#i got a lot done!!!! but not as much as i maybe HOPED to

[always-just-red]

Oh I forgot to add 😭😭😭 be it fluff like jelly sylus but fluff maybe he trying to make the mc jelly too ? I’m going wild with ideas, I will be quiet

(Part 1 of ask) FINALLY finished this fic oh my goshhh I've loved it so much but writer's block was my constant companion for this one 🫠 Thanks for your patience!! Sy is jealous but I'm still pushing my 'Sylus is the softest man alive and would die before hurting MC' agenda, so I had to get a lil creative! Hope I've pulled it off idk 😭😭

Be Mine

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus is getting a little tired of sharing you with the other men in your life (and he doesn't mean Luke and Kieran 🙃)

Genre: lil bit of angst, comfort and fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, jealousy, other LIs mentioned, brief allusion to Raf's self-harm tendencies, cheating mentioned, some intimacy & kisses-- more soft than spicy!

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus has spent centuries waiting for you, so he’s going to give you another minute.

Patience is not a virtue; it’s an old acquaintance he greets with a false smile whenever he’s forced to pass it on the street. Sometimes outside your building, whilst you’re chatting with a neighbour from the apartment above yours. Sometimes when you’re running late from a doctor’s appointment.

Patience has been cropping up a lot these days and gods, he’s sick of its face. Even now, it sits with him at this table for two as he sips at a glass that’s almost empty. There’s poetry in stalling, in savouring what’s left, especially as a waiter hovers anxiously nearby, anticipating the need for yet another refill (it would be the third).

Dregs of blood-red wine swirl with solemnity. Sylus is a patient man, a man who waits, but he doesn’t want to be. He wants the reward of it: the pot of gold at the end of that insipid rainbow. Hasn’t he waited enough?

He lifts his drink to his lips again.

“Sylus!”

They curve as he swallows the final drop.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, flinging yourself into the seat across from him so quickly that he’s cheated of the chance to rise and help you with your chair. “Sit back down,” you usher, because he had made a start on it, “really, Sy, I’m so, so sorry. Things at work just got crazy, and I—”

“You don’t have to explain, sweetie,” he smiles as he signals the waiter. He’ll have that refill, now, and he orders your favourite drink as you shrug off your coat and fumble with your bag, looking for something. “I’m more than familiar with the Association’s… dedication to a cause.”

You glance up with an amused smile. “We’re keeping you on your toes, huh?”

“Mmm. There is one hunter who’s proving to be a real thorn in my side.”

“You on top of that?”

“Most evenings, yes. Some mornings, too.”

You poke your tongue out at him. You’ve retrieved a compact mirror and you use it to study your dishevelled reflection. “Is everything all right at work?” he asks as you fuss over your hair.

“Yeah,” you puff. “Long story.”

“We have time.”

With a warmer smile, you stash your mirror away and sequester your bag by your feet. “You sure?” He gives you a look. “Fine,” you chuckle. “Basically, Xavier forgot to write up some reports. He’s been away on an ultra-secret, special mission or whatever—” you tap your nose conspiratorially— “which I didn’t just tell you, okay? But yeah, the reports weren’t done, and they were due tonight, so…”

Sylus raises an apathetic eyebrow. “He asked you to help?”

“Begged me, more like.”

Of course he did. The waiter arrives with your drinks and Sylus has never been gladder for a distraction. His mouth is full of pettiness, bitterness, so he drowns it with wine. You could have called. Texted. “So kitten’s been playing secretary, hmm?” he goads instead.

“That would imply kitten could keep track of time,” you pout, “so no. And speaking of playing a part—” you poke his nose— “you’re allowed to be mad at me. I should have called you. Texted. So let me have it, yeah? I feel bad enough already without you being all… perfect.”

You’re only teasing, but Sylus doesn’t feel perfect. He’s thinking about you working late with your partner, laughing at his jokes, poking him with your pen to keep him from falling asleep on his paperwork. He smirks, regardless. “What if I want you to feel bad?”

“Oh, gods,” you slump forwards, face-down on the table. “How long were you waiting?”

“Years.”

You fake cry into the tablecloth. “Don’t, Sy. Just tell me the truth. How bad was it?”

“Really, years,” he insists again, folding his arms on the table and sliding forwards, too. His chin is resting on his hands, and he blows at the top of your head. “Look.” Your face lifts so you can peer at him. He pinches his hair. “I’ve even gone grey, see?”

You sit up the tiniest bit more and your noses are almost brushing. “It looks nice,” you whisper.

“You think so?”

“Mmm. Suits you.”

Your eyes are every gem— every jewel in an illicit auction Sylus has to steal away from the rest of the world, because something that pretty just has to be his; it will find no worthier home than his hands. His devotion fills vaults. Aren’t they spilling with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds— those reckless imitations of your gaze? No-one else could deserve them, adore them like he does.

And they’ve nothing on the real thing.

Someone clears their throat and Sylus tracks the noise begrudgingly. The anxious waiter is back, clutching menus this time. You sit up fully, laughing to break the tension, and sure enough, Sylus feels less like hurling the man through the nearest window.

He’s still thinking about it though. He tells the waiter as much with a smile, and the menus are passed over with shaking hands. When Sylus says, “thank you,” it sounds like a bomb, ticking.

“Play nice,” you tut, once the waiter’s cleared the blast radius.

“Sweetie, when do I ever not play nice?”

You blink back at him disbelievingly. This should be good. “How about the time that you—?”

A familiar ringtone interrupts you, and your eyes widen in apology as you grab at your bag, rifling around for your phone. You find it— check the call and decline it— but relief is hiding, refusing to set foot on stage. Not yet, it confers to Sylus darkly, because it knows what comes next.

“Do you need to…?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, it was just Rafayel. Thanks, though.” You set the phone down. “Where was I?”

“You were about to tell me what a terribly bad man I am, sweetie.”

“Right!” you giggle. No, not yet. “So how about the time that you…” The phone rings again. You check it. Decline it. “How about the time that you—ugh!” It’s ringing again.

Sylus taps a finger on the table, impatiently patient. You can’t mute the wretched thing: the next call you miss would be a Wanderer, tearing through an orphanage or the like. It’s the reason you check, even when there’re no orphans at stake— just a pest of an artist with too much time on his hands.

Except… “Oh,” you say, glancing downwards, “it’s Zayne. I should probably—” Sylus gives a half-smile of blessing, but you weren’t waiting around for it— “hey, Zayne! I can’t talk right now, unless— Raf? What the hell? How did you get Zayne’s phone?”

You pull yours away from your ear as a string of whines come through:

“— ignore my calls, don’t even text me to ask what’s up, and then pick up his call right away? You hate me, right? Just say that you hate me, cutie.”

“I don’t hate you, Raf.” The phone is back to your ear. ��I’m busy. Now seriously, how did you get— oh, hi, Zayne. Why is Raf…?” Sylus can hear a deeper voice answering your questions. “He’s at the—? Shit, is he okay? Ugh, tell him I can hear him. Tell him I know he’s not dying.”

You meet Sylus’s eyes as conflict erupts on the other end of the call. Sorry, you mouth as static filters through, interspersed with broken words and curses. The doctor’s voice prevails. “Yeah, Zayne,” you speak back to it. “I’ll call Thomas, get him to pick him up. Mmhmm? Oh!” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I forgot, he’s at that stupid art thing. Look, maybe later, I can…”

The artist’s shrill tone is protesting.

“I know it’s my job, Raf!” you counter. “But gimme a break, please. If it was any other night, you know I’d be there. Of course I wanna be there! But I can’t—”

It’s just a slip of the tongue— words you don’t even realise you’re saying— but Sylus still feels his heart sink. He hates it. A heart is so difficult to argue with: it’s long gone before you can talk any sense into it. He stands from the table, those priceless eyes of yours pursuing him. When you tilt your head, he musters a smile, then a weak excuse: “I’m just stepping outside for a moment.”

You nod, a follow-up question on the tip of your tongue, but then there’s a voice in your ear again— two voices— and you’re you, so of course you listen.

…

Sylus waits on a bench outside the restaurant, closing his eyes as he waits for his heart to come back.

It’s only been a few minutes. He’s thinking about your eyes, your nose and lips— an inch from his— and how he should have closed that gap before it grew treacherous. Shouldn’t he be done with this? This… longing? You’re his. You’ve told him you’re his, over and over again, but he finds himself needing to hear it once more; the ghost of your voice is starting to lack persuasion.

He is yours without exception, but you? There’s always a caveat. I’m yours, Sylus. But only so long as the city is quiet. I’m yours, Sylus. Until someone else calls. The door to the restaurant opens— he can hear it— but he doesn’t open his eyes. He wants to pretend.

I’m yours, Sylus. No caveats. No exceptions.

“Sylus.”

He swallows the dread in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you entreat softly. His eyes open, and you’re wearing your coat, holding your bag. “I have to run to the hospital— it’s this whole thing. Raf, like, passed out or something. He’s not been eating again. Zayne said when something like this keeps happening, it’s a sign that… yeah. He just… needs someone. And he hasn’t got anyone else, you know?”

“I understand.” You’re worried about your friend. That’s all it is.

Why can’t he believe that’s all it is?  

You come over and sink down on the bench beside him, looping your arm through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Don’t you know that he’s afraid? That a selfish, spiteful part of him wants to hide you— with the rest of his treasures— away from the light, so he can love you in the dark?

There’s a sigh as you lean against him, savouring his touch like the wine one swirls in a glass when their thoughts are elsewhere. It’s gone in a mouthful; you check your watch, and he hopes it’s bitter.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

No, he would rather be sweet for you, but look at you— making him lie. “I’m okay,” he says, and it doesn’t have a drop of conviction. He’s tired of philanthropy.

…

“What are you gonna do? Come on, tell us. Tell us! What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Luke. Give me a second, okay? Jeez.”

You literally just got here. Your pace is brisk and the night air still clings to you— you shed a layer of it by peeling your arms out of your coat. Luke and Kieran are close behind, keeping to your heels like terriers hoping you’ll trip with a plateful of food. They’ll take even a crumb at this point.

“You gonna fight him?” Kieran nudges, but your lips stay tight.

“Oh, you’re so gonna fight him,” Luke takes away from the silence.

You don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve reached a decadent lounge, lavished with black and gold, and you throw your coat over the arm of a chair before starting to wrestle off your combat boots. You’ve been off work for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. One call-to-duty after another; first the hospital, now this.

Mephisto caws in greeting from a nearby perch. “I’m not gonna fight him,” you say as your second boot drops with a clunk. “I just need to—”

“Say no more,” Luke cuts you off. “We want in.”

With a tired sigh, you gaze up at the twins at last. Kieran is readying a fist: punching his hand softly, the beak of his mask low and threatening. Beside him, Luke swings a baseball bat over his shoulder. He didn’t have it a second ago. Where did he even—?

