#is it even the show's fault???? i mean? no one says you have to consume both forms of the series... and time money ect changes things too

[jamiethebee]

I love how, no matter what character you love or hate, everyone agrees that the anime onlys kind of fuck up the best parts of the characterization (no shame to the anime onlys, y'all are just missing out on a lot of good nuances the manga gave us)

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Tae in Jeju

I woke up to this tweet:

I couldnt help but reply cause while I respect the fandom prefering to overlook the real dynamics between Vminkook and cling to the idea that everything is rosy (I wont argue against that).... I am not willing to tolerate some "ot7" accs portraying Tae as a victim, especially - as a moot well pointed - after the behinds have been recently leaked (with that Jimin's comment), while remainging silent early in august (when Jk was even harsh with his comments… my honest boy!)

For years, the BTS content we've consumed has often pushed the narrative that all the boys loved equally e/o and were equally emotionally connected—a notion the fandom embraced wholeheartedly.

But most of us know, in reality, that's not possible.

Vminkook are a trio who grew up together and love e/o on a very family-like level. That said, it doesn't mean they connect emotionally in the same way or share the same interests.

Tae joined a trip that was originally planned by Jimin and Jungkook and I think the editors have made it clear throughout that this, while not a problem, was not the initial idea of the show, nor of Jimin and JK.

Although Jimin mentioned inviting the other members, everyone except Taejoon was already enlisted during the Jeju filming. This seems more like an excuse since Tae – in my opinion, wrongly – complained about the situation (what did you expect Jimin to say?)

There are times when one might not want some friends to join plans they've made with someone else for various reasons. The same applies here.

Jikook arranged the show and the activities they wanted to do together during the BTS-SOLO era, just as Tae did with the Wooga Squad, where he clearly was more in sync with the banter and group dynamics. No one complained about that cause understood wooga is Tae's real-life friends.

Why couldn't Jikook have this show just for themselves if that was their intention? It was their plan, and they were looking forward to spending time together.

There’s no reason they should HAVE to be enthusiastic about another friend joining for the whole trip, especially if it wasn't part of what they originally envisioned.

The editors have given us a glimpse of the real atmosphere in Jeju, whether SOME FANS like it or not.

The boys are honest. They may sometimes have to ‘sugarcoat’ reality, look for plausible justification for certain things (like Jimin did), or not show certain things... but they don't lie to us.

It's people's own fault for misunderstanding the members' personalities and behavior so much, as they tend to listen to or read what others (army/solos/cult leaders) say instead of paying attention to the boys themselves.

That said, everyone can still see that they had a great time and enjoyed each other's company in Jeju.

And when Tae got tired of Jikook's inside jokes or playful banter, he simply withdrew, creating his own space, completely at ease, as he has done during the years, with Koomi or other members.

That’s their true bonding—being comfortable enough to be themselves and do what their feel

Reality of vminkook isn’t shaped by the fandom—it’s simply what it is. Whether army likes it or not.

[sabsturned]

M. Sturniolo - Three Doors Down

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pairing: matt x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of a drinking and smoking parent, crying

summary: you and matt used to be best friends. you were closer to him than anyone else you know, and you’ve always secretly had a crush on him. the day you told him, you guys stopped talking. tonight was prom night, and you had no guys or even friends to go with. all you could do was sit in the corner and watch him dance with his girlfriend, sofia.

a/n: first fic!!! i’m rlly excited about this one. it’s based off of the song ‘three doors down’ by joy. this was my shit in 2022 and i don’t get why it wasn’t talked about more. ALSO I HAVE A QUESTION: what are anons??? also please leave requests for fics!! i’m literally out of ideas. THATS IT!! enjoy the fic :))

key: matt y/n sofia

and i’m in the corner

dying of boredom

catching light from the shine

of his girlfriend’s tiara

me and matt were best friends. me and the boy three doors down. i mean, the best word to describe us was inseparable. we hung out all the time—at school, at home, over the weekends, at parties—everywhere i went, he went, and everywhere he went, i went.

it started when we were both eight years old. i was trying to avoid my mom at all costs because when she drank, she got mean. i went outside, picking all the small white flowers out of the ground. maybe if i gave my mom flowers, she would cheer up, and she wouldn’t hurt me. at least that’s what i thought.

i picked a yellow dandelion, adding it to my bouquet of flowers when i saw a boy around my age riding on a skateboard. he was riding it on circles in his driveway. suddenly the only thing my eyes were looking at was his curly brunette hair. his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. not as deep as an ocean, but not as light as the sky. all i knew was that they were perfect and they consumed me. his cheeks were a shade of red, probably because of the humidity. i’ll never forget the way he looked at me for the first time; the way his eyes lit up, the way his smile widened, showing off the dimple on his left cheek, the way the world around us faded.

his hand slowly moved up, waving at me. my smile grew. i waved back.

whenever my mom started drinking, i just went outside, where he was every afternoon on his skateboard. he tried teaching me to ride it, but i wasn’t very good. we played in his backyard with his brothers and their dog, trevor. sometimes they brought out their sprinkler on a really hot day, and we all just played like kids. i would give anything to be a kid with them again.

when we were in the same homeroom for third grade, we were both ecstatic. we were always partners in group work, always played together at recess, always ate together at lunch. everybody always made fun of us, and assumed we were dating or something. but we didn’t care.

everything was perfect. up until eighth grade. ever since me and matt met, i’ve always kind of liked him. i never really had the courage to tell him, up until the day before our eighth grade dance.

i confessed my feelings for him. i didn’t say much really. i just told him i liked him and asked if he wanted to go on a date. but i don’t think he felt the same.

he said he was busy.

all contact was cut after that. no more late night calls, no more weekend sleepovers, no more study sessions after school.

and it’s all my fault. i ruined everything. if i wouldn’t have said all of that, we wouldn’t have been here. we would have still been friends. we would have gone to prom together. we would have been falling asleep on call together. we would have still been as inseparable as we were when we were kids.

all of this was my fault.

now i’m at prom. the speakers blasted a pop song i don’t know the name of. all of the kids in the room were dancing, jumping around, making out in the bathroom, but i was sitting in the corner.

i would have gone home, but i was trying to avoid being near my mom at all costs. so i was just there, dying of boredom.

i caught a glimpse of her tiara. the plastic gems glistened in the dim light of the room. how was sofia able to wear cheap plastic on her head and still manage to look absolutely beautiful.

i’m so jealous of sofia. she’s a cheerleader. she’s skinny, she’s pretty, she won prom queen, and worst of all, she was matt’s girlfriend. we have had some interactions before, and i hate talking about her negatively because she is so incredibly sweet. like i’ve never met a popular girl so nice. it made it harder to hate her the way i wanted to.

her silky straight hair ran down her back, and her wide smile could light up a whole room. her dress was fabulous too. it was a really pretty shade of lavender, and it was sparkly. it complimented her figure so well. i mean, she looked like an absolute goddess.

her hands were wrapped around matt’s neck as they danced to the slow music playing. it hurt so bad. i should be over matt by now, i mean, it’s been four years. but i wasn’t over him. i wasn’t over his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes, the dimple that appeared on his left cheek whenever he would smile. i wasn’t over our late night phone calls, our weekend sleepovers, our study sessions after school. i wasn’t over him. and i never would be.

watching them dance together made me sick. the eye contact, how touchy they were. i decided to go get some punch to distract myself. i wanted to go home so bad, but a broken heart was less noticeable than the burn mark of a cigarette.

the loud music drowned out the sound of the punch splashing into the red cup. i turned around to go back to the corner i was sitting in, when a tall figure bumped into me. thankfully, i didn’t spill any punch on my dress.

