#i really tried to be objective and I hope there will be no hate

[shrine-of-the-theoi]

Hi! I'm a beginner to Hellenic Polytheism. I tried to find basics and stuff, but I never talked to Hellenic polytheists.

I wanted to ask about the basics and especially your relationship with fandoms made from greek mythology — Percy Jackson and other. I saw some hate people in those fandoms, and that makes me really unsure of how to worship and also be a part of this religion.

Helloo pal!!

Remember a respectful relationship with the Theoi (Gods). GODS AREN'T THEIR MYTHS. To learn about the Theoi, you can check out theoi.com which is excellent. Also books like Hesiod's Theogeny, Illiad and Homeric hymns. But remember...AVOID OVID AT ALL COSTS PLEASE. Because He's a Roman poet and his poetry was influential during the Renaissance, which included mythification of the Gods. The result of which is fandoms like Percy Jackson. These myths are what makes up "the Greek Mythology". But these myths aren't the gods. To know the Gods, we must clear our mind from these myths first- some of which describes certain Gods and goddesses as "evil".

Start learning about the the history of the Gods. Their are different classes of Gods like Titans, Primordial and Olympians. Check this out in theoi.com Research the offerings you can make. Remember the Gods won't be angry at you unless ofc you do smtg gravely heinous or disrespect any of them. Also numerous offerings are not at all necessary. Just a fresh glass of water everyday is enough if you have problem making regular offerings. You can include candles and incense and that's it the Theoi are content. Advisable to clean and tidy before starting worship- doesn't mean you'll have to take a bath everytime before praying. Just washing your hands is enough. You can offer certain objects to the Gods to enchant them. Like i plan to gave a clawclip to Hera and request her to bless it.

You might stumble across phrases as "working with". Don't worry. If you work or don't work with a certain deity, doesn't mean you're any less. Simple devotion and even that is cherished by the gods. Working with a theoi simply means having assistance of a certain Gods or Goddess to achieve smtg personal. Worshipping...is just fine.

Next, you can use a necklace as a pendulum if tarot and oracle cards isn't an option in receiving guidance or answers from the Theoi. Start recording your research work in journals. Write some poems and prayer. Doesn't have to be flowery. Simple appreciation of the Theoi, their praises, or a request for their guidance can be prayers as well. Good at art? Offer your drawings.

Lastly if you have trouble setting physical shrines or kharis, worry not. Set up digital shrines. For that you can use the "collage" feature of pinterest or draw one in digital art apps. Physical offerings are a trouble? Make digital ones where there's no limitation. Pictures of offerings like fruits, beverages, baked goods and all, animal correspondences, EVERYTHING. You can make a digital shrine blog like this one or create boards on Pinterest for the Theoi and save pictures that you feel like. Acts of services are as much an offering as food. Engage in books for Athena, create something in honour of Hephaestus, learn about herbs and their uses for Apollo, appreciate art for Dionysus, help elders in the name of Hera and Zeus cuz they are the protectors. Take care of yourself for Aphrodite, laugh for Hermes, condemn wrong to the society in the name of Ares. And that's just enough devotion as someone who makes physical offerings. Honour the Theoi in the daily life.

Keep learning, cuz there's no stop to that and always be respectful for its the most important aspect of any religion. Comparing who's stronger, who's good bad...nope!! That's what the ones who read "mythology" do. We? We are not mythology students but devotees. And for us, The THEOI are way more glorious than their itsy bitsy myths. The Theoi aren't their myths and this is an ancient religion and not just mythology.

Hope this helps!! Let me and others here on Tumblr know whenever you need help. You're always welcome. Check out @khaire-traveler , @dionysianivy , @olympianbutch , @wingedfoolnearthesun , @athenaeum-of-the-herald , @atheniangrace , @theoi-of-olympus . Their blogs can be a major help for you as you start off. Khaire 🧿🥀!!!

[storytellering]

I dunno guys, I think he did nothing wrong ever

[irenespring]

Look at my evil princess. I love her so much. She's an unstoppable force of chaos that is simultaneously bent on assimilation. She is the worst person ever yet I am always rooting for her. Companies rise and fall based on who she wants to invite to dinner. I want her to destroy the world.

[elleetlalune]

The kiss of life | sjy

⤷genre: smut, academic rivals to lovers.

⤷sypnosis: Your rival, Sim Jake, has always been a burden in your life, well atleast until you realise he's a little too obssesed with your little game of "who's the best?".

⤷warnings: smut smutty smut smut, ANGST AHA, degradation kink, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex (bro..), CREAMPIE, oral(m receiving), cowgirl (yeehaw!), doggy, reader is VERY stupid, jake is a jerk,drinking, meandom!jake x sub!reader.

“Fucking hell, how do you even score a full grade in Physics?”

Your voice was muffled against your arms as you slumped over the desk. The screen glared at you, mockingly bright in the dark of your dorm. Another test, another 92. Not bad. But not enough.

Not enough to beat him.

"Girl, you should rest. It's like 2am," sighed Giselle from behind her laptop, stretching her arms with a yawn.

She was your roommate, best friend, non-biological sister. In a way, she was everything to you.

You dragged yourself from the chair and walked straight into her arms, practically collapsing into her hoodie-covered shoulder. “I’m tired,” you muttered, voice rough from lack of sleep.

She chuckled softly and rubbed your back. "Let’s get you something to eat, okay? Pizza, right?"

You nodded against her, mumbling something about cheese and annihilating Sim Jake in one breath.

She pulled away and gave you a look. "You're obsessed. It’s not healthy."

“I’m not obsessed,” you lied, flopping back into your chair like a dying Victorian woman. “I just don’t like losing.”

“You don’t like losing to Jake,” she corrected, smirking. “He lives rent-free in your head. That boy could sneeze and you’d file it under sabotage.”

You opened your mouth to object, but your phone buzzed.

Sim Jake: Hope you’re studying. I’m not slowing down just because you need beauty sleep.

You let out a strangled groan and threw your phone onto the bed like it had insulted your ancestors.

Giselle didn’t even look up. “Was that him?”

“God, I hate him.”

“Sure you do.” She smiled at you.

Jake was everywhere.

Not in the literal sense—you didn’t see him until your 10 a.m. Physics seminar—but it felt like he haunted every inch of your morning.

The group chat. The hallway whispers. The lecture slides. It was like the universe had a favorite student and was making sure you knew it.

By the time you slid into your seat near the back of the lecture hall, coffee in hand and nerves already frayed, you knew he’d be sitting in his usual spot: front row, center. Perfect posture, perfect notes, perfect attention.

You hated how consistent he was.

You tried to tune out the professor's voice, but Jake made that impossible. He answered three questions in the first ten minutes. Not just correctly—but brilliantly. Like he'd eaten the textbook for breakfast.

And every time he spoke, you felt that familiar pang.

Not jealousy. Not really.

Just pressure. Like every word out of his mouth was a dare.

Catch me if you can.

“Sim Jake’s paper was one of the few that properly explained the entropy paradox,” the professor was saying now, scrolling through the week’s top scores on the projector. “In fact, only a few of you met the standard—”

There it was.

Your name, second place.

His, first.

Again.

Your stomach sank.

You didn’t even notice Jake glancing back at you until class ended and he appeared at your side like he’d been summoned.

He leaned down slightly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the shuffle of backpacks and murmured complaints.

“Tied in Calculus. Beat you in Physics. You gonna make a comeback in Bio?”

You refused to look at him. “I’d rather eat chalk.”

He snorted. “Tempting. But not the academic strategy I’d go with.”

You turned to glare at him, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, he smiled wider, eyes lit with that competitive glint you were coming to dread.

“You know,” he added casually, “you should study with me. Could help your chances.”

You stared. “Is that... an offer? Or a threat?”

Jake shrugged. “Depends how badly you want to win.”

You hated that you hesitated.

He noticed.

“Thought so,” he said, tapping the side of your notebook like it was some kind of challenge, and then he was gone—off into the crowd like a smug academic ghost.

You stood there, notebook in hand, and realized you were smiling.

God help you.

Back at the dorm, Giselle was sprawled on her bed with a face mask on and a playlist of playboy Carti playing at low volume.

You kicked off your shoes and dropped face-first into your comforter with a groan.

“Let me guess,” she said, not looking up, “Him again?”

“He told me to study with him.”

“Oof.” She peeled off one side of her face mask. “He’s either trying to seduce you or destroy you. Maybe both.”

“I don’t get it,” you said, muffled by the blanket. “Why does he care so much about this? Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his bullshit,” she replied, sitting up. “Everyone else treats he was gifted by Erwin Schrödinger. You? You beat him. That’s hot.”

You lifted your head to glare. “That is not hot.”

“Oh, honey.” She smiled, all-knowing. “Yes, it is.”

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.

You didn’t like Jake. You didn’t.

But something was happening. And it wasn’t just about grades anymore, maybe if it wasn't for that infuriating smirk he always had on his fucking face, you wouldn't doubt it.

Well atleast until a few days later.

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known the moment the professor said “pair work.”

Nothing good ever came from the phrase pair work—not when Sim Jaeyun existed in the same universe as you.

You sank a little lower in your seat as Professor Han pulled up the randomized groupings on the screen.

Project: Experimental Physics Simulation (40% of final grade) Assigned Partners:

Your eyes scanned the list faster than you should've—until they landed on the name next to yours.

Jang Yn & Sim Jake

“No,” you muttered. “No, no, no, no.”

“Hell yes,” Jake whispered from behind you, voice practically purring with smug satisfaction. A small gasp leaving your body, where the hell did he come from?

You turned slowly, a grimace twisting your face.

He grinned like a cat with cream. “Guess we’re spending some quality time together after all.”

“This is a hate crime,” you replied flatly.

Professor Han tapped her tablet for attention. “You’ll be expected to present your model in two weeks. The goal is to demonstrate practical application of theoretical concepts. Creativity is encouraged.”

She smiled sweetly. “You’ll learn more from someone who doesn’t think like you.”

Jake leaned forward, chin practically resting on his hand. “Hear that? I don’t think like you.”

“I know you don’t think like me,” you snapped. “I value silence, not stupid talks.”

He chuckled.

And it was infuriatingly…warm, why did he have to be so stupidly handsome? He had the personality of a gorilla on steroids, yet whenever he smiled ,flirted or just exsisted, you could feel your panties a little more damp than before.

The first “study session” was exactly what you expected: annoying, tense, and two hours of arguing about the definition of “efficient simulation.”

You’d agreed to meet at the library, in one of the glass-paneled study rooms. His natural habitat.

Jake sprawled out on one end of the table like he owned the place—hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, mechanical pencil spinning between his fingers. His notes were, of course, immaculate. Color-coded. Labeled. Graphs.

You hated how good they were.

"So what? Are you just gonna stare at me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without a word, you just sat down took out your textbooks, leaving the latter a little confused on your weird...eagerness?

You worked back and forth, and without a doubt, he knew every.single.thing you didn't, everytime you were about to say something he'd look at you as if it was the most obvious thing anyone could ever say.

After two long hours, you had finally finished.

"It's done, I'll send it to you once I'm at the dorm." You announced not even looking at him, too busy gathering your things, the thing is you weren't busy, rather flustered by his piercing gaze on you, looking at you as if you were some kind of prey.

You almost didn't want to leave, what are you even thinking?

“Sure. Try not to stay up too late obsessing over me.” He finally answered nodding.

You paused at the door and looked back at him. “Try not to get too comfortable with me, I don't like you, this is a forced-proximity.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Goodnight, Yn” he said.

And just like that he was walking away.

You didn’t even realize you were smiling.

Not until you walked back into your dorm and Giselle looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and pointed a suspicious finger at you.

“Oh my god.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re smiling.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, peeling off her under-eye patches like she was unmasking the truth.”You only smile like that when you buy a new Ben&Jerry's ice cream flavour, or when you daydream of Sim Jaeyun."

You tried to suppress the grin creeping back onto your face. “We had a productive professional meeting. That’s it.”

Giselle crossed her arms and leaned against her desk like she was prepping for interrogation. “Uh-huh. And did this productive professional meeting involve any physical touch? Maybe you looking at him while he was busy? Perhaps you dropping something and you and him accidently bumping your heads while trying to pick it up at the same time?”

“Please, you watch to many dramas” you groaned, tossing your bag onto your bed. “It was just a project. Calm down.”

She gasped. “Just a project? Oh, you’re down bad.”

“I am not—” You stopped, because even saying it sounded like a lie.

Giselle strutted toward you. “Bitch? I’ve seen you spend entire nights rage-studying just to beat him by 0.1 points. Now suddenly you’re all buddy-buddy? What did he do, donate a kidney?”

You buried your face in a pillow. “We’re just working on the project. He’s tolerable in small doses.”

“Tolerable. Wow. That’s almost romantic, next thing you know you'll be in his bed,”

You lifted your head and gave her the flattest look you could manage. “Remind me why I let you live here again?”

“Because you're secretly inlove with me. Though I don't do Polyamourous relationships.”

She flopped dramatically onto your bed beside you and propped her chin on her hand. “So... when’s the next date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“But it is. Together. Voluntarily. With eye contact.”

You groaned.

She poked your side. “Did he lean over your shoulder?”

“No.”

“Did you imagine what he’d look like on top of you?”

“Giselle!”

She cackled. “That’s a yes.”

You shoved her off your bed with a pillow and covered your face again. “I hate you.”

“No, sweetie.” Her voice was singsong now, floating from the floor. “You hate Jake. Remember?”

It started, as most academic regrets did, with Giselle saying: “You have to come.”

You eyed her from your desk. “I really don’t.”

“It’s a stupid party. It’s practically networking.”

“You mean it’s drinking cheap beer and pretending it's the best thing i've had?”

“Exactly!” she beamed. “You need a break. Come. Wear something cute. Get tipsy. Maybe kiss someone,or even hook-up. Come on!”

You were mid-eye roll when she added, way too casually: “Oh. Jake’s going.”

You froze. “How do you know that?”

She smirked. “Because I asked him.”

“Why would you—”

“You’re welcome,” she sang, already disappearing into your closet, before coming back a dress in her hands.

"Ta-da! You'll definetly get dick tonight if you wear this." She wiggled her eyebrows, holding a black mini-dress that had a lacy sweetheart neckline.

"Do I have a choice?" You sighed, taking it from her. "Nuh uh, now get ready."

The party was louder than you expected. And warmer. And definitely more crowded.

Giselle abandoned you the second you got there, of course. Something about a guy she knew, which was the usual, so you just sat alone drinking some tequila you found sitting on one of the counters.

So you ended up drifting through the crowd alone for a while, plastic cup in hand, trying to look like you belonged there and weren’t constantly scanning the room for him.

And then—

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned—and there he was.

Jake. Casual clothes, dark shirt, hair a little messy, that stupid perfect face slightly flushed from the heat.

He smiled, just a little.

“I thought you didn’t do parties,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“I don’t. But Giselle said you’d be here.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Well,” you said coolly, “don’t expect me to be fun.”

