facing against Hyuna as the second time champion would mean being forced to choose - keep rulling the stage, or chose the one who was his guiding light in the first place?

The imagery from the sweet dream opening (as well as Luka having covered that song) is "release" - Luka dying at Hyuna's hand even if it's not something she can truly do with pleasure, no matter how much she copes with her past wounds by hating him. I wonder if it's a red herring or if it will play out, I particularly want whatever will allow to explore their character, feelings and motivation the deepest.

I don't think Hyuna wandered onto the stage for his sake - it seems like it's for Mizi, who is completely frozen. Hyuna probably has up until now coped with hating Luka because he represented everything she was rebelling against - the "system" itself. A nasty cog in the engine of the aliens who, even if not directly, ultimately were the cause of the entire context that stripped her away of her freedom and lead to her precious brother's death.

However...

My guess to what's happening here isn't "wow your outfit is so slutty" or "you've grown". It's more like...Luka suddenly looks too human.

He wasn't supposed to.

...Phew. That's all for now. The ADHD gets strong when I'm talking about something that tickles my brain, so I hope that wasn't too messy/unintelligible to follow with the back and forth jumping timelines or repeating points of interest I did.

Well! I really, really wish there was more for me to keep going, but for now I'll live with overthinking with what we have. I might do separate analysis/speculation for the MVs if I have a deadline I'm procrastinating on come up the time.

Bottom line is, I think all those characters are very interesting, but Hyuluka are the ones I'm rotating like a rotisserie chicken in my mind. Plz hurt me more VIVINOS team and thanks for the good fucking food

[libraryraccoon]

I saw the Floyd request and I thought of rook hunt in hasbin hotel.

Rip Alastor his privacy he now became the hunted the both speaking French .

Imagine rook talking about angel dust his inner beauty is making him feel loved every day saying something positive.

And Charlie and vaggie getting put on romantic dates by rook and lucifer and rook seeing them ta about how beautiful love is.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : no real pronouns used(sometimes they/them)

Character : Alastor, general headcanon

Message from Raccoon : I was also thinking of a rook!reader while writing the Floyd!Reader tbh.

TW : ROOK!READER, a little suggestive

The Demon Of Hunt, a very strong overlord who knows everything about everyone. A predator whose prey are doomed to die.

They aren't a demon you want to mess with, you don't want to be their prey.

In their lifetime a very famous hunter living in a small village, in their death The Demon Of Hunt, the hunter everyone is afraid of.

Alastor

He met you when he was still killing overlords.

“Now, isn’t that a rather crude way of killing ?” You asked behind him.

How long have you been behind Alastor ? He has no idea.

“Oh ! And what a beautiful deer tail you have there ! C'est magnifique !” You say, touching Alastor's deer tail; ignoring the fact that you had just seen him kill an overlord.

He straight up hated you.

But he also found you interesting, especially when you could see through all his attacks.

Boring, but entertaining.

After that, you didn't let him go.

You followed him, stalking him, wherever he went.

Like a predator with its prey, observing it before killing it.

When he left for 7 years, he finally thought he had lost you…

You followed him.

For 7 fucking years he had to stay with you.

Even 8V>× didn't want to make a contract with you after seeing how weird you were.

Not to mention all the times you talked about love…

*add a disgusted Alastor*

You interfered in his life and never left, even though he tried to reject you.

And let's not even talk about your strange comments…

"Oh ! I wonder what red deer would taste like for dinner ! Or maybe a red wendigo ! Qu'en pense tu, Alastor ?"

“Red deer ?” *remembers that he is, technically, some sort of red deer/wendigo as a demon.* "Ha ha ! Stay 100km/h away from me."

When you arrived at the hotel, Alastor finally felt free ! After all his years of being the stolkant, you finally left him alone !

Well, not always, after all you would never leave your prey friend alone for too long, but you weren't with him all the time.

Alastor won't lie, not being with you 24/7 after so long was weird…

He finally had privacy-

100% complained to Rosie about you.

“And they never gave me space !” -Alastor

"Really ?" -Rosie

"Well, I'll give him some time alone. For the bathroom." -Rook!Reader, arriving out of nowhere behind Alastor.

Although Alastor considers you as a menace, there are times when he is grateful to you and to be your friend.

Like those rare times of weakness, when you helped him feel better, reassured him. It was the rare times he was grateful to have you as a friend.

I just know that when you want to talk about something private/you don't want others to hear you, you speak French.

Although sometimes you just do it to piss off other people.

"Mon cher cerf préférer ! Al' ! Je viens de découvrir quelque chose sur Vox, tu vas pas y croire !"

"Je vais préparer le thé, après tu me racontera."

You turn all Overlord meetings from boring to interesting meetings.

During meetings, you had the habit of telling everyone's secrets (except Alastor's secrets, bestie privilege), and always the most interesting ! Like this time you said you saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator !

*After the song Respectless.* "Actually, mes chers amis, it is possible, or not, that I saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator with her shoes. C'était un combat splendide !"

General Headcanon

You don't let anyone have privacy.

They know it, but they can't say anything.

Angel Dust suffered the most of that, he saw you during one of his shoots watching him in the shadows.. It was terrifying.

“Just try to be sexy.” -Valentino looking at Angel Dust during a shoot.

"Oh, mais mon cher, he's sexy enough like this ! Take off the underwear and people will love it !" -Rook!Reader behind Valentino, coming out of nowhere.

"MOTHERFUCKER-" *Add Valentino's scream of terror.*

You comforted Angel after each shoot, cheering him up in a more or less suspicious ways.

You call Angel Dust by his real name, Anthony. You are the only one in the hotel who knows his real name and calls him like that.

Angel Dust is sort of happy that someone thinks of him as Anthony and not Angel Dust.

Valentino hates you, as do all Vees and all the demons.

Lucifer found you weird the first time he meet you, and knowing your reputation, it was normal, but in the end you got along really well.

You 🤝 Lucifer = make Charlie and Vaggie have romantic dates by candlelight.

“Ah, youthful love ! Que c'est beau !”

“I miss the love of youth..” (in a dramatically way)

Did I mention that you and Lucifer are and always will be drama queens ?

You and Lucifer are just THAT bestie duo that everyone wants to be.

I can so see you having these dinners for two in fancy restaurants while being platonic. You say the most romantic things, speaking in French, and Lucifer joins you in those moments, doing the same.

"Oh, mon chéri, you look beautiful tonight ! Even more brilliant than usual !"

"Oh, I should be the one to tell you that ! You look beyond stunning tonight in that costume !"

You are trending on the networks.

Every. Fucking. Days.

On the networks, there are 3 teams; those who ship Lucifer x Rook!Reader, those who ship Alastor x Rook!Reader, and those who say you are a hopelessromantic and/or aromantic.

They have hilarious debates that you love to join for just fuck all and everyone.

"Well, it's true that Monsieur Alastor is quite handsome, but Lucifer ? Oh, je ne sais même pas ou commencer a son sujet !" -Rook!Reader on the networks screwing up between the teams, always changing the place between Lucifer and Alastor.

You are a star in all the circles of hell fr.

One day, Charlie asked you if you were dating her father after seeing what you were doing/writing on internet.

You answered some shit like "As much as I would love to be with him, je ne pourrais qu'en rêver. He is far too good and handsome man for a simple sinner like me."

Vaggie doesn't trust you, not in a million of eons.

Sir Pentious asked if you had a death wish after he saw you touch Alastor's deer ears…

"Oh, to die by the hand of such a magnifique et servant gentleman ! What an honor that would be !"

Sir Pentious has never seen Alastor back away from someone so fast before-

Niffty like you. You regularly complimented her on her work and her beauty.

Husk, on the contrary, doesn't like you.

He had to endure you and Alastor's shit for too long, 7 years without both of you wasn't enough.

You intrude into people's intimate moments.

And by people, I mean Husk and Anthony.

Imagine Husk and Angel Dust, just being quietly alone, a super romantic moment, and then, you pop in between the two…

But sometimes when you compliment them (one time per day), they like you.

I like to think that the Tik Tok hell version is like the one of the living, with people doing random ship. And Rook!Reader live for that.