“oh, sorry. i should have been watching where i was-“ my breathing stopped when i realized who i had just bumped into. his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes. matt.

“that’s alright-“ he stopped talking when he saw me. “oh, um, hey.” he said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“hi.” i responded.

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented.

“oh, thanks. you too.”

“are you having fun?” no. not when she’s the one you’re dancing with. not when i’m still thinking about you even after all these years.

“yeah, just hanging out with my friends. a night to remember.” i lied.

“yeah.” he laughed.

there was a moment of silence where we just looked at each other. the first time i’ve looked in his beautiful blue eyes in years. the first time we’ve had an interaction in years.

“hey baby, they’re playing my favorite, c’mon!” sofia ran over, grabbing chris by the arm, giving me a small wave before dragging him back to the dance floor.

“nice seeing you y/n.” he voiced, before him and sofia continued dancing together.

i tried to say something back, but nothing came out. i forgot how to speak, i forgot how to breathe. before i knew it, the tears were already falling out of my eyes.

i needed to leave. thankfully, i only live a few blocks from the school, so i could just walk home. the only thing i could think about was how i just needed to be anywhere else but this school.

i shoved open the doors, walking out into the cold rain. it was pouring outside. normally, i really liked rain. me and matt used to lay in the rain together. it’s where we had our most meaningful conversations, and shared our deepest thoughts. but i wasn’t enjoying it right now. every drop felt like cupid pulling an arrow out of me. i rushed home as quick as i possibly could, the rain soaking my hair, and the tears rushing down my face. i actually couldn’t even tell if i was crying anymore. the rain made it hard to tell.

i was able to sneak past my mom so she wouldn’t see i went out. i ran up the stairs and into my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. i let out loud sobs into my hands, my rain soaked body dripping rain into a puddle beneath me. i looked up and saw the picture we made in fourth grade art class together, my sobs growing louder. i looked next to it. a signed baseball from a game we went to together sat on the shelf, along with a scrapbook of our seventh grade summer. suddenly, my room was filled with memories of us. i need to destroy it all.

i took the canvas off of the wall, grabbing my scissors and stabbing it until you couldn’t see the picture anymore. i took the scrapbook off of the shelf, ripping out the pages, cutting them into small pieces. i grabbed the baseball, opened my window, and threw it. i didn’t see where it landed. i was just glad it was out of my sight. i ripped the cards and gifts he made me for my birthdays, and christmas, and valentine’s day, ripping and cutting them up. then the stuffed bear he got me. my favorite animal. i cut that open, ripping out the stuffing. until nothing else was left. i sighed, my sobs growing louder.

i looked down and noticed my heels, stained with punch. the rain should have washed it off. the punch reminded me of him. i must have missed when it fell out of my cup and onto my shoes. i kicked them off, throwing them under my bed.

i looked down at my dress, noticing the color of it. it was the same shade of blue as his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes. i groaned out loud, ripping my dress off and throwing it in my closet. everything reminded me of him. the clothes i wore when we hung out, the sheets we laid in, the desk he sat at while we talked for hours, the rug we sat on when we played board games, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the window, everything. it was like he was a memory that i couldn’t get rid of.

but maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. maybe we aren’t meant to have late night phone calls. maybe we aren’t meant to have weekend sleepovers. maybe we aren’t meant to have study sessions after school. maybe we just aren’t meant to be. maybe he belongs with sofia. maybe we aren’t supposed to be together, me and the boy three doors down.

angst is one of my favorite things to write. it’s so therapeutic to me. so i hope you enjoyed this and please give me your feedback in the comments! :D

- thanks for reading!! with love, sabrina 🤍🎀

taglist:: @muchloveforhacker @saartjuhh @anonymousmfs @mylove4lana @chrissfavhoe @sturniolo101 @h3arts4harry @hereforthwtripletsfr @pepsixchris @ch3rrywine-reposts @amaliarosewood @gwennybenny @memea32221 @urfavstromboli

[syluslnd]

Hello! I am one of the silent readers I truly adore your writing<3!! I just wanted to ask if you could write about the reader and sylus, reader dealing with eating disorder/,body dysphoria,and just has trouble taking care of themselves, snapping once or twice hurt/comfort, heavy comfort,mentions of psyhical issues,consistent pain and cold as well as Sylus gaining readers trust about this specific thing a bit by bit,and how he would act?? You don't have to take this request if it's too much/too dark,it's just something I have been struggling with!!

when your ed consumes your life but sylus sticks with you through it all

tags-angst with eventual comfort,mentions of calories,tw ed

word count 3.9k

(Note-I’m so sorry you’re struggling with this,I think every person struggling with an ED is worthy of recovery,if you feel like you need to vent you can always reach out to me love xx)

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The restaurant is lavish, the kind of place where every meal comes with an air of sophistication. Sylus is calm as always, seated across from you, his dark eyes scanning the menu with ease. You, however, are tense, heart pounding in your chest. Your hands feel colder than usual as you grip the menu, trying to decipher the options.

No calories listed. Panic flickers in your mind, twisting your stomach. How are you supposed to know what to pick? What if it’s too much? What if you can’t control yourself?

You glance around, catching sight of a girl a few tables over. She’s effortlessly thin, her figure draped perfectly in a sleek black dress. You hate how your mind jumps to her. Look at her arms, you think bitterly. She probably doesn’t even have to try. She’s not bloated. She’s not panicking about what she eats.

You lower your eyes, feeling that familiar rush of shame for even thinking that way, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts. The woman across the restaurant is laughing at something her date said, her hair bouncing as she moves, carefree. You wish you could be like that, but every thought is consumed by numbers. How many calories. How much you can eat without spiraling into guilt. Even your skin feels wrong—too thick , too suffocating. You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the chill that never really goes away.

Sylus clears his throat softly, his gaze flicking up from the menu. “You decide yet?” His tone is light, relaxed, but his words make your chest tighten.

You shift in your seat, staring at the options, willing yourself to choose something, anything that won’t make you feel sick with guilt later. But every meal feels like a minefield. You glance up at him, trying to hide the unease you know must be showing on your face.

“I’m still looking” you mumble, your voice tight. You hate how strained you sound.

Sylus leans back slightly, his brow arching ever so slightly, though his expression stays calm. “Take your time” he says, still polite, though there’s a subtle suggestion in his voice, like he’s trying to gently push you to make a decision.

Something snaps inside you. “well maybe if you didn’t take me to such an unhealthy restaurant I wouldn’t be struggling with what to choose” The words come out harsher than you intended, the panic in your chest twisting into frustration. You can see the surprise in his eyes but he stays composed, watching you carefully, trying to understand.

You instantly regret it, swallowing down the lump in your throat. He didn’t mean anything by it. You know that. It’s not his fault. But now your chest feels too tight, and the pressure of being here, in this fancy restaurant with all these indulgent options, is overwhelming. You’re suffocating in your own thoughts.

Sylus remains calm, though you can see the flicker of concern behind his steady gaze. “I just thought you’d like it sweetie” he says quietly, his voice smooth, without a hint of anger. “You don’t have to eat anything you don’t want to.”

His words are kind but they only deepen the pit forming in your stomach. You force a small, apologetic smile, trying to smooth things over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it” you murmur, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in your lap.

He nods, and though the moment is awkward, he doesn’t push further, allowing you the space to collect yourself. When the waiter comes by, you order the only thing that feels remotely safe: a Caesar salad, something you know you can control. No dressing, of course and you only plan on picking at it anyway.