Jake stepped closer. “Too late. I already am.”

It was stupid.

The way you ended up talking for an hour on someone’s front porch. The way the tequila burned a little less every time he leaned in. The way your fingers brushed when you passed the cup back and forth, and neither of you pulled away.

You were tipsy.

He was tipsy.

“I used to think you hated me,” he said suddenly, eyes fixed on yours.

“I did.”

Jake laughed. “And now?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words were all stuck somewhere between your throat and your pride.

He stepped closer, gaze flicking down to your lips. “You still hate me?”

You didn’t say anything.

He took that as permission.

His lips suddenly crashed on yours, a small gasp leaving your mouth that felt hostage to his, your tongue was putting a weak fight against his, as his lips bit your lower one.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was all heat and teeth and pent-up energy—years of competition and tension finally snapping.

Your back hit the wall. His hands found your waist, his lips not leaving yours , it was hungry, you were hungry for eachother, as if you were touch deprived.Your hands tangled in his hair like you’d been waiting for this.

And maybe you had.

You didn’t stop.

Not when someone shouted about the cops. Not when the music cut out. Not when the porch light flickered like a dying star.

Not when he pulled you to a room, his hands never leaving your body, he pushed you against the room's door, locking it, just the way your lips were locked.

"You wanted this didn't you?" He smirked finally pulling away, looking at your body, up and down.

His pants were tighter, his breath was ragged, and you knew what you had to do.

You softly pushed him on the bed, as you got on your knees.

"Oh?" He let out almost mockingly, as he spread his legs.

You unzipped his pants, letting them fall down, before tugging his boxers down too.

Taking the hard lenght in your hand, you looked at it like it was a full course meal, like you were about to devour it.

You teased the leaking tip with your tongue, as he groaned grabbing your hair and pushing his aching cock in your hot mouth, making you gag.

"Fuck, yeah, take it all" He smirked, thrusting his hips forward, forcing you to take him all. Tears were streaming down your face from gagging as you sucked relentlessly, his thick veiny cock plunging in and out of your mouth.

"Such a slut, sucking me off after I kissed you once." His words were mean, degrading yet they only aroused you more, as your needy pussy ached in silence, drowned in her own juices.

You kept on sucking, as you felt him grow closer to his release, you massaged his balls, making him moan for the first time tonight.

"Keep doing that," He said, only final suck before he came in your mouth,"Open your mouth." He commended, to which you complied, your tongue full on his cum, that you had previously swallowed.

Without another word, he pushed you on the bed, roughly, before discarding the rest of his clothes, you took it as a sign to remove yours too, so you did.

"On all fours, now." He said his voice stern, you did as he said, this was embarassingly turning you on.

His ran a finger over your soaked folds, eliciting a strangled moan from you, "Already so wet and ready for me.." He whispered in your ear, his cock tugged against you hot core, "Please..I need you.."You finally muttered for the first time of the night.

"You need me?" He laughed, his laugh wasn't out of amusement, it was mean, he was mean.

Without previous warning, he slammed in you, thrusting deeply his entire cock in one swift movement.

You moaned, very loud, the pleasure mixed with the pain were overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck, you take me so well," He said, your silence earned you a sharp slap on the ass making you unwillingly moan. "Jake.."

"What a whore, moaning my name after I spanked you." he kept on talking while you did your best to take him from behind, your hands clutching on the pillows, your moans and your connected cores were the only sounds to be heard.

His dick hit your cervix every single time, making you see stars, the knot in your lower belly came loose as you whimpered.

"I'm ..I'm cumming.." You let out, to which he simply scoffed, "Hold it in, I'm not done yet."

It hurt, nearly impossible from the overwhelming wave of pleasure, his pace never slowing down, if anything he was speeding up. "Please.." and just with that, you came all over his cock, "Fuck.." He cursed under his breath, spanking you once again. "Who allowed to do that, slut?" Still deeply thrusting into you as he pulled your hair, your back meeting his chest.

A few more thrusts and his own body came loose, thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, he slowly pulled out, watching his cum drip down to your legs, as he collapsed next to you.

“Okay,” Giselle said, popping a grape in her mouth. “What exactly happened between you two?”

You were curled up on your bed, hoodie pulled over your knees, reliving the moment on a never-ending loop.

“He kissed me.”

She paused mid-grape. “...And?”

“And I kissed him back.” you said keeping the details of the after-math to yourself.

“And now?”

“He’s pretending I don’t exist.”

Giselle stared. “Wow. Okay. I’m going to need to physically restrain myself from punching him.”

“Get in line.”

She shifted beside you, growing serious. “Do you think he regrets it?”

You wanted to say no.

You didn’t.

Instead, you whispered, “I think it meant something. At least… to me.”

Giselle exhaled. “Then he’s a coward, you deserve better baby."

The final presentation day came.

You both delivered it perfectly. Polished. Efficient. No mistakes. No interaction beyond necessary. Your professor called it "an impressively balanced demonstration of collaborative work."

You both nodded. Smiled politely.

And then walked off in opposite directions.

Two days later, the truth came out.

You didn’t mean to overhear it.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop.

But as you turned the corner into the campus café, you heard his name. Loud, obnoxious, and coming from a table full of guys laughing like a pack of hyenas.

“Dude,” one of them snorted, “I still can’t believe you actually went through with the dare.”

Your stomach dropped.

You paused, just out of sight, something tight closing around your chest.

“Yeah,” another guy said. “Didn’t think you had it in you, genius.”

“Oh my god,” someone else cackled. “She looked so into it. She probably thinks you’re in love with her.”

“Easy shit,” came the final voice. Familiar. Mocking. Gut-twisting.

Jake.

“She’s smart, but she’s not hard to read.”

You didn’t hear anything after that.

Not over the roar in your ears.

You turned and walked away before they could see you. Fast. Like the hallway was collapsing behind you.

That night, you didn’t cry.

You didn’t rage or scream.

You just stared at your ceiling and felt... empty.

Because it wasn’t just the dare.

It was him.

The idea that everything you felt for him, well to him was just a stupid game, he wasn't lying when he called you a whore.

A fucking dare.

You thought maybe he hated you.

But you never thought he’d humiliate you.

And the worst part?

Somewhere deep down, past the fact you wanted to shove a fist in his annoyingly hot face, past the betrayal—

You still wanted to believe he didn’t mean it.

You were stupid.

You didn’t remember how you got back to your room.

You remembered walking. Just walking. One foot in front of the other like your bones were on autopilot. Like if you stopped, if you let yourself feel, you’d shatter.

The second the door shut behind you, your knees gave out.

You sank to the floor, back against the wood, breath caught in your throat. The silence in the room roared in your ears. Giselle wasn’t home. Thank God.

You stared at the wall, unblinking. Numb.

And then—

The tears came.

Slow at first, then faster, hotter, until you were shaking. Until sobs clawed their way out of your chest and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t understand how you let yourself fall for someone who turned your feelings into a joke.

You curled in on yourself, forehead pressed to your knees, sobbing so hard it hurt.

And all you could think was:

“She’s smart, but she’s not hard to read.”

Those words rang again and again in your skull like cruel bells, louder than your crying, louder than anything.

You felt stupid. So stupid.

How could you have believed him? Believed the softness in his eyes was real? Believed you meant anything?

You hated yourself for it.

And that’s what wrecked you the most.

Because it wasn’t just that he’d fucked you on a dare.

It was that you wanted it to be real.

It was that some pathetic part of you still did.

You stayed on the floor long after the tears dried. Red-eyed, mascara streaked on your cheeks.

A voice echoed in your head—your own voice from days ago, drunk,needy, hopeful and so desperately naive

You let out a bitter, broken laugh.

He didn’t surpass you.

He destroyed you.

And he probably didn’t even care.

You hadn’t spoken to Jake in days.

You didn’t look at him in class. Didn’t acknowledge him. Ignored him in the hallway when he passed too close. You kept your chin high, even if your stomach curled every time you sensed him near.

But today, he cornered you.

It was after class, where he used to sit beside you. Now you took a spot at the edge, eyes fixed on your notebook.

“Hey,” he said behind you. Too casually. “Can we talk?”

You stood without responding, changing seats.

He followed.

“Come on,” he muttered, catching up. “You’re seriously going to do this now?”

You looked at him. “Do what, Jake?”

He blinked like he hadn’t expected you to turn. “This silent treatment crap. It’s childish.”

You laughed. It was hollow. “I’m sorry, am I being childish? Because last I checked, you and your friends were laughing about a fucking dare , me.”

Something flickered in his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“I heard it, Jake. Every word.”

He glanced away, jaw tight. “You misheard.”

You stared. “Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

He met your eyes again, and now they were flat. Sharp. “You’re overreacting. It was just a joke. A dumb one. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Your voice cracked. “You kissed me and then fucked me.”

“You kissed me, and you wanted me to fuck you.” he shot back, too fast.

You froze.

“That night?” he continued. “You came onto me just as much. You think I forced you into anything?”

“That’s not—”

“You’re acting like I manipulated you when we were both drunk and—what? Lonely? Bored? Don’t pin this all on me just because you regret it.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Jake crossed his arms, tone colder now. “Maybe you built it up in your head. That’s not my fault.”

Your heart thundered. “You let me believe it meant something.”

“It didn’t,” he said.

Silence.

Something inside you broke, maybe it was whatever was left of your self esteem or your heart.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. Regret flickered there—but he didn’t take it back.

You stepped around him. “Don’t talk to me again.”

And this time, when you walked away, you didn’t cry.

You were too numb for that anyways.

You didn’t make it past the front door before you collapsed.

Again.

You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since you were eleven years old. Not when you failed your first test. Not when you broke your wrist during track. Not even when your parents stopped asking about how your day was.

But the second you saw Giselle—curled up on the couch in sweats with her laptop balanced on her knees—it all came flooding back.

“Shit,” she whispered, immediately ditching the laptop and standing up. “What happened?”

You shook your head, shoulders trembling.

“I—I can’t—” you choked out, barely managing to shut the door behind you before your legs gave out and you sank to the floor.

Giselle dropped beside you without hesitation. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” She pulled you into her arms, warm and solid and familiar.

You cried into her hoodie. Ugly, gasping sobs that shook your whole body.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just held you.

When the sobs finally slowed, she whispered, “Tell me what happened.”

You pulled back, wiping your face with your sleeve like it would hide the wreckage.

“I confronted Jake.”

Giselle’s expression turned instantly feral. “What did he do?”

“He said I overreacted. That it didn’t mean anything. That I wanted him.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He did not—”

“He gaslit me,” you said softly. “Tried to make me question what even happened. Like I imagined it. Like it was my idea, and I was just making a big deal out of nothing.”

“And the worst part?” You laughed wetly. “For a second, I believed him.”

Giselle’s hand flew to your shoulder. “No. Babe. No. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

You looked away, voice barely a whisper. “I wanted it to mean something. I thought it meant something.”

“It did mean something,” she said firmly. “To you. And that’s valid. Jake being a manipulative little shit doesn’t make your feelings fake.”

You gave a weak shrug. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was suddenly sharper. “You are not stupid. You are the smartest, most intuitive person I know. You’ve been holding yourself together for weeks and I have no idea how. And I’m proud of you.”

You blinked at her, tears blurring again.

“And,” she added with a half-smile, “I kind of want to trip him down a staircase.”

You gave a small, watery laugh. “Only kind of?”

“Well, I don’t want to get kicked out before midterms.”

You sniffled, managing a broken smile. “I love you.”

“I know.” She squeezed your hand. “But say it again so I can record it and set it as my alarm.”

You exhaled, some of the pressure in your chest finally loosening.

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then Giselle tilted her head. “You know what I think?”

You gave her a tired look. “That I should murder him and flee the country?”

She smirked. “Tempting. But no. I think… he’s scared.”

You frowned. “Of what?”

“Of you,” she said. “Of how much he likes you.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

“He doesn’t like me, Giselle.”

“He does,” she said simply. “But he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So he turns it into a competition. A dare. A way to win.”

You looked away. “if that's the case,that’s messed up.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why he doesn’t deserve you. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

Silence stretched.

Giselle squeezed your hand again. “But if—if—he ever gets his shit together, and I mean therapy-level together… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

You nodded slowly.

What if you just dated Giselle?

What about him?

He hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

It was fucking pathetic.

Jake was used to being good at things. Physics? Easy. Debate? Cake. Charm? Usually, yeah. He’d coasted through most of life by being clever enough, cocky enough, and just vulnerable enough to make people want to forgive him when he wasn’t.

But this?

This wasn’t forgivable.

He rubbed his face, staring blankly at the half-finished essays on his laptop. His dorm room was a mess—clothes scattered, ramen bowls on the floor,

He couldn’t focus.

You were everywhere.

Every seat you didn’t sit in.

Every class where you didn’t look at him.

Every hallway you passed through like he wasn’t there.

And God, you looked wrecked when you walked out of that confrontation.

Pale. Shaky. Like you were trying to hold it together just long enough to get away from him.

And he did.

His own words made him nauseous now.

He hadn’t meant it like that. Hadn’t meant any of it like that. But he panicked. He saw the look in your eyes and all he could think was she’s going to hate me forever. So he did what he always did.

He deflected. Defended. Because he always won.

Tried to win the argument like it was a debate.

But it wasn’t a debate.

It was you.

And now he was losing you in real time.

You didn’t even hate him, that was the worst part. She looked at him like he wasn’t real anymore. Like he never had been.

Because he didn’t know who he was, either.

You made him feel off-balance. Like all his perfectly crafted blueprints didn’t apply. Like he wanted to undo years of rivalry just to see her smile at him again.

And then he ruined it.

He kissed her like he meant it. And maybe, maybe he had meant it—but he let everyone else turn it into something else. A dare. A power play. A joke.

He, himself knew the joke, all along, was him, Sim Jaeyun.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

You probably thought he never cared.

But the truth was—

He cared too much.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Week three without Jake.

You hadn’t planned it like that. There was no calendar countdown, no “today I get over him” moment. But the silence had space in it now. Not emptiness—just… quiet.

You’d stopped crying.

Now, you were building.

You were the first one in the library most mornings. Not because you needed to prove anything anymore, but because you liked the light that hit the window tables at 7:04 a.m.

You started wearing lip gloss again. Real pants. That one leather jacket Giselle said made you look like the villain in a spy movie. And if people noticed?

Let them.

You weren’t doing it for them.

You weren’t even doing it for him.

You were doing it for you—for the girl who sat through Jake’s gaslighting and didn’t fold. For the girl who stood up and walked away without letting him see her fall apart.

Your group project had you partnered with people who actually respected you, and holy hell—it was like breathing fresh air for the first time. You were killing it in your lab work, crushing your deadlines, and taking up space unapologetically.

And Giselle?

Giselle was living for it.

“You look insane,” she said one morning, watching you apply eyeliner in the mirror.

You shrugged. “It’s just a Tuesday.”

“That’s the hot part,” she said, taking a picture for her instagram story. “Post-breakup glow is real.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” you muttered.