[glorf1ndel]

I am reading The Fall of Gondolin, and in the prologue, Christopher Tolkien writes that the Noldor were "most beloved... by Aulë (the Smith) and Mandos the Wise." Which raises the question: what does Mandos, Doomsman of the Valar, really think of Fëanor and his people, the subject of his Doom? I have seen some fandom interpretations in which Mandos can't stand Fëanor, and it is entertaining to think of long-suffering Mandos' patience being tested by this one fiery Elf. I have seen other interpretations in which Mandos is quite dispassionate, which is also interesting. Yet I think the truth about Mandos and the Noldor is in what Christopher Tolkien understood from the writings of his father: he loves them. Mandos, known for being the most grim of the Valar, is singled out by Tolkien (alongside Aulë) as caring about Fëanor and his people. Why? Perhaps Mandos cherishes the Noldor for their wisdom, before Fëanor leads them in the Oath. Perhaps he is simply fascinated by these Elves, who are so different from him. But maybe the answer is more complex, because Mandos knows nearly all things that will be. What if Mandos sees the future of the Noldor, in Vairë's tapestries or in his own mind? What if he rages against that future, all the while knowing that it will not change, because that is the Vision of Ilúvatar? Mandos is well-acquainted with destiny, although he cannot see all ends. Still, the Noldor are most beloved by him, in all their good and evil and moral shades of gray. What if Mandos knows what Fëanor and his people will do, and chooses to love them anyway?

[hufflegruff]

girl the way i RAN when i saw you asking for requests as a break from a knowing look!!! if youre down to maybe do something like hurt comfort vibes? with sebastian x MC? like mayhaps they’re fighting and MC gets hurt and protective Sebastian comes out? literally in love with everything you’ve written!!! you’re amazing! <3

I was meant to write a drabble but somehow this became a NOVEL?! Good lord. I really wanted to do it justice!!! I hope you guys still enjoy it!!!

It takes a disaster

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader Word Count: 5k Contains: Fluff, angst, making out!!! Requested: The lovely @ithinkweallsing and @musicbecky had similar requests about protective Seb x hurt MC so I combined both :)

Summary:

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled. She winced at the loudness of his voice.  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?” His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing.  She stared at him, mouth agape.  Sorry, was she dreaming? What was that he just said? 

It takes a disaster

When she first resigned to the pitiful fact that she was very likely in love with Sebastian Sallow, she accepted her fate. Doomed to suffer in an unrequited love she held for her best friend. 

Merlin, it was such a cliché. 

Honestly, she would have laughed at herself if it didn’t also feel so pathetically miserable.

Somewhere along the way, amid catacombs and restricted sections and ancient relics, she found herself becoming dissatisfied with just friendship. And before she could even catch herself, she had already fallen. Buried ten feet underground by the weight of her own despicable, cavernous feelings. 

Because they’d been best friends for long enough for her to know that Sebastian Sallow flirted like his livelihood depended on it. If courting witches was a sport, he’d be a professional. It came to him as naturally as breathing. 

That was why Cressida Blume battered her eyelashes so feverishly everytime he was near. And why Samantha Dale had been so Goddamn adamant on being her potions partner, so she could siphon hints on how best to charm the Slytherin for herself.

And why she would never entertain the idea that any of Sebastian’s pretty words could be anything more than lip service. 

So she went out of her way to find reasons to keep herself busy. Taking jobs and doing favours for townsfolk in the vicinity, so that she wouldn’t have to sit with her own feelings. Or Sebastian himself. Hoping that by the time it came for them to leave Hogwarts, that she would find peace and leave her feelings for him in the deepest depths of the castle. 

The distance would help. It just had to. 

Unfortunately for her, when she had said that she was heading to the poacher camp up in the Poidsear coast by her lonesome, Sebastian insisted that he absolutely had to come along.

“Don’t be daft. Of course I have to come with you. Who else is going to swoop in when your sorry arse needs saving?” He teased.

She was almost offended, “I don’t need a babysitter, Sebastian.”

“Not a babysitter,” he clarified, “A knight in shining armor,” with a dashingly flirtatious smile.

She felt her heart flutter, and cursed his annoyingly perfect fluffy hair for it. What business did it have looking so attractive? Honestly, the cheek of these Slytherin boys to say such rousing things.

Ominis, Sebastian and herself had been lazing in the grass in front of the main school grounds. But with a deft wave of his hand Seastian beckoned over his broom, and it zipped obediently over. 

“Come on. Let’s go.” Sebastian said easily.

“What? Right now?” She replied in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t see anything better to do. Do you?”

From beside him, Ominis piped up annoyed, “Um, excuse me. Did we not agree that we needed to finish our group project today so as to not suffer the wrath of Sharp’s horrid temper?”

Silently, she thanked Ominis for the diversion and prayed Sebastian would take it.

“Like I said. Nothing better to do.” Sebastian reiterated shamelessly. 

Ominis rolled his eyes, “Absolute moron you are. Whatever. Take him off my hands for all I care.”

Well that didn’t go at all the way she hoped.

“But I’ve… not even stocked up on my potions.” She said weakly.

Sebastian wasn’t having it.

“Come on, it’s just a routine poacher clear out! I’ve got a couple of Wiggenwelds on me. You know it’s going to be a cakewalk for the both of us.” 

She could never say no to him. Not when he looked at her like that. She imagined that most girls couldn’t either. An ugly, decrepit feeling bubbled up in the pit of her stomach. But she willed herself to push the unhelpful thought down and out of sight. 

“Fine.” She caved with a haughty flip of her hair, “But try to keep up. I don’t want to have to take care of you out there.”

In a ridiculously exaggerated display of chivalry, he offered her his hand and led her onto the broom with a coy smile.

“Ladies first.”

This boy was going to be the death of her. The ride to Poidsear would all but confirm that. 

Sebastian had insisted that she sit in front of him to steer — and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand how she had willingly agreed to put herself in this position. His breath was right in the crook of her neck, and his warm hands were wrapped all too tightly around her waist. Did he really think that she could steer like this? She was appalled at how totally inconsiderate he was by being so oblivious to her feelings. 

She could hardly hear her own thoughts — not even the intrusive ones — let alone focus on the fly.

Was he doing this on purpose? Because it was annoying.

The singularly, most vexing thing he could do in fact. She had a mission to concentrate on. She didn’t need to be sidetracked. She hadn’t even wanted him and his distracting face to come along in the first place.

“Merlin. Hold me any tighter and I might burst, Sebastian.” She tried her best to make it sound casual. With the light cadence of a joke, and not the high stakes affair it felt like.

“Well, I can’t risk having you falling to an untimely death under my watch. I’d never hear the end of it from Ominis. Or Samantha. For killing her potions partner at such a crucial time in the academic year,” He joked. 

His tone was teasing, but she hated that his words sounded so… carefree. Completely unbothered. It bruised her heart more than she liked to admit, but it hurt her to know that he probably thought that this was the same as being in close proximity to Anne. 

And why the bloody hell did he have to mention Samantha Dale at a time like this? Unprompted and all. Teenage boys really had no tact. If that had been a glimpse into Sebastian’s mind, she didn’t want to see it. Lock it up and throw away the keys and unleash it into the depths of the black sea to never be found. 

If she just ignored it, and never faced it head on, maybe her heart would break a little bit softer. 

“Right.” She replied curtly, willing the dejection she felt to go away.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” 

“No.” 

He paused in contemplation, before declaring, “You’re upset.”

He had said it so matter of factly she almost couldn’t disagree with him. Almost. She cursed herself for not being able to hide the bitterness in her voice better. She cursed him for noticing this of all things.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not.” She retorted harshly.

When the words left her mouth, she quickly regretted them. She felt guilty for how unnecessarily rude it sounded. But she couldn’t talk about this. There was objectively no good way to explain why she seemed so irrationally bothered without emotionally vomiting her feelings onto him.  

But before she could apologise, he chose to let it go. 

And she didn’t know if she felt relieved or even more devastated.

The rest of their journey to Poidsear was endured in silence. When they finally arrived, they landed just at the precipice of the poacher camp. It was time to get serious, she mentally chided herself. There was simply no time to torment herself with such frivolous nonsense.

They kept out of sight behind a mountain of crates next to a tent. Making sure to stay hidden, she briskly surveyed the scene. She could see from the corner of her eye, a family of hippogriffs chained in cages by the Eastern front. But getting to them would be no easy feat; the area was littered with Ashwinders at every corner. 

“God. There’s more of them than I thought.” She whispered to herself.

“Worried? How very unlike you.” Sebastian raised a brow in response.

“Not at all. It’s just you would think that these degenerates would have more productive things to do with themselves than taking magical creatures as prisoners.” She whispered with a scoff.

She had not even one ounce of respect for the Ashwinders, especially those of the poaching variety. Those who made a nefarious career out of hunting innocent, majestic creatures for blood sport were the worst of them.

To her surprise, when she turned to look at Sebastian, he was looking straight at her with an enigmatic smile.

And then suddenly, she felt self-conscious.