You put your hands on your hips. “You guys got a death wish or something?”

“Yes!” they enthuse together, nodding excitedly.

You haven’t got time to ask. Your focus drifts to Sylus’s bedroom door, where music is leaking with honeylike light. You can’t count the number of times you’ve fallen over that threshold, exhausted— always slightly broken. You want to crawl into cool silk sheets and a warmer embrace, but there’s one small problem.

The text that had brought you here, anxious and out of breath:

Boss is with someone.

“What’re you thinking?”

You’re closer to the door, now, and Luke’s whisper makes you jump. You spin, twisting the bat from his fingers and pushing him back until the tip is pressed to his throat. “Get back,” you hiss, before levelling the weapon at an encroaching Kieran, “both of you.”

Luke leaps behind his brother— swinging him between you for protection. The baseball bat stays hovering, and Luke peeks over Kieran’s shoulder, swatting at it like an indignant kitten.

“Stop it,” you scold, poking back at his hand and his masked face. “Begone!”

“Yes, boss!” Kieran goes to move, but Luke is holding him in place. He’s dragged backwards: a human shield until they can both scurry around the turn of a corridor.

You smile fondly. You forget, for just a moment, that you’re alone and full of uncertainty. The song in the next room lulls, at its inevitable end, and then you can’t forget. You’re stood in silence, staring at a door you’ve never had to knock before. Another song starts up.

Whatever this is, you can handle it.

You use the baseball bat to tap against the dark wood. “Sylus?” you call.

He makes you wait. You can hear him, moving around— unmistakably taking his time— but you don’t mind. You’re running scenarios through your head. Is he in on this, too? Or…?

He opens the door and oh, he definitely is. His silk robe hangs haphazardly over his figure, one side threatening to slip from his shoulder and the belt dangerously loose at the middle. A flush is tinting his face, spreading down through his neck, past his collarbone and lower, you think, but you’re trying not to look.

“Sweetie,” he purrs in the way that tells you he’s up to no good, “what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes flit downwards. “And you’re armed, too.”

There’s a breathlessness to the observation, and your ability to breathe briefly eludes you as well. His hair is damp and unkempt, his skin warm, his gaze hot. Is this a test? It feels like a test.

“Are you alone?” you snap, because he’s clearly put some thought into whatever it is, and you’re a good sport, so you’ll play along.

“No,” he says, but then: “You know you’re always with me in spirit, kitten. Even if not in—” another downwards glance— “body.”

“Sylus.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” You catch his chin with your free hand, forcing his gaze back to your face. “And I want a real answer.” He swallows thickly. “Are you alone?”

His submission is fragile. He lifts his hand, wraps his fingers around your wrist like a reminder of the fact. “Careful, sweetie.” His grip tightens as his voice drops. “Think about what you’re asking.”

“I know what I’m asking.” You snatch your hand free and step closer. “Get out of my way.”

Sylus narrows his eyes, but soon relaxes. He sweeps a hand through his hair, chuckling as he obeys— moving aside to let you past. You storm through, looking over every visible inch of his room. There’s nothing to see, of course. No clothes that aren’t yours pooled over the floor. No lover wrapped up in his bedsheets.

“Just what exactly are you looking for?” he asks smugly behind you.

“Save it, Sylus.” Your pretend patience is gone. “The twins told me everything.”

So you start searching more strenuously. You make your way over to his bed, baseball bat slung over your shoulder as you check behind the far side— even stooping to peek under it. You open the wardrobe. Nothing. Use the baseball bat to push back the curtains, letting in more blood-red moonlight. Nothing. You huff in frustration.

“You know, don’t you?” Sylus says quietly.

He’s leant against the doorway, arms crossed, and you spare him a glance. “Know what?”  

“That there’s no-one here.”

It sounds like defeat. “I’m taking this very seriously, actually,” you dismiss as you roll open the drawer of his bedside table, where no-one is hiding. You move on to even more absurd places: lifting flowers out of their vase to glance about inside it, peering into the horn of his vintage gramophone.

You’d hoped your antics would elicit at least a short laugh, or a scoff of amusement. There’s nothing, though, so you plonk onto the bed— defeated, yourself— and look to the man as you set your weapon down.

He looks back with an insincere smile. “How did you know?”

“That you weren’t really with someone? Because you’re you, Sylus. The key to a good prank?” Your fingers twinkle in the air beside your head. “Believability. Besides—” now a forefinger taps at your temple— “nothing gets past this.”

“Your ego?” he guesses with a smirk that is sincere, if nothing else.

“My brain, Sy.”

“Ah.”

Your ego— tsk. Your feet are dangling from the bed, playing with a slipper they’ve fished out from underneath it, and you have half a mind to launch it at him. This doesn’t feel like one of your usual games, though, and you’ve had a whole ride through the N109 Zone to figure out why.

“I really hurt you, didn’t I?” you speak like a confession, staring down at the floor so you don’t have to meet his eyes. “That’s what all this is about, right? You wanted to get back at me for dinner?”

“No, I—”

“I get it.” Your feet find the second slipper. “I do. I mean, it was a really shitty thing to do— walking out on you like that. Especially after you waited for me. You went to all that effort, and I— ah.” You’ve toed one of the slippers out of reach.

“Allow me,” comes a voice that’s suddenly close. Sylus’s figure looms over you before he’s crouching, kneeling by your feet. He still looks like a mess of sin, but he’s gentle as he retrieves the slipper for you. Removes your socks for you. Slides a slipper onto each of your cold feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he mutters.

You let out a sigh. “Sylus.” You’re scolding him, and he gazes up at you, his eyes garnets of adoration only you could afford. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“So why won’t you tell me how you feel?”

He sits back on his knees, his thumb drawing circles on the inside of your ankle. The ministrations are mindless, and so are his words: “How I feel is not important.”

“Of course it is!” You pull away from him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But I thought I could tell you anything, kitten.”

It’s a nick from a blade that could do much worse; he wants you to feel how sharp it is. His smile is a warning and he’s waiting for the hunter in you to strike back, because violence is what you’re good at. What you’re both good at. It hurts, but it’s easy.

You shift forward on the bed. “Sylus… you don’t need to protect me. Not from you. Not from anything you feel. I want you to be happy, to tell me if you’re unhappy. I don’t need you to—” your fingers skirt over his chest and you falter inexplicably— “to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Sylus looks down to where you’re tracing the shape of his heart on his skin. He lets out a long, beleaguered breath, then leans closer to you, his head turning away as he settles it on your lap. Your hands find his hair instinctually, threading through it in slow, meandering motions.

“I want you to be mine,” he admits on another sigh.

He can’t see you smile, but he’ll hear it in your voice: “I am yours, Sy—”

“No— just mine.”

He won’t make it a demand. Even asking you nicely has him breathless and still, like the drawn-out pause of a finished symphony. Your hands stop moving, out of respect for the quiet. You’re remembering the times you’ve been late out of your building because you’d stumbled into Xavier in the lobby. The doctor’s appointments that always overrun, and Rafayel’s ‘emergency’ phone calls.

“Come and sit with me,” you mumble, patting the bed beside you.

When Sylus does, it’s with the same reluctance a cat surrenders a sliver of sun. Lazy and listless— still warm from the light. The bed sinks under his weight and you turn to face him. His robe’s collar has fallen further, so you hook a finger under it to draw it back up to his neck. Then you straighten the lapels, smoothing them over distractedly.

He’s watching your face, not the movements of your hands. Your cheeks feel warm. “I was speaking to Rafayel earlier, and we—”

A groan, and Sylus is no longer at your fingertips; he’s flopped down backwards on the bed, his hand over his face. You can’t help giggling— you’ve broken the big, bad boss of Onychinus, it seems. Is that all it takes? You grin as you lie down with him, settling on your side, propped up on an elbow. He doesn’t stir when you fix a few stray strands of his hair.

“We talked about boundaries,” you continue. “How I can’t be on call twenty-four seven, and how he’s going to take better care of himself, so I don’t have to be.”

Sylus has moved his hand, ever so slightly.

There’s more: “I’m gonna call in sick to work tomorrow. I made a deal with Xavier, that’s why I stayed late today. He’ll cover for me.” You shift closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I know I can’t always be with you, but I am always thinking of you, I promise. You’re always with me in spirit, Sy, even if not in—” you press a quick kiss to his chest— “body.”

He chuckles at the words, or maybe the touch tickled.

You grin down at him. “I’m yours. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“No! Ugh, just—” Smart-ass! You flick his forehead as he laughs quietly. “Not the words ‘I’m yours’, say that I’m—”

His hand is at your face, pulling you in so he can kiss you. It’s slow and it’s patient; he’s taking his time, and you won’t slip away. You can feel his smile. “You’re mine,” he murmurs when he finally withdraws. One more kiss, lighter, on the tip of your nose. “Just mine.”

Always. You let him pull you into an embrace, snuggling into his warmth like you’ve been wanting to from the moment you last left it. You can hear his heartbeat beneath the lullaby of his breath. “Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You look really hot when you’re pretending to cheat on me.”

He scoffs, but a yawn comes before his response. “Don’t get any ideas, kitten.”

Your quiet is pensive. “I have this lunch with Zayne later this week. I really should text him to find out—”

The grip around you constricts, and a voice is in your ear, soft and possessive:

“What did I just say?”

[celuere]

For our dear girl Mavuika.. Fucking pregnant!Fem!Reader, or with a breeding of kink? Story is up to you, you have great imagination, you'll do a perfect job, so I trust you :3

you have no idea what a soft spot i have for tender pregnant sex anon… and with mavuika wokeksnekwnewi I KNOW SHE‘D BE SO GENTLE WITH YOU, HOLDING AND CARESSING YOUR BABY BELLY AND ALL DAT OH IM SO SICK. also this turned out shorter than expected but i still hope you like it wkrbnwnrdnke

cw: pregnant sex, mavuika is SO soft for her wife ngh, mavuika has a dick here because anon and i said so!

„shhhh… relax…“, mavuika cooed as she slowly slid you drenched panties down your legs before putting them away besides her. as if she was carefully unwrapping a birthday present. a pillow placed underneath your waist to prevent you from lying flat on your back, when you happened to be six months into your pregnancy, some things have to be handled differently after all. but the tenderness she handled you with caused your heart to race nonetheless.

„is it really okay for you…?“

„of course it is… my wife has needs that have to be fulfilled… what kind of spouse were i if i just ignored these?“, she gently squeezed the plush of your thighs before pushing them apart and you didn‘t miss out on glimmer of lust blitzing up in her eyes which she quickly blinked away.

your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as your swollen belly hindered your view on her boner when she started shedding out of her clothes.