When the food arrives, Sylus digs into his meal with an almost graceful ease, cutting his steak neatly, chewing slowly. You watch him for a moment, your mind spinning. How can he just eat like that, so casually, so… politely? Every bite he takes is deliberate, calm. You feel so out of place, like you’re being suffocated by your own fears.

Your salad sits untouched for a while before you finally pick up your fork. The chicken on top looks perfectly cooked but you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Too many calories. Instead, you nibble at the lettuce and croutons, calculating the numbers in your head.

The lettuce is probably only 60 calories. The croutons… maybe 130? You do the math over and over, feeling a mix of disgust and guilt wash over you for even eating that much. It feels like too much. Too indulgent.

Across the table, Sylus glances at your plate, his expression unreadable. “Not hungry?” he asks and his voice is soft, like he’s trying to avoid making you uncomfortable.

You force a smile, pushing the food around your plate. “Just… not much of an appetite today” you lie, hoping he doesn’t press further. But inside, all you can think about is how much you’ve already eaten, how you’ll need to make up for it later. The guilt gnaws at you, making you feel sick.

Sylus doesn’t push but you can feel his eyes on you, watching. It’s like he knows something’s off but doesn’t quite know how to bring it up and as the night drags on, all you can think about is how you’re failing. How every bite feels like a battle you can’t win.

The guilt from last night had been gnawing at you since the moment you woke up. Your mind was set: no food today. No exceptions. The plan felt necessary, like a way to atone for the indulgence you let yourself have. The 60 calories of lettuce, the 130 for the croutons… You couldn’t shake the disgust, the shame for what you ate. Every time you replayed the night in your head, you felt like you’d lost control.

You wrapped yourself tighter in a blanket, your body feeling colder than usual, though it wasn’t even winter yet. The headache from your lack of calories was already starting to throb, but you could deal with that. It was better than the guilt.

Sylus had said he was busy today, so you weren’t expecting any visitors. The day stretched ahead, just you and your plan to fast. But as the afternoon rolled in, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your place. Confused, you hesitated before answering. You weren’t in the mood for visitors. Not today.

Opening the door, you froze in shock. There stood Sylus, dressed in his usual dark, tailored clothes, holding a bag. Your heart sank when you realized what was inside: your favorite candies, the kind that would wreck your fast in an instant. Your pulse quickened, panic swirling in your chest.

“Hey kitten” Sylus greeted, his voice casual but there was an undercurrent of warmth. He gave you a small smile, one that would’ve made you melt on any other day. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

You stared at him, feeling your blood boil. How could he? you thought, anger bubbling up out of nowhere. He didn’t even tell you he was coming over, and worse, he brought food. The sweets you loved, the ones you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. It felt like he was sabotaging you, like he didn’t understand how hard you were trying to control yourself.

Your fists clenched at your sides, and before you could stop yourself, the words snapped out. “Why are you here?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, and Sylus’s brow furrowed, his eyes darkening just slightly at your tone.

“What do you mean sweetie ?” he asked, his voice calm but with that underlying tension. “I brought you these.” He gestured to the bag of candies, the smile still there but faltering as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “You love these, remember?”

The sight of the bag sent a wave of panic through you. I can’t eat that, your mind screamed. I’ll get fat. I’ll lose control.

Anger surged again but it was tangled with guilt. How could he be so thoughtless? How could he show up with this when you were trying so hard to fast, to make up for the mistakes of yesterday? Your head pounded, the cold feeling in your body clashing with the heat of frustration.

“I can’t” you snapped, taking a step back, shaking your head. “You should go.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. You saw the confusion flicker across his face, followed by a hint of worry.

“What’s going on?” Sylus asked, his voice low, probing, as he stepped forward instead of retreating like you’d demanded. “Why are you pushing me away?” He didn’t raise his voice but the way he said it made your heart clench. He wasn’t one to back down easily, especially not when something was wrong and you knew he could see something was wrong.

“I’m busy, Sylus” you tried to deflect, feeling the walls you were putting up starting to crack. You wanted him to leave but you didn’t. It was confusing, suffocating. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle him here, with that bag of temptation, ready to ruin everything. You felt so guilty for snapping at him but how could you explain? How could you tell him he was going to make you fat if he kept bringing over food like this?

Sylus’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but his voice remained calm. “Busy with what?” He glanced behind you, then back at your face, studying you, searching for something you weren’t ready to admit. “You haven’t been answering my calls. Now you want me to leave?”

You bit your lip, hating how cornered you felt. The panic was rising again, faster this time, swirling with guilt and anger and all you could think about was how out of control you felt. How could he not see that?

“Just go” you whispered, your voice breaking. The words felt heavy, like they cost you something just to say them. You couldn’t meet his gaze, not with the way he was looking at you, with those dark eyes that always seemed to see more than you wanted to show.

There was a long pause, the air thick with tension. Sylus didn’t move. He didn’t just leave, as much as you’d wanted him to. Instead, he stood there, quiet, and you could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on you. It was suffocating and yet… part of you didn’t want him to go.

After a beat, Sylus sighed, and for a moment, the tension in his expression softened. “You don’t have to talk to me right now” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, his voice softer than before. “But I’m not leaving because you’re pushing me away.”

That made your chest tighten with guilt and you cursed yourself internally. He wasn’t mad but he was concerned, and that made it worse. You didn’t know how to explain. How could you tell him that the sight of that bag in his hand sent you into a spiral of panic, of guilt? That the one thing you feared more than anything was losing control?

“I just… I need space” you said quietly, though the words felt like a lie. You didn’t know what you needed. Sylus watched you for a long moment and finally, he nodded. But before he turned to leave, he set the bag of sweets down on the table by the door.

“If you need me, you know where to find me” he said, his voice steady, though there was something softer in his tone and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there with the heavy guilt hanging in the air. The bag of candies felt like a cruel reminder of how out of control you felt and though you told him to go, part of you hated that he actually left.

The week of fasting had left you feeling like you were floating through the days, your body running on empty, but your mind clinging to the small sense of control. It wasn’t easy—drinking only tea and coffee, trying to keep that gnawing hunger at bay—but the numbers on the scale kept going down. You were making progress, right?

Today, though, something felt different. The familiar lightheadedness from the fasting had turned into a fog that clouded your thoughts, making everything feel distant. You stared at the zero-sugar creamer you’d added to your coffee earlier, the bitter taste still lingering on your tongue. You told yourself it was fine—it didn’t count. But your stomach churned and the guilt sat heavy inside you.

After ignoring Sylus for a week, you finally sent him a message, apologizing for how you’d acted. You couldn’t let him think you were pulling away because you didn’t care, even though the truth was far more complicated. You needed your space to stick to your plan, to make progress without any distractions. Sylus… he was becoming a distraction.

You agreed to meet him at the arcade, something that felt like a safe, neutral ground. You pulled on a baggy sweater, the oversized fabric hiding the changes your body had gone through over the past week. As you walked toward the meeting spot, the cold autumn air bit at your skin, though it felt like the cold had already been inside you for days.

When you finally spotted Sylus standing by the entrance, his demeanor shifted the moment his eyes landed on you. At first, he didn’t say anything—he rarely did unless he had something important to say—but the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered with something deeper than concern, told you everything you needed to know. Sylus was observant, annoyingly so and you knew he had picked up on the way your skin had lost its color, how your steps seemed a little slower, more deliberate.

“Hey sy” you said, forcing a smile as you approached. Your voice sounded distant, even to you, like it had lost some of its energy. Sylus didn’t smile back, his gaze lingering on your face a little too long, as if searching for something.

“You alright kitten?” he asked, his tone casual, but the undercurrent of worry was unmistakable.

