#he could have had SO MUCH DEPTH TO HIS CHARACTER

[lunarubra]

Hi Shark <3 I know I should have checked out this story ages ago! I’m sorry it took me so long, but today my train was delayed by 40 minutes, and I saw your reblog—finally had the time to dive into your writing.

And wooooooooooo! I loved it immensely. I never imagined myself reading an Arthur x OC, yet here I am, feeling the same pull I did when I first read a Rose x Alfie story (loved Alfie as a character but never thought to read about him) from @justrainandcoffee. When something’s written so well and the characters are this compelling, you just can’t help but get hooked.

You’ve really crafted an atmosphere that draws the reader in—dark, intense, and filled with emotion. Arthur’s desperation is so palpable, especially in the way he’s torn between his urge to repent and his overwhelming self-loathing. You’ve written him in a way that feels hauntingly real, and it’s clear how deeply his past and family have shaped his fractured sense of self.

And Heaven! She has this complex, almost ethereal sadness that makes me so curious about her backstory. There’s a magnetic dynamic between her and Arthur—his rough, broken side contrasts so beautifully with her aura of purity. Your imagery is stunning; I could feel the tension between them, both raw and symbolic at the same time.

I also loved the religious undertones, which added so much depth to Arthur’s struggles and his search for forgiveness. Oh, and the playlist you put together really elevated the experience—it was the perfect match for the story's mood!

I swear I’ll keep reading, though it might take me some time since life’s a bit hectic. I can’t wait to dive into the next chapter! Thank you again for sharing this with us—it’s truly a precious creation!

Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

NEXT CHAPTER || Masterlist

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling, from which marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her but, regarding him, time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

[lucyblue101]

I missed you so much

Satoru x reader

Warnings: character death. This one is heart breaking but has a bittersweet ending :)

The years since Satoru’s death had been unrelentingly quiet for you. Life moved on around you as you lingered, an observer within your own body, finding little meaning in the routines and missions that once felt important. Satoru had been your only love, the one who filled your world with color, laughter, and warmth. When he died, he took a part of you with him, leaving you with only half a heart and an emptiness you couldn't mend. Still, you knew he would want you to keep going, to live on despite the void left in his absence.

You continued to accept missions, throwing yourself into the work of being a sorcerer, perhaps as a way to escape, perhaps as a way to honor his memory. Over time, you grew accustomed to the feeling of emptiness, a strange kind of acceptance settling in. But that all changed on a day that felt different from the start. You couldn’t quite place it, but something was off. A quiet sense of peace washed over you as you prepared for the special-grade mission, and an odd thought settled in your mind: maybe this was the end.

The battle was brutal. You fought valiantly, pouring every ounce of strength and skill into defeating the curse, but it was overwhelming. As the fight wore on, you felt your energy slipping away, your vision blurring. The world around you dimmed, sounds becoming distant and muffled as the pain in your body faded, replaced by a calm stillness.

You found yourself lying on the ground, staring up at the sky as life slowly ebbed from you. There was no fear, no regret—only an overwhelming sense of peace, as if some part of you had been waiting for this. It was then that you felt a familiar presence nearby, a warmth that you hadn’t felt in two long years.

"Satoru…" you whispered, barely able to lift your head. But there he was, kneeling beside you, looking at you with a softness in his eyes that you remembered so well. His face, sharp yet gentle, was as clear as if he’d never left, and your heart swelled painfully with a mixture of love and sorrow.

His lips curved into a slight smirk, that ever-confident expression that was uniquely his. "You’re really something, you know that?" he said, his voice laced with a teasing fondness. "I thought we had a deal—you were supposed to stick around a little longer."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you reached out with a trembling hand, desperate to touch him, to know he was really there. When your fingers brushed his cheek, he felt solid and warm, as real as he’d ever been. His face softened at your touch, a look of pure affection in his gaze that left you breathless.

"Satoru… Is it really you?" you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

He reached up, covering your hand with his, pressing it more firmly against his cheek. "I told you I’d come back for you, didn’t I?" he replied softly. "But I have to admit, I’m a little annoyed you couldn’t wait a bit longer."

You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the warmth of his skin, the familiar feel of his touch. "I… I’m sorry, I just… I missed you too much," you whispered. "I kept going like you wanted me to, but it was… so hard without you."

Satoru sighed, shaking his head, but there was no anger in his gaze, only understanding. "I know," he murmured, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "I missed you too, more than you could imagine. It was hard to stay away." His expression softened further, his blue eyes reflecting a depth of feeling that he rarely showed in life.

You felt an ache deep within, realizing just how much you had longed for this, for him, for his warmth and his laughter. The years of loneliness and quiet suffering melted away as he gazed at you, as if none of that pain mattered anymore.

“Are we… are we going somewhere?” you asked, your voice soft as a breeze. You knew, somehow, that this was real, that he was truly here to take you with him.

He nodded, leaning down until his forehead rested against yours. “Yeah, somewhere different,” he whispered. “Just you and me this time.”

A faint light began to glow around you both, growing brighter as Satoru wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat against you, steady and strong. The world around you began to fade, replaced by an endless warmth, a sensation of weightlessness that felt like freedom.

“Are you… happy to see me?” you whispered, your eyes closing as you held onto him.

He chuckled softly, his voice a low, comforting hum against your ear. “I can’t say I’m thrilled you went and died, but yeah,” he murmured, his tone warm and affectionate. “I’m happier than I can put into words. I love you pretty girl. We’re going to be together for now on.”

You smiled, feeling his embrace tighten as the light grew brighter, enveloping you both. For the first time in years, you felt whole again, complete in a way you hadn’t since he’d left. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—it all vanished as you melted into his arms, letting yourself be taken wherever he would lead.

The world around you grew brighter and brighter until it was nothing but pure light, a warmth that filled you with peace. And as you drifted into that light with Satoru by your side, you knew you were finally where you belonged—together, in a place beyond time and sorrow, where nothing could ever separate you again.

Tag list (let me know if you want to go on it)

@haruhatake

@hargun-s

@canigotosleep--plz

@moonchhu

@itsafairytalekay

This one might be one of my favorites I’ve done 🥺 let me know what you guys think 🫶🏻

[kutputli]

"apparently i never learn that on this site if i head into an actor of colour’s tag i will see sooooo many photos of their most famous white co-worker" this is too real esp with assad zaman because why the hell is every other post about eric?? anything he posts on IG is connected to that man, anything he says is connected to that man......like wth

My friend @chaoswillcalmusdown posted that, I think? I suspect she was talking about The Bear fandom, but who knows. It unfortunately applies to almost every white dominated fandom.

I don't really pay attention to RPF discussions (no judgement on the fandom, just not my thing) but I have seen the skewed nature of how actors of colour are paid attention to mostly in service of of preferred white co-actors.

It makes me think about the additional burden on actors of colour. TV and episodic video storytelling carries a complicated ownership of character - unlike a novel, or even a film, the primary knowledge of a character does not belong to one writer creating a preexisting canon. In TV there are multiple writers, and often what the actor brings to the character rises to the forefront of the shared characterisation, and gets incorporated into the continued writing. And yet at the same time we've seen takes from actors in interviews that clearly contradict the writing of the character. So you can't always treat an actor's viewpoint as authoritative.

When it comes to characters of colour who are being written by a largely white authorship, but played by an actor of colour, so much more burden of authenticity is placed on what the actor can bring to the character by virtue of their lived experience. And yet, they are ACTORS, who are creating the character, not just performing themselves.

People seem to forget what a craftsman Assad is. His enthusiasm for working with Eric comes, it feels to me, from a young and passionate actor eager to delve into intense, challenging scene work with an experienced scene partner who can push him to greater depths of craft. But no one seems to be talking about what other layers of craft Assad could bring. What work he could do if he was given more scenes with other actors of colour.