„y-you know you don‘t have to for my sake…“

„but i want to, darling. my pregnant wife wishes for some relief, then that‘s exactly what i‘m gonna do.“, her tone was firm, she wanted this just as much as you did. keeping your legs gently parted for as she leaned forward until you felt the tip of her pressing against your needy pussy and you more or less swallowed her first two inches up accident. pregnancy did some wonders to you. but maybe it was just the fact that you watched her working out for a good three hours in front of your shared house, pretending to be awfully invested in a pregnancy guide.

the sudden intrusion caused your hand to find its way into her neck, a soft whimper escaping your lips. goodness, you almost forgot what it felt like and for the first time in months mavuika felt like she was loosing control over herself. hand coming up to get a gentle hold of your baby bulge, „my star… y-you feel so unbelievably amazing… c-can i-“

„mhm- p-please…“, urging her to push deeper into you by trying to scoot closer to her. she almost melted at the sight of her pregnant wife begging for her. immediately making sure to add inch by inch and you were so incredibly welcoming to her, so wet and ready for her and yet you were clenching around her so tightly. she might as well got accepted into heaven itself.

„atta girl… i‘m not going anywhere…“, goodness you‘re gonna come alone from her sultry tone if she continued talking to you like this.

no words needed to be spoken, your wife knew exactly what needed to be done.

she started moving slowly at first, dragging her cock out before pushing her hips back forward. your moans were practically all over the place. she was soft, so incredibly tender with you as she watched you melt over her gentle pace.

„look at you, sweetie… does it feel good enough for you…? you seem to enjoy it a lot…“, your wife reached a hand over to gently cup your cheek, stroking with her thumb over your cheekbone as she stared down at her whole world.

she never knew that she‘d one day be granted with a family of her own. that the 500 years of waiting will be paying her back in the form of a… baby. but mavuika was never one to complain. ever.

„f-feels amazing…“, you grabbed onto her other hand resting on your belly almost instinctively, interlacing your fingers, giving her a tight squeeze as if she were to slip out of your touch at any given moment. you couldn‘t handle it. her dick gently pumping in and out of you, the love in her eyes, the feeling of your wedding ring against her own. the fact that she is the mother of your child.

your orgasm was soft, so incredibly intense but you didn’t start shaking when you creamed over her in a soft moan. eyes squeezing shut before she bottomed out in a low moan and then her cum painted your insides.

it felt different than before, not in a bad way. a bit more… heavy, if that makes any sense.

„o-oh archons…. y-you’re perfect… you are so perfect, sweetheart…“, praises over praises spilling over her lips as she made sure to let you both calm down first. bending down to pepper soft kithes over your face, a strong hand running over the lower side of your swollen belly, she couldn’t keep them to herself nowadays. her hands always find their way to your baby bump, no matter where or when.

„e-exaggerating as always… n-now let me get on top…“, you patted her toned shoulders in order to signal her to get off of you.

„darling… don‘t you think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself…? you shouldn’t overdo it-”

„mavuika, let me get on top.“

and you always had the last word.

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.  

But it definitely wasn’t this. 

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred. 

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her. 

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions. 

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look. 

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.” 

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect. 

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with. 

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly. 

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred. 

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you. 

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf. 

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction. 

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament. 

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground. 

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family. 

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her. 

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice. 

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you? 

What if her family had a point? 

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside. 

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you. 

But you had hurt her. 

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out. 

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did. 

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had. 

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily. 

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together. 

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end. 

She wasn’t sure now. 

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously. 

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings. 

Had last night really happened? 

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home. 

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame. 

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had. 

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost. 

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you. 

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact. 

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come. 

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her. 

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective. 

Everything you had loved and lost. 

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning. 

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected. 

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing. 

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later. 

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired. 

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness. 

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described. 

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker. 

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk. 

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given. 

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?” 

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story. 

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren. 

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed. 

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression. 

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily. 

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?” 

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions. 

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly. 

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing. 

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness. 

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.” 

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat. 

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions. 

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more. 

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia. 

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up. 

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you. 

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once. 

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever. 

Almost as if she was waiting for something else. 

Someone else. 

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words. 

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. 

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette. 

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred. 

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away. 

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right. 

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself. 

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through. 

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all. 

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be. 

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering. 

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady. 

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up. 

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred? 

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life. 

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on. 

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost. 

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have. 

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day. 

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean. 

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it. 

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest. 

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you. 

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing. 

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word. 

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity. 

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing. 

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected. 

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated. 

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.” 

I never would have approached you. 

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious. 

You had left and hurt her. 

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her. 

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea. 

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of. 

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head. 

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage. 

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in. 

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration. 

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,” Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out. 

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation. 

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that. 

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment. 

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her. 

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance. 

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years. 

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?” 

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect. 

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be. 

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that. 

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes. 

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated. 

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words. 

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

[thehereticdiaries]

Protective Instincts: Enhypen

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, allusions to drugging in Sunghoon's part, if I missed anything lmk

I have the next chapters for my series outlined!! Now I just gotta find the time to write them 🥲

Lee Heeseung

No matter how busy you were, you and Heeseung always made time to see each other at least twice a month. You have been friends for as long as you remembered, having grown up as neighbors. Your moms would gossip over tea while the two of you got into as much mischief your baby brains could think of. Not much has changed, except now you were the ones gossiping instead of your moms.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Heeseung held the door of the cafe open for you. The sidewalk bustled with pedestrians rushing to get their weekend errands done.

“Of course. Make sure you do the same.” You always ended your hang-outs with the same good-byes and a tight hug. You parted ways, walking in opposite directions to get back to your respective apartments. Barely five minutes passed since you left the cafe and yet a FaceTime call from you interrupted Heeseung’s music.

“Wow, did you miss me that much already?” He wasn’t looking at the phone or he would’ve seen the fear clearly written on your face.

“Heeseung.” His eyes snapped down to you, immediately concerned by the tremor in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s a man following me,” you whispered, as if the man would be able to hear you from several feet away. Heeseung stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning him some glares.

“What?!”

“He was outside of the convenience store a couple doors down from the cafe. After I passed him, he looked at me weird and now he’s behind me.” 

“Don’t go home. Start looking around one of the stores, I’m coming to you,” Heeseung instructed while turning on his heel and speed-walking in your direction.

“Okay, uh, I’m in that boutique with the grandma curtain dresses.” You passed that store all the time but never went in because of the gaudy patterns on the window displays. You greeted the cashier, moving to the back of the store to hide.

“Can you see him?”

“He’s looking in the front window.” Heeseung ground his teeth, pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk. A lot of people jumped out of his way when they saw his barely-contained anger. The little bell above the boutique’s door jingled in his ear. “Oh fuck, he just walked in.”

“Stay calm and don’t hang up. I’m almost there.” You shrunk behind a rack of clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. But there was only one other customer in the store, so your chances were slim.

“Hi,” an unfamiliar male voice cut into your conversation. “What are you up to all by yourself?”

“O-Oh, um, I’m just looking for a gift for my mom,” you lied, wide eyes flicking between your phone and the stranger. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, obviously not listening to what you were saying. “How old are you?”

“19.” Another lie. Maybe if he thought you were too young he’d leave you alone.

“So you’re inexperienced, then. Why don’t you let an older man show you how it’s done.”

“It? N-No, no thanks.” At this point, Heeseung borderline sprinted toward the store. 

“No? Why not?” The door slammed open, whipping the poor bell around and startling the cashier. The man ignored it, staring down at you, leaning closer and dropping a hand to your shoulder. “I can promise I’m way better than that little boy you were with before. Where is he, anyway?”

“Behind you,” Heeseung growled. 

“Oh, shit,” the man swore after he turned and caught sight of Heeseung’s icy glare. You have never seen your best friend this pissed off. He shoved the man’s chest, making him stumble and give just enough room for Heeseung to pull you into his side. His arm draped over your shoulders, hand hanging loosely in front of you. His relaxed posture was a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes and voice.

“Did you need something or were you just trying to intimidate my girlfriend?” You flushed at that, glancing up at him, but he kept his steady gaze on the man. 

“Relax, I was just making small talk.”

“By asking a 19-year-old girl if she wants to have sex with you? Fuck off, you’re lucky if I don’t call the cops,” Heeseung sneered, continuing your lie with ease. This grabbed the attention of the cashier. She discreetly pulled out her phone, whispering into the speaker with a hand over her mouth.

“Seriously, kid? You should really be thanking me.” The man held up his hands with a shrug. “I was offering to show her how to make a guy cum. That works in your favor.” You squeaked, ducking under Heeseung’s arm to hide behind him, gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn’t seem to mind, as he reached back to rest a comforting hand on your hip.

“So you’re a pervert and you have no shame, got it,” Heeseung scoffed with a click of his tongue.

“See, I knew you weren’t a real man. You should–”

“Excuse me, sir,” a woman with sharp eyes and a neat bun interrupted. “I will only say this once: get out of my store.” 

“What?!”

“You are harassing my customers. Very young customers, at that, with extremely lewd comments,” the shop owner scolded the man, arching an immaculate eyebrow. “If I need to repeat myself, you will be leaving in handcuffs.” The man bristled, bowing his head and scurrying out of the store.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sighed in relief but kept your shaky hands wrapped around Heeseung’s arm. 

“It was no trouble at all. You kids have a good day, now.” As quickly as the owner arrived, she disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. You sat in silence until you realized that Heeseung was still gently brushing his thumb over your hip.

“Hee, you called me your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, kissing your temple then your cheek and tugging you back out onto the sidewalk. “I’m walking you home.” Your mind reeled as you tried to wrap it around this new information and the sudden affection. You grinned and squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”

Jay Park

You were at a party for one of Jake’s friend’s birthdays. Jay dragged you along, claiming that he needed you there for moral support since the only people he’d know were the other Enhypen boys. Yeah, moral support my ass. Not even a minute after you walked through the front door, Jay veered off when another girl waved him over. So now you were forced to awkwardly mingle with a growing pit of jealousy in your gut. Luckily one of the little cliques adopted you into their circle, easing your nerves a bit. An hour into the party, you managed to break out of your shell and were now laughing loudly with everyone.

“Oh, hey Jay,” one of the guys in the group greeted the idol as he approached. 

“Hey,” Jay greeted flatly while shoving himself between you and the girl to your right. You furrowed your brows at the odd change in behavior. He was normally very polite, opting to gently maneuver you to the side so he could stand next to you. He didn’t even say ‘excuse me’ to the poor girl. You followed his uncharacteristic glare to a guy leaning on the arm of the couch. You thought he said his name was Dan or something similar. 

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, looking back up to Jay. 

“I’m good.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and you knew he was lying.