“Then why’s the school acting like he’s dead to you?”

You smirked. “Because he is.”

She raised her coffee cup. “Cheers to emotional funerals.”

You and Sunghoon were lab partners for the day, thanks to your professor reshuffling pairs. He was easy to be around—laid-back, a little cocky, and refreshingly not obsessed with beating you at everything.

“You’re way good at this,” he said, watching you adjust the digital thermometer. “You sure I'm actually helping?”

You shrugged, smiling. "You're like an assistant."

He grinned. “I’ll be the best assistant in that case."

You smiled. Not because you wanted to make a certain someone jealous. Not at first.

But when you glanced up and saw him staring from across the lab—jaw clenched, shoulders tense, not even pretending to take notes?

Oh, it was on.

Sunghoon leaned in to check something on your laptop, his hand brushing against yours.

“Should we run another test? I kind of want to watch you do it again.”

You laughed—too loud, too soft, just enough for Jake to hear. “You just like bossy girls.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Guilty.” he said raising his arms in the air.

Jake dropped his pen.

It clattered across the desk, echoing louder than it should’ve in the quiet room. You didn’t turn to look. You didn’t need to. His anger was practically radioactive.

You hadn’t even made it to the elevator that led to your room before you heard footsteps behind you—fast, heavy, angry.

“Really?” Jake’s voice, sharp, cut through the quiet.

You stopped walking.

Turned slowly.

“Oh. Now you want to talk?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you—eyes wild, hair messy, fists clenched like he was holding himself back from getting a warrant.

“You really think Sunghoon’s your type?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Jealous?” you smirked.

He stepped closer. “He’s not like me.”

“Exactly,” you said,

His jaw twitched. “You’re just doing this to piss me off.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “And if I am?”

He stared at you. “You think this is a game, but you’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not playing anymore, Jake,” you whispered, voice suddenly serious. “I stopped the second you made me feel like I was insane for having feelings.”

"You're not the center of the world." You sighed.

Something shifted in his face then—less anger, more desperation.

He took another step forward. You didn’t move.

“You don’t get to act like you didn’t feel it too,” he said, lower now. “You don’t get to flirt with my best friend and pretend it didn’t wreck me.”

“You wrecked me first,” you snapped. “You don’t get to say that now.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Thick.

Then—he reached out.

Slowly. Carefully.

His hand touched your cheek like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him. You didn’t move.

“You drive me insane,” he said hoarsely.

Your breath caught. “Good.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Messy. Desperate. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

You kissed him back like it was revenge. Like it was a memory you wanted to burn into his skin. Like it was the last time and the first time all at once.

His lips fit perfectly onto yours, as if he was made for you, as if you were made for eachother.

One moment and now you're in his room.

On his bed.

Moaning his name, bouncing on his cock.

"Holy shit, keep doing that.." He whimpers, holding your hips helping you move him in and out of your dripping hole.

"Jake.." His name feel like a continious prayer out of your lips, as his thick lenght made you see stars.

"See? You always come back.." He made it sound like an insult and a good thing at the same time. He thrusts turned sloppy and lazy.

"And you love it." You managed to let out.

Next morning, you woke up tangled in sheets that weren’t yours.

His hoodie was on the floor.

Your clothes were somewhere, probably near the door.

He was already awake—bare-chested, staring at the ceiling like the weight of everything had just hit him.

You didn’t speak.

Last night said enough.

And not nearly enough.

“So,” Jake said, sliding into the library booth across from you, “are we pretending last night didn’t happen, or are you going to keep blushing every time I say your name?”

You didn’t look up from your laptop.

“I’m working.”

He smirked. “So am I.”

You glanced at him. “Does annoying me count as a job now?”

“I mean, it’s a calling, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Grow up.”

Jake leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his palm. “You didn’t say that when you were moaning my name.”

Your fingers froze on the keyboard.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze.

His smile was lazy. Infuriating.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, heat creeping up your neck.

Jake tilted his head. “That’s not what you said last night either.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Tried not to let him see your pulse jump.

“God, you’re such a child,” you snapped.

Jake grinned. “And yet you let me—”

“Jake.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second.

And then he leaned closer, his voice lower. “Say it again.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“My name,” he said, eyes on your lips. “Say it like you mean it.”

You blinked.

“I have work to do,” you said, turning back to your screen. “Unlike you, I don’t get off on distractions.”

Jake chuckled. “No, you just get off with them.”

You kicked him under the table.

Hard.

Things were… good.

Weirdly, annoyingly, undeniably good.

Jake still teased you—called you “professor’s favorite,” stole your pens, leaned in too close during project meetings—but now there was some love.

You’d catch him watching you when you weren’t even talking.

You’d laugh at something dumb, and his whole face would light up like it mattered.

One night, after hours of project work and bickering over formulas, he walked you back to your dorm in silence. Not tense. Just… quiet. And when you got to your door, he said:

“I missed this.”

You blinked. “This?”

“You.”He smiled at you, taking your hand in his, interwinning your fingers.

And for once, you didn’t say anything back. Just stepped closer and let your fingers brush his.

He kissed you again.

Not messy this time.

You were both smiling in the kiss, like the rest of the world had disappeared, like you only both mattered.

The party was loud. One of those end-of-week ragers you never planned to go to, but Giselle dragged you out of bed with eyeliner in hand and a red dress in the other.

“Let's have fun, hottie!”

You went. You smiled. You even let yourself believe Jake might show up, find you in the crowd, pull you aside like he always did now—quiet hallway, dumb smirk, soft eyes. Something that made this whatever-you-two-had feel like a relationship.

Well you did find him.

But what you found was him.

Kissing someone else.

Pressed up against the wall.

Hands on her waist.

Her laugh in his mouth.

His fingers pulling her closer.

And the worst part?

He saw you.

Right in the middle of it.

Eyes locking for half a second.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Just kept going, like he hadn’t kissed you two nights ago and told you that he missed “this.”

Like you were a stranger.

Like it was still a game.

Your breath left your body like a punch to the ribs.

Giselle saw it happen in real time—your expression folding in on itself, your hand curling into a fist, the red cup slipping from your fingers.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she said instantly.

But you shook your head.

You weren’t going to cry.

Not here.

Not for him.

Not again.

The next day,

you didn’t knock.

You slammed his dorm room door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. Jake looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt half-off, face flushed—but not from guilt.

From being caught.

He stood slowly. “So, you heard.”

“You knew I’d be there,” you spat, voice shaking with fury. “You saw me.”

Jake didn’t move. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, that’s so comforting,” you snapped, fists clenched at your sides. “I mean, why would it? I’m just the dare, right? Just another stupid game.”

He flinched. Barely. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed. “Fair? Jake, I defended you. I believed in you. I thought for once, you were being real with me. And you threw it away for some girl in a miniskirt and a bottle of Malibu.”

“I was drunk—”

“SO WAS I,” you screamed. “Drunk. And stupid. And in love with someone who’s never going to stop playing games.”

His face changed.

That dangerous softness again. The one that came right before he twisted the knife.

“You love me?”

You blinked. “I did.”

He stepped forward.

You stepped back.

“Don’t,” you warned.

But he didn’t listen. He never did.

“You don’t get to walk away from this like I don’t matter,” he said lowly, eyes burning into yours. “You don’t get to pretend we weren’t something.”

You shoved him. Hard. “We were nothing. You made sure of that.”

He caught your wrist.

Held it gently—like you were glass, not fire.

“But I still picked you.”

You stared at him.

“I kissed her,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “but I felt you.”

Tears welled again, you laughed in disbelief.

“You are sick.”

Jake cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You’ll always be my favorite,” he murmured. “Even when I fuck everything up.”

You wanted to slap him.

You wanted to forget he ever existed.

Instead, you pulled away and left.

"Fuck you, Sim Jaeyun." You left his dorm, the dorm that'll always keep some remnants you could never forget.

You removed off your jacket, wiped off your eyeliner, brushed your teeth like it was any other night. Because it was.

He didn’t get to ruin anything else.

Not your sleep. Not your heart.

He did win in exams, but apart from that, he could never win this.

You laid down in bed, wrapped in Giselle’s oversized hoodie, staring at the ceiling while your phone buzzed once—twice—three times.

Jake: Can we talk? Jake: Please, I’m sorry. Jake: I messed up.

You blocked the number. Sighing contently as sleep wrapped it's wings over you.

You showed up to class in a new outfit. And you looked fucking hot.

He was there.

He looked like hell.

But who cares?

You walked past him without a glance, like he was any other guy in a crowded lecture hall. Just background noise.

Giselle leaned over to whisper, “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” a small smile on your lips, which she immediatly reciprocated.

Sunghoon smiled, leaning in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, sliding into the chair.

Jake didn't not even once raise his hand today.

And when Jake did say a word,

You didn’t even acknowledge him.

Not out of spite.

But because you’d already erased him from the part of you that used to ache.

You never told him you were done.

You didn’t need to. Cause you were never even a thing to begin with.

And by the time he realized he couldn’t win you again?

You had already won yourself.

[lifeinked]

Why I Love Caitlyn, and Why You Hate Her

⚠️ READER DISCRETION: I am not condoning Caitlyn’s actions and behavior, I am simply exploring the depth of her character and explaining what motivated her pursuit of revenge.

There’s no denying the gravity of Caitlyn’s actions as they are unquestionably wrong. However, her character cannot be reduced to these actions alone. This sudden, devastating behavior of hers is shaped by a thread of complex motivations and circumstances, but many choose not to acknowledge this simply because of her elite background. 

Like many others, I initially overlooked the point of the gassing in Zaun, which I think is a crucial thing everyone must first understand before diving into the discourse over Caitlyn's character. 

The Grey, often misunderstood as being used indiscriminately, was strategically deployed against the Chem-Barons to limit collateral damage. Caitlyn chose precision over chaos, targeting those directly responsible for Zaun’s turmoil. Furthermore, Caitlyn didn’t kill the Chem-Barons; she captured them, with net-deploying bullets. While her methods are controversial, they reflect a calculated approach; mischaracterizing her raid as a reckless attack ignores these details.

This isn’t to deny or excuse the fact that Caitlyn did, indeed, gas Zaun. Who’s to say that gas didn’t seep into the streets where innocent Zaunites roamed, harming them in the process? It’s entirely possible that innocents were affected and devastated. However, my brief explanation is only added to gain better perspective over the objectives of the gassing itself.

Now moving on, despite her privileged upbringing, Caitlyn shows a genuine effort to understand and connect with Zaunites. She places her trust in Vi, a Zaunite she’s never met before, to guide her in her search for Silco. Her journey through the undercity opens her eyes to the struggles of its people, challenging her perspective.

In S1E4, when investigating the airship attack, she encounters an undercity resident and reassures him, “I can protect you.” Later in the season, when Vi gets stabbed, Caitlyn encounters someone formerly connected to Vi. He’s grown a distaste over himself due to his appearance, and yet Caitlyn embraces him with compassion and tenderness, as a silent sign of gratitude. Then, she surrenders her cherished firearm—her only means of protection—in return for a healing potion to save Vi. In S1E7, Caitlyn’s heartfelt monologue in her conversation with Ekko perfectly captures her hope and determination: “This city needs healing. More than I ever realized. Please, let me help you.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stand in front of the Council, Caitlyn declares: “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. People are starving, sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.” This monologue alone shows how Caitlyn embodies optimism, believing in the inherent goodness of people, even Zaunites. It also shows that she is very willing to fight for them; she sees helping Zaunites as an act of bringing justice and equality into this world.

Many overlook the depth of Cassandra and Caitlyn’s relationship, reducing it to a simple narrative of a daughter mourning her mother. However, Caitlyn’s mourning is more layered than that. Throughout her life, she has been rebellious, driven by a desire to uncover the reality her mother tried to shield her from. In S1E4, Caitlyn reflects on this by saying, “She’d do anything to keep me from seeing the real world.” Caitlyn’s defiance wasn’t just rebellion for its own sake—it was a stand for her ideals. She sought enlightenment and understanding, even if it meant stepping outside the privileged bubble her mother built for her. By venturing into the undercity and aligning herself with Vi, Caitlyn rejected her mother's own ideals.

Here's another scene in S1E8 that emphasizes this:

Cassandra: You're a Councilor's daughter. Your actions reflect on the entire body. Caitlyn: My actions? You know what else reflects on the Council? Its citizens living on the streets. Being poisoned. Having to chose between a kingpin who wants to exploit them and a government who doesn't give a shit!

In a way, her actions mirror Vi’s: just as Vi betrayed her people by working with the enforcers, Caitlyn betrayed her own mother by involving herself with Zaunites. Remember: The last time we see Caitlyn and Cassandra interact on-screen is during Caitlyn’s plea before the Council. And in that moment, Caitlyn was fighting to protect the very kind that would soon kill her own mother.

You say that Caitlyn’s drastic shift is unjustified, as she’s only experienced a fraction of the suffering Zaunites have been enduring. But that’s precisely the point! Her transformation shows how personal loss can drive the change of one’s entire character; she’s never experienced loss before which is why it feels so heavy for her. And unlike Zaunites, Caitlyn actually has the power to act on her grief. Zaunites have only known misery their whole lives. When their loved one dies, they know there is nothing more they can do but grieve. They don’t have an inch of the privilege and military support Caitlyn has. If you had given them the same resources as Caitlyn, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring ruin to Piltover. Simply put, they don’t fight Piltovans because they don’t want to, but because they can’t.

When Jinx takes her mother away, her compassionate ideals completely shatter. Having always sought justice and understanding for Zaun, Caitlyn feels deeply betrayed, as her faith in the good within every Zaunite is overturned. Her mother’s death becomes a turning point—driving her to abandon her ideals and adopt Piltover’s disdain for the undercity, finally understanding the resentment many Piltovans harbor.

We also tend to forget that, aside from losing her mother, Caitlyn has directly suffered under the hands of Jinx. Caitlyn was held captive by Jinx in Season 1—and God knows what was done to her during that period. In the tea party scene, we see Caitlyn break down in tears, visibly flinching when Jinx moves toward her. It’s clear that Jinx has traumatized Caitlyn not just once, but twice. These experiences deeply shape Caitlyn’s actions moving forward. The pain and fear she’s endured push her to a place where she’s willing to sacrifice almost anything, even if it means putting a child’s life at risk (Isha's) or severing ties with Vi.

While they share their differences, Caitlyn and Jinx are the perfect example of foil characters. Here’s an instance which proves this: Both allow themselves to be influenced by manipulative, powerful figures all while being in a vulnerable state of mind.

Jinx is haunted by guilt; her attempt to save her family only ended up killing them, leaving her with the crushing weight of self-blame. She clings to Silco, not because he was the father she needed, but because he was the father she wanted. Silco indulged her destructive tendencies, keeping her at an all-time high on the edges of chaos. Fragile and broken, Powder crossed paths with Silco at the right moment; he saw the perfect chance to mold her into someone bewildered, unrestrained, and astray.