“Yeah, just a little tired” you lied, brushing it off as you led the way inside. You didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here. Not now.

The arcade was loud, full of flashing lights and the constant beeping of games, but even that felt distant through the fog in your brain. Normally, this place was your comfort zone. The claw machine was where you shined and it was always fun to show off in front of Sylus. But today, everything felt off.

You approached the claw machine, the one you usually conquered with ease but your hands felt shaky, your movements slow. Your brain struggled to focus as you pressed the buttons and you missed the toy by a wide margin. You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling up, but it wasn’t just at the machine—it was at yourself.

“Damn, you’re usually a pro at this” Sylus teased lightly, though there was something off about the way he said it. His eyes hadn’t left you, watching your movements too closely, like he could see through you.

“Guess I’m just off my game today” you muttered, trying to force a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

You tried again, guiding the claw toward another prize, but your hands felt disconnected, like you were moving through water. The world tilted slightly as you leaned closer to the machine and you had to blink several times to steady yourself. Sylus was still watching, his body language casual but his eyes sharp. He could tell something was wrong—he always could.

As the claw dropped and missed the prize again, you felt your frustration spike. You were normally so good at this. Why did everything feel so hard today? You could feel Sylus’s gaze on you, and it made you uneasy. He wasn’t one to pry but you knew he was reading every sign, every small movement.

“You’ve been quiet” he said after a beat, his voice calm but probing. He leaned against the machine next to you, crossing his arms. “Something going on?”

You bit your lip, your brain too foggy to come up with an excuse but you couldn’t tell him the truth either. Not about the fasting. Not about why you looked like this. He wouldn’t understand.

“I’m just tired, Sylus” you said again, more forcefully this time, though it came out weaker than you intended. “That’s all.”

His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on your face before trailing down to your hands, which were trembling ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything but you could feel the tension between you growing heavier by the second.

You fumbled with the claw machine again, missing the prize for a third time. The frustration built inside you, but it was more than just the game. It was everything. The pressure, the guilt, the fear of losing control. It all felt like it was crashing down on you and Sylus standing there, watching, only made it worse.

Without a word, Sylus reached out, gently taking the control stick from your hands. You blinked in surprise as he smoothly guided the claw toward a prize, his movements precise, controlled. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a small, almost imperceptible softening in his expression.

“Let me help” he said quietly, his voice low, but there was something in his tone—something that told you he wasn’t just talking about the game.

You didn’t protest as the claw machine successfully grabbed a stuffed animal. Sylus handed it to you without a word, his fingers brushing yours for a moment and though you could tell he was trying to keep things light, you could feel the weight of his concern in that small gesture.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at the plush toy in your hands, guilt swirling inside you. You couldn’t hide it forever. Not from him. But for now, you just let the moment hang in the air, trying to hold on to the small flicker of control you had left.

As you and Sylus walked through the noisy arcade, the flashing lights and sounds started to fade into the background. You barely noticed when he steered you toward the bar area, where the bright signs advertised an assortment of sugary treats, slushies, and milkshakes. Normally, you’d have been overwhelmed with excuses, telling him you’d already eaten or that you weren’t hungry, but today… everything just felt so heavy.

Your head swam as you tried to focus, to muster up the energy to protest but your body had other plans. The edges of your vision blurred, and the last thing you remembered was the floor rushing up to meet you before everything went black.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t at the arcade. A bright, sterile light flooded your senses, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling your lungs as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room, lying in a stiff bed with an IV attached to your arm. You blinked, disoriented, your brain sluggishly trying to piece together how you got here.

Then, you saw him.

Sylus sat in a chair by your bedside, his arms crossed, his face clouded with something you couldn’t quite place—worry, maybe? You’d never seen him like this before, his usual cool composure replaced by a tense stillness that made the room feel even colder than it already was.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. The silence between you stretched out, thick and uncomfortable, as you struggled to focus on his expression. Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke, his voice low, serious in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“The doctors said you’re underweight” he began, his tone careful but firm. “They think you haven’t eaten in days, kitten.”

You felt your stomach twist as his words sank in but your mind was still too foggy, too tired to fully process it. You shifted under the scratchy hospital gown, trying to find something to say, anything to brush off the severity of the situation. It was easier to avoid, to deflect, to act like none of this mattered.

“I’m fine” you mumbled, your voice hoarse and weak. “It’s not a big deal. I was just tired.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, his arms still crossed. He wasn’t buying it. You could feel the shift in his demeanor—this wasn’t just concern anymore. This was frustration, mixed with something deeper.

“Kitten, don’t do that” he said, his voice sharper than usual. “Don’t pretend this isn’t serious. You passed out. In front of me. You’re not ‘fine.’ ”

You looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze. Your heart raced, the familiar panic rising in your chest as you tried to push the conversation away but Sylus wasn’t letting it go. He wasn’t his usual teasing, playful self. This time, he was more assertive, his voice carrying an edge you weren’t used to.

“I’m just… not hungry” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” His tone was firm but there was a softness behind it—an unspoken plea for you to open up, to let him in. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. He wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have to worry about his body like you did. He didn’t have to restrict, to starve, to be worthy of love.

“You don’t have to diet every second of your life just to be loved” you said a bit more louder than intended, your voice rising with frustration. The words came out before you could stop them and you could see the impact they had on him immediately. His expression darkened but it wasn’t anger—it was something else, something more vulnerable.

His lips parted, his eyes flashing with a mix of emotions before he spoke. “Sweetie, if you keep going like this… you’re going to die.”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. You felt your chest tighten, your throat constricting as you tried to swallow the lump that had formed there. You knew he was right, deep down, but the thought of stopping, of losing control, terrified you.

“And if I die skinny and beautiful, it’ll be a worthy death” you shot back, your voice shaking with defiance. The moment the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back. But they hung between you, raw and unfiltered.

Sylus’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from frustration to something deeper—shock, anger, but most of all, sadness. He stared at you, his face softening in a way you had never seen before, the weight of your words hitting him like a punch to the gut.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You hadn’t meant to push him away. But the look on his face… it broke something inside of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the pain etched across his features, the way his normally composed demeanor had crumbled. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you, his brows drawn together in a mix of anger and heartbreak and for the first time, you saw how deeply he cared—how much he was trying to hold it together, for your sake.

Your lip trembled as you tried to blink away the tears, but they spilled over, hot and fast. “I… I didn’t mean…”

He stood up, moving to sit beside you on the hospital bed, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the tears. His touch was tender, careful, as if you were fragile. And in that moment, you realized how broken you really felt.

“I’m not letting you do this to yourself” he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Not anymore, kitten. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going to lose you.”

[lacesoflove]

NOW SHOWING: HURTIN’ DEEPLY

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔

Rating: angst + mild nsfw

Warning: will be taken down for a rewrite to become of a fully fledged series ‼️ mentions of negative mental health, insecurity and substance abuse. also Y/N and Hamzah don’t even talk directly to each other in this lmfao. Brief mentions of religion and Catholic school

A/N: couldn’t think of a title of this but i thought of the song Not You Too from Drake a lot when writing this so that’s the title now 😭

YOUR LIFE HAD ITS WAYS OF SPITING YOU.

You couldn’t entirely fault the universe or God (if you still believed in one anyway), even if you tried your hardest to. Whilst the traps had been set like a predetermined force of nature, you had allowed yourself to fall into them like the hapless fool you had kept proving yourself to be.

And once again, even as you fought against yourself and your fates, you found yourself in another entanglement, this time taking the form of a crowded house party in downtown Toronto with all those people and all their Pinterest-chic outfits and all the loud obnoxious 2010s top 100 hits. You were one replay of Hotel Room Service away from killing yourself, and with the depression blooming in your body, you weren’t quite sure how serious you were with that notion.