“No, you’re mad about something. What’s going on?” He didn’t answer. Jay's fiery gaze didn’t waver, even when someone tried including him in the conversation. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Y/N,” a shorter girl with cute round glasses grabbed your attention. “You have to come with us next time we go out! There’s this amazing cafe and the cutest…” Jay tuned her out while moving a hand to your lower back, which you didn’t question. He usually used your body heat as a way to ground himself. He was visibly angry because didn’t like the way Dan was eyeing you up, and he definitely didn’t like that Dan wasn’t backing down while he was standing right next to you. The last of his patience ran out when Dan fucking smirked at him. Oh, so he knew what he was doing. Knowing that only pissed Jay off more.

“What about you, Jay?” The short girl looked at him expectantly. 

“Hm? Yeah, sure.”

“It wasn’t a yes or no question…” She trailed off when you signaled that he was in a bad mood. The conversation carried on like normal for approximately 15 seconds before Dan chimed in.

“Hey, Y/N, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Absolutely the fuck not. Jay’s hand slid from your back to your hip, digging his fingers into you and pulling you flush against his side.

“I tell her every day,” he replied before you even had a chance to process the intent behind the compliment.

“Oh?” Dan cocked his head to the side. “I never asked, but how do you know each other?”

“We’re–”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jay interrupted you. Every ounce of your willpower went into keeping your composure. You didn’t know why Jay would lie about dating you, but you trusted him. There must be a reason, so you let yourself relax into his side. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” Everyone watched the exchange nervously. Between Dan’s arrogance and the edge to Jay’s voice, a thick tension hung in the air. 

“So why’d you leave her alone to talk to Yunah?” You were curious about that, too, to be perfectly honest.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she was asking for advice. She and the other Illit members want to try rapping in some of their upcoming songs,” he explained. Now you felt a little silly for being so jealous earlier.

“Suuure. You two were just a bit close, in my opinion,” Dan shrugged while looking over at you. Jay’s whole body tensed up.

“I don’t give two shits about your opinion, so stop eye-fucking my girl before I make you,” he snarled, surprising everyone with his threat. Your jaw dropped as you stared at his profile. Under the anger, you could see something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Jay,” you whispered gently, placing your hand over the one squeezing your hip like a lifeline. He finally looked at you, and his resolve shattered at the genuine concern on your face.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the front door. “Sorry, Donghyun.” He apologized as he passed the host of the party. You waited until you left the apartment to pull Jay to the side. He dropped your hands to curl his fists by his sides, refusing to look up from the sidewalk.

“What happened in there, Jay? I’ve never seen you so angry before,” you asked while uncurling his fist, tracing over the lines on his hand with your fingertips. You missed the shiver that went down his spine at your touch. 

“I’m sorry, I just,” he interrupted himself with a frustrated growl. “I hated the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me? And why would it piss you off that much?”

“Y/N, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. I hated it cus I could tell that he was thinking about you like you were a prize,” he gestured with his unoccupied hand during his rant. 

“I didn’t even notice.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I came over. God, the thought of someone else wanting you like that just–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, holding both of his hands in front of him. Jay still avoided eye contact, so you had to duck your head down to force him to meet your eyes. “What do you mean ‘someone else’?” His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

“Is that why you get moody after I go on dates?” You struggled to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t laugh–”

“I’m not!”

“Y/N, seriously.” You took a deep breath to compose yourself at the desperation in his voice. “Yes. I’m sorry I never told you, I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship since you obviously don’t feel the same.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” you giggled behind your hand.

“What?”

“Jay. I have been flirting with you so much that it grosses Jake and Sunghoon out. How have you not noticed?” He stared at you in disbelief. You had to hide your face in his shirt to smother the cackles that would’ve definitely gotten you some dirty looks from other pedestrians. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you before chuckling at his own obliviousness.

“Oh. Good, so I wasn’t lying. You’re mine.” His chin rested on the top of your head as he gently swayed back and forth.

“I have been for a while, Jay.”

Park Sunghoon

A long-standing and well-loved tradition in the Enhypen dorm was their monthly movie nights. It started with just the boys, but then Sunoo introduced you to the group. You bonded with everyone very quickly and after a few months, you were allowed to join their sacred movie tradition. Not like anyone, especially Sunghoon, minded you being there. Actually, Sunghoon found it to be the perfect opportunity to get closer to you, metaphorically and physically. Everyone knew his excuse of “sharing the blanket” was just that: an excuse. Well, everyone except you knew and it drove Sunghoon crazy.

The issue with tonight’s movie night was the sudden inclusion of two of Heeseung’s friends. Most of the other members haven’t even met these guys. How the hell were they allowed to crash their movie? To make matters worse, one of them stole both Sunghoon’s last bottle of tea and his spot on the couch next to you. He had to sit in the recliner. All alone. Without his favorite blanket- your blanket- but at least you didn’t share with the new guy. He either didn’t notice or blatantly ignored your discomfort, which was unsurprising for a guy named fucking Tyler. 

So Sunghoon sat there, seething and barely watching the movie, glaring at Tyler from the corner of his eye. You were, arguably, having a much worse time than Sunghoon. You had to deal with this guy’s annoying flirting and inability to accept “no” as an answer. You’ve already told him three times to take his arm off your shoulders. He listened, sort of. He technically wasn’t touching you, but his arm rested on the back of the couch directly behind you. He gave you the worst feeling in your gut. He was definitely not to be trusted with your drink. Your knees ached from curling yourself as deep into the corner of the couch as possible. You needed a break.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked when you stood. The others turned to you, making you even more nervous than you already were.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled and fled down the hall. Heeseung sighed before addressing his friend.

“Man, you need to chill. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“What?” Tyler scoffed. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Heeseung’s other friend insisted. “Just relax, bro. Now’s not the time.”

“Yeah, whatever. There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s available.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Even the movie was quiet. Six sets of eyes stared at an unbothered Tyler. While the others were visibly pissed, Heeseung and his other friend just looked disappointed. You hesitantly reentered the living room and now Sunghoon was actually happy that he got booted to the recliner, since it was between the hall and the couch. As you passed by, he grabbed your hand and tugged you down to sit sideways on his lap. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Just stay here. Please,” Sunghoon whispered. You certainly weren’t about to argue, shifting to a more comfortable position with your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders and your cheek resting against his temple. The tension slowly melted from Sunghoon’s body as he wrapped his own arms around your waist.

“Okay, seriously?” Sunghoon tightened his hold on you when Tyler spoke up. 

“Is there a problem?” The movie went forgotten in the background. Everyone’s attention was on you, Sunghoon, and Tyler. The latter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and relaxing into the couch.

“Nah.” He shook his head with a huff. “She could have just told me she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off.”

“She is sitting right here,” you interrupted. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You should have stopped the first time I asked.”

“Oop, get him!” Jake encouraged from where he was laying on the floor. 

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to stop?!”

“Because I told you! I said to stop touching me before the movie even started,” you snapped, back going rigid as you glared at him. One of Sunghoon’s hands slid to your lower back to rub gentle circles on your spine. The other stayed on your thigh, and your hand dropped to his.

“We also told you to stop,” Heeseung’s other friend pointed out. 

“Oh, come on–”

“No, Tyler,” Heeseung cut him off. “You’ve changed ever since you joined your bullshit frat house. I’ve been trying to give you a chance to prove me wrong, but this is it, man.”

“What are you saying, dude?”

“I think it would be best for you to leave. Neither of us want to be associated with a guy that harasses women.” Heeseung gestured between himself and his other friend. 

“Harass, seriously? Whatever. I didn’t realize you guys were such pussies,” Tyler ranted while making his way out of the dorms. The front door slammed shut, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry about him, Y/N. He wasn’t always like that, but I can’t keep holding on to the past. He’s a lost cause at this point,” Heeseung apologized, rubbing his temples to stave off his growing headache.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I’d really like to get to know you all, so I hope I can get a second chance.” 

“You’re cool, man,” Jake reassured him with a pat to his knee. “You tried to step in. That’s proof enough that you’re a good guy.”

“Can we get back to the movie now?” You giggled at Ni-Ki’s impatience. Jungwon had to rewind it a bit, but once it started playing again you moved to get off Sunghoon’s lap. 

“Nooo,” he protested, dragging you back down to sit between his legs. “Stay here.” He pulled your back flush against his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“O-Oh, okay.” Your face turned bright red, and you were very happy he couldn’t see it from his position. Or so you thought.

“You know,” he started, leaning closer so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re really pretty when you blush.”

“Sunghoon,” you whined and hid your face in your hands. His chest vibrated as he quietly laughed.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” He kissed your temple before turning his attention back to the movie. “For now.”

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Blogs in purple couldn't be tagged

[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m not picky just wanna be fussed over & cuddle

Peter Parker x sick male reader

Headcanons

You can imagine most Peters in this scenario, though I always write with comic spidey in mind. Aka, adult, own apartment, job, etc. but I don’t think it’s really mentioned in this. At first, I was gonna write about Trafalgar Law, but I feel like he would we way too much doctor, not enough cuddling.

Not that long, but I hope it’s enough.

I have a feeling Peter would realize before you that you were sick. Like, hed notice a change in your scent, your body temperature or how sluggish you would get.

Noticing early on wouldn’t stop a cold obviously, but he would start getting ready for it, most likely without thinking about it. He just catches himself gathering blankets and your favorite snacks that he knows you can stomach when sick.

Would he make a nest out of webs when you got sick? Maybe? It depends on how spidery we imagine this peter. I feel he would at least stick blankets and pillows together to make the most comfortable bed for you to lay in.

He would try to talk you out of going out or going anywhere when he notices you getting sick. But Peter is known for dating stubborn people, so it would shock nobody if you still went out, thinking you were fine, only for you to get really sick.

Hes never mad about it though, Peter loves you too much. He does tsk and crack a few jokes about it, how your neighborhood spider-nurse needs to take care of you.

Peter would patrol and work less when you are sick, or not patrol at all, depending on how bad it is. If crime is at the normal amount he might stay home anyways, just to spend time with you and make you feel seen and cared for.

I feel like his healing factor keeps Peter from catching common colds and fevers, so he doesn’t worry about kissing and cuddling you. He does joke about the kiss being extra germy, which you would have pushed him out of the bed for, if you weren’t so tired.

Peter likes you feed you when you are sick, since he thinks you should use all your energy to fight whatever sickness you have. He also just thinks it’s kinda romantic.

Peter is also the kind of guy who always worries if you’re drinking enough. He doesn’t just bring you water but all kinds of juices, gatorades, whatever you can think of. You always end up with like 10 different drinks by the bed “just in case you want something else babe”

Not having to worry about getting sick also means Peter will cuddle you. Having a very flexible spider boyfriend also means he can fit right around you inside whatever blanket nest you guys have made up.

His hugs are always so comfortable, since he’s got the strength to give you a good squeeze. Peter would spend this time massaging sore areas of your body, if you are fine with that.

The policy that kisses make it better lives through Peter, so your forehead gets a lot of kisses too.

