#how loving someone makes you so much more vulnerable

[barbaralimao]

Look, I've learned about Calvin in school, all right, both fundamental and high school, but as my books were marxist, we learned it in the way of "oh, and this shitty guy is one of the reason why capitalism SUCKS, the USA is the worst place on earth, Imperialism IS THE DEVIL ITSELF. Do you know how the Portuguese fucked us over? SO, it would be WAY WORSE if they were Calvinists." (I went to school in Brazil in the turn of the century, we were having a ball after the end of the Dictatorship and showing critical everything to everyone. And while I do not like the marxists interpretation in my school books, it's only because it takes our agency on major things of our history).

And that's it, I followed with my culturally catholic life with a deep distrust of evangelicals and stuff (THEY BROKE IMAGES OF THE VIRGIN MARY IN THE 2000, HOW CAN YOU TRUST THEM), only to come to the year 2022 of our lord, with evangelicals and neopentecostal and megachurches on the rise, the drug traffic and the churches working together and stuff, and I decide to sit down with a collegue that is breaking free of his church to talk about cultural differences between growing up catholic and growing up evangelical. He was explaining something to me and I was so confused, so, so confused. Then something dawned on me. "WHERE'S the free will????? People don't get to MAKE A CHOICE?" and he was so confused. That's when he was introduced to the concept of free will and I was introduced to the concept of manifest destiny live in technicolor, and then there's the two of us having the biggest crisis of our life. "HOW can you follow this religion if everything is already decided? How can you believe in a God that makes you live in fear? How can you think that being afraid is love? That doing things to avoid punishment is better than doing things because you want to, out of the goodness of your heart? How can you live without recognizing that everyone is both good and bad, and goodness is a thing we choose? That sometimes you sin, because you're human and this is our nature, but everyone deserves another chance to change?". He only got angry and stormed off. And before this, I got really angry when they used Christians without including obviously christian religions like catholicism and kardecism (the two other biggest in my country), but after that I'm like. Yeah. If being Christian is whatever you guys got going, catholics are definitely not it. Of course the catholic church has a fuckton of crimes and IS terrible, there's extemists and stuff (I don't even go anymore, fuck them), but like, I can't imagine what it does to someone's brain to grow up in so much fear. In my family, we joke that the evangelical churches seem to love more the Devil and Hell than God and Heaven, because they only speak of them. The first time I heard hell in a mass I was almost thirty and EVERYONE was so pissed at the priest for that sermon that he ended up being removed from the parish.

Anyway, we may not be rich or chosen or anything like that, we have our faults, but at least we care for each other, and in the end that's what matters. And as a country that was marjorly catholic, our constitution follows this principles - to the point that it's way more advanced and offers way more protection to minorities than what the society today would like. Our problem now is that the evangelicals are on the rise, and with them the ideas of exceptionalism and that you should not help the poor and these ridiculous stuff and they prey this same poor and vulnerable people, while throwing rocks at priests that feed and treat the homeless. This is not a metaphor, they are actually trying to outlaw giving food to homeless people, mostly because of one priest that does this in a huge city (with the help of the nearby mosque, I must add!).

Anyway, I got derailed, but what I want to say is that even if you are aware of the consequences of Calvin and his thoughts, sometimes you can't grasp how deep this influence goes and the implications until you see a change. I can say for myself that I never realised who deeply catholicism influenced the laws and the way people behave in my country until it began changing. In the end, growing up in a religion gives you a set a core beliefs about the world that shapes everything around it. The major religion (or lack of!) of a country has huge influence in about every single thing.

Me, starting a video that says it's going to explain how Victorian poorhouses fucked up the concept of charity forever: ok, show me what you've got

Video: it starts with the ideas of the Christian philosopher --

Me: DON'T SAY IT DON'T FUCKING SAY IT

Video: -- John Calvin

Me:

[meazalykov]

the past does not exist

lena oberdorf x interviewer!reader

summary: after a year, the both of you came to accept that you cannot change the past.

it was a job you loved—interviewing the best and brightest in women’s football, seeing the beauty and heartbreak of the sport that brought you so much love.. love for someone who never made it professionally. 

you had a thing for drawing out stories no one else could, peeling back the layers of the players' lives beyond the pitch.

it wasn’t just about asking the right questions; it was about knowing how to listen, being caring, and respect. through this job, you were able to make friends with many of the footballers.

you weren't a gossip interviewer, you knew what to post and when to keep your mouth closed and mind your business. mainly sticking to growth stories, interviews about games itself, and tactical commentary. the players respected you as much as you respected them.

when you stayed in wolfsburg during the 2023 champions league final, the town seemed excited for the team that shined throughout the season. the final was in eindhoven, but wolfsburg fans decked out in green and white as they prepared to cheer on their team against barcelona in the dutch city. 

for you, it was another opportunity to dig deeper into the lives of players, and the wolfsburg squad was nothing short of intriguing. to you, lena oberdorf stood out among them. she is a tough midfielder whose intensity on the pitch was matched only by her charm off it.

your first interview with lena was.. interesting to say the least. she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed casually, a mischievous glint in her eye as she teased you about the list of questions you had prepared. 

“come on, these can’t be all you’ve got!! be nosey for once,” she’d said, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

you laughed, adjusting your recorder on the table. 

“trust me, oberdorf, i’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

“good,” she said, leaning forward slightly. 

“i wouldn’t want this to be boring.”

what followed was a conversation that felt less like an interview and more like a sparring match. she was sharp, witty, and unapologetically confident. you couldn’t help but be drawn to her energy. over the next few days, lena sought you out whenever she could—whether it was a casual chat after training or a quiet drink in the team’s hotel bar. 

it was there, amid the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, that your connection deepened.

one night, as the team celebrated their victory in the semifinals, lena pulled you aside. her usually playful demeanor was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. 

“y/n.. i don’t know what it is about you,” she admitted, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

“but i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re so beautiful, and i can’t stop hearing your voice. is that weird to say? i am not sure, but please tell me that this is not one sided..”

it didn’t take long for your professional boundaries to blur. you spent nights tangled in lena’s sheets, stolen moments in hotel rooms where the world outside ceased to exist. 

it wasn’t love, not at all, but it was something raw and undeniable. 

wolfsburg lost the champions league final, which sucked horribly. that means that you had your next job to do– the 2023 women's world cup. you were in australia, assigned to be following the uswnt as they sought to defend their title. 

that means that you couldn’t be with lena or germany. it sucked, but you and lena kept contact. until, germany’s shocking elimination in the group stage. it was a blow to lena and her teammates. 

when you texted her to check in, she didn’t respond. calls went unanswered, messages left on read. 

you understood that lena was hurting. the weight of expectations, the sting of disappointment, it was a lot for anyone to bear. however, her silence cut deep. you wanted to be there for her, to comfort her, but your job demanded your attention elsewhere. 

as much as it pained you, you told yourself to let it go. lena owed you nothing. you weren’t hers, and she wasn’t yours.

still, it hurt.

months passed, and you threw yourself into your work. you interviewed aitana bonmati after her world cup final heroics, sat down with leah williamson to talk about england’s near chance at winning it all, and made a documentary on the rise of young stars like lauren james, salma paralluelo, and trinity rodman. 

lena became a ghost in your life—a memory you tried not to revisit, though it lingered at the edges of your thoughts.

then, over a year later, the news broke: lena oberdorf is leaving wolfsburg for bayern. the transfer sent shockwaves through the football world, and as one of the leading journalists in women’s football, it was your job to cover it. 

except your coworker, matt, stepped in before you could even begin.

“i’ve got this one,” matt said casually, leaning against your desk. 

you looked up from your laptop, frowning.

“since when do you cover transfers? you only do injury status stuff..”

he shrugged. 

“since i know this one’s a little... complicated for you.”

“complicated?” you repeated, your tone sharper than you intended. 

matt raised an eyebrow, unbothered by your reaction. 

“look, everyone knows that you and oberdorf had... something. i’m just trying to make it easier for you.”

“i don’t need you to make it easier for me,” you snapped, though the tightening in your chest betrayed you. 

“i can handle it.”

“y/n,” judah, matt’s husband and your other coworker, spoke up, his voice softer. 

“you don’t have to prove anything. let matt take this one.”

you wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, but the truth was, the thought of facing lena again—even from a professional distance—made your stomach churn. 

you hated that she still had this power over you, that the mere mention of her name could unravel the carefully constructed walls you’d built around yourself.

“fine,” you muttered, closing your laptop with more force than necessary. 

matt gave you a reassuring smile. “i’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

as he walked away, you leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. you told yourself it didn’t matter. lena was just another player, another story. you’d moved on. 

except, deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true.

paris had this summer’s energy with the olympics. the streets were alive with fans draped in flags from all over the world, and you were in your element, weaving through the chaos to chase stories that mattered. 

the united states had just played germany in the group stage, a tense match that ended in a 4-1 victory for the americans. the post-match adrenaline was palpable, and you had just wrapped up an interview with sophia smith. 

it was nice seeing one of your favorites again, sophia’s grin mirrored your own as she walked off toward her teammates to the dressing room, the tension of the match now replaced by joy.

you adjusted your microphone to turn it off. you turned to walk away, preparing to call it a day when you nearly collided with lea schüller. 

the blonde woman’s presence was commanding, her expression soft yet serious. you’ve interviewed her a long time ago while she still played for essen, but now she’s grown up. 

“oh, lea,” you said, recovering quickly. professionalism kicked in as you gestured toward the camera crew that was starting to pack up. 

“did you want to do a quick interview too? i can call them back.”

“no,” lea said quickly, shaking her head. her tone caught you off guard—there was a weight to it, something unsaid pressing at the edges. 

“i don’t want the cameras.”

your brow furrowed as you lowered your microphone and put it away in your bag. 

“are you okay? i mean, this is about the olympics, right? you should be focusing on that.”

“i am,” lea said, her voice steady but her gaze unwavering. 

“but this isn’t about the olympics. not entirely.”

you tilted your head, curiosity prickling at your skin. 

“then what is it about?”

lea hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. 

“can we just talk? no microphones, no cameras. just you and me.”

you hesitated. as much as you respected lea, this wasn’t normal protocol. the look in her eyes—earnest and almost pleading—nudged you to agree. 

“okay,” you said softly. 

“what’s on your mind?”

lea exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. she stepped closer, lowering her voice. 

“i’m here to apologize. not for myself—but for obi.”

your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. you hadn’t spoken about obi in months, hadn’t even allowed yourself to think about her for fear of reopening old wounds. 

here it was, her name hanging in the air between you and lea like a ghost.

“apologize?” you echoed, keeping your tone neutral. 

“for what?”

lea shifted on her feet, clearly uncomfortable. “i know about you and lena. about... what you had.” she paused, watching your expression carefully. 

“she’s really sorry for how things ended. or—how they didn’t end, i guess. for ghosting you.”

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. 

“she told you about us?”

“she did, but honestly she didn’t have to,” lea said gently. 

“i’m her best friend. i noticed how different she was after you two stopped seeing eachother. she’s not great at dealing with her emotions, and back then...” lea trailed off, sighing. 

“she was going through a lot. losing the champions league final with wolfsburg hit her hard. then germany getting knocked out of the world cup? it was too much. and she didn’t know how to handle it. she shut everyone out, including you. shit, it took me a few weeks to get to her again.”

you wanted to look away, to shield yourself from the vulnerability of the moment, but lea’s gaze held you in place. the blonde’s words twisted something deep inside you—part anger, part sadness, part longing. 

“i get that she was struggling,” you said finally, your voice steadier than you felt. 

“but she could’ve said something. anything. instead, she just... disappeared.”

“i know,” lea said quickly. “and i’m not trying to make excuses for her. she knows she messed up. that’s why she asked me to talk to you since she can’t be here.”

you blinked, the weight of her words settling over you. 

“she asked you?”

lea nodded. 

“she wants you to know she’s sorry. she didn’t mean to hurt you but she also knows that an apology coming from me isn’t enough.”

you folded your arms across your chest, the defense mechanism almost automatic. “it’s not,” you admitted. 

“if she wants to apologize, she should tell me herself.”

lea’s expression softened, and she gave a small nod. 

“i understand and i think she does too, but she’s scared, y/n. scared you’ll never forgive her.”

you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. 

“i’m not saying i wouldn’t. but it has to come from her. not you.”

lea studied you for a moment, then offered a small smile. 

“honestly, you’re a good person, y/n. she doesn’t deserve you, but if she gets the chance to explain herself, i think you’ll see she’s been trying to be better.”

you didn’t respond right away. part of you wanted to dismiss the entire conversation, to pretend it didn’t matter anymore. the truth was, it did. lena still mattered, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

“thank you, lea,” you said finally, your voice quiet. 