Regardless of what your opinion of the Armand/Louis ship might be, it was rivetting to watch Assad and Jacob work together, and I would love to see more of that. Why are people not talking about that more? My one-person campaign to incorporate Real Rashid into the Dubai trio aside, what interesting craft discussions might Bally Gill and Assad have had, given that they are both friends who have been South Asian theatre actors finding their way in the British performance industry?

Assad is drop dead gorgeous, yes, and his public persona at least comes across as charming, humble and endearingly enthusiastic. He seems to enjoy the narrative he is part of, which is why his comments about the forthcoming Devil's Minion arc are so enjoyable, sure.

But he's a fucking rigourous, dedicated craftsman doing some admirably difficult labour - I wish people would pay more attention to the actor that he is.

[amoscontorta]

What are your NSFW Sylus thoughts/headcanons? 👀 bc I'd love to hear you go in depth with them and why u view Sylus the way u do bc it seems like everyone kinda has a different view of him. For instance, a big division I've seen is that there's some people who view Sylus as a switch and others view him as a dom or a service top. It seems like some people get personally offended when their view on Sylus is different from another's unfortunately 😅

I get it, people love Sylus a certain way, but I'll never support people trying to kink shame others for wishing Infold had went in a different direction with him or having kink preferences that might go against Sylus' or even having kinks Sylus might not be into. For me, Sylus is mainly a dom. He loves a challenge bc he gets bored easily, yet he also is very competitive, which is why he isn't gonna wanna lose most of the time. He's stubborn too.

Even in No Defense Zone MC wasn't really in full control. Sylus was ordering her around and teasing the whole time, but he clearly thought it was cute seeing MC want to be a little bit more dominant with him. MC was also obeying his orders. Do I think he likes to be called degrading names when he's eating u out? Sure, I could see that. Likes praise? Sure. Do I think he's gonna let you walk him on a leash and be into pegging? Absolutely not 🤣 but that's just MY opinion on him from everything I've gathered. I think he enjoys letting you have some control, but he's gotta be in the right mood for it I think and he probably has things he isn't into like everyone else. Either way, I'd love to hear ur thoughts on this whenever u have the time ❤️

Hi there. I’ve been thinking about this ask since I got it, and one of the things I know for sure is that I’m going to upset someone no matter what I say. But the whole point of me starting to share my fic and being more active on tumblr is to challenge my social anxiety when it tells me that my opinion isn’t of interest to anyone at the least, or offensive/hurtful at the worst. 

So here we go, my answer under the cut.

So to answer this question, I need to get through a few points first before I tell you what I personally believe about Sylus’s sexuality.

I don’t believe in kink shaming either, and I think that peoples’ complaints about the direction Infold takes the LIs are valid. We all want content that we can really relate to, and if the canon take doesn’t satisfy you, one of the great purposes of fanfic is to fix it for yourself and other fans like you. That’s such a huge part of engaging in fandom and even if I don’t agree that the character would actually do what you make him do in your content, if you write it well enough, if you capture his voice, give him logical motivations, respect the core of the character while you do it, then I can be convinced to enjoy it despite it deviating from canon.

That being said, I love Sylus because of his canon characterization, and I do believe that there are some things he would be into, or not into, based on his dialogue in the game itself.

It’s impossible to answer this question personally without telling you the following: I think it’s insane that we as a worldwide fandom and/or global community have restricted ourselves to a strict BDSM mindset of looking at people as belonging to an inflexible binary of dominant or submissive, with the only middle ground being switch, with formal labels and rules of what a “dom” does, what a “sub” does, and so forth, and the value judgments we place on which label you fall under. And what drives me further insane is how much that binary is tied up in so much misogynist bullshit if we’re talking about hetero pairings with a female MC (the power dynamics of a female sub versus a male dom alone is so often written in such a way that the writer’s internalized misogyny results in literally painful-wince-inducing reading). Human sexuality is so fluid, personal, intimate—I think that the average person’s dynamic and preferences change depending on who they’re with, what stage of life they’re in, what scars they bear from past relationships, and even on a day to day basis, how much energy they have, etc. So although all I seem to see in fandom discourse is dom!Sylus, sub!Sylus, I think that mindset is reductive, especially because even with the shit-tastic translation Infold has inflicted on us, they’ve managed to create an incredibly nuanced character who feels real enough to be human. Reducing him to dom, sub, or switch misses so much of his personality and how much he clearly loves and is obsessively devoted to MC and what MC wants.

 Finally, I think every time we’re discussing fictional characters, it’s important to remember who is writing them, and why. Infold is here to make money. They created LIs with a spectrum of traits to appeal to the widest subset of their targeted demographics. As a result, they’ve given the LIs, at least to some extent, both dominant and submissive characteristics, to appeal to the greatest number of players.

We have memories with Sylus and dialogue that indicate he’s dominant: “I prefer to be the one to take the initiative” when you tap his dick too many times in destiny cafe, his outfit descriptions about him getting a thrill of being a predator on the hunt, of dominating his prey. But we also have the no defense zone where he’s in a submissive position, even if people argue that he’s topping from the bottom in that card. Multiple times throughout the game, he lets you do what you want to him, and then says “are you satisfied? Now it’s my turn,” which points to him being a switch. Like, Infold covered all of their bases not only with Sylus, but all of the LIs to some degree.

Ok, with that context, and using the sort of vernacular that makes concepts easily recognizable even if I hate the labels: I think Sylus is a switch. He is first and foremost a hedonist—he is comfortable in his body, he prefers the finest food, drink, atmosphere, clothing, he wants to be entertained, he is constantly fighting boredom and the ennui of cynical disillusionment with the worst of humanity and being the apex predator. He loves pleasure. It doesn’t matter what form that pleasure takes. And he wants pleasure with MC in particular, because he is written by Infold as that devoted—he has a line in the destiny cafe about no one else touching him so intimately before. He’s willing to learn everything about your tastes, and then use what you teach him to pleasure you and himself. On multiple occasions he says “Oh, I suck at this? Then teach me.” So even if initially he’s shit in bed, he’ll only make a mistake once and then blow your mind on his next attempt. Sylus wants to fuck you the way you want him to fuck you. So if you want to peg him, "well sweetie, I have a prostate for a reason." You want him to choke you with a tie and fuck you like an animal, he’s down. He’s so self-assured and interested in what you want and giving both himself and you pleasure that he doesn’t believe in the “dominant = most powerful, most masculine, having the upper hand, winning” perspective that so many writers in this fandom seem to assign to the term dominant. Conversely, being submissive, or the recipient of penetration, or letting the other take control isn’t a weakness in his eyes. He “submits” because it pleases you, because he enjoys being at your mercy, he’s thrilled to have someone he trusts enough to have power over him, and that someone is you. He trusts you to make him feel fucking good, and if you can do that by putting him on his knees, who is he to say no? If on the other hand, you submit to him, he thinks you’re the most fearless, strongest badass there is for letting a literal killer who everyone else on the planet fears put you in a vulnerable position. The connotations of dominant = strong, superior and submissive = weak, inferior, losing just do not compute for him. I don’t think he’d just think of you as cute for wanting to dominate him. I think he’d think you’re magnificent for daring to try, he'd be incredibly curious how you intend to do it, and then if you truly are a dominant powerhouse, he’d happily drown in the pleasure you give him.

Now, again, this all assumes that you, yourself, are into dom/sub dynamics. Which so many people simply aren’t. And I think if you just love him, and want to have sex with him because you’re attracted to him and want to share that intimacy with him, or you don’t believe that every single sexual encounter has to contain the rigid dom/sub binary or hierarchy of positions, that you experience attraction and sex as two people on equal footing sharing a life and a bed, he’d happily fuck you in missionary for the rest of his life, luxuriating in being able to watch your expressions, of looking into your eyes, of leaning down to breathe in the scent of your neck, and just loving you until you both come and then have a snack and watch something stupid on tv.