He also keeps your hands inside his own or under his shirt if the fever makes your hands cold, to keep you warm. You always feel nice and toasty with Peter, there’s no way he’s letting his lover freeze.

Peter also never finds you off-putting or gross when you are sick. It’s just human nature to be sick, and honestly? Seeing you sick makes him love you more, since it means you trust him to be vulnerable around him.

So, peter might be somewhat clumsy and messy in the beginning setting it all up, panicking about getting you everything you need. But he’s a great nurse and cuddlebuddy. When he’s done all his research and gotten all the things though, it’s all cuddles and pampering.

Be careful or he’s gonna bathe you too and not let you lift a finger until you are all better again. Make sure to give him extra kisses to show you are thankful, even if he says its just what boyfriends are meant to do.

[andrewminyardslawyer]

The Golden Raven predictions/theories/a few wishful thinking

Last time I got all of them correct so we'll see how this goes! Sorry for the length, there was a lot more detail and explanations this time around lmao I've posted some of these separately and will probably add more after my reread 🤷‍♂️

- Andrew and Neil go with Kevin to Cali. To keep up the childhood friend pretence, and Kevin can't go alone. Andrew talks to Jean about Bee, that she is trustworthy. Nothing extreme but like "talk to Bee" and nothing else but Jean understands (I actually doubt this is going to happen but I think if anyone's going to convince Jean it's okay to talk to her it would be Andrew based off of Jean's thoughts from TSC). I want Wymack there but I don't think he will be with practice already started for the year and the new foxes there. A potential Kevin and Renee combo because Jean needs support and Kevin can't go alone but Andrew and Neil need to stay with the team. Either way Kevin will have someone with him, he won't be able to travel alone

- Kevin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Talks to Jeremy more about the nest and we get more information on what Riko did to Kevin

- I hope the interview is not live or recorded, it needs to be an article and I want it to be done by Renee's mom even though I have no idea what kind of reporter she is. She would be the kindest option but I don't think we're in for a kind interview. I don't think it'll be completely disastrous though. Kevin knows what he's doing, he's going all the way to Cali specifically to support Jean, the interview is to control the rumors, I don't think it will crash and burn. The Kevin Jean conversation before/after however...

- We know Jeremy's dad is (most likely) military and military often become cops when they come back. Jeremy hides from the cops (valid. ACAB)...

- someone on the team tries joking around with Jean and does something to trigger a panic attack, like splashing him with water or something

- Jean and the Coaches post

- Jean and Shane become friends. Shane is a little chaotic (he's a goalie, comes with the territory) and gets Jean to start changing how he thinks about things, he can relax a little and have fun

- Jean baby please seriously talk to Bee

- Jean crying. Please I need him to let it out!!!

- interesting to me that Jeremy's parents make him stay at the house during the week but he's free on the weekends and during the summer. Wondering if he was missing classes and he has to stay there so they make sure he goes

- mysterious potentially dead sibling is his stepfather's biologically?

- Thanksgiving break. Cat and Laila go to one of their families, leaving Jean and Jeremy alone at the house. Jeremy is required to attend Thanksgiving dinner and Jean is invited so he's not alone and Jeremy's step dad/grandfather wants to "get to know the new teammate"

- Annalise using the term investment for Jean seems like....a Choice. Pair that with Jeremy's meticulous tracking of money and his family restricting how much he gets, it seems like Jeremy has been irresponsible with money in the past

- Jeremy family event obligation. It was mentioned that if "If the Con-gressman needed a picture-perfect family for photo ops, the Knox family was duty-bound to dress up and smile bright for an exhausting number of cameras" (congressman is his step grandfather)

- "but there's bound to be a jerk or two once you pass four kids." Once you PASS for kids. Jeremy has more than Bryson, Annalise, and one mysterious probably dead other sibling. Potentially none dead and just cut contact? Maybe took sides with Jeremy's bio dad

- Jean's parents contact him some how but honestly I think if that's going to happen it will be in the third book. I feel like that part of the story won't really start rolling until then, like publicly.

- a scene with Jeremy talking to his therapist

- I feel like Jeremy's mom didn't marry his stepfather until recentlyish. Like the thing that "tore their family apart" was their parents divorcing after whatever went down Jeremy's freshman year. Or maybe they were divorced before that but still on speaking terms and the Event changed that.

- we find out what Jeremy's stepdad actually does. We know his step grandfather is a congressman but no information about his stepdad

- more of a personal wish but I don't want Jean to drink alcohol, like ever. I want him to learn how to work through things without it, I want him to avoid it because he doesn't want to become dependent on it, doesn't want to risk it

- Jean is average at pottery at first and that frustrates him that he isn't perfect at it immediately but it helps him learn that it's ok to not be good at everything or that slow progress is more sustainable

- depending on the timeline, Jean birthday. One of the team asks him when it is and they make a thing out of it on the day. Or no one knows but the coaches have it marked and one wishes him happy birthday during practice and the team, mainly the main trio/floozies, are like why didn't you tell us ☹️ and get him a few small things

- more Elodie conversations. The trio finds out

- find out what happen with Zane and Grayson but it's because Zane gets in touch with Jean after Grayson dies and they have some sort of discussion about it

- i've seen a million theories about Jeremy's backstory but none really bring his father into it and I think we need to focus on that a little bit more. Jeremy says he doesn't like people calling him by his last name, Knox, which must be his biological fathers last name because his stepdad's name is Wilshire. And he says ' "I've never been to Europe. Dad's been stationed there a couple times, but.." He shrugged and didn't bother to elaborate.' My immediate thought was military but with his mom remarrying a man whose father is a congressman makes me think Jeremy's dad might be more in that type of work than military because how else would she be in the same sphere as a congressman's son. Maybe high level military. Anyway! Jeremy doesn't want to use his father's last name either so something definitely happened with him as well. Whether it's two different things or all the same as the "scandal" Jeremy's first year. I don't really have a set theory about it but I do think he is involved in some way

[fantasybuff3186]

Werepapas

Heres the werepapas post like I promised, I dont have much to say though but I do have something to say anyway here I go.

So for a start, I actually watched this episode before daddycop even though I should have done the opposite but I was pretty excited to see his grandparents so I bit and I wasnt disappointed. From the get go this was clearly very Adrinette heavy which I always love so I liked that part and well it was pretty cute. For a start I love how Marinette is still Marinetting and still has those plans for marriage so it was a nice call back to season 1 marinette with her complex plans and future but this time it was more satisfying because she has hope and is pretty secure in her relationship with Adrien. It was also nice to see Tom's parents together and their wholesome family breakfast where everyone except Sabine were very hyped for. Speaking of Sabine, she's still a wonderful mother and I enjoyed that she was telling rest of the family to calm down. Then it was really cute how excited Tom and his parents were for Marinette bringing him over. I just love seeing supportive relationships.

That aside it was pretty nice when Marinette offered to accompany Adrien and I love that Nathalie was just okay with it, it honestly feels like they're all family at this point and I love that so much. Nathalie and Marinette interact a lot more and thats so sweet. Also Marinette's trust in Nathalie is wonderful. Like Nathalie is definitely becoming my favourite character, it was only made better in that flashback in the post credit scene. Even then Nathalie was so attentive to Adrien whilst Gabriel was just trash. It was a little satisfying to see that he was an absent father even then for some reason. Makes hating Gabriel so much easier. Honestly given the kind of parents Gabriel has it is a little surprising he was like that but then again what do we really know about Gabe's past? Maybe his parents were absent too because they do seem rather careless, maybe thats why he became strict, trying to make up for the lack of stability he had? Now I want to psychoanalyse Gabe like damnn but to be fair maybe it makes sense why he fell for Emilie, she seems pretty stable and maybe he always craved that? Shes the opposite of him, of his family.

Speaking of flashbacks, I loved seeing Emilie and Adrien's past, it was nice to know more about Nathalie and Adrien and I love the focus Adrien got this episode which usually doesnt happen. Miraculous really is seeming more like well everyone's show other than just Marinette what with the focus on Sabrina and Zoe. I love that they're splitting the focus now, it just makes me happy.

Also the parallels were epic! Adrien stuck in a tower for instance mirrors the time marinette was stuck in a tower also for protection by her dad in weredad. Like I loved tha parallels so much like its pretty cool! We got an Adrien version of weredad and that just makes me so happy. Its like nostalgia hits yk. Like I can go on about the parallels for a while. Family meal? check, taking place in a house? check. There may be more parallels but for that I need to watch the episode.

Also I love how Marinette was hyperaware of the ring, despite the new atmosphere of the show, the hints of the season 5 finale remain. They didnt forget about it even as she tried to break it which was pretty cool. Miraculous is definitely stepping up its game.

I also really adore how normal it is that they're together now, like its so easy and just fits and seems so natural. Its almost like they've always been together at the same time I can hardly believe that they're together like that really hits hard like damn. LIKE MY BABIES ARE ACTUALLY TOGETHER! He called Marinette his girlfriend and thats just so surreal. 2-3yrs of waiting and it paid of!

Also I really hated Emilie's father the entire time and wanted to punch him so so much like why is he such a jerk? I guess he improved a little but I still dont like him, he treated his wife horribly. Also Adrien in a trophy while it makes sense literally, I kind of want to do english literature style analysis for some reason. How hes objectified and stuff which was the point of the episode but still.

Then there was Plagg, he was such a menace this episode and I loved Adrien's expressions. It was funny seeing him trying to hide his secret from Marinette and Nathalie though I kind of want Nathalie to know his identity at least.

[arcadekitten]

Can I ask for your advice as one game dev to another?

I started making games 2 years ago, in fact the anniversary for my first project is literally tomorrow! This project holds a lot of sentimental value to me of course, but I never got around to fully finishing the project because I have a habit of jumping from one idea to another when I really like the idea and am motivated for it. (I have severe adhd which has made the amount of projects I have going on currently around 3-5 games lmao) anyways I would say it’s probably 75% complete. I haven’t touched the project in months but I went back to replay it yesterday in hopes of wanting to get back into finishing it, and I felt this incredible wave of nostalgia that felt both good and bad: I’ve improved with my art, story telling and coding and everything since then and when it comes to my game projects It’s very easy for me to move on from them when they’re done to go onto the next- but this nostalgic feeling made me think that maybe it would be better to leave the project and move on because of my newer projects and how different it feels. But at the same time I feel like the game deserves an ending and I feel a lot of pressure knowing that other people are interested in this first project. I think that if I cancel its completion there will be consequences but I might also feel free from it too. I worry about disappointing others especially as a smaller game dev. The project is very important to me as it is my first ever game and I would love to finish it in theory, but it feels a bit weird trying to go back and finish it because of how much I’ve improved. I’m not gonna ask “what would you do in this situation” because I obviously should do what feels right for me (which I’m unsure of lol) but any advice, words of wisdom, experiences etc. would be very appreciated if you’re willing to share!