“for telling me.”

lea smiled again, this time with a hint of relief. 

“of course. and for what it’s worth, i think she’ll reach out. she just needs to find the courage.”

as she walked away, you stood there, the noise of the olympic village fading into the background. you weren’t sure how to feel… relieved? angry? hopeful? 

it started innocently enough—moments stolen between interviews and training sessions, quiet conversations that lingered long after they ended. obi was magnetic by a vulnerability she rarely showed to anyoen except for you. 

she made you laugh when you least expected it. over time, those stolen moments grew into something deeper. the teasing smiles turned into lingering glances, and the casual touches—her hand brushing yours, her knee pressed against yours under the table—became harder to ignore. 

usually, you were able to keep your professionalism for footballers, but lena made you feel ways that you didn’t feel for a very long time until that spring of 2023.

for lena, you were different. she had always been wary of letting anyone get too close, but with you, it felt effortless. you asked about her family, her dreams, the books she read when she needed to escape the noise of the world. however, you asked because you wanted to know– not because you needed something new to write about for an article. 

obi, in turn, wanted to know everything about you—your favorite coffee order, the places you dreamed of visiting, the stories you carried behind your composed demeanor as an interviewer. it scared her how much she wanted to know, how much she wanted to keep you close.

the nights you spent together weren’t just about the sex, though that was undeniable. it was about the quiet moments after, when lena would trace lazy circles on your skin as you talked about nothing and everything. 

it was in the way she’d insist on walking you back to your room, even when it was out of her way, or how she’d send you random texts during the day—pictures of the sky, a meme she thought you’d find funny, a simple compliment. 

it wasn’t just hooking up, not to either of you, even if neither of you said the words out loud.

the semifinal was here a week after lea and you talked. the united states against germany, again. 

you adjusted the strap of your bag, walking alongside matt and judah as you made your way to the front-row seats reserved for the media.

matt was mid-story, animatedly describing america’s pre-match routine as he holds judah’s hand. you’re set to interview lindsey horan after the match. your media company is collaborating with the united states to put out a documentary if the united states win the olympics. a contrast to being eliminated from the world cup a year before. 

matt was talking when suddenly stopped in his tracks. his hand reached out to grab your arm, his eyes wide. “y/n,” he said, his voice dropping in volume.

“don’t freak out, but... is that who I think it is?”

you followed his gaze, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment. lena. sitting in the crowd just a few rows behind where your seats were, her presence as sharp and overwhelming as a gust of icy wind. 

she was next to lea, who was also sidelined due to injury, both of them out of action yet here to support their team. lena’s leg was propped slightly to accommodate the brace on her knee—a harsh reminder of her recent acl surgery. 

your breath caught in your throat as her eyes locked onto yours. there was a softness in her gaze, an unreadable mix of intrigue and something else that made your chest ache. she smiled lightly, not quite coy but just enough to make you feel unsteady. 

beside her, lea glanced your way and offered a small, sympathetic smile that only twisted the knot forming in your stomach. 

“shit,” you murmured under your breath, quickly looking away and focusing on the crowd in front of you. your heart raced, a thrum so loud you were sure matt and judah could hear it. 

“are you okay?” matt asked, his tone cautious, concerned. 

“fine,” you said quickly, your voice tight. 

“just wasn’t expecting—her.”

“do you want to switch seats?” judah offered, ever the considerate one.

“no,” you said, shaking your head even as your hands trembled slightly. 

“it’s fine. i’ll deal with it.”

it didn’t feel fine. it felt like your chest was caving in, the air around you charged with tension. lena wasn’t supposed to be here. she was supposed to be in germany, recovering. why was she here, in france, sitting just a few rows behind you? 

you made your way to your seat, determined to ignore the weight of her presence. matt and judah settled on the left side of you, chatting about the potential lineup changes for both teams. its 0-0 in the 40th minute and its clear that both teams might need changes. you nodded along absently, your thoughts spinning in a dozen directions. you glanced at the pitch, and latched onto lindsey horan’s familiar figure. you reminded yourself that you were here for a reason. lindsey. you had a job to do.

it was impossible to shake the sensation that someone is looking at you. it crawled along your skin, pulling your attention until you couldn’t resist. you turned your head slightly, your gaze flicking over your shoulder—and there she was.

lena.

she wasn’t watching the game. the german’s eyes were on you, unflinching and intent, as if she were trying to read your every move. obi’s expression wasn’t smug or teasing; it was quieter than that, almost searching. 

beside her, lea was fully immersed in the match, cheering loudly as the germans pushed forward. however, lena’s focus was solely on you.

your stomach flipped, and you whipped your head back around, your pulse thundering in your ears. you clenched your hands into fists in your lap, willing yourself to calm down. the last thing you needed was to let lena see how much she still affected you. 

“she’s looking at you, isn’t she?” judah’s leaned in, his voice feminine but low enough that only you could hear.

you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded slightly. judah sighed, his tone softening. 

“forget that she’s even there.”

easy for him to say. judah didn’t have the weight of months of unspoken words and unresolved feelings sitting just four rows behind him. of course he didn’t, neither judah or matt understood lesbian relationships.. or situationships. the married couple didn’t have to confront the ache of seeing someone who had disappeared from their lives without explanation.

you tried to watch the game and it worked for a while. as the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but wonder if this moment, this game, this crowd, was lena’s way of trying to find her way back into your life.

it was. 

the americans kicked out germany to secure their place in the gold or silver medal match as germany will fight spain for the bronze medal. you finished your interview with lindsey in record time. it helped that she was a close friend, making the questions flow naturally. 

after the camera crew packed up and moved away, lindsey squeezed your shoulder affectionately. 

“good luck with... whatever’s on your mind,” she said, her knowing smile hinting that she’d picked up on your unease before and after the interview. before you could respond, she jogged off to join her celebrating teammates, leaving you standing alone at the edge of the media zone.

then, you saw her.

lena was on crutches, moving slowly through the thinning crowd. the brace on her leg was unmistakable, but it was her eyes that made your chest tighten. she was looking right at you, determined, like she’d already decided this conversation was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not. 

you froze. part of you wanted to turn and walk away before she reached you. however, your feet could not move. your pulse quickened as she stopped in front of you, her presence commanding despite the vulnerability of her injury. 

“hi,” she said softly, her voice carrying an unfamiliar mix of nervousness and resolve.

you nodded, keeping your tone professional. 

“hi, lena. how’s the leg?”

her lips curved into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“it’s... getting there. rehab’s gonna be tough, but i’m managing.” 

you nodded again, the words sticking in your throat. 

“that’s good. um, do you want to—”

“no,” lena interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. 

“don’t do that, y/n. don’t skip around what happened. we can’t just act like it didn’t exist.”

you blinked, caught off guard by her directness. 

“lena, i don’t think—”

“please,” she cut in, her tone softening as she adjusted her crutches to steady herself. 

“let me talk.”

you swallowed hard, nodding. she took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she began.

“i messed up,” she said, her voice low but steady.

“last summer... after the champions league final and the world cup, i was in a bad place. i felt like i’d failed at everything that mattered—my team, my country, my family, and you.” she paused, her brows knitting together. 

“i was embarrassed. i didn’t know how to face you because i thought you deserved better than the mess i was. so, i ran and that was the worst thing i could’ve done.”

obi’s words hit you like a wave, stirring up emotions you’d worked hard to bury. you opened your mouth to speak, but lena pressed on.

“i thought i needed space,” she continued. “and maybe i did, but i didn’t realize what i was losing until it was too late. until you were gone. and i’ve missed you, y/n. every day. not just what we had, but you. your laugh, the way you understood me even when i couldn’t find the words.” she paused, her voice catching. 

“i haven’t forgotten about you. not for one day.”

you looked away, trying to steady your breathing. “lena,” you began, your voice shaky. 

“do you have any idea how much that hurt? you just... disappeared. no explanation, no goodbye. i thought—i thought i didn’t matter to you.”

“you mattered,” she said quickly, her voice firm. 

“you still matter. i know i hurt you, and i’ll never forgive myself for that. but i’m here now, and i’m asking... can we start over? i have so much time on my hands now with this injury. time to make it right, if you’ll let me.”

you hesitated, the weight of her words settling over you. “maybe you should focus on your recovery,” you said finally, your tone careful. “that’s what’s most important right now.”

lena nodded, her expression serious. 

“i am. my therapist said part of my recovery is being honest with myself though and the truth is, i want you back in my life. not just as something casual. i want us to be official, when the time is right.”

obi’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. then, you nodded slowly. 

“i’ll be in munich when bayern plays their first champions league match,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“we’ll see where things stand then.”

lena’s face broke into a smile—genuine, relieved, and filled with something you hadn’t seen in her for a long time: hope. “okay,” she said softly. “okay.”

she stepped closer, leaning down slightly despite the crutches to pull you into a hug. her arms wrapped around you tightly, and you felt her press a small, lingering kiss to the side of your head. it was grounding, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

as she pulled back, she met your eyes again. “you can stay at my place in munich anytime,” she offered, her tone light but sincere. 

you gave her a small smile. 

“okay.”

just like that, the past felt smaller, less significant. the past did not exist anymore, since the future was all you and obi have. 

masterlist

[catguangcorner]

finally finished my link click rewatch in time for yingdu tomorrow..... somehow i feel even less prepared oughhh this show is going to make me suffer so bad

[leighsartworks216]

Suffering

Sylus x touch-averse!gn!Reader

If I had a nickel for every fic I wrote that had a white-haired, red-eyed night-dweller comforting the reader for not being able to touch them without being viscerally uncomfortable, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, touch aversion, touch starvation, kissing, first kiss

Word Count: 1,298

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You trace your fingertips lightly over the angle of his cheek, the bump in his nose, the soft skin under his eyes. He's so soft, so vulnerable. His eyes are closed. His brow is relaxed. He sighs as you trace over his eyebrows.

Despite your ongoing relationship, this is the closest you've ever been to him. The most intimate touch you've ever shared. It took so much effort on your part to work yourself up to even this much, but he hasn't once faltered. If you flinch away, he lets you go. Any touch you deem him worthy of, he accepts gracefully, always doing his best to accommodate you without overwhelming you.

This overall has culminated in "hand holding", where you only link your pinkies together, and lingering near each other to the point of almost-but-not-quite touching. You know he wants to embrace you. Hold you close, bury his face in your neck and rest his hands flat on the skin of your back, legs tangled together.

Even now, there's a gap between you both. He lays on his side of the bed and you lay on yours. You touch his chin, faltering.

"I'm sorry I don't touch you the way you want me to," you whisper into the still air.

His eyes open right away. Piercing eyes that gleam in the dim light, staring into your very soul. "Don't apologize for that, kitten," he dismisses, matching the volume of your voice.

You frown, but you don't want to stop just yet. He's so soft and warm. You trace his jaw, avoiding his gaze. "Why shouldn't I? I know it's hard for you..."

"It's hard for you, too," he argues. "Why should you be the one to suffer for my sake?"

"Why do you have to suffer for mine?"

His lips quirk up slightly. You can't stop yourself from tracing the corners, where the skin bends around his lip. His eyes flicker down. You can almost feel his desire to kiss or bite your fingertips, and the effort it takes to stay still.

"For moments like this," he answers after a moment. He lets his eyes close again. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

You pinch his cheek. He chuckles. "Yeah, but I'm not absent. Don't you want a partner who can give you all the attention you want?"

"No." He opens his eyes again, half-lidded and docile. "I want you."

You smooth your thumb over his cheek where you pinched him. In a small voice, you ask, "Are you sure?"

He hums. "More than anything."

You hesitantly meet his eyes. They're so full of warmth and care. There's no deception to be found at all. No hidden flicker of a grimace or eye roll or anything. You can't help the disbelief that runs its course through your head.

How many partners in the past have been upset with your lack of physical affection? How many called you cold and uncaring? How many forced you to accept their touch, even as it burned like acid on your skin? How many...?

Your first thought is how one day, he will be tired of this dance. He'll be overcome with the need to be touched, held, doted on, and you won't be able to provide. Maybe he'll be like that one ex, who caressed and kissed someone else right in front of you after you pulled your hand away. Or maybe he'll seek it out in secret, with someone far more beautiful and far more willing than you; any of the beautiful people that would do anything for him to even glance their way. Or maybe he'll just leave you right there, with scathing words that denounce you as being broken and unworthy of the attention he lauds onto you.

Your second thought, however, screams out. It shouts that he would never do that. Never would he hurt you on purpose. Never would he even lie to you like that. He's not like any of your exes, or past friends who drifted away when they couldn't lean against you while laughing about something stupid.