Lastly, I do believe that there are some things Sylus wouldn’t be into, no matter how sexually adventurous he is. I don’t think he’d be into degradation, at least towards you: he is not going to call you cruel names, because you’re the person he cherishes the most in the world. I think he’d just straight-forwardly tell you, “Beloved, that doesn’t do anything for me. If you really want me to, I can try,” but you’d know his heart just isn’t in it. He isn’t going to physically hurt you, either in a pain play way or just being too eager to fuck you to properly prep you. Edit: just look at the way this man handles his gun during quality time. He's not going to treat your body with less sensual respect that that fucking gun. If sex hurts for you, he’d feel like he’s doing it wrong, and he’d slow down or try a different approach until it doesn’t hurt, or he’d tell you he isn’t interested in whatever pain you’re asking for just like with the degrading language. If you’re into degradation, with him being the receiver, I can see him being into that because he seems to be so amused by you when you’re mean to him, but even then, there are so many times in game where he says stuff like, “you talk to that person so nicely, why aren’t you that nice to me” or how happy he gets when you do start doing kind things for him, or saying kind things. I think he lives for your praise much more than anything else, but whether you’re calling him names or calling him beloved, both are good, because you’re right there, finally, looking at him, loving him, and he can finally breathe again after so long without you.

And as for how I’m writing him in the current fic: I’m writing him with all of the foregoing in mind, and will be highlighting what kind of lover I think he is for this particular MC. I could just as easily write him being a very different lover, but still in-character, for an MC who is not so damaged and has a much more dominant personality in the bedroom (as opposed to current MC who is pretty much only dominant when killing and withdrawn/timid outside the battlefield, and who enjoys the soft, kindness-driven taking-the-lead loving that Sylus is capable of displaying).

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. And thank you for the interesting ask! Even if I disagree with your or anyone else’s take on him, at the end of the day we all love this character, and what you want or need from him is valid, even if it’s not to my taste or in line with how I view him.

[snugg-bugg]

I love the Vengeance saga sm….

so here are my thoughts

NOT SORRY FOR LOVING YOU:

This was SO pretty. Wangui has such a beautiful voice and she added so much depth to the character. But i still HATE Calypso. They could never make me like you Calypso. I liked How Jorge really made her seem like she just never learned how it was wrong to expect love in return regardless of circumstance. Especially the part “Was cast away when I was young

Alone for a hundred years

I had no friends but the sky and sun

So when you washed ashore

I thought for sure that you were my dream come true”

It really did a good job at showing she never learned because she never got a chance to learn these things.

DANGEROUS:

HECK YES HERMES!!! He was so so iconic and I loved how we was just partying while Ody was fighting for his life. My favorite part was defined the Wing Bag. Especially the winions. The melodies just seemed so much darker and serious then the playful tone of Keep Your Friends Close. I also loved the Athena reference at the end. I honestly hope Odysseus doesn’t learn it was her, it would make it so much more tragic.

CHARYBDIS:

This was the song I was looking forward to the most and I was not let down! The musical storytelling was so so good! Everything about it that I imagined is practically exactly what was on the animatic. Also extra points to part of it being done by @anniflamma (i’m not even gonna try to lie, Anni is my favorite Epic Animator) I LOVED the final verse. It was so pretty and Jorge portrayed the Longing of Odysseus SO WELL. I also adored the expectation diversion leading into…

GET IN THE WATER:

First off the Intrumentals starting the song were BEAUTIFUL!!! The piano was so striking and i loved it! Steven Rodriguez is genuinely PERFECT for Poseidon. I’m not gonna lie Poseidon is my favorite Greek God(Blame PJO) and Ruthlessness is actually the song that got me into EPIC. So it was amazing to hear him again. My Blood ran cold during the “Ruthlessness… Is Mercy Upon… Ourselves” part and I loved the overlapping vocals of the “Die”. And because it’s a bossfight it just has to end with making me cry. The “spirits” of Odysseus’s comrades was so pretty and I think it was my favorite(besides love in paradise ofc) of the “Heartbreaking remembering comrades” moments.

600 STRIKE!!!

1st of holy shit the Wind bag is such a cool Bossfight instrumental. It was so freaking cool(I love all the Wind parts in EPIC). I was a little disappointed by the Visuals, no disrespect to the artist at all! But i just thought the 3d was a little jarring. I truthfully think it would have been a little better if it was 2d. Enough of visual art talk though MUSICAL art talk time! I LOVED the chanting throughout the first-half. It was such a great(I think) wrap up to the Crews story and it also sounded awesome.

600 STRIKE: PART 2(that part)

Steven Rodriguez’s voice is really hot. I just had to get that out of the way. But in all seriousness this is my favorite moment of the Saga. I don’t think 600 strike was my favorite song, that title goes to Get in the Water, but 600 strike is a close 2nd solely based on the epicness of this moment. The way my heart just stopped when Odysseus said “Exactly” was just something I’ll never get over. Also I’m weird and i loved hearing Poseidon in pain.(I like my fav. characters to suffer). Also the overlapping vocals(can i even call poseidon’s part vocals it’s just him screaming in pain) was PHENOMENAL! I especially loved the 2nd “OOoohhhh” I saw someone say that Poseidon likely regenerated around the trident before it was pulled out and that’s engraved in my brain now.

And hot Take.

I think that Poseidon was actually ASKING Odysseus how he sleeps at night. During Monster Ody says “Is he scared that he’s doing something wrong” and I actually think Ody was right. Poseidon’s “I can’t” during Get In The Water seems genuine. I don’t know if it was because He literally couldn’t forgive Ody because of what Ody did, or if He’s is actually just trying to “keep us in check so we respect him, and now no one dares piss him off”. This may just be me over-analyzing/trying to sympathize my fav character but does Poseidon actually wonder if he’s doing something wrong.

And Finally, NEXT TO MY WIFE was actually so FRAKING cold. If someone said that to me i’d be devastated.

Ultimately the Vengeance saga was probably my 2nd favorite saga(after wisdom i just adore god games) Jorge did an AMAZING job with it and I’m so excited to see how much more a monster rawr rawr rawr Ody becomes.

I hope you enjoy my thoughts (:

[deviiancetv]

Cinema Starview Presents: It Really Was Agatha All Along

I’m such a lover of the occult, witches, mystical beings and all, so Agatha All Along was a real treat to watch. As someone that loved The Craft, Practical Magic, Halloween Town, Wizard of Oz, Twitches, Hocus Pocus (sorta), AHS Coven, and many other witchy fictional stories in modern day media, this series falls right in line as a potential new comfort show to watch during spooky szn.

I’m not gonna lie, I still hate the name of this show, they could’ve came up or chosen a better name, but that’s not what’s important. Let’s just talk about how well this show was as a return to great storytelling from Marvel, cause they sure as hell have been flopping HARDCORE lately.

For starters can we just give it up to Kathryn Hahn!! 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 Kathryn is an amazing actress, her comedic timing is something of perfection. Her role as Agatha Harkness is both cunning, calculated, snarky, and yet deeply flawed and caring to her core. Her connection to Billy at the start of it all at first made me think Joe’s character was gonna be a mix of Nicholas and Billy, but Joe Locke being Billy makes a lot more sense. I loved how her story was both tragic and also had lots of depth to it.

I never did watch Heartstopper (don’t plan to) but he definitely fits the role. I think casting Kit Conner as his other half, Hulkling, would be THEE best casting decision and I hope they do that!! As for who Tommy will be, we’ll have to wait and see but I think Tommy will be introduced in that Vision series or maybe even Wonder Man?? And now that Ghost!Agatha and Billy are a team, I’m intrigued to see what adventures they get themselves in when finding Tommy

Might I add that Billy’s room is full of so much pop culture references!!! Like I’m jealous and I definitely need his room as my moodboard template.