It's a bit silly, but something I do when I have trouble making a decision is I flip a coin! The important part is not what side the coin lands on, but what side you're hoping the coin lands on. It helps you know how you're really feeling about a certain situation. For example if I tell myself heads means pink shirt and tails means blue shirt, and I start hoping it lands on tails, then I know what I really wanted is the blue shirt.

I also want you to know though that there's no, like, punishment to whatever you decide to do. If you decide that you'd rather just scrap the project and some people wind up disappointed, that's okay. If you decide you won't be happy until it has an ending and decide to give it one, that's also okay! If you still want to keep it in the gray zone of "maybe I'll get back to it one day" or work on it sparingly that's also also okay!

I'm wishing you luck in your decision, and I hope you can feel happy and confident in your choices going forward! All the best to you! ♡

[loopstagirl]

Initiation

For @febuwhump day 8: Bleeding Out

TW: Violence

-x-

“Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control.” 

“Go ahead, John.” Scott glanced up from the readouts he’d been pouring over so he could give his brother his full attention. 

“I’ve got a life sign over to the east.” 

Scott glanced that way, as if hoping to see their latest victim standing waving at him. It was just more rubble and abandoned buildings though. What else did he expect from an area that had been devastated by an earthquake? 

“The boys are still over to the west,” Scott mused. Virgil, Gordon and Alan were shifting rubble and extracting families from collapsed buildings. Scott had spent an annoyingly large amount of time coordinating local rescues. He could always tell in a glance these days which areas had no money: the fallout was always so much worse. 

“I can call one of them back?” John offered. 

“No. I’ll take it.” He turned his back on the officials that he had been liaising with. “I’m gonna punch someone if they don’t stop asking stupid questions. I need a break.” 

He knew the importance of his role. But on rescues like this, when he felt chained to Mobile Control, he itched to be out in the centre of things. 

“I can track-” 

“No,” Scott said quickly. “Stay with the fellas. I need you to be my eyes, John, I was directing them to where the ground was most stable. Take over.” 

“Scott-,” 

“Don’t monitor me, Thunderbird Five. That’s an order.” He dropped his voice. “I need you to watch over the others. I’ll get this guy out and be back before you know it.” 

“F.A.B.” 

John cut the line. Scott understood his brother’s uncertainty. But they’d already cleared to the east. This was someone wandering in to where they shouldn’t be. He (or she) shouldn’t be buried, shouldn’t be injured, unless stupidity was a recognised injury. 

Securing Mobile Control, he grabbed his helmet and set off in that direction. If it wasn’t for the devastation surrounding him, it would’ve been a beautiful day. The skies were clear and the sun was shining. It was no comfort to those who’d had their lives destroyed, but it made a rescue a lot easier compared to doing it in the torrential rain. 

He had to climb over a lot of debris to reach the signal that John had indicated. 

“Hello? International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?” 

“Down here.” 

Scott blinked. It was a woman. For some reason, he’d just assumed only a man would be stupid enough to walk into a danger zone. Maybe that was having four brothers and actively rushing to danger zones themselves. 

He scrambled over a few larger pieces of rock, and found her. 

She was in a hollow that looked like it had once been the foundation of a building. 

“You shouldn’t be here, miss,” Scott said. “Can you reach my hand?”  

He lowered himself until he was flat on the ground, and stretched down to her. He was starting to rethink his ideas on stupidity now that he realised he hadn’t brought any equipment with him. 

She stretched up, and her fingertips just brushed his. Scott wriggled forward, and managed to grasp her wrist.  

“I’m going to need you to climb,” he told her. “I’ll draw you up, but you’ll have to help me. Okay?” 

She nodded. As he pulled, she scrambled up the side, loose stones slipping away underfoot. It was one of the most straightforward rescues that Scott had ever done, even easier than the one time he’d had to get a cat out of a tree. This woman at least understood he was trying to help and didn’t have claws! 

He steadied her as she found her footing.  

“You alright?” He did a quick visual scan but couldn’t see any injuries. The fact she’d managed to climb out as well suggested she was okay. If nothing else, she could get herself help given she was mobile and conscious. 

Speaking of which... He really should get back to Mobile Control. His team needed him. 

She smiled at him, but there was something cold and calculating about it. 

“Yes. Thank you.” She offered out a hand. Ever the gentleman, Scott shook it. 

But she tightened her grip, bringing his arm into her, forcing the limb out straight. Thrown off balance, Scott could only let out a soft ‘oof’ as she punched him suddenly in the gut. 

No. 

Not punched. 

There was a burning pain as the concealed knife sunk into his abdomen. Her smile curled unpleasantly and she gave a savage twist of the blade that dropped Scott to his knees. 

She followed him down as he slowly sank to his side, hands sticky with blood as he tried to do something. Opening his mouth to speak, he could only cry out as she twisted it again. 

“I’m sorry about this,” she told him. “Usually, we’d meet in a bar, I’d get you drunk, invite you back, and only kill you after the greatest night of my life. But what can I say? You can’t get more high-profile than a member of International Rescue. Now...” 

She drew the knife out, wiping the blade on his uniform. He flinched as she shifted her grip on the hilt. 

“Relax. I just need a trophy.” With a few deft slashes, she cut away swatches of his uniform. Anything that had their logo on it. 

“Thanks, pal. You just got me into a, well, let’s say exclusive club. Nothing personal. Have a nice life. What’s left of it, anyway.” 

Without a backwards glance, she walked away. 

Scott knew he had to act fast. He was losing far too much blood: the twisting of the knife had forced the wound far larger than the original stab. He had to pack the wound, call for help, control the bleeding... 

All of which would’ve been far easier if uncontrollable shivers weren’t wracking his body. His hands were slippery with blood; he couldn’t get a grip on anything. He fumbled for his watch, but his vision dipped in and out. He couldn’t even find the buttons, let alone press the right ones that would call for help. 

He was too far out of the way over here. No one was going to just stumble across him. Why had he ordered John to stay focused on their brothers? Had he made contact? Had he managed to hit a button? 

Scott had no idea. A bloodied hand gripped a rock, some shattered piece of what was once someone’s home. He tried to drag himself forward, shifting inch by painful inch across the uneven ground.  

He didn’t make it more than a few paces before the darkness swallowed him whole. 

-x-

“C’mon, John, now where?” Virgil grumbled. He drummed his fingers on the steering column of the Excavator. He envied Gordon and Alan right now. They might be out there in the dust, but at least they could proceed without having to check if the ground was stable enough to take their weight. 

“John? Thunderbird Five, I’m waiting.” 

“Hang on!” John’s snap was out of character and Virgil’s fingers stopped drumming. 

He gave John a minute. That tone of voice gave away he was looking at something else. Usually, Virgil would say that John was the king of multitasking but that tone meant it was something serious. 

“Turn around!” 

Virgil startled, then collected himself. “We’ve cleared behind, John. I know there’s still debris, but no one-,” 

“Get to these coordinates.”  

A light flashed on the control panel in front of him. Virgil frowned as he squinted at it.  

“There’s nothing out there, John. Scott cleared it when he got here.” 

“It’s Scott,” John said. His tone was harried and more stressed than Virgil had heard in a long time.  

“His signal went haywire and now I can’t get him to pick up and-,” John took a deep breath. “Virg, his vitals are crashing.” 

Questions weren’t important. Answers even less so. Virgil slammed the vehicle into reverse and executed a three-point-turn he didn’t know he was capable of and would no doubt make Alan proud. 

The Excavator wasn’t fast, but it was quicker than going on foot. He didn’t try and skirt around the debris in his path, he just steamrolled straight over it. He was almost there when the ground became too treacherous to risk it. 

Snatching up the medkit, Virgil leapt out and started running, letting John guide him.  

He didn’t find Scott as much as he fell over him. 

Virgil stumbled, turned, and swore when he saw the face-down sprawled form of his eldest brother. He dropped to his knees, fighting the instinct to instantly roll Scott over and instead grabbed the med-scanner. He had to know what he was dealing with... 

He swore again when the red lights indicated the trauma. But there was no sign of a neck or back injury and Virgil made short work of rolling his brother onto his back. 

For a moment, he focused his attention on Scott’s face. He was deathly pale, eyes closed, even his lips colourless as his head lolled to one side. 

Then Virgil’s gaze travelled down his brother and he forgot how to breathe. 

Scott’s uniform was torn and it looked as if there were pieces missing from it. But what remained was stained red, blood still oozing from a deep wound in his stomach. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Virgil muttered. He grabbed the kit, hauling it closer. Half the items went flying as he snatched up all the gauze he had, pressing it tightly over the wound. 

“Thunderbird Two, report.” John sounded more in control than before and his professionalism helped cut through the fog descending on Virgil. 

“Deep wound in his abdomen. He’s lost... John, he’s lost so much blood! I think – I think someone stabbed him!” 

It was the only thing he could think of for a wound like this. 

There was silence for a beat. 

“i’ve alerted the authorities,” John said. “And Gordon and Alan are on their way.” 

“They can’t see him like this!” 

“Right. You’ve got a stretcher, have you? An IV bag? You can move him by yourself?” 

As usual, John’s logical mind calmed Virgil down. He wasn’t fooled though: he could hear the slight tremor that gave away how John was really feeling and his fingers were no doubt flying as he multi-tasked to find out what was happening. 

Virgil continued packing the wound the best he could, desperate to try and bring the bleeding under control. Scott’s pulse was weak. Virgil kept having to swallow hard, as if he could push down the rising panic. Every sluggish beat of Scott’s heart stained Virgil’s hands a little more. 

He ran out of gauze before his brothers arrived. All he could do was keep pressure on the wound. The medkit had the basics, but it wasn’t designed for anything more than patching someone up and getting them to safety. 

“Virgil!” 

“Over here.”  

He was surprised by how steady his voice was as his two brothers charged into view. Alan instantly went pale, but Gordon dropped to his knees.  

“We’ve got the stretcher. John’s contacted the local hospital, they’re on standby to receive us and security measures are already being put in place. And I’m ready.” 

“For what?” Virgil stared at him blankly. He hadn’t moved when they arrived, remaining kneeling by Scott, hands pressed to the wound. 

“Donation. We’re the same blood group, remember?” 

Virgil managed a weak smile. It was moments like this that reminded him Gordon had seen active duty. While Virgil was used to dealing with injuries caused by nature throwing a tantrum, Gordon had seen his fair share of what men could do to one another. 

His brother being so calm helped him pull it together. 

“Set the stretcher down next to him. Then help take his weight so I can get a bandage wrapped around him.”  

Something needed to maintain the pressure while they moved him. They worked quickly to secure Scott as much as possible, then shifted him onto the hover stretcher. Virgil activated it until it was floating at waist height. 

“I need one of you to shut down Mobile Control and secure One. The other to fly Two.” 