In a dull attempt to soothe the irritation, you took a final swig from the red cup nursing your vodka Red Bull. It had quickly deteriorated in taste, going from ‘I’m going to have the best evening of my life!’ to mulling over every life choice you had ever made, with one of said choices being across the room.

His body leaned over hers, and even through his thick mop of curls (the same curls you had remembered tenderly running your hands through in the morning, as the blinds filtered the sun through, casting a warm glow against his honey-browned skin), you could see the puppy dog gaze he held for her as his hands ran up and down against her slim back. She should have been you, and this wasn’t supposed to be the new normal. And suddenly, all at once, you had a void where you should have had a heart.

You placed the disappointingly empty cup on top of the sound system (you had remembered him mentioning he wanted to get one; at the time he didn’t have the funds to— I guess he did now) and decided that the new all-consuming task of the evening would be locating your friend Aisha. Truthfully speaking, you knew where she was—fucking some podcast bro, names of her former exes spilling out from her mouth in place of his—the sad part was that the dude was probably too coked out to notice. It didn’t really matter that you knew that if you walked to the guest bathroom to the right of the front door, you’d find her in a position that went against the very religious ideals that your Catholic girl’s high school had imparted on both of you; what mattered was that it would distract you, maybe even better than the vodka did.

Unfortunately, getting to Aisha meant going past him, and going past him was the new equivalent of death. You’d much rather live, so you decided to head to the kitchen.

It was dim and empty, besides one boy in the corner, his face illuminated by his phone screen. You ignored him and headed to the six-pack of drinks on the counter. You opened a can and downed it fully. It tasted like summers forever ago and peaches. You decided to go for another one.

“Woah—” the boy from across the kitchen exclaimed. Suddenly, you realized how sad you must have looked, armed with one and a half empty cans of alcohol and a face riddled with anxiety.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to look like an alcoholic,” you said, with a nervous chuckle, setting the cans down.

“Nah, it’s chill,” he said. He cocked his head, and his eyebrows knit together—you were familiar to him in a way he wasn’t entirely sure how. You could say the same.

“What’s your name?” he asked; it was a bit pointed but not exactly mean.

“Y/N,” you responded, and you saw him still looking at you in confusion. The bells remained unrung. “My nickname is Dovie or Dove, though.”

As if exclaiming bingo, his brown eyes widened as if he could suddenly place you to someone, and you were hoping it was not him.

He snapped and pointed his fingers at you before asking the ill-fated question, “Do you know Hamzah?”

In an idyllic world where you were the heroine, free with your own tongue, you would have slyly remarked how you wished you didn’t know him—unfortunately, you were not. What you were instead was a girl permeated by suffering and immense heartbreak—so instead, you settled your response with, “Yeah, I do—well did, anyway,” followed up with a quick “do you?”

“Well yeah, I’m Martin; his friend. Me and him do YouTube together,” he replied.

Suddenly, you could place the boy’s face onto the YouTube thumbnails that would occasionally pop up on your YouTube feed, which you’d often have to ‘pre s not interested’ on. Aisha always pestered you to block the channel, but you could never bring yourself to do it.

You were unsure what to say, really; part of you wanted to pry and ask him everything about what Hamzah thought of you, said about you; instead, you settled on asking about Aisha.

“Um, so anyway, have you seen a blonde chick?” In totally seamless (at least that’s what you told yourself) fashion, you managed to get the conversation away from him.

“Unfortunately not,” Martin said with a head shake. “The only blonde here I know is my girlfriend, Mandy.”

You noticed how a small smile crept up when he said the word girlfriend. It was cute in a way that reminded you of how sick you were with your loneliness. You wondered if your loneliness radiated off of you, like a contagion.

“Ah, well, I’m sure I’ll find her,” you whispered under your breath.

Through the open archway of the kitchen, you could see him from the other end of the living room, seating on the couch, smiling and chuckling with the same girl, who was standing, from earlier. His hands inched up her legs, her smooth, buttery legs. Legs that you never had and weren’t yours. You had remembered when he done the same thing to you when you were still together. The way he tantalised you with the idea of public sex as he fiddled with the lace of your underwear, turning the small bow on the front in between his fingers as he pressed soft kisses on your inner thighs in front of a room of intoxicated people. You remembered him leading you from the main leading room and throwing you against the bed. You giggled. He smiled. You had remembered the feeling of total completeness as he entered you. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked with such purpose and love since then. You wondered if he made love to the girl the same way. Snapping out of your trance, you supposed this was the part of the evening where you finally decided to go collect Aisha and you’d both go home together, and she’d quarrel with you about how you should’ve “gotten your man back,” and you would’ve retorted with some lie about how you’d moved on. But the universe always found a way to ruin you in a new way, and Aisha sent you a text about how she had gone home safely. You didn’t even bother to open the message in full, only reading the first few parts of it on your notification screen.

AISHA: Hey bb <3 going w a guy! Text me when you get back and how your…

When you stared up from your phone, Martin was staring at you, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, my friend just went home—with some douchebag, I’m sure. I should leave too.”

“Do you need someone to walk you back home or at least out of the building?” Martin asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I can manage; I’m a big girl, after all.” That elicited a nervous but gentle chuckle from both of you. You gave him a small wave of goodbye before you set to leave, but you were disrupted by his voice again.

“Hey, um—Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you responded.

“He’s sorry,” he said.

“What?” You turned around, confused.

“He’s sorry,” he repeated.

“All he ever tells me about you is that he’s sorry,” Martin explained.

You weren’t exactly sure what to do with that information, but it felt like there was a lump in your throat, and as long as you were in this—no, his—apartment, you would suffocate in your own misery. All you could do was nod before leaving the kitchen.

As you left, you passed through the crowded living room. Sometime during your being in the kitchen, the living room had become somewhat of a small-scale mosh pit. You bumped into multiple bodies on your way out; it didn’t really bother you—you just wanted out—until you bumped into him. His brown eyes locked with yours.

And in the following moments, you realised two fundamentally devastating truths at once.

You were still in love with him, and seeing his face this close might make you fall in love all over again. And secondly, he hated you with every fibre of his being. You saw this in the way his eyes crinkled with disgust, the way in which his smile faltered ever so slightly, and in the way he distanced himself. The last part you weren’t actually sure of; the girl he was with earlier seemed to have taken him away. In that case, he wasn’t protesting, and either way, he didn’t seem to want to get any closer to you.

As he disappeared as quickly as he bumped into you, you took that as your final cue to leave.

You made it to the street and hailed a taxi. It smelled rich and perfumed with the faint hint of food. Part of you thought of what you were going to eat when you got home; another part of you ruminate over the girl’s legs, how Hamzah was so enamoured with them. How thin they were. You decided to get to bed hungry—it’s not like you were that hungry, right?

You opened iMessages and shot a text to Aisha.

YOU: Text me in the morning; also, next time maybe don’t invite me to my ex’s place for a party, then leave me at said party.

You frowned. Too hostile. You added a couple heart emoticons at the end before shutting your phone and dropping it into your brown leather bag and as much as you wanted to let your head rest against the window and let the vibrations of the car lull you into a light sleep - you were disturbed by a text.

HAMAZAH (Blocked Contact): We need to talk.