I think I say this for everyone, that Aubrey Plaza kills it everytime in her roles. Her monotone and slightly edgy vibe is what makes her great for shows like this. Her role as Rio/Death was very poetic — the phrase “Death comes for us all” is so cryptic and yet so true. It’s the same thing with change being the only constant in life, and life is full of so many deaths and changes, but also there’s so much growth and birth happening all the time. I’m sure we’ll see Rio again, maybe if they FINALLY introduce Mephisto she could act as a henchmen or bounty hunter of sorts for him.

As for the other witches, Alice’s story was sad, but it didn’t feel fully developed as the other witches. Patti LuPone’s role as Lilia is soooo poignant and wispy (as they say). I love Patti’s roles so much, she’s become a favorite of mine over the years and her portrayal of a divination witch was phenomenal. Sasheer Zamata taking on this role was very interesting, I remember her time on SNL and to see her in a dramatic and whimsical setting like this was a nice change.

I’m just so glad her character Jen was able to be unbound by the spell Agatha placed onto her (as well as the cultural significance that represents). In a way, Jen was a final girl given everybody else died, Billy and Rio don’t officially count since they had grander importance than Jen does in terms of the MCU, but good for Jen. I hope we see her again someday.

This show was a nice return to form for Marvel. I’m not the biggest fan of how they treated Wanda in Multiverse of Madness, but I love the creepy supernatural factor that comes with this area of the MCU. I hope they keep it up, but by the looks of it, I’m sure there gonna be more mediocre content until we get to the end of this Multiverse Saga, however this was a nice break in between.

Jac Schaeffer has done it again ✨ they need to give her a raise and make her in charge of the supernatural sector of the MCU.

SCORE: 8/10 ⭐️

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

would you consider writing a part two for you are the right one 🥹? it was sooo amazing

You Are The Right One - Jonathan Crane x Reader (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader High School!Jonathan Crane,

Word Count: 7902

Warnings: bullying, fake gun, minor character death

Summary: Prom night (not much else to say XD)

A/N: never expected so much support on the first part, but here we are again, lol I wanted to keep this part simple so yeah :P sorry it took so long to get to this request, but here it is 💚

(Part 1)

-

Jonathan had never expected much from their friendship, but Y/n quickly became a surprising beacon of kindness in his life. From the very beginning, she treated him with genuine warmth, defending him against the mockery of their peers without hesitation. No matter how others viewed their unlikely pairing, him, the lanky, awkward outcast, and her, the stunning girl who seemed to effortlessly command attention, Y/n never let societal judgments deter her. She stood by him, offering support and friendship with a sincerity that left him in awe. 

In a world where he often felt invisible, she made him feel seen, valued, and accepted. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and her smile could brighten even his darkest days. Jonathan treasured her not only for her beauty but for her unwavering belief in him. Every moment they shared reinforced the depth of his feelings, he found himself drawn to her in a way he could never have anticipated. 

She was a rare light in his life, illuminating the shadows of his insecurities, and he couldn't help but cherish every second they spent together.

Jonathan had become adept at sneaking out from his grandmother's house, having cleverly slipped her a mild sedative while making her tea to ensure she sleep while he slipped away to spend time with Y/n. This little escapade had turned into a routine, a cherished ritual that gave him a sense of freedom he had rarely experienced before. 

Tonight, they found themselves in Y/n’s cozy bedroom, the soft glow of fairy lights along her wall casting a warm ambiance as they settled in for an evening of studying. Y/n lay comfortably on her bed, surrounded by scattered textbooks and notes, her hair spilling around her like a halo. Meanwhile, Jonathan sat at her desk, the clutter of papers and books mirroring the chaos in his mind.

As he focused on the math problems before him, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/n. She had a way of losing herself in her studies, her brow furrowed in concentration, and he found himself mesmerized by her determination. It was in these quiet moments that Jonathan’s internal struggle intensified. The more time he spent with her, the deeper his feelings grew, a feeling he had tried to suppress, fearing the potential for heartache.

He felt like a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece, and Y/n was that missing piece, effortlessly filling a void he had long felt. Yet, doubt crept in, he worried about his place in her life. Did she see him as just a friend, a study buddy? Or was there something more beneath the surface? She already knew how he felt, but he wanted to know her feelings better. When she had rejected him, she was so kind, and even mentioned liking him too, but how far did this like go? He wasn’t sure. 

As the minutes slipped away, Jonathan felt an undeniable pull towards her, a longing to bridge the gap between friendship and something deeper. He could hear her soft laughter mingling with the rustling pages, and it made his heart race. In that small, intimate space, he felt both elated and terrified, caught in a delicate balance of hope and uncertainty. 

“Okay, so I think I finally understand this stuff..” Y/n said, glancing up at him with a playful grin. “Just don’t ask me to explain it. I might just confuse both of us.”

Jonathan chuckled, the sound a little breathless as he caught her eye. “I never thought someone could make this subject hard, but you manage to surprise me.”

“Hey, this is hard!” she laughed, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him. “But seriously, I need to pass this shit.”

“Trust me, you will,” he replied, a warmth spreading in his chest as he admired her enthusiasm. 

As he scribbled down a few notes, Jonathan couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Y/n had a way of losing herself in her studies, her brow furrowed in concentration, and he found himself mesmerized by her determination. It was in these quiet moments that his internal struggle intensified. The more time he spent with her, the deeper his feelings grew, a feeling he had tried to suppress, fearing the potential for heartache.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Y/n nudged him playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“U-uh, yes! Yep…” he said, smiling sheepishly. “Just…admiring your studying technique..” he knew he sounded stupid, but it was better than admitting he got distracted looking at her. 

She rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Well, you’re the one who’s keeping me company. That makes it a lot easier. Plus, we’re basically a study power duo now.”

As they settled down from study session, Y/n casually flipped through her notes, her eyes lighting up. “So, have you thought about prom yet? It’s coming up pretty soon!”

Jonathan’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of prom. Memories of Bo and Sherry’s relentless bullying flashed in his mind, their taunts echoing like a bad dream. He had been planning his revenge on them for weeks, envisioning the perfect way to make them pay for the humiliation they’d caused him. But as he looked at Y/n, her excitement contagious, he forced himself to focus on the present.

“Prom, huh?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the turmoil brewing inside him. “Yeah, I guess it’s around the corner. Are you planning to go?”

Y/n leaned back on her bed, a dreamy expression on her face. “Of course! I’ve already got a dress picked out. It’s this gorgeous red color that really pops. I can’t wait to see everyone dressed up.”

Jonathan felt a pang of jealousy mixed with admiration. “I bet you’ll look amazing,” he said, his voice genuine despite his internal conflict. 

In his mind, he couldn’t help but picture her twirling in that dress, her laughter ringing through the air. It was a beautiful image, but it only fueled the darker thoughts that had taken root.

“Do you have a date?” he asked, casually, even though he was bracing himself for her answer. The thought of her going with someone else made his stomach twist.

She shrugged, her expression turning thoughtful. “Not yet. I mean, it would be nice to go with someone, but I’m also okay with just having fun with friends. What about you?”

Jonathan hesitated, a mix of emotions swirling within him. “I haven’t really thought about it. I’m just…more focused on other things right now.” 

Y/n tilted her head, sensing the shift in his mood. “Oh? Like what? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

He forced a smile, trying to keep the darkness of his revenge plan at bay. “Just school stuff, you know? Nothing too exciting.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’m here,” she said, her voice softening. “I just want you to be happy, Jonathan.”

Her kindness wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, making it harder to maintain the façade he’d built around his plans for Bo and Sherry. The more she spoke, the more he found himself torn between his desire for revenge and his growing affection for Y/n. 

-

As their conversations flowed effortlessly, neither of them noticed the time slipping away until the room grew darker, the soft glow of fairy lights casting long shadows across the walls. Jonathan glanced at the clock on Y/n’s desk, his heart sinking a little as he realized how late it had gotten. 