Neither of them made the usual comments about letting someone else fly his ‘bird. They both knew the gravity of the situation and right now, Virgil needed to be with Scott. 

He started heading towards Two, ignoring the whispered conversation going on behind him. By the time he had Scott secured, Gordon had joined him, Virgil raised an eyebrow. 

“Same blood group, remember? Makes more sense for me to be on hand. Alan will join us as soon as he can.” 

“F.A.B. Go and start pre-flight checks, Gords, we need to get him there asap.” 

Gordon nodded and hurried up to the flight deck. Virgil busied himself attaching monitors to Scott. He didn’t want to start a transfusion until the doctors had seen Scott. While he may have just been trying to convince himself, Virgil was certain the bleeding had slowed. 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he told his brother. “Just hang on.” 

“Virgil?” 

John’s voice made him jump but he also wasn’t surprised he’d stayed on the line this entire time. 

“Go ahead?” 

“Hospital is prepped and ready. And I’ve-,” John audibly swallowed. “I’ve spoken to Dad. He’s on his way and he’s sending in the agents to ensure security.” 

Virgil nodded. John knew him well enough that he didn’t need to see the action to know what he was doing. He braced himself as Thunderbird Two lifted into the air. Not as smooth as he would’ve done it, but he also couldn’t complain. Not when he wasn’t prepared to leave Scott’s side. 

Afterwards, he didn’t remember much of the flight. He tried to keep Scott stable, fighting against his slowing heart-beat but managing to keep it clinging on. As soon as they landed, Gordon lowered the hatch and medical staff were swarming around his brother. Virgil stepped back to let them work, but was surprised by the hand gripping his arm as he made to follow them. 

“They won’t let you in,” Gordon said in a soft voice. “You know this.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Virg. Get changed.”  

Virgil followed Gordon’s pointed gaze and saw that his uniform was covered in blood. The med-bay around him suddenly lurched as he fully accepted it was his big brother’s blood. Gordon’s hand stopped restraining him and instead guided him to the edge of the bed, encouraging him to sit down. 

A few moments of careful breathing brought Two back into focus. Gordon made sure he wasn’t about to pass out, then gave him some privacy so he could change. He switched into civvies and headed out. 

Gordon was waiting for him just outside.  

“I’m gonna go park up,” he said, “meet you inside?” 

Virgil nodded. It was one of the strangest experiences of his life watching Thunderbird Two take off without him in it. But Gordon would stash her somewhere secure and their agents would set a perimeter to make sure she stayed safe. Alan would be doing the same with One right now. Then they could enter the hospital as civilians. The hospital staff knew Scott was International Rescue, but they didn’t need to broadcast it to everyone. 

Gordon had been right about the doctors not letting him anywhere near. By the time Gordon and Alan appeared, also in casual clothes, the only thing Virgil knew was that Scott had been rushed into surgery. No one knew anything else to tell them. 

Tracy One was a fast jet, but it showed how long they’d been stuck waiting as their father arrived before news did. He looked haggard but his sons had no new information to give him. John had already told him everything they knew as Virgil had deliberately kept the line open to ensure their space-bound brother wasn’t left out of the loop. 

Eventually, Virgil could sit no longer. His brother, his best friend, was fighting for his life, and the only thing Virgil could think was that he should’ve got to Scott’s side sooner. If Scott had bled out in that rubble because Virgil had taken too long, he’d never forgive himself. 

He paced, and no one said anything. They couldn’t. Not when Gordon’s leg was jiggling up and down and Alan was picking at the edge of his thumb. Only their father was still, as if someone had carved him from stone. 

It was hours later when a doctor finally arrived. He was still in scrubs. Alan had fallen asleep on Gordon’s shoulder, his brother’s arm looped around him. But Gordon shook him awake and all four Tracys got to their feet. 

“Well?” Their dad said. 

“The knife nicked an intestine,” the surgeon reported. “And you already know he lost a lot of blood. But we’ve managed to repair the damage and his BP has stabilised. He’ll need bed rest, and a lot of it, for a few weeks, but he should make a full recovery.” 

For the second time that day, Virgil’s world spun around him. Gordon and Alan were cheering, but their voices sounded far away as he groped blindly for the chair he was certain should be right behind him. It was his dad’s hand on his back that guided him back into it. 

“Thank you,” his father said earnestly. “Thank you so much.” 

The world came back into focus as the surgeon left, promising he’d send someone as soon as they could see Scott. His dad’s hand was still on his shoulder and Virgil looked up at him. 

“He’s - he’s really going to be okay?” 

“Yes, son. He’s going to be just fine.” 

“Not so sure about that,” Gordon said, grinning. “Who wants to be the one to tell Scott he has to stay in bed?” 

Four answering groans met his question, as even John tried to duck out of that from all the way up on Thunderbird Five. 

[avocado-writing]

HIII!! :3 I'm back again with another love at first sight/first meeting request lol, so could you pretty please write one with slick, lumber, Porter, and Hydra but maybe the reader is a new freight train joining the yard? ((Whatever kind of freight you want!))

- :3!!

yes ofc my love! I hope I characterised them ok, shamefully I don’t know loads about the freighters 🙈 still open for stex x reader requests!

Porter goes bright red to match the rest of him when he sees you for the first time! Because you’re together in the yard a lot, he does his best to play it cool around you and seem really deep and interesting; suddenly always has a book in his hand (something he’s never done before?) and then running into you… “oh sorry I didn’t see you there… I was too busy reading…” “but Porter that book is upside down?” “uh. Yeah, I like it better that way.” Eventually you tell him he doesn’t have to pretend, you like him as he is!

Lumber is kinda the opposite? Trying to show off with an intensity that is a bit worrying. “Wanna see how much timber I can carry at once?” “I can go soooo fast, watch!” “I can haul that for you, don’t even worry about it!” One day he gets hurt from trying too hard, and you rush him to get fixed up. During the time he’s getting some minor welding work done, you hold his hand the whole time and gently tell him you already find him impressive and like him a whole lot. He’s got a silly love struck look on his face for ages after…

Slick tries to play it cool. So cool, in fact, you think she doesn’t like you - she never wants to be hooked up with you when you’re going on a freight run (but that’s because she’s worried she’d end up blabbering and embarrassing herself!) You’re pretty sad about it because you think she’s fun and interesting, and one day you start crying when she says something she thinks is smooth but is just a bit blunt and mean. She immediately freaks out and goes to comfort you and the two of you confess your feelings for each other, all cards on the table - from that moment on nobody upsets you or they might end up crashing…

Hydra is the most forward one. Why should he be less than direct with how he feels? Always asks to go on journeys with you and is constantly at your side in the freight yard. The two of you are practically joined at the hip. You never officially confirm you’re dating but it’s pretty apparent to everyone who even looks at you that you’re both soulmates. Where one of you is, the other isn’t far behind, smiling and hooked on every work they say.

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[danwhobrowses]

CR's Godly Option C: Who will go for it?

Spoilers for Campaign 3 Episode 119 below

Okay so there was a development.

After a long and painstaking dance of circling around the Predathos and Gods situation, we have reached the pivotal point. Bells Hells are fighting the God Eater, Imogen is still tethered to it, and the Gods are sending reinforcements to try and seal it again.

Sealing Predathos again is unlikely, since it required the Primordials before, and it'd only be a temporary fix. Most of Bells Hells are advocating for change within the relationship between gods and mortals as the Matron of Ravens had hinted, with all of them (yes, ALL of them, including Ashton and Dorian) wanting to prevent the gods from dying, but they also believe Predathos will get out either way. I think it's implied that defeating Predathos will force it to be suppressed within Imogen, that or it'll just discorporate and another Ruidusborn will become the vessel once it recovers its strength, but since it's intent on consuming divinity and can threaten to overwhelm her again, the third option was presented: to become mortal.

While the Matron explains that if the process is possible they will still regain their memories similar to how the Luxon and the mortality route they took in Downfall work, the gods will also need to be convinced of this outcome between death, departure, or depower. In this post I will discuss the potential of each god's reaction and willingness to enact this option C. I'm also thinking this under the impression that the gods will reincarnate, it wasn't fully clear that's the case but since this is meant to shift the relationship between gods and mortals long term I'd suspect it'd be a cycle.

We'll go alphabetically, also because we all know who begins with A.

Asmodeus, The Az-hole Lord of the Nine Hells Given that the Lying Cheating Whore Bitch that is the Lord of Terror, Lies, and the Hells has a massive shtick up his butt about mortals being lower than him, becoming mortal permanently is like a worst case scenario for Azzy M. He will be the hardest to convince, especially since as Lord of Lies he will have obscenely high charisma to resist potential persuasion rolls. The only opening is to appeal to his insecurities about his family, the deep but warped longing to be with them again, but even that is a paper thin line not even Braius can easily stay on the right side without the risk of a ripped-off face and a shattered spine. If he is convinced, however, there has to be the expectation that a betrayal or loophole is inbound.

Avandra, The Changebringer The Goddess of Change is someone you'd expect to welcome the very nature of her domain. Had FCG survived perhaps she would've been more present or be in the position the Matron is in right now for the story, since in hindsight she is similarly suited to be the vehicle of this path. Also a Goddess of Adventure, she might even be enticed with the idea of getting to partake in her own journeys, so a low amount of convincing is likely to be needed for this one, the Hells may spend more time chatting to check in on FCG with her instead.

Bahamut, The Platinum Dragon We don't get much info on the Platinum Dragon in the campaigns despite its looming presence and adjacency to the parties, its influence is central to Vassalheim, the religious capital of Tal'dorei, which has a big hand in a lot of Exandrian Politics. Given its strong sense of justice and protecting the weak, I think the Platinum Dragon would need some convincing that this is the right call - which can be difficult given the prospect of chaos that'd unfold from it - but would bend to its logic if the majority were in support, the Lawbearer and Knowing Mentor may be linchpins to encouraging them since they all have the air of sharing the same sense of pragmatism.

Bane, The Strife Emperor War and Conquest are Bane's bread and butter, and while peace can be established in the aftermath it is sadly in mortals' nature to fight and take from one another through violent means, bread and butter (metaphorically, but imagine if it were literally for a moment). For that reason I think Bane would be fine with mortality - war could perhaps be more fun if there's jeopardy involved and death this way is just a respawn. They may put on a front to be against it because it's for reasons of peace, but Bane would rather live to fight another day than never fight again.

Corellon, The Arch Heart The Arch Heart is a curious one. They wanted to leave, they told Bells Hells as much in the feywild, but the Matron is convinced that the Arch Heart simply wants change and would be open to mortality. Due to them having the chance to present their case for departure, I think the Arch Heart would take probably a medium level of convincing. As SILAHA they enjoyed the indulgences and hedonism of mortality and can do so again, but may feel a little slighted by Bells Hells not following through with their plan - they are a vain god after all. Overall I think they too would bow to the majority if it came to it, since their plan involved all of their siblings running with them.