“What?” She whispered nervously.

Sebastian murmured warmly, “This is a little nostalgic is it not?”

“How so?”

“You. Me. The exhilarating thrill of getting caught at any moment. Feels like fifth year doesn’t it?” His voice was lower than usual, quieter, with a hint of something dastardly alluring. 

It made her heart skip an alarming amount of beats and her skin shiver at the sound of it. She felt an outrageously girlish impulse to snog him and hex him and run far, far away from him all at once. What she would give for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Even if he wasn’t in love with her, maybe she still could grab him by the collar and kiss him silly until his lips were bruised. 

Maybe that would finally fluster him. 

Because by God, he deserved to be put in his place for all the bloody grief he unknowingly gave her.

He was looking at her so affectionately, and that was just so uncalled for. Honestly, she didn’t know how he managed to flirt so skilfully even in the face of imminent danger. In the near vicinity of bloodthirsty dark wizards. If she wasn’t so conflicted by it all she would be impressed. She imagined that Sebastian Sallow could probably flirt with Death himself and get away with it. 

Perhaps that would be a rather useful quality in an Auror. Perhaps, when they were back in the safety of the castle, she would suggest it as a fitting career path for him—

“Look what we have here. A little far from Hogwarts aren’t we?”

She felt her blood freeze over at the sound of the new voice. Sebastian stiffened. A sinister chill ran up her spine.

When she turned, she was greeted by the menacing smile of an Ashwinder, cloaked in shadows. And almost as if the Hermes had struck her himself, the girl wonder retaliated at reckless speeds and pointed her wand with venomous hostility at the dark wizard in front of them.

Fuck. She cursed internally. Her guard had been irresponsibly down. She hadn’t even heard him approach them.

Sebastian probably sensed her panic, and squeezed her hand twice.

Once to comfort her, the second to ask her to follow his lead.

Raising his hands up in mock surrender, Sebastian said sardonically with a wry smile “Sir, we were just passing by the area. We didn’t know that this was private property. Terribly sorry for the intrusion. If you allow us, we’ll be on our way now.” 

The Ashwinder scoffed, “Save it kid, I know exactly who you two meddlesome brats are.”

“Oh well that’s unfortunate.” Sebastian said patronisingly.

Her grip on her wand tightened. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she knew that she had to be ready. 

“Why’s that?” The Ashwinder asked with a laugh.

“Because that means I have to do this.” 

And suddenly, with a swift motion, Sebastian lunged forward with his wand. And almost as if by blind, brazen instinct, her own hands followed suit. 

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Protego!”

Red, green, and blue. The colours of their spells cackled at lightning speeds against the howling wind. 

But soon enough their commotion caused a ruckus, and it became an army against two measly bodies.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed under his breath.

And frankly, she had to give it to them to their credit, these Ashwinders proved to be pretty formidable adversaries. They moved faster than the others did. And their spells missed her more narrowly than they normally did. But still, actually hitting her was the aim. Close enough wasn’t good enough, and she was determined to make sure that they would never achieve it. 

She’d make sure of it — they didn’t call her the girl wonder for nothing. 

Spells collided and echoed around her, the acrid scent of fire filling her nostrils. If peril were a smell, this is what she imagined that it would smell like.

And in the midst of the chaos, without a surge of power erupted from one of the Ashwinders. Like a strike straight out of God’s hand — with a single, severe flash of light — a calamitous spell was unleashed, enveloping the camp grounds in a sheathe of blinding white. 

And when the light became less blinding, she found herself separated from Sebastian. 

Panic welled up within her as she searched the battlefield, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Sebastian!" She called out.

Where was Sebastian?

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She needed to find Sebastian. 

Like insidious tendril vines, fear crept into her veins. Yet she willed the anxiousness in her brain to focus; willed it to calm down. Sebastian was a capable wizard. He could handle a few pesky Ashwinders. 

Just as capable as she was. 

Because with a flick of her wrist, shields shattered and hexes were deflected. With every spell she cast, the wind sang as her curses hit bodies, like a force of nature answering her call. One by one Ashwinders fell under the weight of her unyielding assault. 

But then a piercing hex sliced right through her defences. 

Her protego shattered, and she was thrown backward into a mess of limbs onto the ground. 

“Crucio!”

The sound of the spell sent chills down her spine. It brought her back to the scriptorium. It brought her back to a shadow of Sebastian that she had been trying to forget. 

But before she could run, scream, dive or react — it reached her. 

And just as torturously as it had the very first time she endured it, pain erupted through her body as she was thrown backward, limbs contorting as she crumbled in agony onto gritty soil. Back then, it had felt as if lightning had struck every single nerve ending in her body. This time it felt like she was burning under a flame that was twice as brutal.

The pain was relentless. Her mind screamed for respite, for any brief release from this torture. She clawed at the ground, gripping her nails deep into the dirt, as if seeking solace in the earth itself. But there was no escape. No reprieve.

Through the haze of pain, she caught glimpses of the Ashwinder that had casted the curse. Even through her blurry vision, she could see that they were gloating. Content at how they had reduced her to nothing more than a writhing, broken vessel.

And God, that pissed her off immensely.

If they could sense the literal thunder in her veins, she wondered if they would be so cavalier?

She didn’t think so.

Through gritted teeth; through sheer determination, she struggled onto her feet with her body shaking in defiance. Summoned the last remnants of her ancient magic, her wand trembling in her shaky hand. A surge of energy flowed through her veins. The air above the tips of her fingers crackled with raw power as she channeled her magic, focusing it into a singularly devastating spell.

And when it hit the Ashwinder, it eviscerated them in waves.

In between all the fighting and screaming and surviving, she didn’t remember much of the details.

But all of a sudden, it was silent. 

And all of the sudden, it was just her standing alone in plumes of dust.

When the air finally settled down, she felt herself start to cave. The adrenaline had done its job and was quickly leaking out of her blood stream. As if she had exerted and drained every last ounce of her spirit and was on the verge of collapse.

Was it just her, or were the skies starting to fade?

The pain in her chest was still excruciating. This cruciatus curse felt different from the one that Sebastian had casted on her before. 

This one was lingering. 

Like it was clawing onto her heart and gripping onto it in a chokehold with a resentful vengeance. Despite having just won, she didn’t have a spare moment to feel relieved. The pain was quickly growing and air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough.       

But Sebastian… Where was Sebastian? The panic began to rumble within her. She had foolishly let her own guard down, and let him out of her sight. She mustered what little energy she had left and moved her head frantically in search of him. 

How could she ever forgive herself if she let him die? 

But when she saw a figure barreling head first towards her, even through blurry eyes and the crackle in the depths of her tired limbs, she knew that it was him. And like an oasis in the blistering desert, the comfort she felt from seeing his face was a brief solace to the pain. 

If this was where she was destined to meet her end, she hazily deliberated, at least she could draw her last breath in peace knowing that he was safe. 

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

When Sebastian finally caught up to her, he laughed and bursted out breathily, “Merlin… Whatever you and your ancient magic did back there was insane.”

He was safe, and that was all that mattered. She didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for a conversation, let alone banter. She needed to preserve her last scraps of her battered stamina to make it back to the castle and patch herself up in solitude.

And one thing was for certain: Sebastian could not know.

“I think we managed pretty well.” He said with a tired smile.

“Yeah,” she replied breathily, “W-we did good.”

She sounded a mess. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

To her dismay, the look on his face immediately switched into that of deep concern. 

He interrogated hurriedly, “What wrong? You sound a little off. Are you hurt?”

Everything was wrong. The discomfort that gripped her chest was getting worse with every passing second. Standing was starting to become too taxing of an undertaking for her. 

But needless to say, she didn’t want another thing to worry about, and Sebastian would always make an unnecessarily big fuss anytime she was hurt. Even if it was just a minuscule scratch. He was always too distraught; too tender. It was one of the things she adored most about him. 

And she absolutely loathed him for it.

So her stubbornness was persuaded that suffering in silence was the easier of two fates. 

Indignantly, she retorted, “How rude. I’ll have you k-know I’m perfectly f-fine.”

Her words were starting to slur, not that she noticed. But Sebastian clearly had. Assertively, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

“You’re not fine.” He declared demandingly.

As he frantically searched her eyes, arms, back, legs for signs of what was wrong, she found herself nuzzled in the nook of his chest. She felt her willpower wither slightly in his flustered hands. 

In the shallow breaths that she took, she could smell him. The musk of pinewood and sputtering fireplaces and late nights drifting in the restricted section. An aromatic cocktail that was overwhelmingly intoxicating. 