“I should probably head home,” he said reluctantly, pushing his chair back from the desk. A wave of disappointment washed over him, he always wished their time together could last just a little longer. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s getting late,” Y/n replied, her tone a mix of understanding and regret. She sat up on the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Jonathan smiled, grateful for the gesture. He gathered his things, shoving his books into his backpack with a sense of urgency, not wanting to leave but knowing he had to. As he moved, he stole glances at Y/n, who was already standing by the door, her silhouette framed in the soft light. 

When he reached her, Y/n opened the door, and the cool evening air rushed in, carrying the scent of blooming flowers from outside. “Thanks for coming over, Jonathan. I had a great time,” she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Me too. I always do,” he replied, his heart racing slightly as their eyes locked. The moment felt charged, a silent understanding hanging between them. For a brief second, he considered leaning in, maybe even telling her how much she meant to him, but the weight of his unspoken feelings held him back. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. “I know it’s dark, and you never know who might be lurking around.” 

He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I think I can handle it.” 

“Well, just know, I can walk you back anytime..” she said.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, the warmth spreading through him again. 

As he stepped outside, the chill of the night air hit him, grounding him in reality. He turned back to look at Y/n one last time, her expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

“Goodnight, Jonathan,” she called after him, her voice echoing in the stillness of the night.

As Jonathan walked down the driveway, the gravel crunching softly underfoot, he felt the cool night air wrapping around him. Just as he reached the end of the driveway, he heard Y/n call out behind him, her voice breaking the stillness of the evening.

“Jonathan! Wait!” 

He turned to see her jogging toward him, her cheeks slightly flushed, a mixture of nervousness and determination etched across her features. His heart raced again, curiosity and hope flooding his senses.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice as he took a step closer to her.

Y/n stopped in front of him, her breathing slightly uneven as she gathered her thoughts. “I, um…I’ve been thinking,” she started, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. “And I just…I really want to ask you something important.”

Jonathan’s stomach knotted with anticipation, his mind racing. He held his breath, waiting for her to continue.

“I was wondering…would you be my prom date?” The words tumbled out in a rush, her eyes wide with a mix of hope and anxiety. “I mean, if you want to, of course! It’s totally okay if you’re not interested or already have someone else in mind. I just thought…it could be fun.”

A wave of disbelief washed over Jonathan. This was the last thing he had expected. His heart soared at her request, but confusion washed over him. He had been planning his revenge on Bo and Sherry, but here was Y/n, standing in front of him, and all he could think about was how perfect it would be to go to prom with her.

“Wow, Y/n…I, uh…” he stammered, searching her eyes for reassurance. “I’d love to go with you.”

Her face broke into a bright smile, the nervousness melting away as relief washed over her. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yeah, I really mean it,” he replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “I can’t think of anything better than going to prom with you.”

Y/n’s joy was palpable as she took a step closer, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Great! This is going to be so much fun!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Y/n stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Jonathan in an enthusiastic hug. He froze for a brief second, taken aback by the warmth and affection enveloping him. The scent of her hair, a sweet mix of shampoo and something floral, filled his senses, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness.

After a heartbeat of surprise, he instinctively hugged her back, his arms encircling her waist gently. She fit perfectly against him, and for that moment, all his worries faded away, leaving just the two of them standing together in the soft glow of the streetlights.

“Thank you for saying yes,” she murmured against his shoulder, her voice muffled but filled with joy.

“Of course,” he replied, feeling his heart race as he savored the moment. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

As they slowly pulled away from the embrace, Y/n’s cheeks were flushed with happiness, and Jonathan couldn’t help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. 

“Okay, I should really let you go before we stand here all night,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “But I’m so glad we’re going together!”

“Me too,” Jonathan agreed, still feeling the warmth of her hug lingering on his skin. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jonathan!” she said, taking a step back toward the house.

He smiled, watching as she waved at him with a radiant smile before turning to head inside.

He turned back to the driveway, feeling lighter than he had in a long time, a smile tugging at his lips as he walked away. Tonight had turned out to be more than he could have ever hoped for, and as he made his way home, thoughts of prom, and the girl he was going with, filled his mind.

-

Jonathan lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a grin he couldn’t shake. He replayed the evening in his mind, the warmth of Y/n’s hug, the sparkle in her eyes when he said yes. She’d asked him to prom, and he couldn’t help the thrill that surged through him. It was almost unreal, a dream he hadn’t even dared to hope for. He was going to prom with Y/n, and for once, he felt like maybe he could be something more than the awkward, outcast “loser” everyone saw him as.

But as his excitement buzzed through him, a darker thought crept in, shadowing his joy. Bo and Sherry. He had a plan for them, a carefully crafted, calculated scheme he’d been piecing together for weeks. The hurt they’d inflicted on him wasn’t something he could just shrug off. He wanted them to pay for every insult, every time they’d made him feel small and insignificant. Prom had seemed like the perfect time to exact his revenge.

Now, though, things felt tangled. He’d been so certain of his plan, yet tonight, standing in Y/n’s driveway, feeling her warmth and hearing the hope in her voice, he’d hesitated. This was the one night she deserved to be perfect, untouched by his grudges and vendettas. But could he really let go of what he’d spent so long planning?

He sighed, turning on his side and clenching his fists against the sheets. The excitement of being with Y/n battled against the pull of his anger, his need to get even. He wanted this night to be special for her, but a part of him also wanted the satisfaction of finally standing up for himself, of seeing Bo and Sherry squirm.

Laying there, Jonathan wrestled with his emotions, caught between the thrill of going to prom with her and the temptation of revenge.

Jonathan pushed himself up from his bed, unable to quiet the turmoil churning inside him. The thrill of Y/n’s invitation lingered, but his mind wouldn’t let go of the memories of Bo and Sherry’s cruelty. He crossed the room, settling at his desk and resting his arms on its worn surface, eyes drifting to the window. The night was still and quiet, the world outside bathed in pale moonlight.

His gaze landed on the lone scarecrow standing vigil in the middle of the cornfield, its ragged figure barely swaying in the breeze. The old thing had always unsettled him, but tonight, it seemed different, almost…inviting. A twisted reflection of himself, abandoned and forgotten, but strong in its solitude. Just like him, it stood alone, its hollow eyes staring back at him from across the field as if it understood his darkest thoughts.

The scarecrow had weathered countless storms, just as he’d endured years of torment. And now, for the first time, Jonathan could imagine himself with that same relentless resolve, ready to push back against those who’d made his life a living hell. Bo and Sherry had sneered at him, humiliated him, yet here he was, determined, calculating, and now, thanks to Y/n, even hopeful.

He tore his gaze away from the scarecrow, his heart racing as he glanced back around his quiet room. Y/n had pulled him out of the shadows, made him feel seen. But he couldn’t deny the urge bubbling up in him, the need to make Bo and Sherry pay.

-

The days leading up to prom passed in a blur of quiet excitement for Jonathan. Every day after school, he and Y/n would meet up to discuss their plans, Y/n’s voice bubbling over with enthusiasm as she talked about her dress and what the night might be like. For once, Jonathan found himself swept up in the normalcy of it all, like he was just any other teenager getting ready for prom.

Y/n insisted on picking colors that wouldn’t clash as she had already picked out her dress, and though Jonathan didn’t care much about the details, he nodded along, letting her excitement carry him. She’d managed to rope him into a shopping trip to pick out a corsage, which she insisted he give her on prom night, despite his lack of experience in anything remotely romantic. Yet he found himself oddly happy as they picked out flowers, grateful to have even this small experience with her.

Meanwhile, Jonathan had managed to scrape together a plan for his attire. He’d gotten hold of an old, dusty tuxedo from a thrift store, a simple black suit that had seen better days but fit well enough. He’d slipped out of the house to buy it late one evening, clutching the stolen bills he’d swiped from his grandmother’s purse. She’d hardly notice, anyway, with all the sleeping pills he’d been slipping into her nightly tea. She drifted into an oblivious slumber every night, and he doubted she’d even realize the money was gone.