Erathis, The Lawbearer There is a downside for the Lawbearer and Wildmother with mortality. As lovers, sacrificing their divinity will mean life apart from one another for long periods at a time, and by the time their memories are restored it can open up a massive can of worms if they found love with others as mortals. The Lawbearer would be one who'd acknowledge the logic, but resist the offer from an emotional standpoint - perhaps preferring to run or to die in each other's arms than to be apart. It'd take convincing the Wildmother to convince them, so it'd be a tall order for Bells Hells to achieve, but it can be done given how she bends more to logic - seeing as she's the one who proposed the idea of the Divine Gate.

Grummsh, The Ruiner Grummsh is a brute, a lover of blood and slaughter. As a result, the Ruiner will probably need as much convincing as Bane does; adverse to the logic of peace but secretly salivating the idea of future conflicts and being hands-on with it in a continual reincarnation cycle. Some convincing required to bypass the facade of hesitation, but not a lot.

Ioun, The Knowing Mentor Ioun has spent centuries collecting information and knowledge, in turn being a deity of prophecy and teaching, she may have already seen this coming. However, she hates secrets and reverse-engineering the forbidden knowledge that is the Ritual of Seeding may make her hesitant of the path. Some convincing is required, but The Knowing Mentor is a fair and logical god, and in logic she can be persuaded and understand that this is among the better solutions to the problem at hand. The Hells may also entice her with the hands-on approach of learning new things, possibly citing Dunamancy - through Ashton and their head maybe - since the gods treat it as foreign and alien.

Kord, The Stormlord The Stormlord is renowned for being badass and stoic, which unfortunately makes him hard to read in this situation. Unlike Bane and Grummsh, Kord doesn't lust after war and battle but prepares for it nonetheless. It may be hard to convince him though, because they could see the option as abandoning the fight - going against their tenets of strength and bravery in battle - but his awareness of Imogen can come into play in her influencing him, and if Bane and Grummsh's excitement can't be hidden it can be used as incentive to keep their warmongering at bay. He can be swayed, but not easily - it cannot be framed as giving up.

Lolth, The Spider Queen Lolth has a disdain for mortals on a similar maybe-slightly-lesser level to Asmodeus, she's possessive and proud of her power, and mortality would mean that she would have to confront the many enemies she has made - such as the Kryn - without the comfort of being out of their reach. She's also petty, and feuds with the Arch Heart and Stormlord can make it harder to convince her if they're already convinced - and vice versa. The Spider Queen strikes as someone who will agree to something so long as she benefits, curiosity can only go so far after all, she may even ask for some grovelling or a tribute/offering as a sweetener. It will be difficult, but the Opal incident is indicative that she fears Predathos, Bells Hells would need to infer that it's the most profitable option to her but also make sure it's not framed as her conceding to their request or being threatened.

Melora, The Wildmother As with the Lawbearer, the Wildmother will struggle to be convinced not because of the logic but because of the heart. Being separated from her lover is a big sacrifice she will very likely show her teeth to avoid, but in exchange she will get to return to her beloved domain properly once more. This may make the Wildmother easier to convince, or it could be harder given how she has trouble letting go of things - since she protested the idea of the Divine Gate in Downfall's epilogue, and the only thing stopping her from being a Betrayer was a reluctance to leave Exandria. It will probably fall to Orym, who has had experience being apart from people they love, to turn the scales and convince her, which will domino into convincing the Lawbearer too.

Moradin, The All-Hammer Not much is known about the All-Hammer, which is a shame since the past campaigns have had such inventive and artistic characters. That being said, I don't think the All-Hammer will need much convincing. Some convincing may be warranted since they are a God of Family and Legacy too, so they'd want to ensure that the rest of the gods are in agreement, but the All-Hammer admires creativity, ingenuity, and craft; and that is something Chetney has the edge to appeal them towards. A chance to see what more mortals can create, to unlearn and relearn various artforms for lifetimes, Chetney's own pursuit of legacy makes him the perfect one to relate to the All-Hammer, and thus there is limited convincing needed.

Pelor, The Dawnfather There have been two sides to the Dawnfather when in conflict in Campaign 3; on one side you have Ayden, the sunshine multiclassing do-gooder who clings to hope and humanity, on the other you have the Dawnfather that sent an angel to suppress Hearthdell and threatened to withhold power from Deanna for questioning him. Like the Stormlord, the Dawnfather could protest or take offence to the idea of becoming mortal permanently, as he could also see it as abandoning their sworn and solemn duties. Asmodeus and The Arch Heart paint him as chief among the 'but mah children' gods in their internal debate to stay or flee, which can be used in convincing him. But he is prideful, and stubborn, and wrathful, meaning it will require a lot of tact and careful wording to achieve, possibly moreso than it would the Stormlord.

The Raven Queen, Matron of Death As the one mulling over the method of enacting the plan, the Matron is a definitive yes who won't need convincing, she's already been convinced. Mortality is not new to her, and she has no disdain for it.

Sarenrae, The Everlight Aside from the All-Hammer and Changebringer, I think the Everlight is perhaps the one Bells Hells won't need to convince at all. The events of Downfall showed that she loves mortals, and loved mortality; the chance to live and love, to raise children, she loved it all and the moment she parted from it she missed it dearly. She might have a bit of guilt about leaving her followers like Pike, but she might also relish the idea of getting to know them on a more personal and mortal level too.

Sehanine, The Moonweaver The Moonweaver's tenets include to live untethered and free and to seize one's own destiny, which could act as a pro or con to encouraging the idea of becoming mortal. It leans more towards the pro side, since lifetimes of experiences can entice her against running away forever - and Fearne is the likely candidate to frame it that way if she is in need of convincing - but it falls to whether she has already made up her mind about which path she wants to take. If she's already chosen another option, it may be difficult to change her mind because it'll be something she doesn't want to do. If she's open to the idea there's little convincing, if not then it requires Bell's Hells to sell the idea.

Tharizdun, The Chained Oblivion Tharizdun is a strange case. The ancient primordial evil trapped in the Abyss - a visual representation of 'too much chaos' - that creates demons and aberrations with its mind to sic on Exandria isn't exactly one who was sent through the Divine Gate willingly. Mortality and reincarnation is likely something it'd leap at, freedom and the floor to corrupt and influence more directly, but also something the other gods would be greatly against them having given their efforts to seal it near the end of the Calamity. Because of this, the convincing would be for all the other gods - mainly the primes - rather than the entity itself, and thus it can be a deal breaker. As a non-Tengar god however it may be 'off the menu', and thus a compromise to keep it trapped may be achieved - it's actually a little unclear if Matt includes them and another non-Tengar god when discussing 'the gods' in this context, since they are included in the pantheon but not exactly a 'god'.

Tiamat, The Scaled Tyrant Another god eager to get out is Tiamat, Arkhan stole the Hand of Vecna for this sole purpose after all. 'Let no affront go unpunished' is a tenet that'd mean Tiamat would take little convincing to return to the Material Plane. In contrast to Lolth, paying back her grudges would be high on her agenda, as well as amassing wealth and her kin, it'd be more of a challenge to convince the Platinum Dragon of her release given how destructive chromatic dragons can be and have been in the past. So not much convincing on her side really, just opposition from opponents.

Torog, The Crawling King Torog's time as Zaharzht in Downfall was intriguing. Without it the jealous god of torture, jailers, and slavers would ironically be someone you'd expect to desire freedom from imprisonment, but Zaharzht hated being mortal and constantly harmed themselves throughout Downfall. Their monologue about peace implied that Torog may be the only god to welcome Predathos' consumption of them, which makes it difficult to say how much convincing they'd need and if they'd even acknowledge Bells Hells' offer in the first place. There's a chance they may bend to family majority, since Zaharzht had a soft - albeit warped and abusive - spot for Asha, but it's probably not something they'd like to agree to out of the three options.

Vecna, The Whispered One Centuries as a Lich leads to only 3ish decades of godhood, damn does it suck to be Vecna. The Whispered One is a god who would definitely reject the idea of returning to mortality, and someone who would probably rather take their chances and run. Much like the Chained Oblivion, being a mortal would probably be very bad for Exandria anyway, since he knows how to Lich himself and knows the Ritual of Seeding to undo the process anyway - Vassalheim has not quickly forgotten his attempt to raze them. He doesn't want mortality and the mortals won't want him, and without the sense of family that Asmodeus may have for the other gods he might be the joint-highest lost cause among the gods. However, the lack of familial ties and potentially also being off-menu might mean the gods are less enthusiastic about staying as a set with him in it, and would be willing to accept mortality without him. As a result, very difficult to convince, not a positive to do so, but there may be a willingness from other gods to just let him run.

Zehir, The Cloaked Serpent Our final god is a mystery, as obscurity is among his domain. We know more of Zehir's treacherous servant Uk'otoa (uk'otoaaaa) than we do of the god himself, but from what we do know is that they are unique in having the most enemies even among their fellow Betrayer Gods, Torog and Lolth. Their small amount of worshippers, mainly Yuan-ti and other snakefolk, are often described as ones looking to be equal to them, which may make it a tall order to convince Zehir to give their followers and enemies a better shot at killing them. There is perhaps the opening of playing to his pride, an assassin would be proud of their ability to kill, and fluffing his ego in order to 'prove' his skill among these bloodthirsty followers and enemies is a route that can be used with solid enough deception. Niche degree of convincing due to poor knowledge of him, but still possible.

[skeletalheartattack]

im showing my friend clanker the awesome six eggs and single ice key i found today

[adore-gregor]

.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... Revising my game and I feel like there's still sooo much writing left to do, for something that probably won't even amount to much, so.. I do want to narrow my focus more (especially given my health problems seeming to get worse/less energy the past few years), but I'm not sure how would be best to...

I currently have 5 characters as the Main ones with full planned questlines and such, with each character having 6 quests you can do for them. But I haven't really started the writing for the 5th main character. So then I was thinking, if I were going to write 6 full quests worth of content anyway... is it better to allocate that time on just doing a Complete 6 Quests for ONE single character, OR would it be better to do something like.. choose THREE side characters and do 2 quests for each of them? So that people have a wider variety to interact with and sort of sample around (of course with the idea that, once the first version of the game is released, IF people actually care about it enough to make it worth the effort, I would then add additional content to complete those 3 characters stories as well)

-

SO... If you were playing an interactive fiction sort of game centered around talking to & doing quests for a cast of characters (like there's no larger plot, more it's just about interacting with people, every character kind of has a self contained story, the focus is just learning about them and the world and exploring the area) --- Which would you rather have?

(and of course it would be stated up front which characters have only partial questlines, so people don't expect them to have full quests like the others and then get disappointed, or etc. etc.)

Basically, is it better to just focus in specifically on having one fully complete questline? Or for there to be a few stories that are not complete yet, but have more initial options available?

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–