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Sincerely, Mackie

[f1fnatic]

SUR LE POINT ⤿ c. leclerc 16

→ ( in which. . . ) you, toto wolff's daughter, are dating semi-rival team driver charles leclerc and toto is trying his best to support your relationship while also being a proud dad.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) smau

→ ( face claim. . . ) taylor hill + pictures from pinterest

→ ( pairing. . . ) charles leclerc x wolff!ballerina!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) cursing, fluff, google translated german and french

→ ( author's note. . . ) woohoo another smau! these are genuinely so fun to make but sooo time consuming. i hope you enjoy! see end for more

→ ( masterlist )

─ INSTAGRAM ↴

y/n_wolff

📍monte carlo, monaco

liked by susiewolff, lewishamilton, yourbff, charles_leclerc and 953,730 others

y/n_wolff a break between shows 🌞

view 19,572 comments

user7 she is stunning!

user10 mother is mothering

charles_leclerc that dog better not be in the apartment when i get home.

y/n_wolff um about that!

charles_leclerc oh mon dieu

y/n_wolff btw her name is olive!!

susiewolff Meine schöne tochter 💓 (my beautiful daughter)

y/n_wolff woher, glaubst du, habe ich es? (where do you think i got it from?)

mercedesamgf1 baby boss is glowing 🫡🫧 liked by y/n_wolff

yourbsf my legs are dead because of you.

y/n_wolff not my fault you couldn't keep up 😒

user44 need to know where you got that top!

y/n_wolff its actually a dress and i made both of the flower and lemon one myself!

user16 i wonder how toto feels ab this

user19 he was asked during an interview and was hesitant, but supportive !!

charles_leclerc holy 🥴 liked by y/n_wolff

lewishamilton you're in monaco and you dont even stop and say hi? smh 😒

y/n_wolff I AM SORRY BLAME CHARLES

charles_leclerc WHY ARE YOU DRAGGING ME INTO THIS?

y/n_wolff BECAUSE ITS YOUR FAULT?

lewishamilton i was kidding 😀

charles_leclerc has added to their story!

caption: i can't even be mad 😔 y/n_wolff

lewishamilton has added to their story!

caption: apology accepted ✅ y/n_wolff

─ TWITTER ↴

─ INSTAGRAM ↴

y/n_wolff has reposted a story!

caption: she's in the zone dnd 💆🏻‍♀️🌙 y/n_wolff

y/n_wolff

📍vienna, austria

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, susie_wolff, francisca.cgomes and 987,540 others

y/n_wolff ladies and gentleman... your 2024 white swan!!

it is such an honor to be awarded this role. ever since i was a kid and saw my first performance of swan lake, i fell in love. from that moment, i knew i wanted to be odette. this is truly a dream come true.

i would like to thank the wienerstaatsballet for such a wonderful opportunity and trusting me with such an important role. along with my amazing parents, toto & susie_wolff, and my wonderful boyfriend charles_leclerc. you have all shown me such support and love, i couldn't have done this without any of you.

(p.s. see the link in bio for showings 😉)

view 23,517 comments

user16 she is so unbelievably pretty

mickschumacher woohoo!! you go y/n!

y/n_wolff thank you mickyyy

user8 CONGRATS Y/N! liked by y/n_wolff

charles_leclerc so happy for you mon cynge 🫀 (my swan)

lewishamilton congratulations y/n! i remember watching you as a young girl just starting out, this is such a wonderful achievement, you deserve it more than anyone 🖤

y/n_wolff thank you so much lew 🥹💞

user5 they're so sibling coded 💔

mercedesamgf1 woohoo! congrats baby boss 🥳🙌🏻

y/n_wolff thank u admin 🥰

charles_leclerc when you called me to say you got the part, pride flooded my senses. i know how much this part means to you, etoile. i am so happy for you, je t’aime plus que tout ❤️ (star, i love you more than anything)

y/n_wolff i love you so much, mon coeur 💌

yourbsf the best to do it ❣️🦢 liked by y/n_wolff

yourballetfriend happy for u y/n 🙂

user77 she doesn't seem happy...

user44 i wouldn't blame her 🤷🏾‍♀️

user2 yeah but ballet is competitive it's part of the sport

susie_wolff Ich bin so stolz auf dich, Y/N. Worte können meinen Stolz nicht ausdrücken. Es ist mir eine Ehre, dich meine Tochter nennen zu dürfen (i am so proud of you, y/n. words cannot express my pride. i am honored to call you my daughter)

y/n_wolff hör auf, mama, ich werde weinen, ich liebe dich so sehr (stop mama, i'm going to cry, i love you so much)

francisca.cgomes my fave ballerina 🩰✨ liked by y/n_wolff

scuderiaferrari 🩰🏎️ liked by y/n_wolff

user10 i am so normal about this (i am so insanely happy for her)

─ TWITTER ↴

─ INSTAGRAM ↴

toto_wolff

liked by y/n_wolff, lewishamilton, susie_wolff, charles_leclerc and 2,836,123 others

tagged: y/n_wolff

toto_wolff Congratulations to my wonderful daughter, Y/N. Ich bin so stolz auf dich, meine Blume. Zu sehen, wie du zu dem heranwächst, was du jetzt bist, war so ein Segen. Ich fühle mich geehrt, dein Vater zu sein. Mach weiterhin großartige Dinge, ich liebe dich. (I'm so proud of you, my flower. Seeing you grow into what you are now has been such a blessing. I am honored to be your father. Keep doing great things, I love you.)

view 959,237 comments

user71 THE STREETS WERE RIGHT!!

user50 this is so sweet oh my god

user9 oh to have a dad like toto wolff

y/n_wolff oh papa, ich liebe dich so sehr. Ich hätte mir keinen besseren vater wünschen können, ich danke dem universum jeden Tag dafür, dass ich gesegnet genug bin, dich als meinen vater zu haben. danke, dass du immer für mich da bist 😭❤️ (oh papa, i love you so much. i couldn't have asked for a better father, i thank the universe everyday for being blessed enough to have you as my dad. thank you for always being there for me)

user11 i want what they have 🥲

susie_wolff Unsere wundervolle Tochter (our wonderful daughter)

lewishamilton What a star🌟!

user14 crying in daddy issues

christianhorner Congratulations, Wolff. You have raised a wonderful daughter.

toto_wolff Thank you, Horner.

user88 the passive aggression

user51 the girls are fighting

mercedesamgf1 Boss man making us cry 🫡

charles_leclerc it is such an honor to be dating your daughter, toto

toto_wolff Couldn't have asked for anyone better.

y/n_wolff does this mean that you will let him win, papa?

toto_wolff No.

*comments under this post have been limited*

whoop! another fic done 🥳this was super fun to write, i loved looking for pictures, especially the toto-baby reader one 💔 not a lot of toto content... oh well. i am thinking of making a taglist, so let me know if you would like to be on it! also, hope i made it clear enough that toto does not know how to use instagram, and reader had to help him with making a post/comment. he doesn't know how like comments yet. thank you for reading! as usual, requests and feedback are welcome. make sure to leave a comment and kudos! (only if you want :P)

[domnamewoman]

what would shang tsung, syzoth, smoke and rain be like with a gn!witch? who do spell with more natural things, like crystal, herbs, etc... imagine them being like "I found this little rock, maybe you'd like it" and their s/o picks it up like it's a goblin lol. I love your work, u are amazing 🌟

Characters: Rain, Shang Tsung, Reptile, Smoke

Warnings: Witch!GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

“Can you hand me the duck feathers?” You ask, reaching out your hand to Syzoth.

Syzoth picks up the feathers from the table and walks over to you, placing them in your hand.

“Thank you.” You grab the feathers and stir them into the brewing elixir.

“It amazes me that all these random ingredients can be mixed together to create magic,” Syzoth says in wonderment.