Now she was getting angry. And drowsy. And dizzy. Why couldn’t Sebastian tell that he was being so selfish by being so considerate? He needed to stop touching her so carelessly. She was lightheaded enough as it is, she didn’t need his excessive gentleness to add fuel to the flames of her absurd delusions. 

But maybe if she just closed her eyes and rested for this brief moment. Sebastian would take the hint and just leave her be. Maybe all she needed was a quick lie down and he would see that she was perfectly fine. 

“Oh fuck, there’s so much blood— hey, hey!”

She could see Sebastian calling out her name, but she couldn't hear it. And soon enough she realised, she wasn’t fighting it anymore. And soon enough, Sebastian was no longer in sight. Soon enough, she found herself alone in a quiet, soothing darkness. 

Something was twisting at her to give into slumber. Into solitude. Into emptiness. She vaguely remembered from one of Sharp’s more riveting lectures that when poisoned - one should always fight the urge.

But she could still feel the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on the small of her back, and the comfort of it lulled her to relinquish control. After a few ambivalent moments, drifting in and out of awareness, she surrendered to sleep.

When she woke, she was greeted by a horrendously pounding headache. She had no sense of place, but a low groaning ache in her bones. Her eyes struggled to open, but she could feel the warm sun on the tip of her nose, and the tips of her cheeks. The softness of the sun quelled a little bit of the soreness in her body. 

She deduced that wherever she was, it was warm and safe. Despite the ache in her bones, there was also a weightlessness to her body. Therefore, she somehow rationalised with herself that this was very likely heaven. 

Or any other religious equivalent afterlife. 

She wasn’t picky. Any one would do, really.

When her bleary eyes finally pulled themselves open, the fragmented parts of her vision pieced together a faint picture. Of pristine white linen and crisply casted grey brick. A peculiar blend of sickly artificial peonies and concentrated chemicals flooded her nostrils. 

Which was odd. Because she hadn’t imagined that the afterlife would feel quite so sterile.

“Fucking hell,” spoke a voice she could never not recognise, and she was shocked. 

Did heaven include conjuring up a phantom Sebastian from the figment of her deepest imaginations to keep her company for the rest of eternity?

“Sebastian?”

“You’re awake.” His voice was hoarse.

When her eyes finally focused, she saw him properly. It was definitely Sebastian Sallow, the boy that had her heart leaping acres across the Hebridean seas. But in all her years of knowing and pining for him, she’d never seen him look so terrible. His hair was disheveled as if it had endured a torrid storm. His eyes were heavy and solemn, as if they had tolerated an eternity of grief.

This seemed all too real. Too visceral. 

Maybe this wasn’t heaven.

“Am I dead?” She thought to confirm.

He laughed a humourless laugh.

“No. You’re in the hospital wing.”

So this was real. She was in pain because her body had been bruised like a peach. 

When she finally looked around, she found herself neatly tucked into the covers of an infirmary bed. She couldn’t recall how she got here, and only remembered a few little scraps of the event that led up to Poidsear. But if she had to be certain of anything, Sebastian must’ve brought her back to the castle.

“I guess that makes sense,” She said with as much mirth as she could muster, “Heaven couldn’t be this quaint.”

Clearly Sebastian hadn’t found it funny at all, which is why she was met with silence. 

As she cleared her throat, she asked, “What happened?”

For some reason, Sebastian was doing everything in his power to avoid her eye. 

“An Ashwinder hit you with a modified version of the cruciatus curse. She tampered the spell and combined it with a blood poisoning hex. You… could’ve died.” He said through gritted teeth. It seemed as if he struggled to even get the words out. 

In an attempt to diffuse the graveness of his tone, she made a joke.

“Unlucky. Maybe next time they try to kill me they’ll actually get it right.”

But once again, Sebastian didn’t laugh. If anything, he only got more aggrieved. She felt his grip on the edge of her bed frame tighten so fiercely, she could see his veins pop and his knuckles turn red. He was being so serious — and she was not at all used to serious Sebastian. She had only seen this side of him once or twice, and only ever because of Anne. 

“Are you … upset?” She asked cautiously.

“I’m fucking furious.” He said. 

She was gobsmacked.

“Why?”

Finally, he looked at her straight on and her stomach flipped at the sight of it. He looked absolutely distraught. Like the splintered shell of a boy who had been cracked open and drained dry of his will to live. Behind the hard look in his eyes, radiated something cloudy, tempestuous and devastating. 

“It was my fault that we were even there.” He said

She hadn’t known that a voice could carry such grief and anger simultaneously. But Sebastian’s voice was laced with insurmountable despair. And it broke her heart irrevocably to think that she could’ve caused him so much pain.

Did he think that he was to blame?

That was ridiculous.

“I thought-” he started to say again, but his voice cracked. 

I thought I lost you? I thought I’d left you for dead? She wondered if that was what he was going to say.

“Sebastian…” She finally began “It’s not-”

“And why didn’t you think to tell me that you were struck by a bloody unforgivable curse before you fell lifelessly onto the fucking floor!” He yelled.

She winced at the loudness of his voice. 

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch the love of your life almost die in your fucking arms?”

His deafening voice echoed through the chambers of the hospital wing. 

She stared at him, mouth agape. 

Sebastian himself looked shocked by the words out of his own mouth. 

Sorry, what was that he just said? 

Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Had Sebastian Sallow really said that he loved her? Her? Complicated, chaotic, haphazard her? Even if her brain couldn’t quite process what she was saying, her heart had certainly understood. It was battering against her ribcage so firmly that she swore it would no sooner burst out of her chest.

“You… love me?” Even as the words sat in her mouth, even as she tasted it meticulously on the edge of her tongue — she still couldn’t believe them. 

With his head buried in his hands, Sebastian groaned. 

Obviously that wasn’t what he had wanted to say, and that terrified the living shit out of her. He looked as if he considered going back on it. Saying that it had just been an emotional slip of the tongue. 

But to her surprise, he stood firm. 

“Fuck.” He cursed, “Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

His words still weren’t fully sinking in. Her brain was running so fast that it was on the verge of failing her entirely. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Was it obvious? To who exactly? By what egregious definition? And did he expect her to just take his word and say that this little detail was always hidden in plain sight for her to find? 

Then there were other more intrusive thoughts she couldn’t shake. Like what about all the girls that fawned over his every word. What about all the other girls that were softer, prettier, more endearing than her? She just hoped that whatever she chose to say, that she wouldn’t let out the intrusive ones first.

“...What about Samantha?” She blurted practically incoherently.

Oh Merlin. Why did she say that? Why was that the first thing she said to him after she had just been on the verge of death? After he had just confessed his love for her.

Never had she felt so exasperated with herself for being so dumb.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian looked at her as if she’d just grown three heads. She also considered that maybe she had enunciated so poorly that he hadn’t understood a single thing she said. Either way, just as she was about to laugh it away - change the subject - he responded.

“... What about Samantha?”

Suddenly, she felt too shy to ask. But she knew she had to follow through.

“... You’re not in love with Samantha?” She asked meekly.

Sebastian stared at her in absolute disbelief. 

“Are you crazy?” he began incredulously, “You think I fancy Samantha Dale?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a thought, she wanted to retort. 

But before she could even get a word in, Sebastian bulldozed on.

“Fucking hell. I think I’ve mentioned her name all but three times in the last six years I’ve been in this castle. All I talk about is you all day everyday, which makes Ominis go absolutely livid! All you have to do is say my name and I’d stop everything at the drop of a fucking hat to do literally anything you ask for me—” 

Did he know what he was saying? She wanted to scream. The feelings in her chest were so intense she feared that she might just throw up. 

Could he hear the absolutely ludicrous and inconceivable things coming out of his silly mouth? Did he know what in Salazar’s name he was saying to her? 

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“—I look for you in every hallway, every classroom, every corner in this bloody castle! For Merlin’s sake, I can’t even begin to fathom how you could not know that I’m stupidly love with you—”

Despite herself. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest. Despite the stitches in her lungs. She lunged her body forward and pushed her own chapped, split and desperate lips onto his.

And when their lips met — good God. 

She had no idea how she had waited so long to do this.

And she hoped for his sake that Sebastian hadn’t said any of that lightly, because now that she had finally had him, she was never ever letting him out of her shaky, unpracticed hands. 

At first, Sebastian had been taken aback. His mouth unmoving, eyes open in disbelief. It was as if he was observing the scene from outside of himself.

But then soon enough — he was all in, and he had his hands cupping the curve of her cheek to pull her closer to him. Soon enough, Sebastian was kissing her like he was looking for something. Pushing, pulling, scouring the shape of her mouth like she was a puzzle to be deciphered. Gripping tightly onto the sides of her waist and the small of her back like she was a prized to be possessed.