Caitlyn has her own Silco: Ambessa, the ruthless Noxian leader with a brutal philosophy of war. Ambessa enters Caitlyn’s life at a pivotal moment, stepping in just as Caitlyn is grappling with the devastating loss of her mother. In a spiral of self-identity, Caitlyn struggles with the weight of Piltover’s expectations and her unresolved guilt over her strained relationship with her mother (as explained in previous paragraphs). Just as young Powder mourns her family, Caitlyn blames herself for the death of her mother. Caitlyn got herself involved with the Zaunites even when she was warned not to, and at the expense of her defiance came the death of her mother. Driven by guilt and a thirst for vengeance, Caitlyn steps fully into her role, declaring in S2E1: “I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman.”

Jinx and Caitlyn share a tragic parallel: they both lose everyone they hold dear. Jinx loses Vi, Vander, Claggor, and Mylo. Caitlyn is left without Cassandra, Vi, Jayce, Mel, and Tobias. Stripped of their support systems, they are left isolated, with no one to confide in or rely on. They become vulnerable, used as pawns in the larger schemes of Silco and Ambessa’s strategic games.

Caitlyn's inner turmoil is exactly why Ambessa’s manipulation is so effective. Caitlyn is compelled to take revenge, but she doesn’t know how to. And without anyone else to guide her, she places her complete trust in Ambessa's expertise. Ambessa doesn’t just give Caitlyn the authority and power to avenge her mother; she teaches her how to use them to their full potential. She toys with Caitlyn's vulnerability, making her adopt the Noxian values of wrath, bloodshed, and ruthlessness. 

It’s easy to downplay Caitlyn’s grief since she comes from an elite upbringing. While Cassandra Kiramman is laid to rest in a golden casket with a proper burial, countless innocents in Zaun become victims of merciless violence, being left to die on the streets. After the timeskip however, Caitlyn is shown to recognize the moral cost of her actions. Though the series portrays this realization subtly, it becomes evident that Caitlyn is grappling with the inhumanity and immorality of her pursuit of revenge. In S2E4, this internal conflict comes to light during her conversation with Ambessa. When Ambessa attempts to stoke her fury again, Caitlyn disarms her with a piercing question: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?”

Here's another scene that subtly depicts her realization and remorse:

Caitlyn: You're a monster. Why? Why do all this? Singed: Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? ... For love.

When Caitlyn steps further and sees Orianna, she realizes that Singed's revenge is a reflection of her own: a person grieving the death of their family member. Here, there's a saddened glint in her eyes. She finally understands now, that love and grief made her do things that once seemed so foreign to her. In this case, going against her own principles just to succeed in her revenge.

Caitlyn is now forever haunted by the outcome of her mistakes, but she knows her past cannot be erased. During her confrontation with Jinx in the prison, she admits, “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” While this statement is directed at Jinx, it feels like Caitlyn also holds this against herself for her own wrongdoings. 

Caitlyn’s acts of atonement are done quietly. She’s not good with words; she’s bad at articulating how she feels. Ironically, Vi is much better than Caitlyn when it comes to confronting and vocalizing internal conflict. So instead, Caitlyn’s actions speak for herself. By removing the guards at the prison, she tacitly allows Vi the opportunity to rescue Jinx. She knows Vi will come to save her sister, and yet she lets her. She finally lets go of Jinx and the grudge she held against her, as a silent act of her love for Vi.

And in S2E9, Sevika is shown to be sitting among the Councilors. But thanks to a fan's keen eyes, we find out that she is sat particularly on Cassandra Kiramman's chair (which not many notice). By allowing a Zaunite to occupy her mother's seat, Caitlyn gives them a chance to be rightfully represented, a chance for their voices and suffering to finally be heard. It’s a quiet display of Caitlyn’s evolution and willingness to bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun.

That said, Arcane’s ending left much to be desired regarding Caitlyn’s arc. The heavy focus on Hextech overshadowed the sociopolitical dynamics of Piltover and Zaun. This is the main reason a lot of hate is thrown toward Caitlyn—there is an act of accountability, but there a lack of consequence. While Caitlyn acknowledges her mistakes, her privileged status keeps her from real repercussions, unlike the tragedy other characters had to face. This is frustrating, even to me, as someone whose favorite character is Caitlyn. Yet, in a way, it realistically portrays the inequalities in our own world—where the elite are often shielded from justice, and repentance is the closest they ever come to redemption.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙗𝙤𝙮

Pairing: Lensless!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warning: Violence

Inspiration: “Loverboy” by A-Wall

—synopsis—

you break up with Mark and he absolutely loses his shit

a/n: i keep thinking about the turning point for all the variants, the moment when they finally go full psycho. this is my take on how it went down for the most unhinged of the bunch 😛 if y’all like this idea i might do the same setup for some of the other variants c: also can someone tell me how to center shit? i can't stand the way this photo is aligned to the left

Mark Grayson stood there, staring at his phone like it was some kind of strange, foreign object. The message from you, the words that had just shattered his world, danced in front of his eyes, flickering and mocking him.

We need to break up. I can’t do this anymore.

He blinked, once, twice—hoping the words would change. But no, they stayed there, taunting him. We need to break up. I can’t do this anymore. Over and over. His mind spun, his heart dropped. The world felt like it was suddenly tilting sideways.

No, no, no, he thought, shaking his head, trying to make sense of it. This can’t be happening. He had fought aliens. He had stopped monsters. He had beaten back threats from across the universe—and yet, here he was, powerless, staring at a screen.

His hands started to shake. He dropped the phone, watching it crack on the floor.

Why?

The question echoed in his head, over and over again. Why? What had he done wrong? He was Invincible, wasn’t he? He had saved the world. He had fought for the good of everyone… And you just throw it all away?

He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened. The suffocating pressure, the sting of betrayal—it all built up, bubbling beneath the surface.

But I’m not enough, am I? His voice, in his head, started to change—warped. Bitter. Angry. The hero, the one who always stood tall, suddenly felt small. No one was there to save him. Not you. Not anyone. Everyone had left him to stand alone, even when he gave everything for them.

His eyes darkened. His teeth clenched. The anger… it was coming. The rage, the darkness—it was pulling at him like a tidal wave.

Maybe it was time to stop pretending.

The phone rang. It was his father—Omni-Man. The same man who had told him all those awful truths about the world. The one who had turned everything upside down.

Mark didn’t even bother to answer. No one could save him anymore. Not his father. Not anyone.

His fists clenched, and the room around him started to crack. He could feel it—the power surging through his body, the rage making him tremble. Every muscle in him screamed for release.

They all leave eventually. He thought of you. Of how you’d just thrown him away like a broken toy. It was sickening. He could feel it crawling under his skin—like something was snapping inside him.

I tried. I really tried to be good, to do everything right, but it never mattered, did it? Now? Now the world was his playground. They all wanted him to break. And they would get exactly what they wanted.

He stepped outside, shot into the air with charged energy, the world below him nothing but a blur of lights and noise. He needed this. Wanted it. It was the only thing that felt real anymore. He could hear the people below, terrified. They had no idea. They had no idea what he was about to become.

Mark grinned. It was a twisted, manic grin—a grin that didn’t belong on the face of the boy who had once been a hero.

“I did everything for you.” He muttered to himself, his voice thick with insanity. He floated over the city, his eyes gleaming with something darker than hate. “Everything. For you. And you—” He laughed, an unhinged, breathless sound that filled the empty space. “You don’t even care, do you?”

The city trembled beneath him, a test, a challenge.

He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t need to. In fact… it felt good. No, it felt great.

With a violent snap of his wrist, the skyline cracked, buildings folding under his power. People screamed below him, running, hiding.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Mark called out, his voice light and playful, as if this was just another game. “It’s not the end. Not yet, anyway. We’ve got all night, right?”

He paused, letting the devastation sink in. The city was crumbling, and he was loving every second of it. He hovered there, savoring it, as the world around him burned.

Hours later, the night was still. The destruction was only a whisper now, the silence hanging in the air like a promise. Mark flew through the streets, his mind buzzing with a strange kind of glee. His thoughts were chaotic, but one thing was clear.

He knew where you were.

Mark floated toward your house, the familiar street now a place of twisted anticipation. It was so quiet. Too quiet.

He could see your lights on through the window. He could hear your heartbeat, faint but steady, inside.

A manic grin spread across his face. He didn’t need to think anymore. It was all so simple now. The game was changing. The stakes? Well, they were everything.

Mark landed gently on the lawn, the grass bending under his feet. He didn’t knock. He didn’t have to.

He could feel the power surging through him, making his skin hum with excitement. He was a bomb ready to explode, and you were the fuse.

“You know,” he said, voice dripping with dark amusement as he slowly approached the door, his steps heavy, controlled. “I thought maybe I’d let you see what happens next. But I think it’ll be more fun if you feel it.” He grinned, twisted, and so full of madness.

The door creaked open, just a crack. He leaned in, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll enjoy this. Not so sure about you though.”

And with that, the door flew open, the shadows swallowing the light from inside.

Part Two!

[vladtoly]

Close Call

Dae-Ho x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Proofread: No

Word Count: 690

A/N: I need to preface this by saying I really loved Thanos' character and I simply portrayed him this way for the blurb. No hate for him, I swear! Also I did struggle a bit making Dae-ho the jealous type, so he may come off more protective than anything. Hope it's still good, thank you for requesting!

As the second game came to a close, you sat anxiously on your bunk, watching the entrance doors. Your boyfriend had been on a different team, though not by his own choice. Originally, you had been with his group, but when player 222 had come to them, revealing she was pregnant? You immediately gave up your spot. Dae-ho looked like he wanted to object and offer to leave instead, but you silence him with a simple side eye. Whatever group you were in, you’d assumed you would be fine, or at least hoped. And you were.

Now you were just worried about him.

“Senorita, excuse me. Mind if I join?”

You sighed as a weight landed on your mattress, the voice not waiting for your answer. Just a glance at your side revealed it to be Thanos. You hadn’t even been in his group, just sitting in the one behind his- but that didn’t stop him from turning around and dropping pick up lines constantly. It had almost been a relief when it was your group’s turn.

Shifting away, you kept your eyes on the entrance. “I do, actually, thanks.”

The man ignored your answer and made himself comfortable, man spreading and propping his arms behind him on the mattress. He seemed to know how to make any space crowded, all on his own.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at the door. All you need is right here,” he purred out, leaning his head closer to you.

“I’m waiting on my boyfriend. You can leave.” Your reply was short and sharp, hoping maybe obvious disinterest would make him leave. But you also doubted it.

The weight moved closer, and as soon as you felt a hand on your arm, your head finally snapped to look at him. “Do you know what ‘leave’ means?”

His face split into a goofy grin, obviously high off one of the pills you saw him pop earlier. “Well, I finally got you to look at me, didn’t I?”

Before you could respond, a hand grabbed Thanos’ hoodie and dragged him off the bed. When the owner of the hand came into view, you were more relieved to see Dae-ho. He was alive. Thank God.

“Why were you touching her?” he nearly yelled, his attention directed at Thanos.

Oh, right. You almost forgot about him.

Thanos just laughed, shoving himself out of your boyfriend’s grip. He brushed himself off as you quickly went to Dae-ho’s side.

“She looked lonely. I was just trying to help, you know?” Thanos leaned closer. “When you finally drop dead, then I’ll really help her.”

“You fucking bas-“Your words were cut off as Dae-ho lands a hard blow to his cheek.

Hobbling back, Thanos tried to lunge forward only to have the rest of your group step in front of him, making a wall. Your eyes were trained on him until a gentle hand touched your cheek, directing you to look away. As you turned, your eyes met with soft brown ones, wide with worry. “Hey, are you okay? What happened, what did he do?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice grounded you. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Nothing, he didn’t get the chance.”

His shoulders finally relaxed, resting his forehead on yours. “God, remind me to never leave you alone again.”

“Dae-ho, he was more of an annoyance than anything. He’s been doing shit like that all day.” You sighed out.

He groaned, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “Trust me, I noticed.”

The words sank in. A small smirk began to form on your face. “Were you watching us earlier?”

“Kind of impossible not to. I wanted to check on you, and he also happens to be the loudest guy here. Makes it hard not to notice.” His eyes remained on the ceiling as he spoke.

Chuckling softly, you gently moved him back to look at you. “I’m okay. I’m right here and okay. Thank you for looking out for me.”

A deep sigh left him as he placed a firm kiss to your forehead, mumbling against the skin, “Someone has to.”

---------------

Squid Game headcannon/blurb requests are OPEN!

[whokilledsamara]

I loved ur alphabet nsfw with scarletella!!! BUTTT SPECIFICALLY the umbrella one!!! Is it possible to ummm maybe you'd write that whole situation down?? ANDDD I feel like he'd only do it if he's mad n being a lil petty!

MISUSE

a Mr. Scarletella x afab!reader fic. {an: ooo... i like this one.. i have a similar request and i will do both of them. love me some misuse of an object}

warnings! : misuse of an umbrella {handle is inserted, but you get poked with the tip}, bleeding, hatefucking, sadism, afab reader {i can write amab in another request if needed}, bondage, non/dub-con, "forced" blowjob, VERY SHORT FIC

{an : i was super excited to write this one, as soon as i got the notification for this request i had to write it. thank you all for the support! this one could be considered non-con, but its really just hate fucking, reader doesnt say no. sorry this one isnt long, its just a quick thing im writing before i go to sleep}

hiding didn't work. you could hear the static in your head, matter of fact you could see it too. the cold, and slightly damp flooring made your senses all the more tingling, head a bit woozy from all the running. it was innocent really, the man who always happened to be crawling brought you a gift, and in return you gave him a small peck on the cheek. you hadn't thought anything of it, but you saw him. he saw you too.

bold move. he saw it as defiance. doesn't matter if it was innocent or not, he noticed. he notices everything even when you don't know he is there. the moment you saw red flash in the corner of your eye, you knew you fucked up.

why did you touch that stupid umbrella..

hours passed and nothing happened. you assumed everything was fine, and that perhaps Mr. Scarletella had just gotten his feelings hurt, not angry as you had assumed. but your hopes were cut short when you heard him, his voice filled with static and coldness as usual.

"Knees."

the way he said it in his language unwillingly did something to you, though you would never admit it. sighing to yourself, you obey his command and slowly sink to your knees. your gaze is locked on the floor as his eyes glare at you. though you aren't looking at him, you can feel it.

his presence alone makes the room feel thick and uncomfortable, but having his cock shoved down your throat definitely didn't make it any better. it was your fault really. you knew better than to attempt to get past him. his strong hand on your hair made sure you were kept up as high as you could go without actually leaving your knees, his thick length clouding your senses as you desperately tried to choke it down. tears welled in your eyes and all you could see was that sadistic grin that he almost always had on his face, though it was wider this time.

once he had his fill, and so did you, he yanked your head off of him, watching sadistically as you gasp for air. the dried tears on your face only made his heart rate speed up, that shit eating grin never leaving his face.