You brush your fingers lightly over his lips. His eyelids flutter slightly, soft breath exhaled from his nose, fanning against your knuckles. He's so beautiful. His lips are so soft and plush. His cupid's bow is so pronounced. The way his skin shifts under your fingers with the slightest pressure...

Your heart races. Your breath catches. You swallow nervously, forcing yourself not to look away from his eyes.

"Sy?"

"Hm?"

"Can... Can I kiss you?"

His eyes open just a bit wider, brows raising imperceptibly. He glances at your own lips. "You don't need to ask, sweetheart."

He waits for you to move, like always. Even if you backed out now, he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't even frown. He'd smile, say something sweet, and move on. That silent reassurance is the catalyst that convinces you to follow through.

You shift on the bed, leaning closer. You experimentally draw his lower lip down. They part with a slight smirk. But it's not condescending. It's excited.

So close, you can feel his breath against your face. His eyes are almost fully closed, heavily lidded as he watches your approach. At the lightest ghosting of your lips, he inhales sharply, waiting. Trying not to scare you away.

Finally, you kiss him.

It's so light at first. So delicate.

You kiss him again. He tastes like Gin Fizz and pomegranate. He tastes so sweet.

He sighs into your mouth, following the languid pace you've set. You trace your fingers along the underside of his jaw, from his chin up to his ear. You can feel the low sound of his enjoyment rumble against your fingertips.

And just like that, it becomes too much.

You don't want to pull away. You don't want to stop feeling his lips caressing over yours, sucking so gently on your lower lip to graze it with his teeth. It feels like heaven - tastes like heaven. You're loath to be without it so soon after you've just been introduced to how wonderful it can be.

But your body is screaming. It itches, stings, like poison ivy, tainting every inch of skin that's touched him. You try to draw it out, push through the aversion to have this one little moment with him, licking the seam of his lips, which he does not hesitate to part just for you.

Eventually, you just can't.

You pull away too abruptly, too quickly drawing your hand away from his soft skin and scooting back to your side of the bed. His eyes shoot open immediately, a crease forming between his brows in concern.

"I'm sorry," you sputter out. "I'm sorry- I didn't-"

"Calm down, sweetie. You don't need to apologize."

You grip at the smooth silk blanket, as though it will cool the fire rampaging down your fingers into your arms. You pull it up to your face to press it into your eyes, hiding your face as you fight your frustration. "I hate being like this, Sy! God, I can't even kiss my boyfriend for two seconds without wanting to rip my skin off!"

You want to cry. You want to scream! You want to run away, soak in a bath of boiling water, be sedated - anything! Anything that could take the feeling away and steal you from the embarrassment consuming you.

Your first kiss with Sylus - and it ends like this.

"Thank you."

You pull the blanket from your eyes to look at him. "What?"

He smiles. "Thank you," he repeats again, just as simply as the first time, like it makes all the sense in the world to be thanking you after you ripped yourself away from him.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"For suffering."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 

[thatfrailsoul]

– Make me feel like someone else

tarot pick a pile reading

pictures from pinterest → one, two, three

There are people that we just can’t resist. A smile that is impossible to not be contaged by. A voice that is so difficult to not trust. A silhouette that we follow without even realising how easily they are taking us away from the old ways, making us see this world under such a different light… A charming person, a magnetic aura… Could it really be only a spell that makes us blind to something deeply important, something that we should be aware of but that we just can’t grasp? Is it really everything so good and easy, for once, or are we trapped in an illusion that will only hurt us...?

In a romantic, or an equally inspiring friendship, there is someone that you need to know about...

This is our fifth reading from the Divinatory Jukebox. A message that comes to us through the song “Hypnotic” by Zella Day. A faithful messenger of the universe, who waited patiently for us to hear it, to listen to what it has to say.

Although from the emotions and energy of this song I expected something much darker, heavier, even more dangerous... Now I understand that perhaps this is just the way we feel it, when we are so captivated by someone, when we want to be and are so vulnerable in front of them, giving out our heart but at the same time deep down being afraid of them tearing it apart.

Slow down for a moment. Give your conscious mind a moment of rest, allow it to step back. Instead, listen to your subconscious one, to that inner voice, to the intuition that is guiding you to the pile in which your message hides.

P.s. a little question for you ♡:

As I'm trying to improve the experience of the extended versions of our readings, it would be deeply helpful for me to know your opinion. Especially about what you would love to find in them. Just whatever is needed or that might be helpful for you to hear based on the reading and the original message you received? A more practical advice on how to handle your current situation? Perhaps a little glimpse into the future and what it holds for you, what you can expect or need to keep in mind for when you’ll live that outcome? Or, even better, all of these combined?

{ Thank you so much for letting me know!♡ }

– Pile One,

the ten of coins, the stars, the moon

After fighting with all you had, after finally escaping the chains of a connection so powerful that it convinced you to stab yourself, again and again, just for them… You really did hope that it would never happen again. That there won’t ever be someone that has so much control over you, over your heart that gives it all to the ones it loves. You hoped that you learned from your mistakes, that your scars are enough for you as a reminder, as help in being aware of all the lies and manipulations of those that try to come closer to your heart.

And yet you still felt it, you still found it, after all this time and even though you are with a different person now. That urge to be by their side, to fall for them, trusting completely that they will catch you, holding you tight in their arms, giving you a sense of protection, and at the same time a dangerous vulnerability when you are with them…

But even if you feel the need to do it, to feel it, you are resisting it. The fear, the anxiety, the doubts are overwhelming you, as you recognise in them and each their gesture, someone that you thought you’d never see again. Not in a different person, in a different connection, that you had so much hope for, but which is feeling too similar to how it used to back then...

So you are making steps back, trying to buy more time, to understand how it could happen that after all of that you still did make the same mistake. A mistake that you can't even bring yourself to regret, not when you look into their eyes…

How is it possible really? Are you so weak, so stupid to put yourself at risk again and again, breaking your promises to your own self? Or are they so powerful, so many steps ahead, enough to be able to put you under a cage that you didn't even notice, not giving you any chance to escape?

It is pulling you to them, whatever it is, calling you, overwhelming you through every single thing that reminds you of that other person, no matter how far they are. They are calling you, and you make steps forward. Just to push yourself right back when for a moment you are able to wake up. To doubt yourself, what you feel and think, to ask if this is even real.

But slow down for a moment. Breathe. Reflect. What is it, that in this new person, reminds you so much of the one that you swore to never let again in? Because it is just the way you feel with them, isn’t it? That sense of safety, of surrender to everything that could happen out there in this world, just because you are with them? Is it that admiration, pure inspiration and motivation that you feel when you look at them, at their way of living this life, creating with it their adventures and stories that they desire? Is it that hope for more time with them, to get to know them better, to learn from them or with them. To have them by your side as you face the struggles or challenges of your journeys, because you truly feel like they would be able and willing to help? Is it the way you feel so close to them in so little time, almost like you always knew and looked for each other, in one way or another? Is it just this… and how it is similar to what you felt with that other person, just before they took advantage of it?

Because you do love it, the way they make you feel. Those emotions that you thought you would never experience again. But at the same time, now that they are here, you can't help but reconnect them to the person that betrayed you by using them against you.

But… Are you so sure that it will be the same with them? That these emotions and way of feeling can be only a sign of a danger in disguise? Or is it only a fear, a supposition, based on what happened in the past, and that has nothing to confirm it in the now? Because you are opening up your old wounds, you are doing it on your own now. Just because of the profound vulnerability, and even scarier desire to be this way in front of them, that just surprises you in how it came back so easily, disregarding all your hard work to learn to protect yourself…

But it is not a mistake, a delusion of your heart, its way of never learning and being so easily infatuated and influenced by gentle ways… Your heart, your mind, you are not so stupid. You wouldn’t ever hurt yourself this way. But you are doing it now, in a different one. By letting what happened, and that person, still be present in your life. By letting their phantom wander around in your reality, your situations, standing behind those that you are looking at… And scaring you, putting you in guard just because of their presence and their memory at the back of your mind.

You did learn. You did become more careful with those that you allow to get closer to you, to be part of your life. You are protecting yourself, at every step. You are paying attention to the ways of others. And you are not letting anything or anyone play with you again. This, what you feel for this person now… Are just feelings, genuine, true, normal. They are not strange or worrying just because they seem to become deeper so quickly. Or just because, miraculously, they are reciprocated now.

It is good and it is true. There is no need to doubt it only because of how rare it is, and how ironically you already felt it once because of someone who treated your heart wrongly. That person was mean, manipulative, was hurtful… But does this new person have any fault of it, of the fact that they make you naturally and genuinely feel what the other needed to force and orchestrate?

Slow down. Breathe in. Look closely at them, pay attention to where they end and where that ghost of the past begins. Look at what you are creating with this new person. At how those bad and difficult things that you are afraid of and expect are nowhere to be seen. And focus on what is here, them, your moments. Rather than on the memories of someone who is long gone. The one that you already freed yourself from.

P.s. With each new year there is a decision that we need to make… what to bring with us, what to hope for, and what to leave behind. But it is not so easy, isn’t it? Some endings, no matter how obvious, are still so difficult to accept and to let go of, just because of how much they mean to us. But this year you can simply ask about it, if there is a chance for a new beginning or if there is only an end, so you can stop yourself from making the same dangerous mistakes.♡↓

{ Find out your answer here ~ }

{ ♡ }

– Pile Two,

the knight of cups, the emperor, the eight of wands

You give them so much credit… You think they really have all that power over you. Just because of how strange and new all these feelings are. How scarily natural, how overwhelmingly good it is to be by their side and connect with them, heart to heart.

But it is much simpler than just careful and complicated games of manipulation or disguise that your anxious mind comes up with.

It is just you. It is just them. The way you are so similar, yet different enough to teach each other so much. The way you speak different languages, but with such similar tone and rhythm that makes it possible for you to understand each other fully, even more than those that knew you for so long. The way there is in each of you that something that is needed for the other. That light and darkness. That calm and enthusiasm. That logic and emotions. The water and fire. The air and earth. Two half that fit so perfectly, creating something beautiful, something true, something whole.

It is just you both that felt instantly so comfortable, so safe, so curious about a life passed side by side, all the moments that you could create together, and those that perhaps you could've shared if you met sooner, changing completely your past. It is that genuine enthusiasm and joy that makes you go faster, connecting easier than with anyone else. Allowing you to create a bond deeper than what you could expect.

There is no trick, no spell, no hidden motive. Just a finally good and honest connection that your broken hearts needed so much.

There is just surprise and unpreparedness to feel so much and so fast. Especially when you are used to struggle just to get truly closer to someone who is already by your side.

There is no need to be afraid, to already prepare yourself for the worst just because this is too good to be true, to be so easy and fun. There is no need to consider to run away, to distance them, just because of the doubt in your mind… You can just slow down. On your own. Ask them to do things one step at a time. So you can get used to it more easily, to be treated better, to trust fully the promises that someone gives to your heart.

There won't be any anger or misunderstanding. There won’t be any judgement in discovering that you are just not used to so much lightness in your heart and mind. It will only make you more precious for them, more deserving of their affection and parts of them that they will share only with you, who they will fully believe and trust.

P.s. With each new year there is a decision that we need to make… what to bring with us, what to hope for, and what to leave behind. But it is not so easy, isn’t it? Some endings, no matter how obvious, are still so difficult to accept and to let go of, just because of how much they mean to us. But this year you can simply ask about it, if there is a chance for a new beginning or if there is only an end, so you can stop yourself from making the same dangerous mistakes.♡↓

{ Find out your answer here ~ }

{ ♡ }

– Pile Three,

the three of coins, the emperor, the page of swords

Is it really only them, who pulls you in so tenderly? Who so knowingly walks around your walls and finds every fragile part, using them to get closer? Or are you doing exactly the same, playing their games, imitating their ways, simply because it is so captivating and fun?

You have so many things in common. Even just the way you love and need to feel that rush, to feel the excitement and the thrill of getting to know each other, of provoking one another, subtly, jokingly. Never saying something openly, but understanding so much, reading through the lines.

But things are starting to change, to feel different, now that some time has passed and playing the same games as when you first met… It just feels kind of strange, and even tiring at times. This is not something that only you noticed and felt, that shift and the energy of both of you that just seems to be consumed uselessly with all of this. How the time seems to be wasted, and you both can’t help but think of how different those moments could've been if only you were finally fully open to each other. With your thoughts expressed clearly. Parts of you and of your life shared without needing to necessarily win them, be worthy of them…

And it is okay, this feeling and change is normal. There is nothing strange in being attracted to a different energy and dynamic at the start of a connection, compared to when some time has passed and you just want to be by their side, experiencing this life together, and not only playing with each other occasionally.