And she obliged. 

Whatever he wanted to know she’d tell him. If she were a prize, she'd use every cheat every ruse in her arsenal to make sure he'd win.

She just hoped that her needy moans conveyed her willingness to be compliant in his competent hands.

Her limbs ached, her bones groaned. This kiss was too wild, too strenuous, too demanding for her worn out body. But she didn’t care. The floodgates had opened now, whether either of them knew it, and this feeling was unquenchable. 

He tasted like home and aftershave and salt and all those silly peppermint candies he ate all the time. If she could fasten herself to him with an irreversible stitch, she would. If she could seal herself into a perfect mould of his arms, she would. If the shivers that raced down her spine could etch themselves permanently into her nerve endings in her skin, she’d gladly bear the mark.

In between peppered, sloppy kisses, she managed to gasp, "I'm in love with you too."

There was no time for pauses. She had no use for breathing; no use for air. She had no use for anything that didn’t include his lips. 

His laugh was gravelly and tired and breathy. But it was filled with relief and tenderness all the same.

“Thank fucking god,” Sebastian murmured.

Her hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling into the strands of his. She revelled in the texture of him. In her daydreams and her undisclosed fantasies, she had always wondered what it would feel like. Would he be as gentle as his charms implied? Or was he as abrasive as his words could be?

But despite his devouring intensity, despite how ardently he consumed her — everything about Sebastian was soft. His lips were soft. His body was soft. His hands were soft.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled back. Which immensely disappointed her. And she wasn’t shy to let it show on her face.

"Be careful. You're still recovering." He managed to get out, but it was weak.

Yes, that was true. It was very lovely and sensible of him to say.

But frankly, she couldn't give two fucks.

"I wouldn't mind dying today," she replied breathlessly, her voice laced heavily with longing.

He groaned into the edge of her mouth, "Way too soon."

She smiled wryly. Was it wicked of her to take delight in how protective he was being?

Silence hung in the air. 

"Please just... just be careful next time?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

She looked into his eyes, "I will."

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she hoped that he knew that she truly meant it. That by definition, her feelings for him meant that her assurance was very much real. Because if not with words, she needed him to know through this gesture that she too looked for him in every inch of this castle. That she too would drop everything at his beck and call.  

He squeezed her hand back in return.

Message understood?

“And as much as I’d love to keep kissing you," he whispered with a playful glint in his eye, "I would hate for Nurse Blainey to shun me from the infirmary for so shamelessly accosting one of her patients."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, the tension easing between them. "You're right. We wouldn't want that," she replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

—

A/N: This is deffo a little different from the normal soft/simpy Seb that I write. I tried to go for overly flirtatious and wildly charming Seb and a pining MC this time to shake things up!! I still think they're cuties.

Gosh, I hope you guys liked it!! I'M STILL WORKING ON OTHER REQUESTS and of course my bb A Knowing Look! They will be taking a while but I promise I will be putting my heart and soul into them.

xoxo gruff

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 3 ⬅ch. 2

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i do not have a tag list.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the following week involved you being the only medic on base and having to treat every soldier on your own; briefing sessions with soap; a few awkward run-ins with ghost; and a shit load of anxiety.

you couldn’t get over the fact that you were about to walk side by side with the most dangerous men in the world on the most important mission you’ve ever been on. soap was acting like it was no big deal—they do this kind of stuff all the time, he had said. you had to remind soap that you were new to this division and weren’t exactly a skilled killer like the rest of the men. you were used to helping wounded men when they were carted back to base, not being in on the action.

“soap,” you whined as the larger man refused to let you take a break from your current training match. “i wasn’t built for this,” you said dramatically, collapsing on the mats beneath you. 

soap chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “i’m just tryin’ to prepare ya. ghost isn’t gonna go so easy on you.”

“ghost?” you asked, sitting upright–a bit faster than someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about their lieutenant would.

soap stuck a hand out and grabbed yours, heaving you up to stand before him again. 

“ghost insisted on makin’ sure we all met his standards.”

you knew this was about you and gaz specifically, even if he didn’t say it. these men were already the best of the best, that's how they got recruited into this task force. but gaz being recently hurt, and you not coming from a combat background, was probably plaguing his thoughts. 

“oh, wonderful,” you said sarcastically. you were almost positive soap was oblivious to your weird dynamic with ghost, but you couldn’t be one hundred percent certain; soap’s perceptiveness could surprise you sometimes.

you downed your water and stretched a bit more waiting for your imminent doom. 

gaz approached you, his arm outstretched over his head. 

“how’s your hand?” you asked him.

gaz released his stretch with a satisfied grunt and then held up his now unbandaged hand, smiling. 

“and your ribs?”

“still a bit sore. just glad they’re not broken.”

you smiled. “just don’t go too hard training today, okay?”

gaz mock saluted you. “yes, doctor.” you rolled your eyes. 

gaz had pulled you into a sparring match, trying to get your reflexes to actually function properly for when you’d be out in the field with the men.

you growled in frustration as gaz got another killing blow lined up. 

“dead. again,” he said with a laugh. 

“glad you find my suffering entertaining.” 

you felt your body tense and you knew that ghost had just strolled into the training room. you had a weird way of sensing whenever he was around. it was like he made the air thicker of any room he walked in to.

you tried to keep your focus on gaz. he grabbed your hands and helped you adjust your hand wraps that were starting to loosen around your knuckles. your eyes flickered over gaz’s shoulder and you spotted him.

his eyes were already on you and you felt your blood pressure drastically rise. you immediately looked back to gaz and tried to pay attention to what he was saying to you. 

“ready to go again?” he asked when he decided your hands were wrapped properly. you nodded.

after what felt like an eternity, ghost appeared beside the two of you, observing as gaz was in the process of showing you a new defense move.

gaz reached around you with his foot, knocking you off balance and sending you colliding with the mat. 

“jesus,” you mumbled, both amazed and annoyed with him. 

gaz chuckled and reached out a hand to help you up. you were impressed at his composed and collected attitude knowing what was about to happen in a few days' time. you, personally, couldn’t get your heart to stop racing worrying about everything that might go wrong. 

you ignored ghost’s eyes on you as gaz tried to demonstrate the move he just did once again. 

you attempted everything he showed you, repairing the order of the stances in your head as you executed each one, and you sent him flying on his back. 

“shit, nice job,” gaz praised. 

you helped him up when a looming presence from behind you startled you.

“oh!” you jumped, looking up at ghost who was only inches from your chest. “hi, lt.”

ghost was wearing one of his thinner balaclavas again, paired with a long-sleeved black shirt–that disappointingly didn’t have its sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos–and dark tactical pants. he was a new level of intimidating without all his gear on. you felt like your body was going to melt from the heat he was putting off.

“she’s never gonna learn like that,” he grunted out, directly his words at gaz but holding your gaze. 

you knew gaz was letting you knock him on his ass, but how else would you understand the basics of the moves he was teaching you? if he blocked you and went on defense every time you went to try, you wouldn’t be able to learn anything. gaz had years of training on you.

gaz mumbled something about taking a break and you began to panic. shit.

“open your legs,” ghost demanded. 

a sudden blaze of heat raced up your chest and to your face. your eyes must have turned to moons because ghost’s foot jutted out to kick between your own and widen your stance as if to tell you to get your head out of the gutter.

you adjusted your feet and felt gaz slip off behind the two of you. 

just you and ghost now. great. 

“your waist feeling okay?” you asked, pointing towards the area of his wound from the week prior. 

he nodded. “good as new.”

“good. that’s good,” you said awkwardly. 

you both looked at one another, your cheeks warming, before ghost cut you out of your daydream. “arms should always be at the ready.” 

you lifted your own and did as he said, mirroring him, and taking on a solid but readying posture.

“now, try to hook your leg behind my own.”

you nodded, the heat from earlier subsided just to be replaced with the rushing sound of your heart beating in your ear. you prayed ghost didn’t have super hearing, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you dipped down slightly and tried to get your leg to wrap behind ghost’s, aiming to knock him backward. 

before your foot even made it where you wanted it to go, ghost had spun you around and sent you stumbling back. 

“again,” he demanded. 

you took in a breath before approaching back up to him and going at it again. 

he blocked your attack and you tripped over his feet and fell to the mat. 

“again.”

you felt the sweat bead on your forehead, out of both anger and exertion.

and again he knocked you back. 

“this isn’t going to help!” you finally said, a scowl on your face. 