Now, with his suit tucked away in his closet and Y/n’s eager calls buzzing through the phone every evening, Jonathan felt a strange mix of anticipation and unease. He was so close to having a perfect night with her, the kind of night he’d never thought he’d experience. But lurking underneath his excitement was the dark reminder of what he planned to do.

- Jonathan stood nervously on Y/n's front porch, adjusting the slightly too-short sleeves of his tuxedo. The suit wasn’t perfect, but he hoped it would do. His hands were clammy, his heart racing as he glanced at the corsage in his hand, a delicate arrangement of flowers they’d picked out together. He could feel the hidden fabric inside his jacket, waiting for the right moment. He’d run through this moment a hundred times in his mind, but as he waited for her to come to the door, all the scenarios he’d imagined vanished, replaced with a nervous buzz.

Just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, and there she was, standing in the entryway with a soft smile that lit up her face. She wore a deep red dress, simple yet elegant, and it took his breath away. The dress shimmered under the porch light, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

“Wow…Y/n, you look…” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, “amazing.”

Her smile widened, and he felt a warmth spread through him as she glanced at him, her eyes flicking over his suit with a small, approving nod. “Thanks, Jonathan. And look at you! You clean up really well,” she said, clearly impressed, her voice carrying an affectionate teasing note. “And I see you got the corsage. Good choice.”

He smiled shyly, relieved. “I had some help with that.” He extended his hand, offering her the corsage. Gently, she slipped her hand into his as he carefully tied it around her wrist. For a moment, everything else faded away, and he could only see her, beaming up at him.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice bright with anticipation.

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

-

The ride to the school was filled with soft music from the radio, and Jonathan sat in the backseat beside Y/n, trying to ignore the occasional, watchful glances from her dad in the rearview mirror. Y/n chatted easily with her father, the conversation light and casual, as if it were just another day. But Jonathan’s mind was racing, and he found himself squeezing his hands together to keep his nerves in check.

When they finally pulled up to the school, the building was decked out in strings of fairy lights and a couple of banners to give it that “special occasion” look. It was obvious the school had saved on budget, but somehow, in the glow of the lights and the soft murmur of students gathering at the entrance, it felt almost magical.

Y/n’s dad turned to face them from the driver’s seat, giving Jonathan an almost fatherly look of both caution and approval. “You two have fun,” he said, his tone light but pointed. Then, he winked at Y/n. “I’ll be back at eleven sharp to pick you up.”

Y/n smiled, giving her dad a small wave. “Thanks, Dad. See you later.”

With a final nod, her dad drove off, leaving them standing side by side at the entrance. Jonathan took a deep breath, glancing around at the other students arriving in pairs and groups. Despite the nervous energy, a surge of confidence welled up in him when he felt Y/n’s arm loop around his.

“You ready?” she asked, her eyes shining with excitement as she looked up at him.

Jonathan grinned, the warmth of her presence calming his nerves. “Yeah. Let’s make it a night to remember.”

They stepped into the transformed gym, where colorful streamers hung from the ceiling, and a disco ball cast shimmery patterns across the walls. The music was already blaring, and clusters of students filled the floor, chatting, laughing, and dancing. Despite the somewhat tacky decorations, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Jonathan couldn’t help but feel swept up in it as Y/n led him further inside.

"Can you believe it? Prom," Y/n laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "I never thought I’d actually care about this, but…it feels kind of fun, right?"

Jonathan chuckled, his nerves easing as he saw her joy. "I think it’s safe to say that if you’re here, it’s going to be fun."

She laughed, clearly flattered, and soon they found themselves swaying together as a slower song came on. Jonathan’s heartbeat quickened as he placed his hands carefully on her waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him with an easy smile. He tried to keep his gaze steady, to keep himself in the moment and not get lost in his thoughts of revenge, but being this close to her made his brain waver.

Y/n’s laughter was infectious, and he found himself joining her in silly, exaggerated dance moves, spinning her dramatically to make her laugh harder. She’d step on his toes or twirl too fast, but they’d laugh it off, sharing smiles and glances that lingered longer than usual. At one point, he mustered enough confidence to try a dip, catching her by surprise and making her laugh as he carefully pulled her back up. 

“Look at you, got the smooth moves!” she teased, her eyes glimmering with delight.

He shrugged, a newfound confidence glinting in his eyes. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

For a while, they danced and laughed like nothing else existed. Jonathan even felt his own insecurities fade, replaced by the simple joy of being with her. But as the night went on, an unsettling reminder began to creep back into his mind, tugging at the edges of his thoughts.

As they took a break, stepping off the dance floor to catch their breath, he caught sight of Bo and Sherry laughing together across the room. The sight sent a cold jolt through him, reigniting the bitterness that had simmered beneath the surface all night. He tried to push it away, focusing on Y/n’s smiling face, her flushed cheeks from dancing, but the gnawing need for revenge was persistent.

She noticed his change in expression, tilting her head with a concerned smile. “Hey, you okay?”

Jonathan caught sight of Bo and Sherry across the room, laughing loudly with their friends, their mocking faces a reminder of every miserable moment they’d put him through. His fists clenched almost instinctively, but then he felt the warmth of Y/n’s hand on his arm.

She was smiling at him and any thoughts of revenge seemed to fade into the background. Right now, here with her, he didn’t want to be that person. He just wanted to enjoy the night, to let himself be a different Jonathan, the one who could laugh, dance, and feel like he actually belonged somewhere.

He looked down at her and grinned, the tension slipping away. "Come on," he said, pulling her gently back toward the dance floor. "We’ve still got more terrible dance moves to show off."

She laughed, squeezing his hand. “That’s the spirit.”

Ignoring the ghosts of his past, Jonathan let himself be present with Y/n, immersing himself in the music, the laughter, and the freedom of the night. He knew the weight of his old grudges would return eventually, but for now, he didn’t care. All that mattered was this moment, here with her.

That’s when Jonathan stumbled forward, a sharp pain shot through his knee as he hit the floor hard. Laughter echoed above him, and he didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Oops, didn’t see you there, Scarecrow,” Bo sneered, his voice laced with mockery. He chuckled, reveling in the scene he’d created. 

Before Jonathan could gather himself, he felt Y/n’s hands reach under his arm, helping him back onto his feet. Her expression was fiery as she turned to face Bo.

“What’s your problem?!” she demanded, her voice loud enough to turn heads nearby. Her gaze was unwavering, fierce with protectiveness.

Bo only laughed, clearly amused by her anger. Sherry, standing just behind him, rolled her eyes, tugging on Bo’s arm.

“Oh, leave it,” she said dismissively, shooting Jonathan a disdainful glance. “I want to have fun tonight, not waste time on some loser.”

With that, she pulled Bo away, leaving them snickering as they disappeared into the crowd.

Jonathan’s hands tightened into fists, his heart racing as anger swirled within him. But beside him, Y/n’s hand rested gently on his arm, grounding him. She looked up at him, her expression softening.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, her eyes full of concern and warmth.

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah…thanks.”

But as they returned to the dance floor, the desire for revenge simmered beneath his skin. Bo and Sherry weren’t just going to walk away from this. Not tonight. Not after everything. 

As the music shifted to a slow, melodic tune, Y/n took Jonathan’s hand and led him further into the dance floor. The tension lingered in the air, but she tried to shake it off, wanting to focus on the moment with him. As they swayed gently to the rhythm, she couldn’t help but glance up at Jonathan, concern etched across her features.

“Are you really okay?” she asked softly, her brow furrowed. “That looked like it hurt.”

Jonathan forced a smile, though the weight of his earlier encounter hung heavy in his mind. “Honestly, I’m fine. Just a little bump.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Don’t worry about it.”