So don’t let those doubts and fears, that you or them will get bored if you stop to “spicing” things up, come any closer. Nothing will happen if, for a moment, you just relax and become less calculated in the ways you interact. Simply because this connection didn't start because of those games, of those flirtatious or joking ways. It started because your paths crossed each other, thanks to this life that saw how much your souls were aligned. It started because it was supposed to. And it would've happened even if you didn't do so much to win each other over, convincing the other person to choose you, to give you that chance.

It will not go away. Nor them nor you will do it, if something in your dynamic changes. Because change is not something to be afraid of. It is just a sign of your growth and evolution of this connection, of your feelings for eachother that make you a safe and comfortable person for one another, no matter the label of the relationship or your ways.

Don’t be afraid to let your grip on them go a little. Don’t be afraid to not always maintain the same entertaining energy. You don’t need to convince them, appeal to them, or prove yourself and your worth to them. They already are aware of all of it, they already chose to stay by your side, nourishing this bond, exactly like you did. It is not the start of the connection anymore. So you both are allowed to go a little slower, be more neutral or even boring. Some moments are indeed supposed to be more calmer and less adventurous than how it was at the very start. It is still fine. Everything is still okay. And it will continue to be so, no matter how many months or years will pass by. A time in which this connection will simply and only evolve and adapt to the phases of your lives many more times.

P.s. With each new year there is a decision that we need to make… what to bring with us, what to hope for, and what to leave behind. But it is not so easy, isn’t it? Some endings, no matter how obvious, are still so difficult to accept and to let go of, just because of how much they mean to us. But this year you can simply ask about it, if there is a chance for a new beginning or if there is only an end, so you can stop yourself from making the same dangerous mistakes.♡↓

{ Find out your answer here ♡ }

{ ♡ }

[kashedelic]

FORGOTTEN - sylus x reader

SUMMARY: Don't expect a lot from someone who hasn't explained a lot about how they don't want a lot from you.

NOTES: sylus x reader, first person pov, question marks for the relationship, angst, girl u got side-chicked, reader is NOT mc, not as angsty as I could make it icl.

wc: 2497

a/n: i got a boat load of things to be doing, but sometimes sylus needs to come first. someone please tag me in a good Sylus fic that'll heal btw, even if this wasn't angsty as I could have made it I still need to be giggling over something

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

Love is a simple yet complex thing. It makes days feel like waltzes, despite the darkness itching at the seams and cracks of the world. It tells a tale of mellow, warm days, where the sun doesn’t burn but heals. That’s how it felt to be in love

That’s why, when I awoke each morning with darkness still pooling in my apartment - the billowy shadows, albeit smaller now with the faint morning light of the N109 Zone, dancing against the walls - and the sound of a crow at my window, I was okay. The ebony feathers and gleaming ruby eyes visible through the glass were my proof. I was not forgotten.

Opening the window, the crow cocked its head inquisitively, as though asking, Let me in, please!

“Come in,” I said, sliding the window open. The crow swooped in and perched on my bed frame.

“Running errands already, huh, Mephisto?” I chuckled dryly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes. I gently scratched beneath its beak, earning a positive response from the bird.

With a sigh, I gathered my strength and moved to my closet, pulling out low-waisted baggy cargos and a fitted ribbed top. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “Tell Sylus he better be working when I get there - not passed out at his desk again.”

The image of Sylus asleep, cheek pressed against his knuckles, with soft snores escaping his lips, tugged my mouth into a smile. He could try to be inconspicuous, but on mornings when work demanded an early rise, his stoic demeanor softened into vulnerability. To others, it might not have seemed like much, but to me, it was enough to get moving.

When I reached the estate, Luke and Kieran waved me in, clearly still settling into the morning. Kieran was slumped on a couch while Luke mumbled something about not getting enough sleep and missing cereal. Familiar with their antics, I proceeded, leaving them to their misery.

“Sylus,” I called, a smile spreading across my face as I found him awake and working. “G’morning, boss.” The title slipped off my tongue easily - a term that had lost its seriousness, now laced with humor between us. Though our interactions were often work-related, there was a growing sense of familiarity. Shared jokes and casual banter hinted at something deeper.

He glanced up, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Good morning to you, too. Has the allure of work coffee dragged you in early?” His voice carried that low timbre that always caught me off guard.

I dropped into a leather armchair, resting my head in my hand. “Tempting, but no. I had a visitor this morning - a certain crow who seems to think I’m slacking.”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh, is that so?”

“Don’t act coy,” I huffed.

“Caught red-handed,” he admitted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Waking up early is one thing, but I should have a reason to wake up too, don’t you think?”

“Sylus, you’ve got a mountain of work to do,” I said, flustered, waving off his teasing.

“Work always waits for the boss, doesn’t it?” he quipped back.

After a bit more banter, I decided coffee was in order. Rising from the armchair, I motioned toward the door. “I’m craving that cafe in Linkon. Knowing you, you probably want something. So, are you coming with me, or should I grab something for the both of us?”

“Don’t leave without me,” Sylus replied quickly. “I could use a side adventure with you.”

Rolling my eyes to mask my nerves, I snorted. “Then hurry up. And by the way, the twins are out of commission, so we’ll probably have to take the car ourselves.”

As we drove toward Linkon, the air felt lighter, the stark contrast between N109’s industrial shadows and the bustling streets beyond. Yet Sylus’s words lingered in my mind, as his often did, planting seeds of thought that stayed with me, unshaken.

When we entered the coffee shop, I noticed his gaze linger. His face fell, not in fear, but in shock.

“Sylus, did you see something?” I asked, my voice soft, laced with earnest concern.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed before he blinked and turned to me. “I… No, it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed gently.

He nodded, but the weight in his tone betrayed him. Something was wrong.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? As your… assistant, you know at the very least?” The word was humbling on my tongue. Would saying "friend" be more appropriate? It would definitely be plausible, but friends don't necessarily pick and prod the way we have. To say "friends" undermines everything else that was bubbling, and I don’t want that.

Sighing at his hum, I let our outing continue. There was less banter, but it was a manageable experience.

The next morning, something felt off. Sylus’s usual sharp wit was dulled, his attention drifting elsewhere. Even the crow, who had become my constant visitor in the mornings, was absent. Days passed, and our exchanges grew quieter, the once effortless banter replaced by an unspoken tension.

It was clear as day: Sylus was scheming and plotting on his own, or at the very least, I wasn’t looped in. Kieran and Luke had no issue with Sylus's behavior, but there was something amiss. It seemed as though his attention had been pulled from me to focus on whatever was troubling him. Sure, I had no issue allowing for space - I mean, it wasn’t like we were together - but I was worried. There wasn’t any animosity between us, yet the trifling silence between us seemed to be a little more than that.

Days passed on and on, and it seemed that his stressed attitudes were lifting for more elated moods. It seemed as though a recovery was bound, but perhaps not for me. It seemed as though his ride was coming to an end, and mine? It was only beginning.

The burst of a gunshot, followed by its sharp echo, jolted me upright from my chair. My pulse quickened as I glanced toward the source of the sound, the commotion carrying through the otherwise quiet estate. I was used to the sound of bullets firing, close-range or far-range, but to hear it inside the estate, let alone where Sylus was? What for?

“Luke, Kieran? The hell was that?” I shouted from where I stood, concern pinching my eyebrows together. Luke and Kieran immediately appeared in the doorway, both uncharacteristically composed but clearly aware of my concern.

"Relax," Luke said, hands raised in an almost placating gesture. "It was nothing - you know boss, if he was shooting himself, he’d be able to heal himself back up. Lickity split."

"Nothing to worry about," Kieran chimed in, his tone steady, though the glance he exchanged with his brother was enough to prick at my nerves. Dolts.

“Yeah, but neither of you are answering my question. Who’s shooting right now?” Sylus was way capable of managing himself; heck, to say he couldn't would be lying straight through my teeth. He was the esteemed leader of Onychinus, who could miraculously (and freakishly, of course) mend himself back together. He feared nothing. He feared no one. He was the one feared.

Finally putting a brain cell to use, Luke placed a hand on his hip while another scratched his chin. “Not sure, but… could be something with that Hunter Association girl.”

My face morphed from concern and annoyance to confusion. Hunter Association girl? I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who?”

“You don’t know? Boss found the Hunter Association girl he was looking for?” Luke scratched his hood, creating a party of confusion between him and me. Kieran was also slowly joining the group as the conversation ensued. No, I wasn’t heartbroken right away. No, I wasn’t jealous. Yes, I was perplexed.

He was looking for someone, and he didn’t tell me?

Surely, he had a reason for doing so, but I could only pray that maybe, as an assistant, I would be informed of operations Onychinus was leading. Unless, of course, they were personal feats. Then, there would be a clear boundary that would make it evident I didn’t need to meddle in whatever Sylus was orchestrating.

Friend, but wasn’t I at least a friend? Could he not confide in me there? I mean, there was a part of him that I had unlocked over the previous years. Surely those bits and pieces of Sylus I got to learn through my own very eyes would at least trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was doing? Right?

Be levelled.

There is always more than what meets the eye.

Be levelled.

I slowly nodded, but the tension in my chest didn’t dissipate. “I did not know of her, but if you say it’s alright, I’ll take your word. You two better pray that I won’t be having to clean blood later, otherwise, you two…” I trailed a clenched fist with a thumb out at my neck with a menacing hiss imitating a knife at a throat. I knew better than to be vulnerable, let alone in front of the twins, and the best way to handle hurt in this moment was to pretend it didn’t exist with humor. The twins frantically saluted with an incoherent plea for their lives before dashing out. I returned to my work, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I had to clean up, and it was worse than I thought.

Despite my weak attempts at swallowing the questions gnawing at my chest, every passing second listed another question to my list. I was a student of heartache and worry, and my summative was to understand where I would lay with Sylus in the coming days.

After I had finished my reading, the silence was deafening, and I could hear it alluring me to see what had developed since the shot. It had been hours since the initial bullet, and the assistant part (definitely not the confused, aching part) of me wanted to know if there was anything for me to take care of or, you know, any answers for those questions.

I noted that both the mystery girl and Sylus weren’t in the estate anymore, but I saw the blood. This line of work built up a tolerance for gore and grim, but it still wasn’t pleasant. It seemed as if someone had haphazardly tried to clean it up, but I wished I had never overheard the conversations between them as they returned.

As the days pursued, I noticed a shift in Sylus’s routine. A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared in the halls, a faint shadow following Sylus’s movements. Truly, it would have been easier if she wasn’t prancing around the estate, because then I wouldn’t have to be a first-hand witness to seeing how he looked at her. It takes no fool to see that he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eye. A gleam that wasn’t his evol, but a look that drank her whole, his eyebrows raised and only furrowing at her witty remarks. I never meant to notice, but it seemed like he was breathing easier, yet his muscles were itching to grab her.

To crave someone.

My heart was slowly revolting in my chest, plotting an anarchy against my mind. A loud demand that I seek closure. My story was over, but I begged, “Let me be broken,” my pitiful mind whispering in surrender.

Sylus, who usually moved like a lone wolf through the estate, now seemed tethered to her. She occupied the guest room, accompanied him on errands, and their dynamic seemed effortless - something I would never relate to. Under the assumption that all that is sweet takes time, I patiently waited for him; supported him; cared for him. The banter I had once shared with him now played out between them, and my tongue was left scratchy from the lack of words falling off it.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt, not exactly. It was the quiet unease of witnessing something intimate from the outside, knowing I was no longer the one who fit into the empty spaces. I was a puzzle piece to replace; a hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper, cut out to only fill in for the missing piece.

Still, I couldn’t deny how easily they seemed to get along. She wasn’t intrusive or overbearing; she blended into the environment, a piece that completed the puzzle of Sylus’s world. Watching her settle into the rhythm of things only served to emphasize my growing sense of distance, and it was vividly clear to me that she was the puzzle piece he was hunting for.

When the announcement came that Sylus and Ms. Hunter - as he would call her - would be attending an auction together, an event critical to our operations, it wasn’t a surprise. But Lord, did it sting. I had been by his side countless times for situations like this, yet now I was relegated to the periphery.

The day of the auction was oddly quiet. He was enamored by her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The dress he had tailored for her, the jewels that hung on her skin - they made her look stunning. If the case was different, I would have complimented her myself, but the depth of pain hurting within me begged me to stay back. As they left together, I busied myself with the tasks left behind, avoiding the gnawing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. The image of them - so perfect for one another - haunted my mind. Hours stretched on, and by the time they returned, their closeness was undeniable.

It hurt.

I promised myself to be level-headed, but all that had occurred was the feelings I had so helplessly grasped onto being sent to the gullies. I could neither leave nor stay. A sickening game where I would run in circles by myself. Since when did I become so dependent on him? I thought my individuality was what brought me here.