“don’t like bein’ pushed? think any of those men out there will give a damn about that? think they’ll give a shit that you’re just a medic?”

you let out an irritated breath. “i just don’t think training me like this will get me anywhere.”

“oh, and how would you like t’be trained then?”

you stared at him in silence. 

“should i let you tackle me to t’ground?” his voice was deeper than earlier, sending shivers up your spine. “is catering to your ego that important you’d risk your life?”

“this has nothing to do with my ego.” your voice felt faint as you struggled to come up with an argument. you were frustrated, sure. but he was right in a way. any bad guy you cross out in the field isn’t going to give a shit that you’re a medic and not a trained soldier. and you did not want to fucking die. 

“no? then go again.”

you brushed off your pants and readied your stance, going at him again. in an agile ebbed movement, you went flying to the ground. again.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. frustrated beyond belief, and exhausted from already training for hours today. you did something you wouldn’t have normally done if you weren’t so peeved off. you sprung to your feet and rushed into him. ghost caught your hand but you spun around behind him, making him grunt as your foot collided with the back of his knee. 

he bent forward and you jumped onto his back. he had to release your hand in fear of choking himself out. ghost was so caught off guard that he sank to his knees. you caught your breath, still clinging to him. you may not have got him to go all the way down, but still, you managed something. 

“now if you’ll–” ghost cut your words short, shifting his weight so you slid sideways and he grabbed your waist and sent you sprawling out before him. before your back hit the mat, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him downward with you. his hands caught himself on either side of your head, his hips between your legs, his torso almost touching yours as you breathed heavily. 

ghost’s eyes bore into yours as he loomed over you. heat rushed to your face as you felt his hips pressing against your own, trapping you below his impressive weight. your hands were still tied up in his shirt, your heart racing out of your chest. 

“that hurt,” you mumbled.

“it was supposed to.” his voice was far softer than you’ve ever heard it before as if you stole the breath right from his chest. goosebumps immediately covered your arms and you hoped to the gods that he didn’t notice. 

you were at a loss for words as he held his position. “now how will you get out of this, pet?” he provoked. 

devoid of logic, you bucked your hips up against him, trying to wrangle your way free. ghost essentially growled above you, sending fluttering vibrations through your chest. you tried to roll out from under him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he let you. your positions quickly changed as you used all your muscles to turn him on his back. you straddled him, heaving again at the amount of force you had to exert to move his body.

your hands were resting on his chest and you felt your entire body go hot. there was no way you were straddling ghost, sitting right above his belt, your hands pressed flat against him, and his hands… his hands loose on your hips, edging towards your thighs. 

in pure embarrassment you quickly stumbled off of him, not even offering to give him a hand to stand back up. 

you thought for sure he would call it a day, probably irritated at you getting so close. those were definitely not proper techniques you executed back there. 

to your surprise, ghost grunted, stood, and mumbled, “again.”

you couldn’t help the displeased groan that left your lips. “ghost, please. i’ve been doing this all morning.”

he didn’t like the way his chest tightened momentarily at the sound of you begging him. 

he could see the exhaustion on your face. in a sort of compromise, he wanted one more spar. he slid the knife from his holster on his thigh and caught it expertly in his fingers. “unarm me,” he demanded. 

you looked at him with hesitation. “if ya unarm me, y’can be done for the day. i won't even fight back.”

something painful echoed in your chest. you just wanted to get away from him. why was he dragging out your time together? he didn’t even like you. he should just tell price they couldn’t risk taking you along on the mission. 

you mentally groaned and slowly stepped closer. ghost readied his stance. 

you darted to the left and he deftly blocked you. 

then you ducked down, coming up on the side he held the weapon and his arm stopped yours. you grunted before slipping around him and shoving him back. he stumbled a few steps and you dodged his arms. 

ghost spun to meet you, grabbing your wrist with his free hand, both of you stumbling so your back collided with the wall. 

with heavy breaths, ghost pinned your arm beside your head. your other hand struggled, but you managed to grip his knife and fling it out of his hand, sending it rattling on the hard floor away from you two. 

ghost’s hips were almost against yours, his body trapping you against the wall. your head clouded with so many unwanted thoughts about his chest pressed against your own. the way his body traced yours like a phantom.

“next time, try to hold on to the weapon you disarm. because now, you’re defenseless. and hate to break it to ya, but you against any man of my size, unarmed… you’re dead.”

your mouth hung open slightly as you caught your breath. you could feel ghost’s ungloved hands lingering by your waist. you nodded, unable to speak as you felt his fingers fluttering against your skin where your shirt began to ride up. it was almost like he was purposefully trying to touch you. 

your eyes flickered down to where his hands were and ghost immediately backed away. he gave you one look over and went to pick up his knife. 

“enough for today,” he grumbled, a tensing sense of aggravation filling the air. 

you straightened your clothes out, walking back onto the mat. “so that’s it?”

ghost turned in a way that made it look like he was forcing his body to move. “need me t’tell you how good of a job you did? pat you on your back and tell ya you’re gonna be fine next week?”

you glared at him. “no. i just–”

“you won’t. you’re gonna get yourself killed out there.” you sucked in a sharp breath at his words. you watched as his eyes avoided your own. “be back here tomorrow to train more with soap.”

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. he hesitated another moment, almost like he was debating on saying something else, but then he turned and left you alone. 

you sank down onto the mat, sprawling out backward and breathing deeply. your body was sore and throbbing from all the collisions you took today. 

fuck. you had one chance to prove to ghost you were capable. that price trusting you to come along was the right choice. but you just made a fool of yourself. and ghost thought you nothing more than a weak link in their unit. you were going to get them all killed. 

you closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your sweat-stained cheeks.

chapter 4 ➡

[space-apples]

i buried my teeth in everything good

hi chatters sorry for dying. thanking @dakedo0o @loveroped @angeart and @sunieraes for beta-ing i appreciate you <3

here it is on AO3 x

and if you want to read it here you can do that !!

He’s succeeded his task, and the wind was faintly blowing in his ear, almost sounding like laughter.

He’s succeeded his task, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains. He didn’t even realize he’d gone the whole night without a blink. 

He’s succeeded his task, and the cold air was gnawing against his skin. He could hardly care anymore. 

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He was drowning now, and felt the familiar sense of life being drained from him before arriving back at the Secret Keeper. He stared at it coldly (everything was cold.)

A skeleton was somewhere in the distance. It was shooting at him, but Scar couldn’t be bothered to care. The arrows buried themselves into his skin, but as he bled and whatever remaining life source once again drained out of him, Scar didn’t recognize the pain as much as he should have. All he really felt was numbness, a fucked up sense of relief. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, wishing, hoping, praying for release.

If he died now, he would be gone. He would be free. 

Of course the Gods above cared too much about their entertainment to let him go. So when he opened his eyes, the arrows were gone. The only mark left that showed they were ever there were the scars. More to add to the collection, he supposed, bitterly staring up at the Secret Keeper statue. 

Scar wanted to scream at it, to get TNT and blow the stupid thing to dust and rubble. 

He pressed the button once more, wildly, angrily, and cursing so much that a sailor would cringe away. 

Win Secret Life, it said. As always. He did win. As always. 

Pressing the button over and over again wouldn’t do anything, but he did anyway, something in him snapping. Only getting more desperate and upset with each hit as it gave him more and more books. He didn’t care that his hand was getting splintered, that a nasty bruise was starting to form, that he felt it breaking. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything anymore, he couldn’t focus on caring. Scar just wanted to go home. 

He didn’t even realize when he started rapidly hitting the stone instead, putting so much weight and force into his attacks that the button had broken. When he paused long enough to realize, he swore he couldn’t feel himself breathing anymore. The books were splattered around, his hand was bloodied, and his legs crumbled from underneath him. 

Scar prided himself on being resilient, only crying once or twice after a Life Game. But seeing his own blood on a half beaten rock where the button should have been, feeling the cold air biting at his skin, the awareness that he was irrefutably alone, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything in order to go home, shattered any resolve he so wished to keep. 

His hands didn’t seem like his as he laid them, shakily, gently, carefully, on pedestal once more. His whole body shook, wracked with impending doom. He was sobbing, he realized, though the tears never seemed real. None of this seemed real. He couldn’t breathe through it, and some sick part of him hoped that it would continue, that his body would finally collapse and allow him to be detached from this world. 

But maybe he deserved this. 

Maybe with how many people he killed, how many people he made suffer, this was his punishment. A permanent loop, a permanent limbo, forever cursed to be alone. 