Y/n searched his eyes, looking for any hint of the anger that had flared just moments before, but instead, she found a flicker of vulnerability. “You know they’re just trying to get a rise out of you, right? You don’t have to let them win.”

Jonathan hesitated, the familiar urge to retaliate bubbling up again. “I know,” he replied, his voice low. “But it’s hard not to think about it when they just—” He paused, looking away, unable to fully articulate the frustration. “It’s easier to just brush it off and enjoy the night with you.”

She offered him a small, reassuring smile, the warmth of her presence washing over him. “That’s what you should do. Just be here with me. I want this night to be special for both of us.”

As they continued to sway together, the world around them faded, leaving only the soft sound of the music and the gentle thumping of their hearts. Jonathan inhaled deeply, letting Y/n’s words sink in. 

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice steadying. “Let’s make the most of it.” He leaned down slightly, his forehead resting against hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away. All that mattered was Y/n, and the dance they shared under the glittering lights of the gym.

As they continued to dance, the gentle rhythm of the music wrapped around them like a soft blanket. Jonathan felt the weight of the moment, the intimacy of it all stirring something deeper inside him. He looked down at Y/n, noticing the way her cheeks flushed under the soft glow of the lights.

Suddenly, Y/n pulled back slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor, and a shyness washed over her. Jonathan could see her thoughts racing, and his heart quickened in anticipation.

“Jonathan,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I…I need to tell you something.” She hesitated, biting her lip nervously. “When I rejected you before, I meant what I said, I really do like you. It’s just…I wasn’t ready to date anyone at the time. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Jonathan’s breath hitched, his heart pounding at her admission. He searched her eyes, trying to gauge what this meant.

“But now,” she continued, glancing up at him with a mix of hope and uncertainty, “I feel different. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I really want to give it a chance…if you’re still interested.”

His heart soared at her words, a smile breaking across his face. “Y/n, I’ve liked you for so long. I was worried I’d messed everything up after that.”

She shook her head, her own smile growing brighter. “No, you didn’t. I just needed time to figure things out for myself. And now that I’m here with you…it feels right.”

Jonathan’s pulse quickened as he processed her confession. He drew her in closer, savoring the warmth of her body against his. “I want that too.”

Y/n’s eyes sparkled, her nervousness fading as a sense of relief washed over her. “So, we’re really doing this?”

Jonathan nodded earnestly, the moment feeling surreal. “Yeah, I want to be with you.”

As they held each other, the music enveloping them, he felt an overwhelming rush of happiness, but in the back of his mind, the shadow of his revenge plan lingered. He pushed it aside for now, focused solely on Y/n, the girl who had somehow become everything to him in such a short time. 

As Y/n leaned in closer, the world around Jonathan seemed to melt away. The way she looked at him, with a mixture of shyness and eagerness, ignited a fire of anticipation within him. His heart raced like crazy, each beat echoing the desire he had held onto for so long. The thought of kissing her, of feeling her warmth against him, sent a thrill coursing through his veins. 

But just as the moment felt perfectly poised, Jonathan caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. His heart sank as he saw Bo and Sherry slipping out of the gym, their laughter echoing behind them like nails on a chalkboard. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water, this was his chance, and it was slipping away.

He hesitated, torn between the sweet promise of Y/n's lips and the bitterness of revenge that bubbled just beneath the surface. The plan he had formulated, the chance to finally confront Bo and Sherry for everything they had done to him, loomed large in his mind. If he didn’t act now, he might never get the opportunity again.

“Y/n…” Jonathan said suddenly, his voice tinged with urgency. He stepped back slightly, trying to mask his internal conflict. “I’ll be right back. Just…give me a second.” 

Her brow furrowed in confusion, disappointment flickering across her face. “Jonathan? What’s wrong?” 

“I’ll explain later, I promise,” he said, already backing away from her, his heart racing for a different reason now. “Just…stay here, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and pushed through the herd of students, the music and laughter fading behind him as he focused on Bo and Sherry’s retreating figures. He felt a mix of adrenaline and anxiety coursing through him; this was it. The moment he had been waiting for.

As he moved swiftly through the crowd, Jonathan felt the weight of his choices pressing down on him. But with every step, he reminded himself that he needed to take control. The memory of Y/n’s smile and their near-kiss fueled his determination. Turning back to look at her, he could see the disappointment in her eyes and he felt horrible but tonight was about more than just a dance, it was about standing up for himself. He wasn’t going to let Bo and Sherry ruin it for him any longer. 

He spotted them outside, laughing as they walked away, blissfully unaware of his approach. With every ounce of courage he could muster, Jonathan steeled himself for the confrontation he had long envisioned, pushing aside his moment with Y/n for the sake of justice. 

As Jonathan trailed behind Bo and Sherry, a surge of adrenaline propelled him forward. He could see them heading toward Bo’s car, the laughter and carefree banter carrying over the low hum of the night. The familiar knot of anger twisted in his stomach, but he channeled that energy into determination. He wouldn’t let this chance slip away.

The pair drove to a secluded area near the woods, a spot Jonathan recognized as a local hangout where teens often came to escape prying eyes. He crept behind the trees, keeping low as he watched them pull up and park. As they wrapped up in each other and caught in their own little world, Jonathan knew he had to act quickly. 

He spotted a sturdy tree nearby, its branches thick and inviting. Without hesitating, he made his way to it, his heart pounding in his ears. He climbed with urgency, the rough bark scraping against his palms as he pulled himself higher and higher until he found a branch that provided a perfect vantage point above them. 

From his perch, he could see Bo and Sherry in the car, their laughter echoing through the cool night air. They were completely oblivious to his presence, lost in the haze of their own affection. Jonathan took a moment to steady his breathing, the sounds of their kisses floating up to him. It fueled his anger. They thought they could treat him like a joke, but tonight, he would show them just how wrong they were.

As he balanced himself on the branch, he allowed a smirk to spread across his face. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and the anticipation electrified him. He took a deep breath, preparing to make his move, heart racing not just with anger but with the thrill of the unknown. He was no longer the awkward boy they had tormented, he was about to turn the tables.

With one final glance at the couple below, Jonathan focused on the task at hand. He would make sure they remembered this night, and he would reclaim the power they had so carelessly taken from him. As he prepared to jump down, he felt a mixture of excitement and vengeance swirl within him. It was time to confront his past.

With his heart racing in sync with the rush of adrenaline, Jonathan grasped the smoke bomb tightly in his hand. He took a moment to steady himself, watching Bo and Sherry through the branches. The two were blissfully unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

Then, without hesitation, he released the smoke bomb, the device landing directly on the roof of the car. As it detonated, a thick cloud of smoke erupted around the vehicle, enveloping it in an eerie, swirling mist. Jonathan could hear the couple’s laughter turn to confusion and then panic as the inside of the car filled with a choking fog.

He quickly reached into his coat and pulled out the tattered remnants of a scarecrow mask he had fashioned earlier. With a swift motion, he slid it over his face, obscuring his identity and adding a layer of theatricality to the scene. It felt empowering, a transformation from the overlooked boy to something more sinister.

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan leaped off his perch, landing on the hood of the car with a thud. The couple inside screamed in unison, their shock palpable. He pointed the fake gun he had brought along at Bo and Sherry, a grin breaking through the mask. 

Before they could fully process what was happening, Jonathan pulled the trigger on the fake gun. A harmless pop echoed through the night, and a harmless projectile shot out, bouncing harmlessly off the windshield. The couple screamed again, eyes wide with terror, as they scrambled to figure out how to escape this bizarre nightmare.

As Bo fumbled for the gear shift, panic setting in, Jonathan leapt off the hood, adrenaline propelling him backward. He watched as Bo desperately tried to maneuver the car out of the smoke, his face twisted in confusion. The tires squealed against the gravel as Bo hit the gas, but the dense smoke obscured his vision, and the next moment felt like slow motion.