There’s a single pitch that no soul dares to experience. A sound so sharp it rips your heart out - not to serve it on a silver platter, but to hurl it onto a pile of others, drowning in the same feeling: sorrow. It’s the cacophony of thoughts rattling your chest, keeping it pumping with blood, yet leaving it aching. Sorrow doesn’t only break; it strengthens, but it’s through love that one nurtures.

Love is a simple yet complex thing. It makes days feel like waltzes, despite the darkness itching at the seams and cracks of the world. It tells a tale of mellow, warm days, where the sun doesn’t burn but heals. That’s how it felt to be in love.

That’s why, when I awoke each morning with darkness still pooling in my apartment - the billowy shadows, albeit smaller now with the faint morning light of the N109 Zone, dancing against the walls - and the sound of a crow at my window, I was okay. The ebony feathers and gleaming ruby eyes visible through the glass were my proof. I was not forgotten.

Opening the window, the crow cocked its head inquisitively, as though asking, Let me in, please!

“Come in,” I said, sliding the window open. The crow swooped in and perched on my bed frame.

“Running errands already, huh, Mephisto?” I chuckled dryly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes. I gently scratched beneath its beak, earning a positive response from the bird.

With a sigh, I gathered my strength and moved to my closet, pulling out low-waisted baggy cargos and a fitted ribbed top. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “Tell Sylus he better be working when I get there - not passed out at his desk again.”

The image of Sylus asleep, cheek pressed against his knuckles, with soft snores escaping his lips, tugged my mouth into a smile. He could try to be inconspicuous, but on mornings when work demanded an early rise, his stoic demeanor softened into vulnerability. To others, it might not have seemed like much, but to me, it was enough to get moving.

When I reached the estate, Luke and Kieran waved me in, clearly still settling into the morning. Kieran was slumped on a couch while Luke mumbled something about not getting enough sleep and missing cereal. Familiar with their antics, I proceeded, leaving them to their misery.

“Sylus,” I called, a smile spreading across my face as I found him awake and working. “G’morning, boss.” The title slipped off my tongue easily - a term that had lost its seriousness, now laced with humor between us. Though our interactions were often work-related, there was a growing sense of familiarity. Shared jokes and casual banter hinted at something deeper.

He glanced up, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Good morning to you, too. Has the allure of work coffee dragged you in early?” His voice carried that low timbre that always caught me off guard.

I dropped into a leather armchair, resting my head in my hand. “Tempting, but no. I had a visitor this morning - a certain crow who seems to think I’m slacking.”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh, is that so?”

“Don’t act coy,” I huffed.

“Caught red-handed,” he admitted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Waking up early is one thing, but I should have a reason to wake up too, don’t you think?”

“Sylus, you’ve got a mountain of work to do,” I said, flustered, waving off his teasing.

“Work always waits for the boss, doesn’t it?” he quipped back.

After a bit more banter, I decided coffee was in order. Rising from the armchair, I motioned toward the door. “I’m craving that cafe in Linkon. Knowing you, you probably want something. So, are you coming with me, or should I grab something for the both of us?”

“Don’t leave without me,” Sylus replied quickly. “I could use a side adventure with you.”

Rolling my eyes to mask my nerves, I snorted. “Then hurry up. And by the way, the twins are out of commission, so we’ll probably have to take the car ourselves.”

As we drove toward Linkon, the air felt lighter, the stark contrast between N109’s industrial shadows and the bustling streets beyond. Yet Sylus’s words lingered in my mind, as his often did, planting seeds of thought that stayed with me, unshaken.

When we entered the coffee shop, I noticed his gaze linger. His face fell, not in fear, but in shock.

“Sylus, did you see something?” I asked, my voice soft, laced with earnest concern.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed before he blinked and turned to me. “I… No, it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed gently.

He nodded, but the weight in his tone betrayed him. Something was wrong.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? As your… assistant, you know at the very least?” The word was humbling on my tongue. Would saying "friend" be more appropriate? It would definitely be plausible, but friends don't necessarily pick and prod the way we have. To say "friends" undermines everything else that was bubbling, and I don’t want that.

Sighing at his hum, I let our outing continue. There was less banter, but it was a manageable experience.

The next morning, something felt off. Sylus’s usual sharp wit was dulled, his attention drifting elsewhere. Even the crow, who had become my constant visitor in the mornings, was absent. Days passed, and our exchanges grew quieter, the once effortless banter replaced by an unspoken tension.

It was clear as day: Sylus was scheming and plotting on his own, or at the very least, I wasn’t looped in. Kieran and Luke had no issue with Sylus's behavior, but there was something amiss. It seemed as though his attention had been pulled from me to focus on whatever was troubling him. Sure, I had no issue allowing for space - I mean, it wasn’t like we were together - but I was worried. There wasn’t any animosity between us, yet the trifling silence between us seemed to be a little more than that.

Days passed on and on, and it seemed that his stressed attitudes were lifting for more elated moods. It seemed as though a recovery was bound, but perhaps not for me. It seemed as though his ride was coming to an end, and mine? It was only beginning.

The burst of a gunshot, followed by its sharp echo, jolted me upright from my chair. My pulse quickened as I glanced toward the source of the sound, the commotion carrying through the otherwise quiet estate. I was used to the sound of bullets firing, close-range or far-range, but to hear it inside the estate, let alone where Sylus was? What for?

“Luke, Kieran? The hell was that?” I shouted from where I stood, concern pinching my eyebrows together. Luke and Kieran immediately appeared in the doorway, both uncharacteristically composed but clearly aware of my concern.

"Relax," Luke said, hands raised in an almost placating gesture. "It was nothing - you know boss, if he was shooting himself, he’d be able to heal himself back up. Lickity split."

"Nothing to worry about," Kieran chimed in, his tone steady, though the glance he exchanged with his brother was enough to prick at my nerves. Dolts.

“Yeah, but neither of you are answering my question. Who’s shooting right now?” Sylus was way capable of managing himself; heck, to say he couldn't would be lying straight through my teeth. He was the esteemed leader of Onychinus, who could miraculously (and freakishly, of course) mend himself back together. He feared nothing. He feared no one. He was the one feared.

Finally putting a brain cell to use, Luke placed a hand on his hip while another scratched his chin. “Not sure, but… could be something with that Hunter Association girl.”

My face morphed from concern and annoyance to confusion. Hunter Association girl? I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who?”

“You don’t know? Boss found the Hunter Association girl he was looking for?” Luke scratched his hood, creating a party of confusion between him and me. Kieran was also slowly joining the group as the conversation ensued. No, I wasn’t heartbroken right away. No, I wasn’t jealous. Yes, I was perplexed.

He was looking for someone, and he didn’t tell me?

Surely, he had a reason for doing so, but I could only pray that maybe, as an assistant, I would be informed of operations Onychinus was leading. Unless, of course, they were personal feats. Then, there would be a clear boundary that would make it evident I didn’t need to meddle in whatever Sylus was orchestrating.

Friend, but wasn’t I at least a friend? Could he not confide in me there? I mean, there was a part of him that I had unlocked over the previous years. Surely those bits and pieces of Sylus I got to learn through my own very eyes would at least trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was doing? Right?

Be levelled.

There is always more than what meets the eye.

Be levelled.

I slowly nodded, but the tension in my chest didn’t dissipate. “I did not know of her, but if you say it’s alright, I’ll take your word. You two better pray that I won’t be having to clean blood later, otherwise, you two…” I trailed a clenched fist with a thumb out at my neck with a menacing hiss imitating a knife at a throat. I knew better than to be vulnerable, let alone in front of the twins, and the best way to handle hurt in this moment was to pretend it didn’t exist with humor. The twins frantically saluted with an incoherent plea for their lives before dashing out. I returned to my work, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I had to clean up, and it was worse than I thought.

Despite my weak attempts at swallowing the questions gnawing at my chest, every passing second listed another question to my list. I was a student of heartache and worry, and my summative was to understand where I would lay with Sylus in the coming days.

After I had finished my reading, the silence was deafening, and I could hear it alluring me to see what had developed since the shot. It had been hours since the initial bullet, and the assistant part (definitely not the confused, aching part) of me wanted to know if there was anything for me to take care of or, you know, any answers for those questions.

I noted that both the mystery girl and Sylus weren’t in the estate anymore, but I saw the blood. This line of work built up a tolerance for gore and grim, but it still wasn’t pleasant. It seemed as if someone had haphazardly tried to clean it up, but I wished I had never overheard the conversations between them as they returned.

As the days pursued, I noticed a shift in Sylus’s routine. A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared in the halls, a faint shadow following Sylus’s movements. Truly, it would have been easier if she wasn’t prancing around the estate, because then I wouldn’t have to be a first-hand witness to seeing how he looked at her. It takes no fool to see that he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eye. A gleam that wasn’t his evol, but a look that drank her whole, his eyebrows raised and only furrowing at her witty remarks. I never meant to notice, but it seemed like he was breathing easier, yet his muscles were itching to grab her.

To crave someone.

My heart was slowly revolting in my chest, plotting an anarchy against my mind. A loud demand that I seek closure. My story was over, but I begged, “Let me be broken,” my pitiful mind whispering in surrender.

Sylus, who usually moved like a lone wolf through the estate, now seemed tethered to her. She occupied the guest room, accompanied him on errands, and their dynamic seemed effortless - something I would never relate to. Under the assumption that all that is sweet takes time, I patiently waited for him; supported him; cared for him. The banter I had once shared with him now played out between them, and my tongue was left scratchy from the lack of words falling off it.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt, not exactly. It was the quiet unease of witnessing something intimate from the outside, knowing I was no longer the one who fit into the empty spaces. I was a puzzle piece to replace; a hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper, cut out to only fill in for the missing piece.

Still, I couldn’t deny how easily they seemed to get along. She wasn’t intrusive or overbearing; she blended into the environment, a piece that completed the puzzle of Sylus’s world. Watching her settle into the rhythm of things only served to emphasize my growing sense of distance, and it was vividly clear to me that she was the puzzle piece he was hunting for.

When the announcement came that Sylus and Ms. Hunter - as he would call her - would be attending an auction together, an event critical to our operations, it wasn’t a surprise. But Lord, did it sting. I had been by his side countless times for situations like this, yet now I was relegated to the periphery.

The day of the auction was oddly quiet. He was enamored by her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The dress he had tailored for her, the jewels that hung on her skin - they made her look stunning. If the case was different, I would have complimented her myself, but the depth of pain hurting within me begged me to stay back. As they left together, I busied myself with the tasks left behind, avoiding the gnawing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. The image of them - so perfect for one another - haunted my mind. Hours stretched on, and by the time they returned, their closeness was undeniable.

It hurt.

I promised myself to be level-headed, but all that had occurred was the feelings I had so helplessly grasped onto being sent to the gullies. I could neither leave nor stay. A sickening game where I would run in circles by myself. Since when did I become so dependent on him? I thought my individuality was what brought me here.

Sylus’s guarded demeanor had softened around her. They moved as though they’d known each other for years, their conversation punctuated by shared laughter and subtle gestures.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

That it was just business, that whatever bond they’d formed wasn’t meant to affect me.

The lies my mind told to my heart.

I would happily take whatever piece of him I could get.

So, I stayed forgotten.

Please don’t repost, translate, or redistribute my work without permission. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. All rights to Love and Deepspace and its characters belong to Infold Games and respective copyright holders. © kashedelic 2024

[watcher7-9]

Dr. Ratio is the type to...

He’s the type to follow the side walk rule when you two walk together. Though he doesn’t show much affection outside. He stands his ground on following the side walk rule, so when you try to move outside he’ll tug you back and give you a “what are you doing” look.

He’s the type to flirt without knowing it. It’s not really count as flirting if you think about it. His certain compliments without meaning it or subtle touches against your back makes you blush. Though when he actually he tries to flirt he’s all red and stuttering over his words.

He’s the type to stop outside store windows when he sees something that reminds him of you. Browsing through a store he’ll pick out trinkets that remind you of him. He’ll wonder the whole day what your reaction will be when he gives it to you. Maybe even worrying if you won’t like it as his grip on the poor keychain tightens.

He’s the type to express his love through actions more than words. He can’t grasp his emotions all the way so he shows his love toward you through acts of service. You need someone to help you review your essay? You got it he’s giving you all the tips, grammar checking, etc. He’ll leave snacks in your bag because he knows you get hungry throughout the day. Even better if you work as a colleague he makes it a routine at certain points of the day and go give you food.

He’s the type to draw portraits and carve statues with your face on it. Something that only he can admire, not for others. Only for him. When he’s off he’ll take hours out of his day to sit down and start to carve away. Many of these carvings are based off sketches. Having sketchbooks filled with just drawings of you.