"You, remove, clothing." he says. not even as a question, but a statement. sputtering and coughing up his leftovers, you grudgingly slip off your bottoms, eyes closed and face flushed with embarrassment. his head tilts and he hums in response, crouching down in front of you.

your body is tense, and your eyes are squeezed tight with anticipation. his long, slender hand makes you shiver at the coldness as he parts your leg, putting you on display for him. a few seconds go by, and just as you are about to open your eyes, you feel a cold poke to your clit. its cold, and strange, making your eyes snap open to stare at the foreign object.

his umbrella.

you start stuttering and looking up at him with a worried expression, the tip of it pressed firmly against your clit. he experimentally moves it back and fourth, making your hips unwillingly jerk from the sensations. your face heats up and you watch carefully as he flips the object around, suddenly pressing the edge of the handle against your opening. "w-what the fuck.. what? that wont fit.. what are you do-" you begin to argue, but are quickly cut off as he pushes it in, using the curled part to his advantage and pushing it as deep as he can. you let out a shriek, thighs trembling and hands firmly planted on the damp ground beside you. he makes a few curious thrusts with it, seemingly getting off on the view, or maybe even feeling it himself.

"a-ah.. hurts.. mngh.." you manage to choke out, your voice a low whine as he twists the handle inside of you. he seems to notice a bit of blood around your opening, only exciting him further as he thrusts it faster. your legs lift slightly and you cry out, his hand shooting to cover your mouth as to not alert the other members. eyes clenched shut, he curves the handle just the perfect amount, that for some reason makes your vision go black for a second as you unwillingly orgasm around the foreign object.

pathetic noises leave your lips, his hand tightening around your lower face as his grin only grows wider. "Good." he mutters, slowly pulling the umbrella out of you. his hand leaves your face and before you can think properly he is pushing the handle into your mouth, effectively making you taste the mix of cum and blood off of it. "Clean." and so you do. you quickly suck off whatever you can, your face tired and worn. he pulls it out of your mouth and pats your head, before static surrounds him.

and hes gone.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[killiaia]

Bratty Jiu.

One girlsband. One fic by members. Leader to Maknae.

Start with Dreamcatcher.

The first time Jiu saw a video of you performing with the other group, she didn't react immediately. She blinked, staring at her phone screen as if she didn't understand what she was seeing.

You were there, center stage, surrounded by those girls. You were dancing with the same intensity that had always fascinated her, with the precision and energy that made him such an exceptional dancer. But what struck her wasn't your technique or your passion for dance.

It was the way you looked at them.

Those girls.

You smiled at them. You guided them with fluidity, your movements perfectly synchronized with theirs. Sometimes, you'd place a hand on the waist of one of them to adjust a posture. Other times, you'd meet their eyes with that natural assurance, that charisma that made you irresistible on stage.

Jiu felt a lump form in her stomach.

She had always told herself that she wasn't a jealous girl. That she trusted you. But at this very moment, that confidence seemed to be wavering, cracking under the weight of a feeling she had no control over.

The video continued, and the more she watched, the tighter her heart became.

There was one girl in particular who caught her eye. An idol known for her beauty and charisma. And you... you were giving her knowing glances. The kind of looks he usually reserved for people he felt comfortable with. To people he liked.

"Since when is he so close to her?"

An unpleasant heat invaded her chest. She tried to tell herself that this was just professionalism, that on stage, dancers had to exude that chemistry to captivate the audience.

But she couldn't convince herself.

The hardest part was watching you dance a duet with this girl.

It was sensual, fluid choreography. Your movements were perfectly coordinated. You guided her with ease, and she let herself go, her eyes plunged into yours.

Jiu felt her stomach twist.

She knew what it was like. A dancer herself, she knew that a good performance required connection, trust between partners. But seeing you, her boyfriend gives that connection to another girl hurt.

Too much.

She abruptly switched off her phone and threw it on the bed, as if the object were burning her fingers. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm the panicked beating of her heart.

But the damage was done.

Jealousy was seeping into her like a poison, slow and insidious.

And worst of all, she knew you probably weren't doing anything wrong.

But that didn't change the fact that she hated seeing another girl in your arms, feeling that you'd shared something with someone else while she was away.

--

The air was electric in the training room of Dreamcatcher. After several weeks' of absence, you were finally back. You'd been on tour with another girlband as a dancer, an incredible opportunity you couldn't refuse. But now you were back where you belonged, with the girls of Dreamcatcher... and especially with Jiu.

Jiu sat in a corner, her gaze fixed on him. She said nothing, but her silence was louder than any words. From the moment you'd walked through the studio door, a radiant smile on your face, she'd never stopped watching you. Not in the tender, loving way she was used to looking at him. No, this time it was different.

You could feel the tension. You knew it by heart. Jiu wasn't the type to hide her emotions, and here they were written in big letters on her face: she was jealous. Terribly jealous.

- Jiu, aren't you going to welcome me? you asked, approaching her.

She crossed her arms, her gaze hard.

- You're already welcomed, aren't you? I'm sure your little touring companions have made your day.

You sighed. You'd expected this, but he still hoped she'd give him a chance to explain.

- You know very well it was just a job. That's all it was.

- A job? Really?" she hissed. Did you see the videos ? Because I have. Those girls looked at you like you were their regular dancer... or more.

- Stop being a fucking brat. I was just doing my job! Nothing happened!

- I saw how one of the members was looking at you like she wanted you to fuck her like a slut on stage. 

- I'm leaving. When you stop being a fucking brat and stop behaving like my girlfriend, you let me know. 

- You like it when I'm a brat. 

- I do! I do! I like it when you're my submissive little brat but not when you're a jealous bitch. So I'm outta here. You know where to find me. 

--

You come home completely exhausted from training. You'd have liked to have had a bit of a vacation, even though you've just come back from tour, but no. As soon as it's over, you're back at it. As soon as it's over, you're back at it. 

It's been a hard day. You had to train with several bands. Some to appear in their video as an extra, others to be a back dancer.

You didn't see Jiu all day, and her reaction irritated you, but on the other hand you understood her. You were jealous of her performance at some tour , but you're more the type to say nothing. You'd have liked to see her and tell her it was all childish and that you wanted to be with her.

But that's not how it goes. 

As soon as you've put your key in the lock of your apartment door, you notice that it's not locked. Suspicious, you slowly step back on your guard.

A burglary? You wrap your keys around your hand, ready to fight, but what lies ahead doesn't make you want to fight. Quite the opposite, in fact.

In front of you, dark hair in a mess, nibbling lips, enchanting curves, long legs, thighs that just want to be kissed, hardened nipples where your tongue just wants to lick them, but above all that pussy. That pussy just begging to be fucked.

Jiu is completely naked in front of you.

"Hey daddy. I wanted to apologize for my behavior. So I got you something. " 

You swallow slowly and ask 

"And what's that?"

With seductive steps, Jiu moves towards you. You don't dare move and Jiu clings to you. The warmth of her body, her nipples you feel against you.

Jiu grabs your hand and you let her, intoxicated by her.

Jiu licks your fingers and you hold back a moan.

"My mouth. " 

She moves your hand down to her breasts and with her hand forces you to grab one of them.

"My breasts. "

God, her voice. 

Gently, almost painfully, she brings your hand down, you expect to touch her pussy but at the last moment she puts your hand on her thigh.

"My thighs." 

You nod, you don't know why, but you nod anyway. With a sensual gesture, Jiu sticks closer to you and directs your hand to her ass and whispers in your ear. 

"My ass."

You want to fuck her right now. 

But Jiu still hasn't made you touch the last place. The most important, your favorite part of her.

So gently, sensuously and almost intoxicatingly, Jiu takes your hand, spreads the folds of her pussy with your fingers and murmurs erotically against your lips.

"My tight little pussy. "

You don't wait any longer. You kiss her and push a finger straight into her pussy and Jiu hasn't lied, it's tight.

Plastered against the wall Jiu looks up in pleasure, the intrusion sudden but too good. You don't give her time to think, you insert a second finger and the noises her pussy makes are obscene but so sensual. 

Jiu moans into your mouth and runs her hands around your neck to deepen the kiss. 

"I've missed you, Daddy. " Jiu says against your mouth.

"It's that Jiu I've missed. My little brat ."

Jiu wants to say something but you quicken the pace of your fingers. You pull your fingers out of her vagina, Jiu wants to protest but her protest dies in her throat when you start touching her clit. 

"Do you like it? You like Daddy touching your pussy? My needy brat. "

Jiu undulates her pelvis to get more friction from your fingers but you slap her pussy, making her tremble with pleasure. 

"Don't you fucking move. Stay against the wall and spread your legs. "

Jiu nods and spreads her legs. You kiss her and get down on your knees. Before you her pussy looks so appetizing. Gently, you step forward and lift your head, staring into Jiu's eyes, and lick her clit.

"Oh my god. " Jiu says, biting her lip.

You're licking everywhere. Her clit, with your fingers you spread the folds of her pussy and lick. You grab her leg and pull it over your shoulder.

"Daddy! "

With this new angle, you have better access to her pussy. You place a few kisses on her clit and feel Jiu's hands in your hair. 

With your tongue, you make circular movements on her clit and Jiu presses her pussy against your mouth. You grab her buttocks and stick to her pussy, making Jiu wobble. She catches herself on a shelf behind and your next move is unexpected. You put both hands under her legs and lift Jiu off the floor.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD" Yells Jiu, overwhelmed by pleasure.

Plastered against the wall and in the air. You feast on her pussy. Jiu presses your face against her pussy and you feel the young woman roll her pelvis, she wants to cum. 

This happens when you insert a finger into her asshole. You feel Jiu's legs trembling and you quickly pull out of her vagina to grab her and place her gently on the floor.

You're face to face and Jiu is still trembling. Breathing hard, she looks up at you and you see envy, desire and, above all, love. Gently, you approach her. You grab her chin and Jiu plants her gaze on yours. You approach her and kiss her. Jiu wraps her arms around your neck and deepens the kiss. You place your hand on her cheek and insert your tongue into her mouth. 

After several seconds, you part breathlessly. 

"More? "You ask.

"I want to suck your dick daddy. "

"That's my brat. "You say, kissing her on the forehead. "Here? " 

Jiu nods and you stand up. Your gaze anchored in hers, you remove your belt and pants. Jiu supports your gaze but she quickly looks away when you pull out your cock. 

Just as you're about to say something, Jiu swallows your cock. No game, no tease, in one motion your cock hits the back of Jiu's throat. 

"Holy shit," you swear. "Did you miss it that much? " 

Jiu says nothing. She doesn't answer you, she's focused on sucking your cock. With a wet pop, she takes your cock out of her mouth and looks at you. She grabs your cock and starts to wank you gently. She places several kisses on your cock. She starts from the tip and works her way up to your balls. 

"I've missed your cock so much. " 

You'd like to say something, but the way Jiu is licking your balls is stopping you. On top of that, Jiu starts jerking you off. Slow movements, then speeding up. 

Jiu licks all over your cock and engulfs your dick again. She bops her head and you groan.

"Fuck, princess." You moan.

The only sound you hear is Jiu's gags. Jiu is starving, the speed at which she bops her head makes you lose your mind. 

With a wet pop, Jiu pulls out your dick and jerks you off, licking the tip.

"Daddy gonna drop a big load of cum down my throat?"

"You bet. "

Jiu gives you a beautiful smile and takes your cock back into his mouth.

"Fucking bratty princess. You suck my dick like a pro. "

Jiu moans around your cock. She loves compliments.

All of a sudden you grab Jiu's hair and without warning, you thrust.

Although surprised, Jiu takes it like a pro. She grabs your hips and even forces you further down her throat.

It suits you.

Your thrusts are faster and more violent. But Jiu holds on, she gags and her eyes fill with tears. You don't stop, you feel yourself coming and with a sharp thrust, you sink into her throat and spill your hot cum.

After a long, hoarse moan, you withdraw your cock and fall gently to the floor. Jiu catches his breath and looks at you.

"You are so fucking good princess. "

Jiu looks you straight in the eye and opens her mouth. Without a word, she swallows your cum. 

You waste no time and grab Jiu. You bend her over the sofa armrest and spread her ass. Jiu says nothing and lets out a moan as you start inserting two fingers into her pussy.

"Tonight I'm taking care of all your holes. I'll start with your pussy."

"Please..." begs Jiu. 

You position yourself behind her and take your cock in hand. With your cock you tease Jiu. You run your cock over the folds of her pussy. 

"Put it in. " 

Jiu rests her head against the sofa and with her hands spreads her buttocks. The view is absolutely breathtaking. You don't hesitate for a second to ram your cock inside her, wringing a moan of pleasure from her. 

"I've missed your pussy so much. "

Jiu would like to say something but you speed up the strokes of your pelvis. The only sounds that come out of her mouth are moans.  With your hands you grab the young woman's hips and speed up again. 

"And you dared to think I'd fuck another idol when I've got you. How is it possible to do without you? This tour has been hell. "

"Oh god!" Jiu moans.

"Evenings of loneliness. "You penetrate Jiu. "Evenings imagining you sucking me off." Another blow. "I imagined you like tonight, bent over and me taking you like the brat you are. "

"Don't you dare compare yourself to others ever again. You're my brat. Is that clear? "

"YES DADDY! "

You pick up the pace and the sound of flesh against flesh gets louder and louder. You lean over Jiu and kiss her neck, drawing a little moan from her. You kiss the back of her neck and, with one hand, knead her breast. Jiu wants to moan, but suddenly you grab her face and turn to kiss her. Jiu moans into your mouth and you continue to fuck her pussy.

"I'm going to cum. "Jiu moans against your mouth.

"Go for it. "You answer against her mouth. 

Jiu closes her eyes and concentrates on her pleasure. You straighten up and grab Jiu's hips firmly. You don't hesitate for a second and fuck Jiu like the brat she is.

The strokes are more powerful, faster. You feel Jiu's pussy tighten around your cock. 

"Oh Fuck! "Jiu shouts. 

You feel her pussy clench and Jiu starts shaking, her breathing jerking. Gently, you lie on top of her and kiss the back of her neck.

"Good girl. "

You don't give her time to come to her senses. Your cock is quickly replaced by two of your fingers. 

"It feels so good," says Jiu. 

"And this will be better," you reply to Jiu.

With your hand you spread her ass and start licking her asshole.

Jiu arches her back in pleasure as you lick her hole. 

"Oh...Daddy.. That's...so...so...good."

You concentrate on licking her hole as you continue to move your fingers in and out of her pussy. 

You feel Jiu undulate her pelvis to get more friction and you decide to slap her ass. 

"Don't fucking move. "

Jiu relents and with her hands spreads her ass even wider. 

After licking her asshole you stand up and position yourself behind her. You grab your cock and put it in front of her asshole.

"I'm going to take it slow. "You warn Jiu.

"No!" 

"What? " 

"Don't be gentle! Fuck my asshole like the brat I am. "

My god the voice with which Jiu said that. If you weren't hard, you'd get a hard-on straight away.

You push your cock into her ass and Jiu encourages you. 