Maybe that was the reason for his time here; showing that his destiny, his purpose, his fate, was to be on his own. Where he grew up, it wasn’t exactly an option to talk with other people, and perhaps he got too comfortable in Hermitcraft. Last Life should have been his reminder, his push in the right direction, but he wanted the interaction. The comfort of being near someone was too tempting to turn down. Yet the bite of cold he felt constantly growing up in the apocalypse, it was the same he felt on that horrible mountain in Last Life. It was the same he felt now. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how many blankets or campfires he had, just like how he wouldn’t ever be able to be relieved of the crippling isolation that threatened to overflow and drown him. 

He didn’t know when time started to blur even more, he didn’t know when he started to feel so numb that it felt like he couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing just that. The sun was blaring, it might have stung to look at, yet he just kept staring upward, blankly. There wasn’t much else he could do, anyways. He broke the button. He probably broke his hand too, but he was floating too much to really register it.

He didn’t notice when his legs became anchored to the ground. The hope that the possibility of his opponents (they were friends, they were friends, they were friends) cared enough to come back, to check in on him, was of course foolish. They wouldn’t. It should have bothered him more, and maybe some part of him was uneasy. But a bigger part of him was tired. 

Now, his legs didn’t just feel heavy, they felt like stone. 

And that’s when he noticed he couldn’t sit up. That everything was so much colder. That he was so much more aware of the world. He could make out every grass blade being eaten by grazing animals, the fish wading through the waters, and he didn't even flinch at the desperate snarling of the Undead– the zombies. They were hungry, ravenous, and all he could really do was shift his energy away from it. 

He still felt like he was being stared at, yet he couldn’t detect the stare of the Secret Keeper anymore. It bothered him in the back of his mind. In the dark corners, it felt more than simply wrong. His eyes felt sluggish, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to close them. Now he had to watch, to feel more than the ground below him, the suffocating air around him. It was dark. It was bright. It was hot, but so so so cold. 

All he could do was stare into the sky, watching the sun reach into his peripherals and watch it fade away into a cold night, stars tracing each speck of his vision. It should have been the only thing he saw. He didn’t know how he saw everything. But the statue wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t watching along beside him. 

He tried to regard it as a good thing. That he didn’t have to feel that prying stare bear into him. But all he could think was that he was now those intrusive, intense, invading eyes. It wasn’t that it was gone, it was that he took its place. He didn’t know if shattering that stupid button was the cause, but he didn’t even mean to break it. He had just wanted to go home.

He can’t even think of how he’d do that now. He barely remembers the faces of his opponents. No, no, they were his friends. Yes, his friends. He couldn’t remember the faces of his friends. They were all muddled and blurry, just like the memories of their time together, hardly resurfacing when he tried to remember. He remembers a boat pole? Bluebells— no, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t frame it correctly, but akin to. A flower of sorts, poisonous to something. He remembers vague things about vexes, though they were just a– a mob with no real significance. He can’t quite... God, why can’t he remember. They were his friends, he said it himself, they were kind and funny and. He wished he could remember more about them other than their bloodshed, than their violence. There were pieces he was missing.

(He misses them. He needs them. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s had to isolate and disconnect from everyone he knew for the sake of Watching. But it isn’t his job to question it, if he could even do such a thing. At least not anymore.)

Time passed on, he knows it’s passed on. There’s little, in this world at least, he doesn’t know at this point. But as far as the people who are gone, the people he killed, he doesn’t know where they are now. How long it’s been for them. He knows there’s not much he can do about it. There’s not much they can do to save him. He thought, he hoped, the numbness was back.

He didn’t know how much he even felt anymore, he wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling. So why, why, is there so much dread in the pits of his stomach. Why is there nausea building in his body, his head throbbing with a migraine. Why did his fear come back all at once, his disquiet of being so utterly alone solitary abandoned abandoned abandoned being seemingly worse than before. It’s not like it ever left, but if it did, it came back stronger than it ever was prior. He didn’t mind being numb, really. He half-heartedly wished for it back. He vaguely realized in his mind he won’t be going home anymore. And this wasn’t at all what he wanted. To be trapped in a never ending loop of pain and pressing buttons was hardly on anyone’s bucket list. He didn't even know what he wanted now, other than to simply rest. 

Though now he figured this was why he was here. Why wouldn’t they want someone already contiguous to not one soul— someone so bloodthirsty— in their grasp. Playing their sick games until he could only regurgitate futile means of escaping. Watching for them. Commanding for them. Succeeding for them. Maybe he should have felt horrified at the prospect, and maybe he did, but if it wasn’t at the forefront, he could hardly be expected to feel anything other than that flooding sense of numbness. Maybe he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he did. It didn’t matter now. He had a job to do. 

He succeeded his task, and it was then he noticed the button on the stone pedestal was back. It was nicer than the old one. Engraved in markings he recognized. It was the traditional Elven designs that coiled around harsh stone, though he could already feel the connection to his identity fading away.

He succeeded his task, and yet when he tried to reach out for it, he couldn’t move his hand anymore.

He succeeded his task, and now he’d be making sure when others came along, they’d succeed too. 

He could vaguely remember that he was Scar, but even that was fading from his mind. Now he was the keeper, the beholder, the Successor of the thing that was here before.

.

. 

. 

.

.

They had no idea how long they were trapped in there. They tried to glance around, and though they could technically see, they couldn’t See, not how they were used to. They didn’t wish for it back. Or perhaps they did. But the harsh transition made it difficult to look around at all.

They knew they were not envious of their replacement— though it was still hard to grasp that they could feel, really feel again. The sensations latched onto them like they'd always been there; like it was coming home— but they couldn’t remember anything to match it, or anything at all. It had been too overwhelming to have so many of them, to notice and detect sensations other than stone and that icy cold that swallowed them whole.

 It had been far too long to even remember their name. They were trying awfully hard as well, to remember the identity they had left behind. Before all the buttons, before all the colored names and hopeless faces showed, before all the cravings of violence just to get a sick taste of what being angry meant. They had a life, surely. 

They looked down at their new body. This one couldn’t have been their old one– Staring into the reflection they remembered the face of their Successor, eyes still red and running rampant on Red Life urges. They weren’t in that world, and yet. They wondered if the bloodshed would ever stop.

 It was rather warm here, they noticed, but for some reason they could still sense that bite of cold they felt as the Keeper. 

They didn’t quite know where they were, but they could hear someone approaching. They almost expected a button to be pressed, for them to make a request. Of course that didn’t happen here, and instead a voice called out. 

Excited, concerned, afraid, afraid, afraid—

“Scar, oh my god.” The person, upon seeing them, ran over much faster than they had expected. And to their own surprise, they recognized their– her– voice. She was hard to forget, really, because admittedly, she was one of their favorites. The Newbie, the first to truly find the End in their domain. (Their old domain. It wasn’t theirs anymore.) One with such promise, such potential. Of course now they’re rather glad she didn’t win. “Scar, where have you been?”

They forgot they were in place of the Successor, they forgot that was even his name. They tried to open their mouth to respond, but it turns out after spending what felt like centuries with their mouth made of literal stone, it was a bit harder to get words out. They were sure it’d be raspy anyway, from the misuse.

They remembered her name now, and vague recollections of Scar’s memories came back from when they Saw him. Her name was Gem. 

Gem frowned at his silence, and Scar– not Scar, they’re not Scar– tensed, worried that they’d already be found out within five seconds. 

“I won’t– I won’t push you into talking, Scar,” she said, to their surprise. She surveyed them with such concern that it made them discern… something. Guilt? Embarrassment? She continued, spurred on by them remaining silent. “It’s just– you’ve been gone for almost, uh, two months now. I think.”

They didn’t have to pretend to shudder at the time frame. 

It had been way longer than just two months.

Honestly, they really did try getting their mouth open to speak, to demand, but all they could manage were raspy grunts. Gem winced, yet kept her relatively calm demeanor. 

“It’s okay, I don’t want to force you.” She reaches over slowly, maybe so that if they wanted to back away, they would. They didn’t. It could have been because moving was so unknown, unfamiliar. Or because they regarded Gem as more than just trustworthy; as safe.

The touch burned before it felt like a regular mortal being was actually holding them. She gently encouraged them to move forward, for them to follow her, a smile now plastered on her face. 

 “Come on, Scar, let’s get you home, yea?” 

Home. 

In their last moments before the Successor took over, they remembered his last thoughts were wistfully praying that he’d be let go. Back to wherever here was, where they could pretend his past was long gone and have fun and play— not dangerous— games. Where they could have just a little company. 