He’s the type to rant to you after a long day of how frustrating his students are. His words flowing out as he describes them with terms it’s better if they didn’t hear. Usually over a cup of tea or bundled up against the couch, he can finally let out that pent up emotion and might even gain a few pity points from you so you can hold him in your arms.

He’s the type to love bathing together. Not even anything sexual but just you both being so vulnerable with each other. Maybe it’s not as passionate as pouring his heart through words but it takes enough trust to take that step of bathing together. Lowering his head down so you could help him wash his hair and in return he likes washing yours.

[pyrodolls]

HIII i loved your down bad hcs and figured i'd drop a request 👉👈

can i get some hcs for the lin kuei trio + kenshi w/ a gn!reader who's very clingy?

like someone who'll literally follow them wherever they go just for some physical affection and is very cuddly. bonus points if the reader is talkative too :]

LIN KUEI TRIO + KENSHI X CLINGY!READER HCS

WARNINGS: sfw, established relationship, gender neutral reader, lowercase intended, mk1 characters, mk1 spoilers, takes place after the story and before the khaos reigns dlc cuz i haven't played it yet lmfaoooo

A/N: hey... hey.... how y'all doing... erm it's been a while but here we go with another mortal kombat post!! the last time i posted about it was nearly a YEAR ago y'all i suckkkk i'm sorry. but as an apology and a late christmas gift, i'm posting 5 different reqs this week woohoooo *everyone cheers* and i'm sorry it took so long for me to write, i just didn't feel like it. but here we are! also apologies for making tomas and kenshi's hcs short, i just don't have a lot of writing experience for kenshi and tomas only has like 2 minutes of screentime ijbol

with BI-HAN, he'd hate for you to be clingy while he is working. he has an entire clan to take care of, and his stress was worsened after kuai liang and tomas's betrayal. even though you may be his spouse, his main goal will always remain with the lin kuei and taking control of earthrealm. but in private, you could be physically affectionate or talk to your heart's desire.

he's not going to reciprocate your affections, though. he's not used to the concept of romance, especially from someone as vulnerable as you. his entire life he was trained to be cold and ruthless. sure, he grew up with kind brothers, but he saw their friendly nature as weakness. he'll often criticize you for being open with your feelings, but that's only because that was what he was taught. he may behave as if he resents your attachment, but he secretly enjoys the domesticity. it delights him that you are so devoted to him. his hatred for his former brothers grows every day due to their betrayal, so having you around him softens his temper, as he requires reassurance that you aren't going to turn on him. (he'll never admit that, though.) he also doesn't mind when you follow him around as long as you do not disrupt his duties or make a fool out of him. keep your affections private, and you'll stay his. you wouldn't want him to punish you for misbehaving in front of the entire clan, would you?

KUAI LIANG is far more accepting of your behavior than his colder brother. he understands that you're clingy because you care about him, so he tries to make an effort to reciprocate your affections whenever he can. but he often worries for your safety as his spouse. he worries that the lin kuei could target you if they find out about your love. you're free to be clingy, but you must keep it private.

he believes your love is one of the last good things he has left in his life. after bi-han's betrayal, his life has been one of little to no rest. having you by his side keeps his anxieties at bay for a short amount of time. you can talk to him as much as you want, and he won't interrupt you unless it's important. he would listen to your thoughts without judgement. he may question you, but he'll never judge. he may not be as talkative as you are, because he tries to show you how he feels with actions rather than words. but he still manages to keep up with you because he loves you. he's grateful to have some happiness in his dangerous life. that happiness is you.

TOMAS is similar to his brothers as he does not wish for your affections to be public, for safety reasons. however, he makes it very clear that he is appreciative of your clingy nature and never fails to turn beet red when you hug him. while he is busy building the shirai ryu, he has much more free time than his brothers. he enjoys going on walks with you and hearing you talk for hours. he stays engaged and asks questions and laughs along at your jokes, even if they aren't funny. he isn't as energetic as you are, but he attempts to reciprocate your energy the best he can. he grew up with bi-han's harsh criticisms and kuai liang's gentle guidance, but he's never had someone always excited to see him like you. you never fail to put a smile on his face and brighten a dark day.

KENSHI is now a government agent, so he often comes home to you at different times every night. he feels guilty for making you wait for him so late at night, but his concerns wash away the moment you run to hug him. he has a dangerous job, and he can handle himself despite losing his vision, but it doesn't stop him from worrying about you every time he leaves the house. just like the lin kuei trio, he wants to keep your relationship private, so you aren't hunted down like he is. he feels bad that you can't have a normal relationship with him, and it has gotten you in a few arguments, since he believes you deserve better. but ultimately, it's always worked out in the end when you reassure him that you're happy with him and nobody else. he doesn't care that you're a bit clingy, he appreciates that you care about him. it breaks his heart when he has to push you away for his job, but he just wishes to protect you, since your relationship is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

[lazysoulwriter]

Shield of Love - Pedro Pascal.

The early morning sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting soft golden patterns across the hardwood floor. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Pedro walked into the room with two cups of coffee, his presence always grounding, always warm. He smiled as he handed you one, but there was something slightly hesitant in his expression.

It wasn’t new, this subtle tension. Lately, he had become a little more overbearing, always holding your hand in public, shooting warning glances at any man who so much as smiled in your direction. You adored Pedro—he was your rock, your comfort—but it had started to feel stifling. You knew he meant well, but it was time to address it.

“Pedro,” you started softly, placing your coffee down on the table. He glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What’s wrong, cariño?”

You hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’ve noticed how… protective you’ve been lately. I mean, you’re always protective, but it feels different now. Almost like you don’t trust something—or someone.”

His face flushed immediately, his dark eyes darting away from yours. He sat down beside you, his knee brushing yours. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, the tips of his ears turning red.

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. “Pedro, I’m not upset. I just… Is it jealousy? Or are you worried about something I don’t know about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not jealousy,” he mumbled. “It’s just… you’re younger than me. Not by a lot, I know, but enough that it makes me—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Enough that it makes you what?” you pressed gently.

“Worried,” he admitted quietly. “Worried that people will judge you, or us. That someone will think they can take advantage of you. You’re my baby, and I just—I want to protect you from everything.”

Your heart softened at his confession, and you reached out to take his hand. “Pedro, I don’t need you to shield me from the world. I chose you, and I’ll keep choosing you, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy and full of vulnerability. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you feel suffocated. I just love you so much, and sometimes I don’t know how to handle it.”

You leaned forward, brushing a kiss against his lips. “I love you too. But you don’t have to handle it alone. We’re a team, remember?”

He smiled at that, his usual confidence returning as he pulled you into his arms. “A team,” he echoed. “And I promise, I’ll ease up. But don’t think for a second that I’m not going to keep calling you my baby. Because you are.”

You laughed, burying your face in his chest. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

In that moment, all the tension melted away, leaving only love and understanding in its place.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Dude. I have an idea.

Imagine a gn blind!Reader with yandere!Sonic or Silver, like— blind reader is so very dependent on them and always ask for help when needed, and the yandere is taking advantage of that..😈

This can be romantic or platonic, it's fine.

A/n: these are kind of crappy.

Yandere!Sonic/Silver x Blind!Reader

Sonic:

At first, he genuinely wanted to help. He offered to guide you across uneven terrain, described the world around you in vibrant detail, and chased away anyone who dared to make fun of your condition.

Over time however, that innocent desire shifted.

Sonic loved being someone you trusted. He slowly gound out jw lived being the *only* one you trusted, the only one you could rely on. He thrived on the way you clung to him when you were nervous, the way your voice softened when you asked for his help.

"Hey, Sonic," you called one afternoon, sitting on a bench in the park. "Could you describe the sunset for me again?"

Sonic’s ears perked up. He was there in an instant, sliding onto the bench beside you.

"Of course," he said, his voice gentle. "Right now, the sun is dipping down, and the light is more tinted a different shade. And its a but more dark right now. Half of the sun is jnder the horizon, so only the top half is peeking out."

You smiled, leaning closer to him. "Thanks."

He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around you, though it was getting harder to control himself these days.

He wanted you to rely on him for everything, to need him so completely that you couldn’t imagine life without him. It was messed up.. He could admit that.. But really, it would be better no? I mean, who else could take care of you better than him?

The opportunity came one stormy evening when you lost your eye dog, you do t know what happened to hin, one meoment he was there, and the next, gone. Panicked and vulnerable, you called Sonic for help, your voice trembling over the phone.

"Don’t worry," he said. "I’ll take care of you."

When Sonic came, he promised to look for your dog, that he would return him if he saw it roaming around. He's glad you couldn't see the guily look on his face.

From that night on, Sonic began to subtly sabotage your independence. He "accidentally" misplaced your cane, always made sure you were too distracted to practice using your other senses, and convinced you that the world outside was dangerous without him. He wanted you to think of him as your hero, your savior, your everything.

"You don’t need anyone else," he whispered one night as you sat together on your couch, his arm finally draped around your shoulders. "I’ll always be here for you."

And you believed him, why wouldn't you? He was your best friend, only wanted the best for you... Right?

Silver:

It started with small things, helping you navigate unfamiliar spaces, holding your hand a little longer than necessary, and offering to read aloud to you when you couldn’t access certain books.

He cherished the way you trusted him, the way you leaned into his touch and smiled so sweetly when he guided you.

"Silver," you said one day, your voice uncertain. "Do you think I’m a burden? I feel like I ask you for help too often."

Silver immediately shook his head, forgetting for a moment that you couldn’t see him. "No! Never. You could never be a burden," he said, his voice almost desperate. "I *want* to help you."

You gave a smile "thanks, i just get worried sometimes." Goodness... He loved that smile so much...

He began to manipulate your environment, quietly isolating you from others. He’d "accidentally" forget to pass along messages from friends or make excuses when they wanted to visit.

When you asked for help with tasks, he’d exaggerate how difficult or dangerous they were.

"Let me handle it," he’d say, his tone soft. "I don’t want you to get hurt."

One day, you mentioned wanting to get an eye dog, you thought itd be best as tou were mainly relying on your caine amd silver to get around. Silver froze, his mind racing. The thought of you not needing him anymore was unbearable.

"You don’t have to do that," he said quickly. "I mean, why put yourself through all that trouble when I’m here? I’ll always take care of you."

And you believed him, i mean, he was always helping you, he was probably right.

However you were unaware of how tightly he was wrapping himself around your life. Silver was always there, watching, "protecting", and ensuring that no one ̶could steal you from him hurt you.

To him, your blindness wasn’t a limitation, it was an opportunity to become the center of your world. And he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, take that away.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 63

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 60, part 61, part 62

this takes place after part 44

The water is cold around his calves. On that stretch of skin that keeps dipping in and out of the water. Not deciding whether or not it’s just best to jump in or stay on the land.

This is probably the deepest Steve’s been in pool since Barb died. Every time he tried before, he never made it past his ankles. The water stung too much with regret. The feeling that he failed, the wrongness of knowing that this was someone’s final resting place.

He let the kids use it. Took care of it. Made it look like everything else in this house, perfect. But to Steve, to Nancy, this water would be better off drained. That way it wouldn’t be a reminder of that night.

When he came outside, he didn’t know why. Just that the moonlight reflecting off the water was taunting him. Danced across his bedroom ceiling. Reminded him of the truth that rested within him. The truth that everyone can see.

Eddie saw it. Read him like a book and threw it back to him. It hurt more than Steve thought it would when Eddie figured it out, the rotten secret of him. That when the crown got ripped from his skull, there’s nothing else of worth left to keep. It’s something Steve’s known all his life. If the crown were still in his grasp, he’d cling to it like his last lifeline.

The water was a fitting reminder of that. No matter how hard Steve tried, he couldn’t find someone that he was enough for. They all eventually ran from him, turned on him. Left him alone. It was here, in this water, that the most meaningful romantic relationship in his life broke before it ever properly began. Nancy never forgave them for abandoning Barb that night. Steve was too busy trying to forget enough to be able to sleep at night to be there for her. He loved her, she didn’t love him. He was bullshit.

Love was bullshit. It was stupid, and reckless, and just left him hurt in the end. And for the first time, it really felt like Steve was building something again. Eddie was hurting, and he knew that. It’s why he didn’t stop him. Just let him keep yelling, saying insults that Steve’s heard before. None of it stung, because he knew the reason.

But then the house was put up for sale, his paycheck was eaten up by the rent his dad was still making him pay, and he was left vulnerable.

Those words left Eddie’s lips and proved Steve right. This was going to end just like the others.

The door slides open and shut behind him, the sound of crutches approaching him.

“Would I be too much of an asshole to ask you to help me sit down?” Eddie joked, but it came out wrong. The levity refusing breaking through.

Steve stayed quiet, looking down at his hands. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Give me a second.”