"Come on daddy. FUCK ME IN THE ASS. "

A powerful thrust drives you into her ass and Jiu screams with pleasure. Your thrusts are powerful and bestial. You grip her hips, your thrusts move the couch and Jiu grips the couch. 

Jiu puts her hand under her body and starts touching her clit.

"I love having your big cock in my ass so much. Fuck me. "

"Your ass is so tight. "

"Fill me up. Fill my ass with cum. "

Your thrusts are slower but much deeper. You manage to shove your entire cock up Jiu's ass. 

"I'm so going to fill your ass."

"Do it. Do it daddy. "

One last thrust and you cum in Jiu's ass. Jiu, still busy touching her clit, follows you a few seconds later and your cock is expelled from her ass.

Completely out of breath you stand back and admire your art. Your cum shoots out of her ass and down to her pussy. You slap her ass for the last time.

"Fucking brat. “

Jiu laugh softly.

[honeydewandcake]

TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

[1-800-local-slut]

Hello , I wanted to ask if you could please do powerpuff girl(bliss) reader in invincible . How she met mark grayson/rex splode. Their relationship and other reactions to it. Bliss has super strength, durability, and the ability to fly , Electric Generation - When Bliss!reader is emotionally fueled enough, she generates a field of electricity. When released, this unleashes a gigantic, destructive explosion. Telekinesis, Teleportation and Energy Manipulation: Bliss can generate and manipulate energy. Fusion - Bliss has the ability to combine her entity with other beings.

Powerpuff girls used to be my showww omg, Bliss was my favorite! I love the way you think pookie! Anyways, I didn't want the character born with the powers because I wanted this story to be more lighthearted and a lot of Bliss's storyline has to do with her anxiety making it hard for her to control her powers. These are also head canons because I had so many thoughts, I couldn't get them all down in a proper story format

Warnings: none, just fluff, good vibes, and some smut!

Note: reader was struck by an electrical accident at her father's job, giving her powers! I lowkey hate this but I hope you can enjoy!

Mark Grayson x Black! Superpowered! Reader

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

↯ You and Mark met in school. Started dating in middle school but your feelings grew deeper once you got into high school. Both awkward, pimply preteens who were struggling with growing into society. Yet you liked each other through your ugly duck phases and grew. Mark didn't need no other woman than you, especially when you loved him through that phase where he tried to grow his hair out.

↯ Not just because you were there when no other girl would look at him but because of you as a person. You were fierce, confident, honest even if it got you in trouble, a fighter. Even before you both had a glow up, he thought you were far out of his league

↯ He loved you no matter what. Even when he saw you in that hospital after your accident, looking nothing like his girlfriend. Tubes protruded from your chest, your face bandaged up, eyes swollen shut, bloodied bandages covered your body.

↯ Even when you were released and couldn't speak for months.

↯ Even when you started to change. The scars from the watts of electricity were never going away. After intense therapy you came to admire the lightning marks on your skin, even desiring to have them tattooed over to have them be more prominent

↯ But when they started glowing, that's when Mark got worried.

↯ When your curls suddenly became an electric shade of blue with a patch of it a lighter blue to the rest, he got really worried

↯ Mark had gotten used to having powers but now he had to get yours as well. He found himself walking you home one night then comforting you after you blasted a mugger who jumped out at you two. The lines of your skin came to life with energy then died down and a streetlight had blown out from the sudden manifestation of your powers

↯ But it's no biggie. He's a little freaked out for sure, especially when you snap at him from overstimulation one day and a large burst of electricity caused you to zap him along with knocking out all of the power in Chicago

↯ He spends the next few months helping you learn to control and understand your powers with each new one that popped up

↯ Energy manipulation outburst? Don't sweat it babe, he's got a book on deep breathing techniques and will leave it on your nightstand

↯ Two out of three of the Three T's: Telekinesis, Teleportation, and no Telepathy? He lets you practice lifting him into the air and giving you smaller objects to help you train the power.

↯ He'd fly when he saw you getting frustrated at your lack of progress and it was worth it just to see the look on your face

↯ Teleportation is his favorite of your powers. He forgot his wallet one day and you surprised him by teleporting home for it and placing it in his hand a second later

↯ You guys go flying together, and he's a decent teacher. He tries describing it to you the way his dad taught him, but it doesn't work for you the same way. You get the hang of it eventually, excitedly showing him before you got too excited. He watched you shoot into the sky with a scream and a flash of blue light trailing behind you

↯ He caught you in your panicked fall to the ground, before you could slap your face on concrete and end up back in the hospital

↯ Overtime, you two fell into a deeper understanding of yourselves and your powers even after a really rough patch where you nearly came to blows

↯ It was after Omni man tried to murder your boyfriend. You tried to be understanding but Mark was going through it so bad that it seemed like he didn't even like you anymore

↯ Now? Mark grew angry at the mention of a strong man trying to tell him something. Issue was, Mark wasn't just angry. Mental health can change a person

↯ He was angry when you tried to go out. How could you want to go fuck around outside when there were bigger issues at hand? He didn't trust you, suddenly jealous of your friends. You wanted to be with them more than him! But why would you want to be around someone who you just argued with and cried with every day?

↯ You were at the end of your rope and Mark realized it after it was almost too late.

↯ You two went through middle school together, you could survive anything. So, in one last attempt, you kicked down Mark's bedroom door and killed the power in his TV

↯ His options were, 'let's talk it out or say goodbye to the last five years of relationship bliss'. And because Mark loved you, he broke. The angry man wasn't totally gone, but piece by piece your loving man came back.

↯ The other thing Mark loves about you is how you do not quit. When he pushed you away, suddenly kept little secrets from you, woke up seemingly like a rabid dog, you stuck it through for months. The same way he stuck through you getting powers and through your accident and the storm after.

↯ He knows he was a lot during those months, and he thanks you to this day for sticking with him through it

↯ From there, you two were stronger than before

↯ Mark does anything for you, you do anything for him

↯ You guys go on dates twice a week if you can but your rarely separated unless it's to go to space

↯ His enemies are your enemies. You've beaten up Angstrom Levy for him twice during that Invincible War, but he was able to trick you and get away twice before you were ordered to stand down from Angstrom and focus on the variants

↯ And you being a popular hero as well had your own villains who seemed really determined to fuck with you. Like when that hardheaded hoe Gaia didn't learn after you kept giving her beat downs and caused your parents to have a car accident.

↯ Mark was first on the scene. He witnessed the terror being caused on the bridge. He dragged your parents' unconscious bodies out of their upside-down car and could smell the ass whopping you were about to give this girl.

↯ Mark dated you for long enough to get along with your parents, so he really didn't mind putting her in a choke hold and sending her to prison. It was safer for her there, considering if you got hands on her that night, you would've turned her everyway but lose about your parents

↯ The media loves you two. Not because you made your relationship clear but because fans picked up on the little moments you two shared. Duplikates side hobby as vlogging her life as a superhero showcased a few tender moments.

↯ When you'd share food on a team trip to Wendy's. Drinking from the same straw. Those little jokes he'd whisper into your ear.

↯ Even in the heat of battle. The tendency to always float near or around each other, leaning on one another, watching each other's back just a bit closer.

↯ The one day you and Kate were cooking something on live and he passed by before slapping you on your ass and you didn't react in anger but instead you smiled on instinct before pushing him away from you

↯ The clip of Invincible letting Immortal get kicked in the face to move you out of danger was one of the funniest clips on Twitter for a while too

↯ The comments under your interviews always went crazy too, but neither of you were Guardians so it didn't matter. The only real confirmation the media got was purely your fault. You still don't regret it though. You love Mark and Invincible equally!

↯ You all went to Italy on a mission. And being dumb young adults, you followed Mark, Rex, and Eve. Monster Girl tagged along and of course Robot followed to go wine tasting. Wine that you all finished rather quickly. So, there was an image online of a tipsy Electra with her tongue in Invincibles mouth while Atom Eve took a photo with the flash on in the back.

↯ And Invincible instinctively kissed your back, hands holding your face and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. He didn't even care about the cameras. He pulled back licking his lips before going in for more

↯ There was another flash, and you all realized there were news camera who heard of superheroes wine tasting in Italy. So yeah. They caught that on TV.

↯ And oh boy, was Cecil thrilled when that image came across his desk

↯ But Mark is so unashamed of you that when you all got back and you two were grilled, he proceeded to keep his grasp on your hand. And Cecil couldn't really do shit about it. He knew about the two of you, he would just prefer you two not to be making out on the international news.

↯ That PLUS the fact that Cecil could never tell you what to do. Fuck a part-timer, you were a volunteer. You refused to be sacrificed for white America. You'd hung up on him twice already, he knew better than to try again

↯ Mark loves affection, despite the 'Italy incident' you two did have human lives. And from those human lives you had parents who taught you better than to show your asses in public, let alone on TV so PDA isn't very crazy often unless it's like a party or something.

↯ You two cuddle all the time. In college you were often snuggled up with him, now he often flies to your dorm when he gets the chance and wraps himself around you

↯ He's planting kisses to you every moment he gets, only when he's feeling very affectionate.

↯ You do mostly initiate though, clinging to him like a leech. Especially when he isn't wearing a shirt, good luck getting you off.

↯ You just love your little snowbunny (a name he hates)

↯ He likes to give you things though. Food, clothing, sexy clothing too. You were both grown now, and despite that step you two had yet to take you weren't exactly young and innocent

↯ Those phone calls when one of you were gone over night got very interesting

↯ From apologizing for accidentally touching one of your boobs to now resting his head on them late at night while watching a movie with no cares was a comforting change

↯ Mark gets nasty, the boy has spent his entire life with you and every sexual fantasy he's ever had revolved around you.

↯ It got so severe that his dad (before he decided to go fuck off somewhere) realized he had no attraction to white women at all when he found his computer. That's how he came downstairs one morning, and all his dad said was "maybe you should put a password on your laptop" before he flew off to dodge the conversation with his confused son

↯ Mark went black and never thought of leaving

↯ Mark is more reserved in his thoughts. He tells you things if you ask, but he can be pretty quiet sometimes. He's once sat there for two hours in silence eating crackers and you forgot he was there

↯ But when you get him talking? It's like a faucet. He'll talk about seance dog, he'll talk about his new socks, he'll talk about a dream he had four days ago and just remembered to tell you about

↯ He's also always sending you IG reels. It can be literally anything, but he loves sending those couple memes to you

↯ You use each other's slang, you started saying 'deadass?' and he started saying 'bitch please', with your eyeroll and everything

↯ If Mark gets nasty, there's no word to describe how you get.

↯ The moment you feel the slightest bit turned on; you're rubbing up on Mark. He swears that you're always the one who starts him up and you swear it's his fault for being alive. Who knows?

↯ He's running his hands all over your body, up your shirt and down your pants, he's sucking bruises into your neck. You're pushing him down onto his back, straddling him then pressing your kisses to his neck

↯ It always stopped when one of you felt yourselves losing control. God, forbid you electrocute his dick; God forbid he accidentally breaks your spine from being too rough

↯ Until one night when the liquor got a hold of you both and refused to let go.

↯ It would start with you two stumbling into his bedroom window, sliding out of your mini dress and ripping off his t-shirt

↯ He wants to be gentle with you, he does. But he's a 20-year-old man who's wanted to have sex with you since he started puberty, and you just got finer with age. Even the prospect of you electrocuting him sounded thrilling

↯ He's rolling his hips into you, lips attached to yours while he let his hands roam free. Across your chest, over your curves, over your scars. One sharp moan you let out when he thrusted against your covered crotch snapped him back into his senses

"No no no don't stop!"

"I don't want to hurt you." He reluctantly pulled his hands away from you and you followed him, chasing the feeling of his hands on you.

"Baby, baby please you won't hurt me. Please? If you're not ready we can stop." You whimpered, running a hand over the smooth skin of his chest.

"No, I'm ready!" He's been ready since he could be.

"I've been ready. I don't want to hurt you. That's my biggest fear, hurting you. Especially during sex. I want this to be good for you. I don't want this to be a bad memory and then sex is something we only do once in a while or never again. It's your call." He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes locking. He saw the woman he had grown with and loved through his entire life. Did you see him the same way?

"Baby, I'm basically invincible. You can't hurt me. You would never hurt me, I know that. I want to do this with you. And at this point I really need you." Your voice lowered, planting a kiss to his shoulder blade and he shuddered.

"And I won't electrocute you, I pinky swear! The power might go out, but I take care of myself all the time, you've watched me do it. I can handle it."

You were on your boyfriends lap the next second, feeling what you've been dreaming of pressing against you.

"I might like being electrocuted." He pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His arms shook in anticipation. Two hours later, four blocks lost power, and you were fast asleep in his arms.

[leupagus]

x

#anyway I'm team 'please don't fuck your coworkers it will make for a bad time'#honestly the fic I want to write is one character having to listen to all the gossip about everybody else's love life#while their internal monologue is like 'WHY WOULD YOU FUCK YOUR COWORKER THAT'S A BAD IDEA'#it would obviously end with them fucking a coworker because: lol

goddammit I incepted myself

September 2023

Jack came back from his vacation right in the middle of Fucking New Kids Jesus Christ season, which was bullshit considering he’d tried to time his vacation to skip this entirely.

“You do realize you’ll have to meet them sometime,” Ellis told him flatly when he explained his logic. “Like, you can’t just skip introducing yourself to the baby interns and med students.”

“You’ve been here two years now, when did I ever introduce myself to you?” Jack pointed out. “Come to think of it, who are you—”

“I will beat you with your own leg and your nasty-ass Hokas, don’t think I won’t,” Ellis said, closing her locker and offering him her hand. “Come on, we’re late for rounds.”

“You’re late for rounds,” he said, but accepted the hand up. “I’m the senior attending tonight, God help you all.”

It was Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, statistically the quietest night of an ED’s typical week, and sure enough the board was only moderately disgusting when they came out to hand off with days. 

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you,” Dana said with a broad wink, giving Jack a peck on the cheek as she grabbed her keys from the desk. "Welcome back, handsome."

"Good to be back, gorgeous," he replied as she swatted him on the arm. He caught Ellis’s glare and spread his hands, what? Like it was his fault Ellis had gone and fallen in love with a straight woman.

“No, see, I haven’t fallen in love with a straight woman,” Ellis protested later, after they'd finished hand off and Jack had fobbed all the new kids off on some scrapes and the first foreign-object-up-rectum of the evening. Which left him with Ellis, who was also annoying, but he’d gotten used to her over the past two years. The new intern — who’d mentioned her son four times in the first forty-five minutes — and the second-year floater coming in from days — who’d already asked Jack if he knew how best to access hospital archives in order to study patient outcomes for a paper she wanted to write — were both so earnest Jack just knew he was going to end up hating them both.

“Aw, really?” Ellis said, grabbing the clipboard for North 17 — found comatose in the river two nights ago, some neurological damage likely but still breathing on his own, still no positive ID, still no change from last night. “I was hoping you’d like the cut of McKay’s jib.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“McKay — the bangs?” he said, miming scissors across his forehead.