The memory made them feel like something was twisting in their gut, their throat closing up with such a tightness it felt like they were forgetting how to breathe. They didn’t remember what that feeling was. But they needed to get rid of it, and Gem’s words were so warm, such a drastic change from the icy wind clawing at each part of them, threatening to freeze them over. 

Gem’s offer didn’t seem to hold the same malice, but when they tried to see into it, see her intentions, they were swiftly reminded their abilities were no longer with them. The similar sensation in their gut came back, and it screamed and yelled at them to run, to get far away. Logically, though, if they were to run, Gem would most likely catch them a lot easier than they’d like to admit. They were not used to having legs that— more or less— work. And if she wanted to kill them she would have already done so. 

So they nod, following her carefully after she takes her hand off their shoulder. She let go, and it still felt like it was there, still felt like it was burning, still felt like it was there to keep it burning. Gem’s touch wasn’t bad, at least they didn’t think so. They hadn’t had any contact with anyone or anything for so long, and perhaps that was why it felt so sudden. So much. They tried to trail behind her as best they could, only becoming more overwhelmed with each step. 

They’re not familiar with so much of this, so many textures, so many potential people around, so many so many so many—

It wasn’t her fault, really. 

She just kept leading on, adding little comments here and there. It was hard to keep paying attention to her when she wasn’t the only one making noise. Grass crunched from underneath them, water was crashing a little while away, Gem’s armor was rattling against itself with every step, there were probably people in the distance, not bothering to keep their voices down. 

Their vision got blurry after a while, their legs felt like mush. They didn’t think it had been that long, though that didn’t make them feel better. They could barely make out Gem’s face, her antlers being the only thing that they could really see. 

Everything was spinning around them, going too fast. Or it could have been that they were going too slow. It hurt to keep their eyes open, but the worry that if they closed them now, the worry it’ll be like before made them try so very hard to not blink.

And despite their best efforts, they felt the impact of hitting the ground before anything else.

And despite themself, they knew their eyes were rolling back into their head. 

At least it wasn’t everything all at once, but now it was— once again— nothing. 

.

.

.

.

They woke up, not expecting to be able to feel the softness of whatever they were laying on. They were laying down as well, a position they hadn’t been able to be in before. Though they half expected to be frozen like that, it was certainly a lot more comfortable now than it used to be. They didn’t try to move, at least not for a while, unsure they even could. 

They were talking about them. Not them. Well, maybe it was them technically, but it was still about Scar. The Scar they knew.

“—Just overwhelmed, maybe,” a voice— they could recognize once more as Gem— said, most likely contributing to a conversation that had already started. “I don’t know. He’s been gone for months.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware, Gem.” 

Grian. That voice belonged to Grian. They didn’t have the same excitement towards the man as maybe some of the Others did. They didn’t want to like Grian, and as much as They tried to make them favor him, they had leaned towards Gem. 

They thought she’d be smart enough to figure it out. Clearly, they had thought wrong.

They still weren’t moving, afraid to even try, and instead waded through the waters of their mind, through every crevice of newfound sensations, newfound thoughts. It still felt they weren’t their own, as if they were still rifling through someone else’s head. 

They couldn’t tell if they still felt like it was burning, and they were once again worried they were back there again because even with however many sensations their body may have been experiencing, it still felt so far away. 

They realized they were shaking. 

Which was good, they thought. Good that they could move, at least. They couldn’t think much of anything else when trying to refocus on Gem and Grian, whose voices had become slightly raised. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, inhaling sharply. “I am glad he’s back, I was just— concerned.”

“We all had this after the first Death Game, Gem. Scar shouldn’t feel more violent than, you know, he usually is.”

“But his eyes— even if they weren’t red— they were so empty.”

“Winning a game can be a lot. And Scar was by himself that whole time, even before his, uh, extended hiatus. I think we both know that Scar being alone isn't his favorite thing in the world.” 

“You— Okay, I can see that. I mean I think the Death Games can be a lot for anyone, just on its own. But sure.” She let out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t taken a breath throughout that entire conversation. “I care about him too, Grian. It’s not just you.”

They were both silent for a moment, and for a small second, they thought they had walked away. That was until Grian spoke.

“I know.” His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. “I know. I just— Let’s just make sure to make something fun for when he wakes up. Or at least a cup of water.”

Gem lets out a hum of agreement, and they can’t help but feel that pain in their chest. One that seems bad at first, yet seems to feel more comforting. Even as they hear the door being opened and closed, it remains.

It’s a feeling that, although they barely remembered anything, they know they craved and strived to have it. The feeling of being cared for, of knowing that you’re cared for. 

It was ridiculous, especially as they weren’t even Scar. It was only a matter of time before they found out, before they kicked them right back out for very justifiable reasons. And yet it was hard to deny the temptation of staying, just to feel wanted for even a little while. To have a connection with a real person, a real being. They know it won’t last, as things usually do, but they didn’t see why they couldn't savor this. 

It’s not theirs to savor, they know this. But there’s no one else to provide that connection to them anymore. Even if there was, they don’t remember. It’s frustrating how much they don’t remember, how much they remember about Scar more than they remember about themself. 

They knew they should say something, but the thought of being cast aside was enough to replace the feeling in their chest with a much heavier weight. 

They knew they weren’t Scar, but for now, they could pretend. 

They knew they would be forced to leave eventually, but for now, just for now, they could stay.

[xaytheloser]

The Sinner's and the Saint

The beast's relations with Bengin Butter Cookie (oc x canon lore, aka, doomed polyamory /silly)

Knowledge, Volition, Happiness, Change, Solidarity... and Benevolence, these virtues where imbued into the six ancient cookies, as the witches trusted them with the sacred virtues, in hopes of the dessert world would maintain a constant state of peace and prosperity... Benign Butter Cookie Remembers the good old days.. the times she laughed and watched Shadow Milk Cookie perform his iconic shows, as he takes pride in making her crack a smile even if she had an awful day. she remembers Mystic Flour Cookie, who showed just as much compassion as she did when aiding the common cookies of Earthbread, she was a passionate ancient through and through.. she remembers Eternal Sugar Cookie, and how she and her used to laugh and play in their free time, sitting calmly on her cloud, looking upon the glittering horizon.. she remember Burning Spice Cookie, as she took great joy watching him train to get stronger day by day, clapping and cheering for his growth as a virtue... and Silent Salt... while they spoke few words, their compassion for the cookies of Earthbread was clear, as they would show great care of the cookies of Earthbread, no matter the circumstance...

Oh, how power corrupts..

Shadow Milk, who now cackled in sinister glee as he used the innocent cookies of Earthbread as mere toys for his sick entertainment.. as he played gruesome shows to his comrades.. and Benign Butter Cookie.. whose face now showed horror instead of joy like she once had...

Mystic Flour could now care less for such insignificant speck of dough that weren't her comrades, as they now viewed herself as a godly figure, she was granted powers for far greater use than protecting the useless cookies of Earthbread.

Eternal Sugar Cookie, who was now to tired to put effort into anything but commute with her fellow ancients, and even then, she barely lifts her head up from her pillowy cloud.. as she smites anyone who disturbs her alone time..

Burning Spice to great joy in the suffering of the weak little cookies he terrorized... he viewed them as new targets to get stronger, just mere punching bags to play with..

and Silent Salt.. they saw no point in saving cookies anymore.. only cutting them down, crumbling them without hesitation as if they were no more than insignificant grains of flour... Bengin Butter Cookie could not stand watching her once beloved comrades fall under their own strength..

And so she helped her godly creators seal them away..

Shadow Milk pried at the bars at his cage, reaching out for Benign Butter as he yelled for her to save him... took look at him! there no actual way she would do this to him! ...right..?

Mystic Flour was surely shocked when her forked cage fell onto her.. thought she did not show surprise.. she knew that Benign Butter was still blinded by her faith in the gods that she might have had no choice but to trap her comrades if they so wished... Silent Salt could not bare to lift their sword at Benign Butter.. her expression looked.. so sad... and full of regret.. that they just couldn't do it..

Eternal Sugar was waken up by the sound of chains ratting against her newly established cage, as Benign Butter was on the other side of her cage.. her head lowered down as she ignored Eternal Sugar's pleas to let her out..

Burning Spice was full of rage... not at Benign Butter, oh no... at the witches... how DARE they make his sweet Benign Butter trap him like this! he saw her broken, crying face, theres no way she's doing this on her own volition! he swears to make the witches pay...

Benign Butter now resides in Beast Yeast... guarding the SIlver Tree along with Elder Faerie Cookie, preparing for the day she may have to put the beasts back into the seal if they ever do get out..

she will keep Earthbread safe at all costs... for the sake of Earthbread.. and her baby..