Eddie backs up, setting down one of his crutches behind Steve, using the other one for stability as he bends to the ground. Getting into a sitting position before scooting forward to the edge of the pool. He takes off his shoes, and dips his feet into the water, and waits.

If he thinks Steve is going to say something, he’s wrong. Steve said what he needed to, more would come in time. He’s angry at himself more than anything. For letting himself open up to someone and give them just the right ammo to kill him. For thinking it would be different this time.

After a few minutes of silence, just the sounds of the bugs and the water, Eddie starts to speak.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what I can do to make what I said go away, and I can’t. Normal apologies won’t cut it, not with you. Not with how I just hurt you. And I’m not sure if you’ll believe me when I tell you I didn’t mean it. That I think it’s wrong. But it is, and I believe that. What I said was out of pain so bad it clouded any solid train of thought I had, it doesn’t mean I believe it.”

What’s worse, is Steve does believe him. The small spark that he holds tight in his chest ignites. Hope rippling through his body. Foolish hope. He believes that Eddie didn’t mean it. Simply because he wants to believe it too.

“You just,” Eddie continues. Steve glances over at him, seeing how Eddie stares off in the distance. The water reflecting in his eyes. “You keep surprising me, Steve. You haven’t stopped. I had this image of you in my mind, and every time I rewrite it, you do something that makes me rewrite it again. And each version is so much better than the last. You are so much more than anyone ever gives you credit for, and I hate that I made you think that you’re not.”

Eddie looks at Steve, and for the first time, the words aren’t betrayed by the look in someone’s eyes. For the first time, Steve believes them.

He turns. “Barb Holland died right over there,” he points to the diving board. “While me and Nancy were in my room. I had thrown this party that night, invited her. It was really just Tommy and Carol, but I wanted to impress her. She brought Barb, her best friend, and we were too wrapped up in each other to make sure she got home.”

Eddie is listening to him closely, looking at Steve with something he can’t comprehend. That look in his eyes, that affection, it isn’t earned. It feels so wrong to try to keep but so right to have.

“Right before we broke up, Nancy told me that our whole relationship was bullshit. That she didn’t love me. She was drunk, but I think she meant it, even if she didn’t realize it. She never forgave herself for what happened to Barb, never forgave me. It was going to end eventually; I just didn’t think it was going to like that. I was bullshit.”

It’s what kept ringing through his mind when Eddie said that he was never good enough for anyone to stay. Bullshit. That damned word swirling around every example his mind pulled to prove Eddie right.

Now that the pain starts to subside, he can see the ways that people show him it’s not true. How Robin, even when she had every chance to leave, stayed around. Trusted him enough to tell him her secret, and trusted him enough to know that it didn’t matter to him. He loved her for her. She was the best friend he’s ever had.

Dustin looked up to him for a reason he didn’t understand. He worked a shitty retail jobs while trying to figure out what to do with his life. Didn’t go to college, probably never will. When Dustin had so much promise it was crazy. But he still looked up to Steve. Cared more about him than he ever knew.

Then there was Eddie. Who looked at him like he had nothing to prove. Didn’t make Steve justify why he was different, why he changed. Saw it and accepted it as truth. He didn’t make Steve feel stupid for not getting references, or for taking an extra step to get to the conclusion.

“I’m scared someone’s going to look at me again and tell me that she was right,” he finishes.

“You’re not bullshit, Steve. You’re like the furthest thing from it.”

Even now, he’s trying to make Steve feel better. He’s in pain and is trying to make Steve feel better. He can disguise it as an apology for what he said, but this was deeper than that. It was so much deeper than that to Steve.

What Steve felt for Eddie, without even trying, was deeper than anything he’s felt in a long time. He hasn’t felt like this since Nancy, but it was totally different this time. He wanted to run from it, wanted to pretend it didn’t exist, but he couldn’t.

It was the most terrified Steve had been in a long time.

“You’re like,” Eddie smiles, “one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. And you’re brave as hell, strong, courageous. Kinda really funny and fun to be around.” He gets really close to Steve, practically leaning on him.

Steve pushes him away with his shoulder, the tension leaving his shoulders. A smile coming back. “Shut up, man.”

“What,” Eddie exclaims. “It’s true. I see it, Robin sees it, the kids see it. I’m sure if you asked Nancy now, she’ll tell you that.”

“Yeah, ok, sure.”

Eddie leans close again. The warmth making Steve’s heart beat loud in his chest. “I’m right and you know it. You’re a total catch, man. Anyone would be lucky to get to date you.”

“Ok, I’m not that great of a boyfriend, you haven’t seen that.”

“Don’t need to, I just know. I’m not sure why you’re so terrified, someone has to see that. Hell, I’m not sure how anyone ever let you get away. I know if I ever got the chance, I’d—"

Eddie lets the sentence trail off, his tongue traveling faster than his brain, but Steve doesn’t let him regret it. Instead, Steve does something reckless. Reaching out his hand and pulls him closer before he has the thought to back away.

He didn’t have to do much, they were practically this close anyway. Still, his muscles tense with that anticipation he knows so well. That feeling that rushes through his veins only encourages him. The motions he’s done so many times before.

But really, if someone were to ask him later, he had no idea what he was doing.

Eddie stills when their lips meet, taken by surprise. Steve almost pulls away before he feels him press back. Hand coming up to grip his arm, keeping him still. Keeping them in that moment, just a bit longer.

“That’s why I’m terrified,” Steve says when they break. Eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s. The intensity held in them burning right through him. “When you said that in the kitchen, I thought it was the same thing again.”

Eddie blinks. Keeping Steve’s gaze. “It wasn’t. It was the opposite really. I was trying to push you away before you got the chance to leave.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to burden you.”

Steve shakes his head. “You can’t burden me. You’re not burdening me. We all have our own baggage, the things we have to deal with. I know that. I care about it because I care about you, but not because it’s burdening me.”

Silence fills again. The two of them trapped in this moment, in this gaze. It’s so heavy, meaningful, real. Steve wants to drown in it. Fall so far deep into it he can never get back out.

“Eddie,” his voice breaks off. The intensity of what he’s about to say makes the words get lodged in his throat. He breaks the gaze, just so he can be brave enough to say it. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about someone before,” Eddie adds his confession. He can hear the hesitancy to say it. Just as afraid as Steve is.

Eddie’s hand comes up and rests on his neck, slides back into his hair. So easily bringing him in again. Kissing him like it will all break the moment it’s over. With such care and delicacy, it makes Steve feel like he’s worth it. That his fears, his hope, are mirrored back at him.

It doesn’t feel risky anymore. It feels carefully curated the way a famous painting is. Meticulously planned and cared for. Loved. Everything falling into place that as it should, nothing standing out to take perfection away. The ending exactly as it was meant to.

It feels right. The voices in Steve’s head silenced, letting the excited hum take over. Because, despite all the nervous fear, in this moment, Steve was excited.

i can't believe there's only one more part of this fic, what am I supposed to do when this is done?

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[syndrossi]

resonant ch33 dvd commentary

This was a problem child of a chapter as I tried to figure out the best path toward the next set of plot points, which, combined with the work months (Nov and Dec) from hell meant it ended up a bit late and thereby thwarted my hopes of breaking 200K words of Resonant by year's end, alas.

Favorite line(s):

“I want his head,” Daemon croaked, unable to calm the racing of his heart. “I want to swing the blade that cleaves it from his shoulders. Do not deny me this, I beg of you.”

SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN SOMEONE'S HEAD, HE DESERVES IT. Reyne's, Crayne's, Allard's...he's not picky right now.

Daemon glanced at the red on Viserys’s white-and-gold sleeve, still bright somehow despite being half-dried. How is it that you seek to spend my blood, brother?

The "blood to be spent" is one of my favorite of the candle's refrains to weave in, and it was fun to have a literal representation here.

[The sobs] were as quiet as they were heartbreaking, each wracking him violently, as though the pain of it were trying to bend him in half.

Anyone who's had a really intense cry knows exactly what that feeling is.

Rhaegar seemed to read his expression, and his arms tightened around Qelebrys briefly, as though apprehensive, before steeling his face and turning toward his brother. It was an impulse that was all too familiar to Daemon. He does not want his brother to think him weak.

You know it's bad when Daemon is seeing parallels with him and Viserys, rather than Aemon and Baelon.

Favorite Details

Daemon's victory

As someone pointed out in the AO3 comments, this is a rare occasion where Daemon outplayed Otto, who seemed to be expecting his leaked information about Daemon being seen visit Mysaria in Flea Bottom to result in far more dire consequences for him. He didn't realize that Daemon had been withholding information of his own.

(Granted, Daemon would gladly have continued to withhold the information about the bounty on his own head, had it not been useful in the confrontation.)

Redfort brothers

Sorry, @textbookchoices, I think you were envisioning something quite different when I promised Redfort content...

I don't know, just the utter heartbreak/tragedy that was the Redfort twins' lives in those early years, where they didn't understand why people behaved so strangely and why there were so many unspoken rules. And adoring their older half-brothers, only to be utterly crushed when they never returned, convinced it was their own fault for daring to impose/ask. (When the reality was that this was near the time when Raymar's dye started failing and Allard was eager for the Redfort brothers to halt their visits anyway...)

But also the vulnerability Rhaegar/Raymar was willing to show, and the love the Daemon met it with. Raymar got a lot of much-needed affirmation this chapter, as much of an unsettling rollercoaster of emotion as it was for Rhaegar. They both needed that, and with the stress/upset over the rift with Jon, they were due for a meltdown.

Valyrian histories

I like to imagine Aegon entertained his sons with stories like that of House Dewald (the name itself me making a bad German pun, since the holdfast was near the edge of the forest aka "der Wald"), and Aenys passed it on to Jaehaerys who passed it on to his sons and grandsons. So much of that purely oral history would have been lost in the Dance, with only the children surviving.

And the Valyrians love their stories of "why you should never try to steal dragon eggs, aka because we'll kill you really, really dead."

Dynamics

Daemon and Viserys

Not Viserys's best day ever, though he's not quite as clueless as he seems in giving Reyne an extension. (His reasoning is "I'll need a little time to get a replacement ready and minimize the harm during the transition if he truly is a traitor," hence the one week for Reyne to "prove" himself.)

If things go poorly (aka proof of treason is found), Reyne could very well lose his head!

But that's little comfort to Daemon, who continues to feel (rather fairly) that Viserys won't go beyond half-measures for him, while he'll bend over backward for everyone else.

@marmari33 had a very insightful ask on the topic of how Viserys acts when Daemon is on the verge of a breakdown (aka he's most willing to act the comforting big brother then), so I won't rehash it here, but that's another complicated piece of their dynamic.

At the end of the day, the problem is still that although you can't go around beheading everyone without proof, Viserys's touch is far too light given how serious the treason that was committed by House Royce (and Redfort) under House Arryn's stewardship. Viserys being willing to cede the negotiation ground to the Vale give them the home field advantage/the sense that he's willing to be lenient.

Rhaegar and Raymar

These two have been more integrated than Jon and Jon Redfort by a wide margin, but Rhaegar was feeling it this chapter. As mentioned above, he's eight-years-old and he's in a cold war with his brother who he idolizes and doesn't trust him, which hurts, so he's primed for a breakdown. The hair dye background, which is a particular pain point for Raymar, just opened the floodgates.

Those with a keen eye will notice that Jon has also been more affected by his counterpart of late, so there may be a ticking time bomb there to reckon with...

Quick hitters

It felt almost like a simulated D&D session, the events at the end of the chapter. There were about ten different things that could have happened instead, but this is what the dice (and Daemon) landed on.

It remains ambiguous just how much of Reyne's failure is incompetence, malice, or both.

Larys is back at the Red Keep now, btw...

What was Jon so cheerful about when he found them at the enclosure? We'll find out next chapter...

Daemon's violent outbursts are never not nerve-wracking for the poor Kingsguard. Granted, he's never harmed Viserys, but the sounds of a man breaking a chair by slamming it repeatedly into the ground are not gentle.

The one thing about Daemon's hunger for Allard's head is that it doesn't take into account what the boys might want.

How did Reyne come to know of Daemon's visit? He only showed his face to the woman at the "front desk" so to speak of the establishment, and Mysaria herself. Is Mysaria still informing on Daemon to Otto for a price? Does that still make sense, given the promised rewards from Daemon? Or is it another source?

Daemon's anger tends to have an insulating effect against the candle, while despair/grief make him susceptible, and we see both sides of that coin in this chapter. Though it also remains an open question of whether there is always a warlock "manning" the candle, or if it has any passive effects.

Daemon remains best dad when it comes to finding ways to cheer up his sons. Plotting the perfect flight path to find some natural beauty for Rhaegar followed by interesting ruins of a military defeat for Jon.