Ellis rolled her eyes. “Yeah. The bangs, and nice smile, and the plucky attitude. She’s cute.”

“She’s an intern.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

Jack bit back a smile. “It has, in fact, stopped me before. I think what you mean is it hasn’t stopped Robby before, which I will allow. We really haven’t gotten anything back about who this guy is?”

Ellis shook her head, snapping on gloves so she could check John Doe’s pupil response. “Still reactive, just not waking up. But hey, maybe tonight’s the night.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. The guy was young, mid-twenties. Somebody had to be looking for him.

He followed Ellis out into the hallway. “Listen, even Robby didn’t ever date an intern. Collins,” he added as Ellis opened her mouth, “was in second year when they started dating.”

“Yeah, maybe when they started dating,” Ellis muttered.

“Personally, I don’t know what anybody’s thinking, dating someone from here,” Jack said. “You’re all freaks of nature who thrive on stress and adrenaline.”

“You listen to the police scanner on your days off,” Ellis observed, which was fair enough. “Criticizing the circus is pretty rich, coming from the ringleader.”

“Yeah, but I never fuck the monkeys.”

“That’s because—” Ellis paused and gave him a look. It was one he’d learned to live with the past three years: the expression of someone who was not sure how far they could go, if today would be the day Jack would be okay talking about Leslie or if it was a day where he’d shut down for the rest of the shift at the mere mention of her name. He can’t exactly blame them; for most of the first two years he never knew himself.

So he smiled and shrugged and gave Ellis an out. “Because I look at the messes you guys get yourselves in and I think, ‘no, actually, going home and listening to the police scanner is a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro.’”

“A lobotomy is a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro,” Ellis said. “Literally anything would be a better idea than having a tryst with someone from Neuro.”

“Didn’t stop Shen from getting together with, fuck, what’s her name—”

“Barreras,” said Terri as she went past. “That’s off again, by the way.”

Ellis grabbed the chart for their next room and made the slow/caution sign with her hand, frowning as she read. He could tell just from the way her eyebrows drew together what they were going to find on the other side of the door.

“Okay, this is Kayla Hourlis, 17, and her mom Isabelle,” said Ellis in a low, calm voice as she presented, and Jack made sure he kept his expression completely neutral while he listened to just what had brought Kayla Hourlis into the Pitt tonight. He and Ellis treated her quietly and carefully, explaining everything they were doing for her and her wide-eyed mother, the two of them holding hands so tightly Jack was afraid they’d break each other’s wrists. Though it wouldn’t be the worst injury either of them had, not by a long shot.

After, he and Ellis leaned on the partition outside the doors and didn’t talk for a minute or so. It wasn’t something Jack had missed, on vacation out in New Mexico. This feeling, like you’d disappear down the hole in your own stomach.

“What did you mean before?” he asked.

“Before what,” Ellis said, turning to look at him. Her eyes were only a little bit red, but too bright. Jack leaned further over the partition to grab the tissues tucked in the corner, and handed one to her. “Thanks.”

“Before, when you said you hadn’t fallen in love with a straight woman,” Jack said, clearing out the catch in the back of his throat. They’d be able to help Kayla and her mom, that was the important thing. They’d gotten to her before it was worse than this. He cleared his throat again and focused on Ellis. “Pretty sure Dana’s straight, I’m sorry to tell you.”

“First off, you’re not sorry at all, and your oppression of the queer community will not go unaddressed,” she said, ticking off the point on her hand. A little bit manic, but so was he, probably — less than an hour back and he was already seeing things worse than he had in Afghanistan. “Secondly, I’m not in love with Dana anymore. I’ve sworn off.”

“Isn’t this usually a New Year’s thing for you?” Jack asked, nodding at Jesse over by Chairs, who was making the can you be a scary doctor man for a minute face. “It’s only September.”

“Jewish New Year was last weekend,” Ellis countered, walking with him to Chairs where a big guy in a Steelers jersey was using one of the chairs as a toilet, more or less, in an attempt to express his displeasure at the wait. So that was the next twenty minutes of Jack’s life.

“Was the swearing-off your idea, or is this some hospital-wide Lysistrata?” Jack asked her later, sometime after midnight lunch and three different eyeball stabbing incidents. “Robby said him and Collins are splitting up. Shen and his PT soulmate are splitting up. Do I have you to thank for the two of them crying on my couch for the next month?”

Ellis laughed, though she quieted down as they came back into North 17 — still no improvement or deterioration, or name. “Listen, I don’t know what Shen did, he’s been on days, but Robby and Heather splitting up is all on Robby.”

“Yeah, that checks out.”

“Although me and her did decide this year was the year of no more white milfs,” Ellis added with a sad sigh. “They’re bad for us.”

“Only milfs of color, got it,” Jack said as he squinted at the John Doe’s display. “Or I guess, mocilfs? Mothers of Color I’d Like To — how does the dangling modifier work for that?” The guy’s BP was still weirdly high, but everything else pointed directly to overdose, do not pass Go do not collect $200. Then he listened to the conversation that was happening. “Wait, how does Robby count as a milf?”

“Hey, hey, don’t be gender essentialist,” Ellis said, holding her finger up in warning. “I know you had to take that sensitivity class twice, Jackie—”

“I only fell asleep the first time because you’d gotten food poisoning at PRIDEburgh.” Jack wondered if he could swap Ellis in for one of the new kids for a while. He’d have to think of a better reason than Ellis is picking on me and she will pick on you too, so you’d better get used to it. “So I had to come in and cover your shift the night before and—”

“—and you know that ‘milf’ is a gender-neutral term denoting—"

“—okay first of all, no, there are such things as ‘dilfs’—”

“That’s a completely different category,” Ellis said, her expression as outraged as if he’d argued about intubation with her (again). “You cannot seriously be suggesting that Robby is a dilf.”

Jack was actually seriously suggesting that Robby wasn’t a parent full stop, and thus could not fulfill the basic requirements of ilfdom, but then a guy came in with a pen through his ballsack and they had to hold up the rest of the conversation for a couple hours.

[revelboo]

I hate to always be asking for things, but is there any chance we could get some more Steve

Sure!

Coin Operated Boy Pt 4

Vehicons x Reader

• Dragging into the kitchen in a tank top and shorts, you get coffee going and nearly scream when a shadow falls across the window. And it’s your alien friend, his head tilted as he stares in at you and reaches to tap against the window. Heart racing, you lift a nervous hand and he eases back slightly. Why is he back? Nervous, you toe on your sneakers and step outside. Hesitating when you see Steve’s brought friends. There’s two more of them, crouching to stare at you. “Hi? You look better,” you manage, fighting the urge to turn and run for the door.

• Aware of his cloned brothers studying you with bemused curiosity, he offers you an energon goodie and you just stare at it, then him. Bending to offer you the rare treat, when just getting rations to begin with is never a sure thing, he needs you to be repaid for your kindness and knows this isn’t nearly enough. Vehicons are the lowest in the Decepticon hierarchy. Expendable. Often forgotten. “For you,” he insists, and you finally reach to take it, but don’t try it. Saving it for later, maybe, but he’s pleased anyway even if he’d wanted you to eat from his hand. To trust him as a protector.

• Hugging the glowing thing to your body, you offer him a smile. Have no idea what it is, but you don’t want to offend him or risk hurting his feelings. “Thank you so much. It’s… lovely.” And you really hope the glow isn’t radioactivity. “And you brought friends.” Watching him glance at the other two, like he’d forgotten they were there for a moment, you fidget. “Hi.” Waggling your fingers at the two newcomers they exchange a look and one hesitantly waves back.

• Venting as B3N waves at you and N31L just shakes his head like he can’t believe he’d given you the rare treat, Steve kneels so he’s not looming over you. Except, you’re so small, he still is. Short of lying flat on the ground, he’s going to be looking down at you and it bothers him. “For your assistance,” he says, reaching out a hand, hesitating and extending a servo. Staring up at him, you tuck the treat against your hip and cautiously lay a soft hard on his servo and he bends forward until he can brush his masked face against the back of your hand. Needing you to understand that no one cares about Vehicons. No one mourns them, tries too hard to save them when they’re wounded. You’re not even Cybertronian, though and you’d seen him. Cared. For that he owes you. For that, he’ll protect and watch over you. And his brothers reach out, extending you the same honor.

• Going still as the other two edge closer and each brush a servo against you, you try to figure out what’s happening. There’s almost a reverence in the gentle way they’re touching you that makes you nervous. Maybe this is just how they thank someone? A weird, alien cultural thing? All three of them touching you before drawing back. Transforming into vehicles to startle you and just driving away. Leaving you standing in the dew soaked grass with a glowing mystery object and more questions than answers. And you wonder if they’ll come back.

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[oblique-lane]

hey since you’ve posted two pieces in a row about my boy Scout I was wondering if maybe you could write more your thoughts/your hcs about him? I think he’s really interesting and I don’t often see people realize that he’s more complex that what he seems, like this man just seems very sad inside. i really like your analyses and your takes are some of my favorites

hope you have a good day!

Appreciate it! Although I probably won't say anything particularly new... Okay, let's talk about Scout!

Though he no doubt wears the persona of a confident cool guy, protecting his ego from vulnerability, I wouldn't say there's sadness inside him. More accurate would be fear.

People with sadness baggage are pretty passive and quiet. And Scout's reaction is to hit, run, scare away, cling anxiously to the object of security. That's fear. He's fearful.

He doesn't think about it much, he's a pretty happy guy in the environment he's in. But if something makes him go off the rails and he starts, God forbid, thinking.....

His core fear is not living up to his place in the world. He knows there's a place for him, but for some reason he feels like people think he's not good enough to take it. Anyone better and stronger could take his place at any time. He's on bird's rights here.

Growing up with older brothers, being not good at school, being the smallest and youngest mercenary of the team, this feeling doesn't leave him ever. It's a tiresome inner struggle: "How do I make my stay secure?", "How do I become worthy?"

Falling into this cognitive trap of searching for self validation in the outside world instead of inside of himself, he was doomed to be stuck in ambivalence:

To continue to pretend, risking being exposed as an imposter, or to be sincere and inevitably endure the unbearable pain of rejection and loneliness?

He laughs and taunts and overexplains himself so much. He clings to the only thing he's better than everyone at. He overcompensates; he demands attention and tries to make himself bigger. He hates being alone as it basically feels like being actually pushed off his place in the world. He clings to people but immediately pushes them away for being too dangerously close to finding out his fears. He needs to be with everyone to know and to control what they think about him.

And it never makes him calm down anyway, since all those efforts take a lot of energy. Tiresome to be, tiresome to pretend. And the prize is nowhere near the sight.

This loop of pain will never end, unless he breaks the very core mindset of his. The answer is stepping into this fear, but he can't even think about it! It feels like death! His ego will die and it's going to feel like he's dying as a whole.

A full existential, primal fear of an child to be rejected by his parent. "Not worthy of living".

(Based on the Lise Bourbeau's model of 5 soul wounds: Abandonment)

[barleyo]

Raising the Bar.

Hiromi Higuruma X F! Reader X Toji Fushiguro

A/N: i've had this idea for a while so i hope it turned out well. not sure how i feel about it personally, especially since it's so ooc

Tags: infidelity, cheating, divorce, ooc, infidelity, pwp, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie, baby-trapping, hate sex, no threesome sadly

Wordcount: 2.7k

High school sweethearts never made it in the long run. Everybody had told you that what you and Toji had would burn out, but God, you didn't want to believe them. Maybe that's why you stuck by him, glued to his hip no matter what shit decisions he made or awful positions he had you in. Maybe that's why you found every excuse possible to defend him to your family. Hell, maybe that's why you had his kid. Just another thing to stick it to everyone who disapproved of your relationship.

Years passed, and every day you spent with him was spent like a game of cat and mouse. 

It started with the gambling. You knew about his high and fast lifestyle before you were stuck with him, but you never realized just how quickly a savings account could be drained. Filled, too, as there were good nights and bad nights, but that was not the point. You had never known a man who hated the flesh-scorching burning sensation of money in his pocket like Toji did. Shady casinos and the horse track were his safeholds. It wasn’t just gambling that he fell victim too, though. He was easily impressed with luxury, whether vehicle or clothing.

When you had first met, he took pride in showering you with expensive gifts and tokens, but the cost never really settled with you. It was nice, but the lingering question of where the money came from, and why it was being spent, stumped you. When he was just your boyfriend, it was well enough for you to keep your nose out of his finances.

You lived separately and had your own lives, to an extent. If he wanted to live up to his nostrils in debt and negative credit, that was far from you to speak against. You made the grave mistake of marrying him so many years ago, though. His debt was your debt. His mistakes were your mistakes. Your child, bless him, was just as much comprised of Fushiguro DNA as he was of your lineage. Despite sharing all of these responsibilities, you rarely had a say.

When Toji brought home his winnings, he was content and decent enough, as one would be. What worried you was when he lost. He was never angry at seeing your joint bank account drain, knowing he would eventually win again. He was insatiable, an unstoppable force that never found an immovable object to stall him. You begged him to cut it out, to work out his priorities, and he tried a few many times, but it was never quite up to your satisfaction.

The thing that had broken your trust in him, or what little of it you had left, was when you had tried to purchase graduation gifts for Megumi. Your card declining was something you were used to seeing while shopping. You had tried locking it, but somehow, that couldn’t stop Toji either. Normally, you would call your husband and squeeze an answer out of him, and the funds would be returned to the account after a few hours. That day, though, there was no answer when you dialed Toji’s number. A few seconds went by, accompanied by ringing, but his voicemail ultimately picked up.

It was a long time coming. You sped home and threw his clothes out onto the yard.

You felt crazy. No other wife had to do this, spare the ones on television, so why did you? Could you not have a stable marriage, with a man who, for the longest, you felt a semblance of love towards? Rather than that, could you not have a man who had it under control? One who could focus on more than one thing at a time? One who felt responsibility for something other than his own satisfaction? You wondered if you were justified in trying to get rid of him. You had been together so long, long enough to make restarting life seem pointless.

But then his car pulled into the driveway. His recently purchased car, looking nearly totaled. The car that was being financed through your shared account. The car that you had given up a year’s worth of nail and hair appointments for, so that he could afford it without dragging you both down into poverty.

You gave so much of yourself away for him. Your secrets, time, money, and career, all to stay home to raise his child that, thank God, turned out to be more like you than his father. You gave away your last name in place of his, robbing yourself of any identity, and for what? An irresponsible wretch of a man who knew only how to drink, gamble, and avoid sharing his feelings?

He was lazy, egotistical, and the biggest mistake of your life.

A friend had pointed you in the direction of a decent divorce lawyer. It killed you that it came to this point, but you refused to let yourself play the fool. You had seen how it tore your mother apart to stay with a man who she hadn't loved in a very long time. She stayed brave for you, because she realized her truth much too soon. Now was your chance, with an empty nest and few damns left to give. 