The car lurched forward, and with a sickening crunch, it collided violently with a tree. Jonathan’s heart leaped as he saw Sherry’s body smash against the windshield, her screams muffled by the impact. The sound of shattering glass pierced the air, the scene unfolding like a chaotic tableau.

Jonathan stood in place, his heart pounding with triumph as he watched the scene before him unfold. This was exactly what he had imagined, Bo and Sherry panicking, trapped in the chaos he’d created. As the smoke thinned, revealing the crumpled front of the car and their bewildered, terrified faces, he felt a fierce surge of satisfaction.

For once, he wasn’t the one cowering or enduring their cruel laughter. He was the one standing tall, the one who orchestrated this night. The realization filled him with pride. He had taken back his power, turned the tables, and shown them the fear they’d forced on him for so long. 

A slow grin formed under his mask as he took a step back, savoring the moment. This was his victory, his reckoning. No longer the timid, scrawny target, Jonathan had become something to be feared. With his plan in full effect, he felt a twisted, intoxicating sense of accomplishment. This was his night. Finally, he was the one in control.

As the thrill of his revenge faded, Jonathan’s thoughts snapped back to Y/n. She was waiting for him, likely wondering where he had disappeared to. Panic surged through him as he realized he didn’t want to lose the night they’d shared. Without wasting a second, he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the school, heart pounding with a new urgency.

He burst back into the dimly lit prom hall, scanning the crowd until he finally spotted her. Y/n was standing with a few friends, casually chatting, her face lighting up when she caught sight of him. Jonathan felt his chest tighten. She looked beautiful, relaxed, like nothing could ruin this night. Determined to keep it that way, he made his way over, his face breaking into a grin as he reached her.

"Hey," he said, slightly out of breath. The music shifted to a slow, familiar song, signaling the final dance of the night.

Y/n’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Where did you run off to?” she asked, her tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

He hesitated, then shrugged, putting on his best nonchalant smile. “Just needed some air,” he replied, smoothly changing the subject as he held out a hand. “Last dance…? Only fair to end the night with you.”

She smiled and placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. As they swayed together, Jonathan’s mind buzzed with the adrenaline still rushing through him. He’d just taken back his dignity from his tormentors, and now he was here, holding the girl he’d admired for so long. This moment felt surreal, as if he were finally reclaiming a piece of his life.

They moved together in silence, the world around them fading into the background. Y/n looked up at him, her gaze soft and open, and he felt a surge of courage unlike anything he’d known. Looking at her, Jonathan did the unthinkable and leaned in, his hand coming up to gently cup her face. She stilled, her eyes widening slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Then, with a boldness fueled by the night’s adrenaline, he closed the space between them and pressed his lips softly against hers. For a moment, everything else vanished, the smoke, the revenge, the shadows of the past. All that mattered was her, right there with him, returning the kiss with warmth and tenderness.

As they pulled back, Y/n smiled shyly, her cheeks flushed. Jonathan could hardly believe what had just happened, but for once, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Their moment was abruptly shattered by the sound of someone bursting into the gym, their voice frantic. "There’s been an accident outside! It’s Bo and Sherry!"

A ripple of shock ran through the crowd, and without hesitation, students and teachers alike began hurrying out of the gym, voices buzzing with concern and confusion. Jonathan felt a chill run down his spine, but he kept his face carefully neutral, blending in with the crowd as they surged toward the exit. Y/n looked at him, worry evident in her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand as they joined the others heading outside.

Jonathan let himself be led, though his pulse was thudding with the knowledge of what they’d find. He already knew what waited down the road, but he kept his expression calm, a mask slipping effortlessly into place. They joined the throngs gathering near the entrance, and sure enough, flashing red and blue lights came into view as police cars approached the wreckage down the road.

The crowd murmured in hushed, anxious tones, some of Y/n’s friends pulling her closer, trying to see what was happening. Jonathan stayed at her side, feeling the weight of his actions settling over him like a dark cloak. He squeezed her hand, feeling the mixture of excitement and dread bubbling within him. 

Y/n looked up at him, her face pale with worry. “This is awful…I mean, I know they could be mean, but…shit…”

Jonathan managed a slow, somber nod, his gaze fixed on the flashing lights ahead. "Sometimes…people get what’s coming to them," he murmured, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/n’s eyes lingered on him, a slight furrow in her brow as she tried to read his expression. But before she could say anything more, the sirens grew louder, and the paramedics arrived, rushing to the scene as the crowd continued to murmur in horrified fascination. 

As he watched, Jonathan’s lips curved ever so slightly, a dark satisfaction flickering within him. His plan had come together perfectly, and no one would ever know. He took a deep breath, wrapping an arm around Y/n, feigning shock along with everyone else. But inside, he felt nothing but triumph.

As the murmurs and gasps around them grew louder, Jonathan leaned close to Y/n, his voice low and calm, almost soothing against the mess. "Let’s go back inside," he whispered. "We should wait for your dad to come pick us up."

Y/n looked at him, her expression still troubled as she cast one last glance at the flashing lights in the distance. She nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah…yeah, maybe that’s a good idea."

He gently took her hand, leading her away from the gathering crowd, away from the scene he knew all too well. Inside, the music had stopped, and the gym was nearly empty, the remnants of the night scattered in abandoned cups and streamers. Jonathan’s heart still raced, but his demeanor was perfectly steady, keeping Y/n close and calm.

As they found a quiet corner to wait, he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be alright,” he murmured, his words laced with a dark undertone only he understood.

Jonathan sat with Y/n in the quiet shadows of the empty gym, his heart still thundering with the adrenaline of the night. He couldn’t help but savor the moment, letting it settle over him like the closing notes of a perfect symphony. Tonight had been everything he had dreamed of and more, a night where he was no longer the target, no longer the helpless one. He had reclaimed his power, his control.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at Y/n beside him, her gaze still distant with worry over what had happened to Bo and Sherry. She had no idea. No one did. And that secret was his alone to carry.

This night couldn’t have gone better if he’d scripted it. He had tasted a kind of victory he’d long yearned for, a quiet triumph only he would understand. Revenge had felt sweeter than he imagined, and sharing a night like this with Y/n, knowing he had taken control of his fate in more ways than one, was the final touch he hadn’t even expected.

As they waited for her dad, he let himself linger in this perfect moment, knowing he had finally tipped the scales in his favor. For the first time in his life, Jonathan Crane had not only survived but won. And it was a feeling he intended to savor for a very, very long time.

-

A/N: pretty simple, straightforward fic, but I hope you did enjoy it regardless thank you for reading :) 💚

I have no intentions on writing another part

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[francy-sketches]

If I'd actually posted all my pjo art when I made it instead of hoarding it like a little goblin for no apparent reason today I might have been known as the octavian guy instead of the joffrey guy...scary thought...

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Me starting another bg3 run where I will make virtually all the same decisions in mostly the same order as if there isn't different branching paths

[longagoitwastuesday]

I'm three interactions away from spreading my Ijichi/Gojo agenda

[the--highlanders]

honestly I feel like I should apologise to the writer of the phantom piper. sorry king your audio rewired my brain & now I'm trying to rewrite it ✌️

[aroacettorney]

when will aup sidestories return from war and stop leaving me bitter about how the main story ended

[alisaint]

i feel like sometimes (many times) people get realism / "if this were to happen to a real person in the real world context, then this character would experience and grapple with x, y, z" mixed up with text / what that character is actually going through in the story which is always going to be constrained by time, space, and the creator's biases and experiences

[lieutenant-amuel]

If I seem inactive, just know that I'm now writing a 350+ words essay about how awesome I am.

[mobtism]

i hate ōkubo atsushi as much as the next person because of his fanservicey fetishism but i love the way he makes batshit crazy women characters.