The saddle refitting is complete, meaning the boys can take a field trip at any given moment...

Cut scenes/moments

“If I tell you of my own troubles with my brother, will you tell me of yours?” Daemon asked. His son’s grip tightened on the cup, then slackened. “It is nothing.”

The scene was already pretty long, and it didn't feel the right time/moment to veer into the Rhaegar-Jon conflict.

That was the provence of Allard Royce, for those years of cruelty. Lorent Reyne, for dismissing the whispers from the Vale that would have united Daemon with his sons years before. Rhea Royce, for devising such a heartless scheme, and the Redforts for aiding her in it. I will see them all burn.

Just a little extra seething from Daemon that I ended up cutting. I think it's pretty well understood within the chapter that Daemon is hungry for blood/revenge.

“He does not trust me. He thinks that I am weak.” “I am certain that is not so,” Daemon said. Rhaegar’s shrug was listless. “I understand why he believes it to be true. He is able to resist the candle, where I have failed. I was the one foolish enough to drink the cider at the Saltpans and be taken. When we were captive, he challenged Crayne and I—I feared him.” His voice grew thicker with upset, each word escaping him quickly than the last, until he was stumbling over them at the end. Daemon pulled him onto his lap, resting his chin atop his hair as he held him. “You are a child. You are allowed to be frightened.” Rhaegar twisted free, springing to his feet with fists balled tight. “Jon isn’t. He is never frightened. He thinks that he must keep me safe, whatever the cost to himself.” “I am your father. That is my duty.” Daemon caught one of his small fists, clasping it between his hands. “I will keep you safe, both of you.” His son regarded him with a solemn expression that pierced his heart. Aemon. “You will not always be there to protect us.” The chill of winter gripped Daemon suddenly, bitter and harsh in his lungs. The crimson of his blood on Viserys’s white sleeve swam before his eyes, only it was snow he saw now, stained with lifesblood, more than a body could spare. “Do not say that,” he whispered, heart seizing.

A little more of the Rhaegar-Jon conflict that I was a bit sad to see go because of the "blood to be spent" imagery melding with the Wall vision.

And there's one more cut scene (the longest) I'm holding onto in case it's relevant next chapter. If not, I'll share it in that DVD commentary!

[katerinaaqu]

Hello :) firstly I wanted to say that I love your analyses and I love all the information and knowledge you’re able to give us, thank you soo much for that.

Secondly since you know so much especially about the odyssey and Odysseus and I’ve recently seen a post where you explained the calypso situation I wanted to ask if you’ve made such an in-depth analysis on the Circe situation? I’m convinced the whole thing wasn’t consensual but there are always ppl saying stuff like “what Hermes said isn’t important” “Circe was at his mercy when she asked him to do the deed with him so he tricked her into doing it” “Odysseus was invulnerable to her powers so that means he wasn’t in danger meaning he willingly slept with her” and since I haven’t read the odyssey in a while I wanted to ask you .

Tysm for your time and I hope you have a wonderful day

Hello and you are very sweet! I really feel happy you do enjoy them and I am also grateful to receive comments and thoughts from you under my work 🙏 it always means so much when people get interested in the ancient texts much more when they honor me with their trust on tye matter.

I believe you are referring to my latest answer then where I re-analyzed the Calypso matter.

OF COURSE I can! I would be happy and delighted to especially since their relationship is so complicated and fascinating to begin with. The way in which it evolves in a very interesting degree and the way both characters share common traits is also fascinating. Circe is called also wily or with tricks which also seems to correspond to the essence of Odysseus himself. A power couple no doubt. But indeed so misunderstood by the media and their interpretations.

So here goes sorry if this is long:

I find it so interesting how far selective interpretation goes 🤔 😆 I find it interesting that indeed there are people out there that read the passage where Hermes SPECIFICALLY mentions how Odysseus has no choice and say that "oh it doesn't matter really!" Hahaha so to be more precise the passage goes as such;

Then you shall not refuse the goddess's bed if you want her to release your comrades, and she shall offer entertainment to you

(Translation by me)

The passage is clear. Hermes tells Odysseus he has no choice but to accept the bed of Circe's if he wants to save his men and see them again in human form. I find it quite interesting that people ignore that or they claim it is unimportant to the plot. This is literally the reason why Odysseus is there. What is more I find the notion of the moly immunity funny because Circe was not a force to be reckoned with only with her magic. In fact Homer also writes afterwards;

However make her swear a sacred and great oath that she will have nothing else bad in store for you so that she won't hurt or unman you when she has you stripped naked.

(Translation by me)

Hermes clearly states that Circe does not need to turn him into an animal to be dangerous. In fact as someone else said before me, it almost seems like Circe might as well kill or castrate him while she has him naked and vulnerable. Hermes clearly states that Odysseus is not safe even if he is immune to her power at that specific moment. It also shows that Circe could harm him at every moment and the only reasons she didn't were this promise that he extracted from her and perhaps her own feelings for him (curiosity or other). Throughout the passage Odysseus was speaking on the fear he was feeling even from moment number one;

And she opened the fine doors calling me in and I followed her with a heavy and grieving heart

(Translation by me)

Odysseus was literally frightened. All the time. As he said he had a grieving heart (ἀκαχήμενος ἦτορ) and he continued to be distrustful of her and afraid even if he had extracted that oath from her.

However my heart could not be pleased for I was distracted as my mind was always thinking on dark thoughts

(Translation by me)

I adore how Homer uses the word ἀλλοφρονέων (=to think differently, to be distracted) but the word αλλόφρων also used in modern Greek to speak on someone who is mad or crazy and is also used as a phrase to indicate someone who is not just worried but someone crazy in fear. Odysseus has extracted the promise, he has accepted the attentive care of Circe and her handmaidens in the bath and he is now sat before a real feast and he is crazy in fear and doubt. His continuous sense of anxiety is obvious in the passage. So to say that Odysseus was just fine and that the whole adventure with Circe was a breeze and that he was safe against her just because he had eaten the Moly at that time seems to me funny since every part of the passage shows how he was afraid. What was more, there is no guarantee that the Moly would protect him forever from Circe's magic not to mention that as we said before, even without her magic Circe had plenty of aces up her sleeve starting from her animal entourage till a potent knife at the time that she had Odysseus under her mercy (thus the need for a promise on her part).

Also even if we say that Moly would keep him immune forever, what about his men? His men had not consumed Moly and it was obvious that the only reason that Odysseus was there was to rescue his men. What guarantee did he have that Circe wouldn't enchant his men again if he misbehaved? Quite frankly as I said above, Circe's likeness for his boldness or potentially his mind plus the oath he extracted from her seems to be the only thing that prevents Circe from using his men as hostages once more. Quite frankly the whole adventure with Circe was a very big hostage business. Odysseus was thinking on his men's safety (not to mention the rest of them waiting by the ship) apart from his own and as you see he was already very much afraid as it was.

I also find it interesting that the reason why Circe seems to be getting Odysseus immediately to her bed is that she knew he would come. Just like Polyphemus knew by a prophet that Odysseus would blind him (although she didn't know the nature of the person that would blind him) Circe says that she knew from Hermes that a certain Odysseus would arrive at her isle on his way back from Troy. So in one way someone to say that Circe was out of options seems at least funny as a notion. It seems that she knew who was coming she just didn't seem to know the conditions that would bring him there.

Now was Odysseus attracted to her?

In my opinion there is no doubt about it as he describes how beautiful Circe was. Would he consider to sleep with her if it weren't of Hermes's advice? In my opinion no. Odysseus would absolutely be finding Circe attractive given her beauty and her divine nature, which is no surprise there but finding attraction to one person and act on it are two different things. In my humble opinion I do not think that Odysseus would act according to that attraction. Would he be curious on the experience with an immortal goddess? Absolutely. He is a naturally curious person and he wants to gain knowledge from other experiences in his life. Would he act up that one? Again I think not.

The reason why I think so is that the essences of loyalty in marriage are not as cut and clean as we usually think of in modern times. True if we judge from Hera myths, it was not preferable for a man to have extramarital affairs but it was generally tolerated. Agamemnon speaks on the affairs he had and many others had affairs. Odysseus would have no reason to hide his actual attraction towards Circe (and he doesn't given how he does speak on her very warmly eventually). Throughout his narration he mentions many things negative about himself including but not restricted to; the conquest and enslavement of Ismarus, his mistake to insult God Poseidon, self-destructive thoughts, feeling of fear towards Circe or Calypso, his moments of sadness and isolation etc. All of these things would be considered embarrassing or even diminishing for him. Why would he hide affairs at a world that was more tolerant towards the affairs and instead say all these others that would make a king or a warrior embarrassed?

Now there is an interesting question of course as to why did Odysseus remain there for a year?

It is indeed food for thought to think about it because once his men were back to human form in theory he could leave right? That in my opinion is not cut and clean like that. For once he had to wait until his men were back to good health and spirits to travel and he might as well take advantage of Circe's hospitality to refill their batteries. However there is also the moment where in the Odyssey his men arrive personally and scold him that he forgot about their country and their homeland for the arms of Circe. So one can think indeed; did Odysseus indeed forget himself?

In my opinion it is possible. His men are not the only ones who wanted to refill their batteries. So was Odysseus. In fact he has MUCH MORE in his plate than the average human already. He has already been at war, he has the war crimes on his mind anyways and he has also witnessed most of his men dying in horrifying ways (Cicones, Polyphemus, Laestrigonians etc) and he has just witnessed the results of his actions as well with the Curse of Polyphemus and the way that the sack of Aeolus fiasco happened. Odysseus already was suffering a lot. Regardless of the fact that he was always afraid of her, the hospitality she offered was very much needed. He could rest and enjoy some safety of dry land for a change after everything he had been through and Circe kept her promise and was a very good hostess to them. Odysseus too needed that break. It is possible that he forgot himself at the care of Circe and quite frankly Circe seems to be also wishing to keep Odysseus by her side so she does seem to make it as easy as possible for him to stay.

So Odysseus enjoying some nice rest after so long, even in the arms of a goddess that scares him makes it cheating? In my opinion no. What is more it seems that the fear of Odysseus was always apparent. It seems that he was avoiding requesting from Circe to let them go the whole time. It almost felt like he was putting the whole thing off out of fear for her anger and refusal. He almost seemed to be gathering off the guts to tell her. When his men straight out demanded it he didn't seem to have a choice but to comply. So it shows how scared he was when he literally BEGGED Circe to let them go by falling on her knees.

And then I climbed onto Circe's beautiful bed and hugging her knees I begged her to set us free with a cry.

(Translation by me)

So basically Odysseus felt helpless before her and he had to do the employing ritual to her (you can see my other post about this ritual) so that he would be sure that Circe wouldn't refuse him or be angry at him. That same fear continued later for when he came back from the Underworld, he preferred to stay by the ships. He was literally brought back in by Circe herself who gave him some advice.

But while most part of the text in the Odyssey indeed implies the lack of free will or lack of options etc someone would think why would Odysseus be considered a cheater in the hands of Circe?

I think the answer lies to the general idea that many people have that we should consider Odysseus as an unreliable narrator and that all the details he lists are lies to cover his cheating.

Although as a logic seems to be very generalized, and it COULD hold some water in regards to some details, I still am not convinced as mention above that Odysseus is lying here. For starters he was already very emotional when speaking to the Phaeakes and an emotional Odysseus is the most honest Odysseus (we saw his emotions betraying him with Polyphemus, with his revelation with the Phaeakes or later with Penelope). Odysseus was already in a very strong emotional state so I do not think his narration is inherently doubtful. What is more, he does seem to have so many details in his narration about himself that are not positive about himself. He would have no reason to hide the specific one. And Odysseus mentions how Circe never had his heart before (see also my other answer here). I cannot find much of a reason for him to lie about that when he has literally admitted everything else that could paint him in an unpleasant light (especially his hubris with Polyphemus).

So to sum up yes I think he was being forced. His men were held hostage and he had to save them. Circe was never helpless regardless of the situation and she had many different ways to kill him if she wanted to. Would he be curious anyways? Absolutely. Would he act according to that curiosity? In that case I think not. He does say so himself and his imprisonment in Calypso's island in his narrative was supported by other characters and the poet so why would he lie for Circe either. One can definitely think about his emotions and how strong they would be about Circe but I think regardless of that, he wouldn't have necessarily act towards that curiosity given how his psychological state was originally

But I guess this is everyone's guess.

I hope this helps. It definitely it is up to you what you want to interpret and I will be happy to offer more passages inside the future reblogs and such! ^_^

[natjennie]

what if I was never normal again.

[sysig]

Blind side (Patreon)

[deoidesign]

drawing my favorite sculpture but it's my guy

(Barberini Faun)