The firm was nice enough. Small, but clean. Well landscaped. Your friend broke a little more than even in her divorce, so obviously the attorneys were capable. Alimony wasn't what you were after, though. Just freedom.

You tried to look put together, if not for the sake of decency, then for the sake of your mental health. The process had not even begun, but you were already exhausted. You knew Toji was going to fight you on this, so preparing for the battle was crucial. You had to call in some backup. 

"Hiromi Higuruma, at your service. I hope you found the place without problem."

He seemed overworked, with light bags under his eyes and a stern disposition following him, but that hardly disguised the fact that he was undeniably attractive. It was simply the truth—the god honest truth—he was a good looking man. Not that you could dwell on that for long

You weren't single yet.

"Yes," you said, after an awakened moment of shifting on your heels, "easily. Thank you for consulting with me, I've heard good things about you."

"Glad to hear it. Follow me, if you would."

Your eyes scanned furiously to find something to focus on, but the ashen, beige walls leading to his office were bare. Not a hint of chaos followed him. There was a clean divide where the outside world started and ended, and outside of that was his territory. Everything in its place, everything with a place to stay. 

His desk was no different. The closest thing to disorganization was the cup of pens that sat on the tabletop, with the mess being in the pens not being color-coded. 

You took a seat across from him and held back the urge to wring out your hands. You instead gripped onto your slacks, pinching silk between your fingers. You wanted to be here, you wanted a chance, but all you could think of was failure. 

Failure to choose the right man, failure to shield your son from arguments and bitterness, failure to be the brave woman that your mother had to be. Failure to pursue happiness, when you knew you deserved it much earlier on.

Higuruma was polite enough to not point out your obvious nerves. Either that, or he had seen it dozens of times before. 

You suddenly felt very unsheltered at that thought. You weren't the first desperate, lost woman to seek his help. And with his looks, well—

"Would you tell me more about your situation?" he asked, voice firm but far from sharp. "Are you looking at a custody agreement with your husband, or splitting assets, perhaps?"

You shook your head, bringing yourself to the present reality. 

"No, our only son is long gone from home now, so custody isn't an issue. Honestly, neither are our assets. The house, the cars, they—" you picked at the skin around your nails, trying to physically peel the jitters out of your body, "—don't matter much to me. I'll take what I can get, but I just can't be with him anymore."

"And why not? Infidelity? Abuse?" He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together and resting on his chest.

"Nothing like that," you said quickly, tongue rushing to force out defense. "Not at all. He's not the man I used to think he was, and I guess I just can't put up with him anymore. He's got a  spending problem. He's inconsistent. Irresponsible. I could go on."

He huffed in slight amusement, giving off his first impression of humanity and imperfection, with a nod. 

"Please do. I can only work with what you give me, Mrs. Fushiguro."

You cringed at the name, but held your tongue. Until legally free, Toji's last name was your burden to bear. 

"He's completely reckless. It's like I've never got a read on him, and when I do, he flies off my radar." You settled on staring at the window behind Higuruma's head to distract yourself. "He's never planned ahead a day in his life, he's just chancing it. It was fun, when we were young, but it got tiring. It used to excite me, but now it just..."

"Exhausts you."

"Right." You cleared your throat to continue. "I felt lucky, when I was young, to be with someone so free. Now, it's more like I've been trapped."

You had never had someone pay so much attention to you at one time. Given, it was the man's job, but it still felt nice. 

"At first, I thought I could handle it. Thought maybe he'd settle down once our son was born. But Toji doesn’t change. He never does. Every time I thought I had convinced him to get his act together, he’d do something stupid and drop the ball." You swallowed, trying to press down any emotion threatening to spill. "He’s not violent with me, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous in his own way."

"Financial instability," Higuruma murmured. "Debt?"

"Not always. I mean, not in a normal way, at least. He always finds a way to dig himself out, but only after making things worse for us first."

Higuruma finally reached for a pen, clicking it absentmindedly before jotting down a note. "Does he know about this meeting?"

"I'm sure he does, but not by my doing. He finds everything out, somehow." You let yourself crack a smile. "At this point, I'm not sure I would even tell him the color socks I'm wearing."

"Good. It's best to keep things to yourself at this point. Detach."

Your eyes darted up to meet Higuruma's dark, tired ones. You were surprised to see him grinning.

"So, dark grey, then?" His pen tapped the desk, motioning towards your shoes underneath it. 

Your feet shuffled a bit, since he was right. 

You were glad to find him. You had faith he would make this all work out. Complete faith.

"So y'leaving me for some prissy fuckin' suit?"

Toji couldn't let it go. He heard you call Higuruma one time. Once, and he latched onto it. He had been on it for days now, trying and failing to get you to change your mind. 

It wasn't the fact that you were leaving him that bothered him. Sure, he loved you. A good bit, actually, but if you were unhappy, he wouldn't stop you. However, the thought of another man taking you—what was his—was what bothered him. 

More than bothered. It enraged him. He accused you of cheating the whole time, but even he knew that wasn't true. He threatened to physically fight Higuruma, but you shut that down just as quickly as the cheating allegations. 

He was somewhat right, though. Of course, you hadn't been with Higuruma the entire time. That was factually impossible. You had gotten close to him, perhaps too close to be considered professional.

A few week of planning court dates and splitting assets had set 'Operation Dark Grey' into motion. Naturally, you both were spending more and more time together. It was inevitable.

One evening, late at his firm, you two happened to be going over documents together, and your hands met over the top of the desk. You tried to pull your hand away, but he wouldn't let you. He held it in his, tensely, as of you would evaporate in front of him if he let go. 

There was no magical confession of love, because that's not exactly what it was. You sought solace in him, in his body. You couldn't refuse him when he sank to his knees in front of you. You gave in when his head slotted between your thighs, when his tongue dipped into your folds. 

He made you feel so good, and more than that, he made you feel attractive. Like you would have a shot in the world after everything was said and done. Like you still had it.

You were weak, and you needed him. How could you turn him down when he had been so helpful and so, so sexy? 

Technically, on a small, fine-print detail, you had cheated on Toji, but he didn't need to know that. 

"No, Toji," you said sharply, pushing your hand against his chest, "I'm leaving you for my own sanity."

"Pfft, right. You think I'm not good enough for you anymore? Got a taste of some boring bastard and now you don't want me?"

God, he could be so childish. It used to be funny, how such a strong, solid man could get so fussy. Now, not so much.

"You haven't been good enough for me in a long time," you answered quickly, spitting out what hateful venom you could tolerate on your tongue, "and you know it."

You were lucky he wasn't one to get his feelings hurt, but that didn't mean he couldn't retaliate.

"Who's not enough, huh? I don't see you bitchin' at me now," Toji sneered, pulling one of your legs up. 

He held you in a pose so strong, so mean, that you barely had the strength to balance yourself. 

It had been months since you had last had sex with him. You forgot the feeling of being drunk on him. Too bad you always woke up feeling like shit after. 

"S—shut up," you spat back. You reached your hand backwards, blindly reaching for his shirt to hold onto. You wanted to say more, to rain hell on him, but he was punching all the air from your lungs. 

He pushed your hand off of his shirt collar, jeering at your flailing palm. He bucked forward and knocked you forward, face down into the couch cushions. He preferred this view, anyways, with your ass in the air and your protests muffled. If you stayed like this more often, he thought, your marriage would have lasted longer. 

Your legs kicked, saying what your mouth couldn't. You were cramping, being bent down so sharply, but the deepness of his strokes made it nearly worth it. 

Toji was a lot of things. 

A bastard, for one. Snarky. Untrustworthy. Irresponsible. 

But, God, he could fuck. Making love, meh. But fuck? Oh, he could do that and well. 

Your greedy cunt spasmed around Toji's cock, dripping onto the shag carpet beneath you. Your mind— a mess of frustration and need. 

You felt Toji slam his cock into you, rutting his head against your cervix's tip. He dug into you, burrowing himself deep enough to become uncomfortable, but necessary. 

"What are you—?"

"Quiet," he hissed, leaning down to your ear to place a nipping kiss. "Feel that? Feel—fuck—feel me throbbing for you?"

Your eyes widened in panic. No. He wouldn't do this to you. Not over something so stupid.

"Let's just try again, yeah? I'll make it work for us, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you both," he said through clenched teeth, shooting every drop of cum he had saved up into you.

Another try. One more go around to get this right. You guessed you could stick around. 

Everyone deserves a second, or twelfth, chance, right?

[gothicxreylover]

Sorry, but the widow scenario/headcanons with the Hashira were really good, so I wonder if you could do it with the uppermoons as well, when you're able though? I don't know why I like the trope of a widow, who can't let go of their first love, and now the new lover who's trying to get the widow's attention to them.

𝕬 𝖒𝔬𝖚𝔯𝖓𝔦𝖓𝔤 𝔴𝖎𝔡𝖔𝔴

This has been sitting here for a while lol sorry for taking long I hope you enjoy!

Douma

For Douma, your grief was a mystery that he couldn’t understand, but he found it utterly fascinating. He was used to people worshipping him, hanging onto his every word, or even fearing him. But your heart was caught somewhere he couldn’t reach—a place he couldn’t control. And it infuriated him in ways he couldn’t admit.

“Why so glum, my little flower?” he’d chirp, leaning in far too close as his colorful fan danced idly in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about them. They’re not here anymore, you know.”

His words carried an edge, cloaked by his usual cheerful tone. Douma’s solution to your grief was to smother you with his attention, constantly distracting you from your thoughts. He’d sit you on his lap, brush your hair, and chatter endlessly about anything and everything—anything to keep your mind from wandering back to the person you’d lost.

When his attempts at distraction failed, his tone would shift. “You’re wasting your tears on someone who doesn’t matter anymore,” he said one evening, his usual smile faltering. “Don’t you see? I’m right here. I can give you everything they couldn’t.”

But no matter how much he tried to replace them, your heart remained elsewhere. That realization drove him to dangerous extremes, and his jealousy turned into obsession. He would destroy anything—any memory, any object—that connected you to the person you lost, all while insisting he was doing it for your own good.

Akaza

Akaza’s obsession was driven by his need to protect you, but your grief left him feeling helpless in a way he despised. He had strength, power, and the ability to destroy anyone who posed a threat to you. But he couldn’t fight the ghost of the person you loved.

“You deserve better,” he told you one night, his fists clenched at his sides. “They couldn’t protect you, but I can. I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

Akaza’s frustration grew with each passing day. He hated seeing you sad, but what made it worse was the way your sadness wasn’t for him. No matter how much he tried to comfort you, your thoughts always drifted back to someone who wasn’t there.

One day, as you sat quietly, gazing at the ring you still wore, Akaza crouched in front of you. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer now. “They wouldn’t want you to be like this. They’d want you to be happy.”

But what Akaza didn’t say—what he couldn’t admit—was that he wanted to be the one to make you happy. He wanted you to see him, to love him the way you loved them. And every time you looked at him with sadness instead of love, it chipped away at his patience.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo’s obsession was a quiet, simmering thing. He didn’t express his emotions openly, but the intensity of his feelings was unmistakable in the way his golden eyes followed your every move.

At first, he told himself that your grief didn’t concern him. You were alive, here in the present, and the person you mourned was not. Yet, no matter how much he tried to push those thoughts aside, he couldn’t ignore the way your sorrow consumed you.

“You cling to the past,” Kokushibo said one night, his deep voice breaking the heavy silence. “It will not bring them back.”

His words were blunt, but they carried a weight that spoke of his own regrets. Kokushibo saw too much of himself in you—clinging to memories, unable to let go of what was lost. It made him want to keep you close, to pull you away from the pain that haunted you.

Though he rarely spoke of your grief, Kokushibo’s actions spoke louder than words. He would destroy anything that reminded you of your past love, believing that cutting away the ties to your old life would free you from your sorrow. But his protectiveness often felt like a prison, leaving you isolated and unable to mourn in peace.

Hantengu Clones

The Hantengu clones each reacted to your grief in their own distinct ways, their fragmented personalities pulling you in different directions as they fought for your attention.

• Sekido was furious at your inability to move on. “Why do you keep thinking about them?” he snarled, his tone laced with irritation. “They’re gone. Forget them already!” His anger wasn’t born from malice, but from jealousy. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else occupying your heart.

• Aizetsu was the complete opposite, his sadness mirroring your own. “It hurts to see you like this,” he murmured, his voice heavy with melancholy. “I just… I want you to feel better. But I don’t know how to help.” His gentle demeanor made him the easiest to be around, but his sorrow often made your grief feel even heavier.

• Karaku tried to distract you with flirtation and charm, his mischievous grin never far from his face. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Why waste time crying when you’ve got me here to cheer you up?”

• Urogi took a more chaotic approach, laughing off your sadness and trying to drag you into his games. “Stop being so serious all the time!” he exclaimed, swooping down beside you. “You’ll forget about them faster if you start having fun with me!”

Their conflicting approaches left you overwhelmed, each clone vying for your attention in their own obsessive way.

Gyutaro and Daki (Platonic for Daki’s pov)

For Daki, your grief was something she couldn’t understand but desperately wanted to fix. She’d cling to you like a child, her possessiveness growing with each passing day.

“You don’t need them,” she said one evening, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll be your best friend now. I’ll be everything you need!”

Daki loved the way you treated her with kindness and patience, something she rarely experienced. But her jealousy over your lost friend burned brightly, and she hated that she couldn’t completely fill the void in your heart.

Gyutaro, on the other hand, took a harsher approach. “Why are you still crying over them?” he asked gruffly. “They’re not coming back. You’ve got us now. That’s all that matters.”

Though his words were blunt, Gyutaro’s actions spoke of a quiet protectiveness. He’d keep a watchful eye on you, ensuring no one else could hurt you again. But his possessiveness, combined with Daki’s need for constant attention, left little room for you to grieve in peace.

Nakime

Nakime’s obsession was silent and calculating. She rarely spoke, but her control over the Infinity Castle gave her complete power over your surroundings.

Whenever she sensed your thoughts drifting back to your lost love, she would subtly manipulate the castle, leading you away from places where you could dwell on your memories.

“You will not find solace in the past,” she said one day, her voice calm but unyielding. “This is your home now.”

Nakime believed that if she controlled your environment, she could control your heart. She removed any reminders of your old life, leaving you surrounded only by the cold, shifting walls of the castle. Her obsession was suffocating in its subtlety, a quiet force that slowly stripped away your ability to mourn.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan was enraged by your inability to let go of your past love. To him, your grief was a weakness—one that tarnished the perfection he sought to create.

“You are mine now,” he said coldly, his crimson eyes narrowing. “There is no need to dwell on something as insignificant as the past.”

Muzan’s solution to your grief was absolute control. He would strip away every trace of your old life, erasing any reminders of the person you had loved. But even as he tightened his grip on you, he couldn’t completely extinguish the memory of your spouse.

“You will forget them,” he commanded one night, his voice low and dangerous. “You belong to me, and me alone.”

But no matter how much he tried to control you, Muzan’s frustration only grew. His obsession wasn’t just about owning you—it was about breaking the part of you that still loved someone else.