“It’s not so much the ingredients than it is the intention of the person mixing them.”

“Hmm, so the real power comes from you,” Syzoth contemplates as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, I guess in a way.” You nod, “But I can’t enchant someone without them being exposed to the potion in some way.”

“You seemed to do a pretty good job of enchanting me,” Syzoth mumbles into your cheek as he places a kiss there, “Making me fall for you.”

“You are so cheesy,” You grumble, loving every part of it.

“I think I might pass out…” Zeffeero pants as he hovers over the toilet.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You apologize as you rub comforting circles on his back.

“Why”–heave–”Why would you even need a p-potion that induces vomiting?”

“It can be useful to demobilize an enemy during a fight,” You reason sympathetically.

“Except I’m not an enemy who's trying to fig-” Zeffeero gets cut off by more contents getting expelled from his stomach.

“I mean it is kind of your fault. Why would you drink a random liquid you haven’t seen before?”

Zeffeero turns his head to you and glares, “M-My fault? I was thirsty. Why was your potion in the refrigerator?”

“The ingredients had to be cold in order to fuse together properly,” You sigh as Zeffeero is hit with another bought of vomiting, “Okay, I should have labeled it. I’m sorry.”

“H-How long is it s-supposed to last?” Zeffeero pants out.

You cringe, “Two hours…”

“Two hours!?”

Shang Tsung stares at the potion you were brewing with repulsion. He leans over and takes a sniff before quickly covering his nose and holding back a gag.

“You know, I would be most delighted to teach you my sorcery. It is more sophisticated than creating vile concoctions like this.”

“Oh shush, there is more than one way to do magic, Shang. This is mine,” You say as you add five drops of toad’s blood to the cauldron.

“It’s tedious and ineffective in an emergency. You have to spend time brewing potions and then have someone consume it for it to work,” Shang Tsung argues.

“They don’t have to consume it, I can also put it in a bottle and throw it at them like a Molotov. Also, making potions isn’t tedious, I actually find it rather relaxing.”

“What could be relaxing about this horrid smell?”

You roll your eyes before turning to Shang Tsung and raising an eyebrow, “Well if your sorcery is so sophisticated, why don’t you zap away the smell?”

You and Shang Tsung stare at each other, your smile growing by the second. Shang Tsung pompously waves his hand before turning around and walking away.

“I thought so,” you chuckle as you turn back to your potion.

You’re standing in your spell room, organizing your crystals and taking stock of potion supplies when Tomas excitedly bursts through the door.

“Baby, I got you something,” Tomas sings as he walks up to you with his hands behind his back.

“What is it?” You excitedly inquire as you try to peek around him.

“Something almost as beautiful as you.”

“Show me already,” You impatiently demand.

“Ta-da!” Says Tomas as he brings his hands in front of him and extends his fingers to reveal a rainbow-colored crystal sitting in his palms.

“Oh my gosh, Tomas-”

“It’s pretty isn’t it? I knew you would lov-”

“No, it’s dangerous.” You snatch it out of his hand and jog to the front door, throwing it as far as you can away from the house. “That is a lifeforce-draining crystal.”

“I-I just thought it was a pretty rock… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head lovingly at Tomas as you comfortingly rub his arm, “I appreciate the thought, anyway. Just leave the crystal scavenging to me.”

[wigglebox]

It’s really not that hard to understand how Destiel is canon despite not having Dean verbally textually concretely saying “I love you” back, which is what most people who only consume media on a surface level understand.

You have a jigsaw puzzle. Let’s say there’s 327 pieces. One by one you put it together with some bright spots where you get a bunch of them in a row and some more complicated spots where it took you longer than you wanted and the picture made it difficult to match up the pieces.

After awhile, you get 326 of them in, even tho your dog almost ate the 326th piece and it’s a little chewed up but whatever. It’s passable.

But, you realize you can’t find that 327th piece. It’s somewhere — it’s gotta be somewhere. You can see the hole where it belongs. You see it’s shape in it’s empty space, you see how many curves it has and how many sticky-out bits it has to connect perfectly with the rest of the puzzle.

However that final piece is still missing.

You look up and down, come up with theories about where it could possibly be (did the dog eat it? Did the manufacturers just screw up and there was a glitch in processing? Was it your own fault you lost it and it’s somewhere super obvious?).

But despite you being unable to find it, you’ve stared at that empty space for so long it’s almost like it is already filled because the shape is so clearly outlined. It’s the final piece and even if it’s not there, the rest of the picture is, and, the empty space is so well defined that there is no QUESTION that’s where the missing piece should go.

So Destiel is canon because the rest of the puzzle was filled in through years and years of subtext, text, basic narrative structure, romantic tropes, queer coding, etc etc.

The one piece that’s still missing is Dean saying three words but you don’t know where that piece is, aka, we don’t know why he wasn’t allowed to say it back. But we know that’s what has to be said. There won’t be a refusal of reciprocation because if that was the case we would have gotten it when the show was airing because there’s no harm from executives perspectives in denying queer feelings. They’d probably prefer it.

Dean’s missing words is the one single puzzle piece that’s missing right now. And we are all still searching for it but that doesn’t mean that it’s clearly defined space isn’t already there outlining exactly what could only fit right. There.

[kuamiru]

There was a private ask to write about a platonic yandere Zhongli with twin children, where the reader has a female perspective.

I hope you all like it and consider forgiving my long absence :)

It's almost 6k words! What a read!

—————————

The Tale of the Rocks, the Sun and the Moon

Having power means you also have enemies who desire it. An evil god set his sights on Rex Lapis' extension of power, and the Geo Lord weeps.

Warnings: Death and child death, blood, eating somebody alive. Beware that the start is pretty dark.

It was strangely quiet. Morax was accustomed to having the wind blowing against his face, the earth trembling due to every step he gave, even having the skies raining down on him after a particularly difficult battle. He always took the latter as a form of repent, as if nature was trying to wash away his sins and bury them down in the ground.

But the skies were clear, and the only thing looking down on him was the blazing sun. The true storm raged inside his heart, his blood imitating the tears from the sky as he found himself unable to cry.

“We fear there are no survivors, my lord.”

If he acknowledged the words of his adeptus, he didn’t show it. His eyes were fixated on the desolate landscape before him, feeling the sorrow in his chest consuming him more and more each time he discerned a new body below the fire and destruction.

“What about—”

“We found the remains, should you wish to see her.”

“Show me.”

The adeptus nodded. She started walking away, carefully traversing a path previously cleared of death and debris. It didn’t take long before they were standing in front of a particular corpse; it had been laid carefully against the broken wall of what was left of a house, now burned down to the ground. There was another adeptus already there, fixing the body so it wouldn’t be such an horrific sight for anybody present.

Morax didn’t say a word. He stood still for a few seconds, simply watching the distressing scene before approaching and kneeling before the remains, reaching out to cup the cold cheek in his warm hand.

The two adepti remained silent while he mourned. They shared a look between them, and the woman left to help recover whatever bodies they could find.

“There’s only one of them here,” he said after a moment, looking at his surroundings looking for something. “Where are they?”

“That’s…”

It was obvious from the pair’s faces that they were debating internally on how to approach the topic.

“Back with the evil god that razed the village.”

A wounded adeptus approached the scene, using the broken wall to support his body and try to approach his master as much as he could.

“You fought here,” Morax noted, looking him up and down. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

“It was that evil god’s doing, my lord. It took us all by surprise, we had no time to react,” he answered. “He didn’t just burn this village; he knew this is where you concealed your children. They… he was after them.”

His heart felt heavy, his chest started to hurt. The reality of the situation was finally dawning down on him. He didn’t even realize that he had walked all the way to the adeptus, looking down on him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

“He… ate them. Oh, Celestia, we couldn’t do anything but watch as he swallowed them. That god wished to gather power to defeat you and steal your new place as the Lord of Geo. We— we couldn’t save—”

The boy finally broke down, letting his own body fall as wept at the memories of the early fight. Rex Lapis simply watched him, feeling the deep, boiling rage in his veins threatening to take over him. His hand ached, desperately urging him to summon his polearm and destroy anything that was still standing just to quell his anger.

His family, his children, his two beautiful treasures… He wasn’t able to protect them; it was his fault this happened, he didn’t foresee this attack, his adepti didn’t have enough power to win. Useless, useless, useless.

The ground started to tremble. Faint, almost unnoticeable. The men that were with him quickly became alerted, and the crying adeptus tried to compose himself as fast as he could.

“We have him sealed, still alive.”

The pair wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when the earth finally quieted down. Morax’s eyes returned once again to his subordinate, and he didn’t have to say anything to get his message across:

Take me to him.

.

“The great Rex Lapis, the new and almighty Lord of Geo, standing before me. To what do I owe such honor?”

Oh, how he wished he could smite that god out of existence. To make him swallow that smug smile by dismembering his body piece by piece and be witness to how his wretched soul dragged itself right into hell.

And it destroyed him knowing that he wasn’t able to do so.

“Silence, you fiend! You have no right to speak to our lord like that.”

The god only scoffed, amused by the situation.

“Did you come here to finish me off, Morax? To take revenge on me for killing your spawn?” He taunted. “Or perhaps, would you like for me to tell you how those two screamed and cried, desperately calling for their dear father to save them?”

The sound of a polearm hitting the rock wall filled the room. The small cut on the god’s cheek only let a drop of blood escape, before retracting and slowly closing itself. Just as if nothing had wounded him at all.

Morax’s heart sank even deeper at this. He knew where those powers came from, didn’t he? A fleeting memory came to him in an instant: a wound, two small children crying, and a woman consoling them. He slowly retreated his arm back to his side, not bothering to summon the weapon back. He didn’t have the strength to do it.

The creature laughed maniacally. It was elated to see the powerless figure of the Lord below him, feeling as if he had won before the fight even started. “You’re weak, dragon. Maybe these powers aren’t enough to slaughter you, but I have taken something from you. Something you will never be able to take back.”

.

“So? What happens next?”

“It’s obvious! Morax defeats the evil god and avenges his children, right?!”

The woman closed the book with a smile, finally looking up to see her children tucked in each one’s bed. “Well, what do you wish for it to happen next?”

“Rex Lapis kills the god! And, and- he finds out his children aren’t dead! And they all live happily ever after, fighting all the evil gods that come after them!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at her son’s words.

“You two have such a wild imagination sometimes.”

“But how does it really end?” Both the woman and the young boy turned to look at you, who had a hopeful look on your face. “Does it really have a happy ending?”

"Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Right now it's time to sleep." She put the book away before giving each kid a kiss on their forehead. "Have a good night, my treasures."

It only took a few seconds for her to turn of the light and close the door, disappearing into the hallway of the house. Both siblings remained in silence for a moment, before one of them shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you feeling okay, 妹妹?" Came the words of your brother, turning to face you. "Are you cold?"

"No, I just can't sleep. I'm thinking about that evil god… What if he breaks free? And attacks our village?! He'll hurt mom and dad!"

He got up from his bed, careful not to make any noise that could alert your parents, and slowly walked up to your bed, getting inside the sheets with you.

"It's just a story! That god probably doesn't even exist, and I doubt that Rex Lapis has had any children in the past." As expected of your older brother, such mature thoughts! He took great pride in the fact that he was able to comfort you.

"Really? So it's not real?"

He took your tiny hands between his. "Yeah! Plus, there's no one Rex Lapis can't defeat. He's our Geo Lord, after all."

You couldn't help but chuckle. Your brother was always right.

None of you said anything after that. The light of the moon illuminated the room through the window, barely letting you see each other's faces. It felt safe, knowing that your brother was there to guard you.

It was always safe.

.

"Here, try this sweetheart."

A red-colored drink was put in front of your face, hanging there barely a second before you grabbed it with both hands.

"It's strawberry, your favorite."

You smiled at your father, hugging him by the waist as a 'thank you'. He only chuckled and ruffled your hair, which in turn made you groan and quickly separate from him so he wouldn't mess it even more.

Your brother was busy clinging to your mother, who was in turn busy paying for the drinks your family had. The market was filled with all sort of people walking along, stopping by the various stands and buying all sort of things that you were sure no one would ever need. These were times of peace, your parents always reminded you two. As the war between gods finally came to an end, every creature was eager to go outside and celebrate, even if that celebration just meant going to the market and enjoy the afternoon with your family.

Without the ever-present danger of a stray attack of a divinity striking you for being in the wrong place at wrong time, it wasn't such a wonder everyone was feeling pretty happy.

"It's a statue of Morax!"

"What a marvelous piece of work!"

Your father had to grab your free hand when people started to pass by you in a rush, eager to reach the center of the street, just behind you both. Your eyes followed the multitude and lingered on, finding the statue they were fawning about. The sculptor was startled by the sudden noise of people gathering around her, momentarily separating her chisel from the stone before any irreparable damage could be done. She breathed a sigh of relief and brushed her forehead, failing to notice the bucket full of utensils at her side and inevitably pushing it down the stairs she was sitting on.

The metal resonated a few times before hitting the ground, spreading every instrument on the floor. The few onlookers that were close enough were quick to get out of the way, simply watching the artist groan in frustration at the thought of going down and retrieving all her stuff.

You were quick to leave your father's side, the sound of his voice calling out for you being drowned by the gasps and exclamations of surprise from the crowd around the square. You left your drink on the ground, opting to collect all the scattered items in your small hands. The woman shouted a big "thank you" from where she sat, waving her arm so you could notice her. You waved back, although you could barely move your right hand without letting every utensil fall from your arms. She used a rope to lower down a hook, stopping when it reached your waist so you could reach it without any inconvenience.

Just as you were just about to make haste to reach the rope, a metallic sound caught you attention. You looked back, finding a small hammer on the ground. It must've fallen from your hands. You looked at it for a couple of seconds, debating whether you should try to pick it up or just come back to retrieve it after sending back the bucket, with the possibility to have everything fall if you tried to grab it. Just as you were deciding to come back for it, a pair of black shoes stood next to the hammer, a gloved hand picket the small item up before handing it to you.

"I believe this is for the lady up there?" A deep, masculine voice asked. You looked up to find a pair of gold, glowing eyes.

"Thank you, mister!"

You did a small bow before quickly making your way to the statue of the Lord of Geo, using the rope and hook to hang the bucket with all the utensils inside. It wasn't long before the sculptor pulled the rope and retrieved her materials, waving once more just to show how grateful she was. This time you waved back accordingly, bidding farewell to the lady up there.

When you turned around to go back to your father, you only found strange faces walking along. Even looking all around the square proved to be in vain, as none of the men there looked remotely similar to him. Starting to feel nervous, you took a step forward and retracted almost immediately. There was a red puddle on the ground and an empty cup just a few centimeters away from it. This must've been your drink, you thought, and somebody must've kicked it accidentally from leaving it on the ground. Oh this was bad, your mom would surely scold you for being so careless! But, you had to find you dad first-

Your little eyes started scanning every inch of the plaza, feeling more and more anxious every time you failed to notice a familiar face.

It was then when you suddenly found one.

"Are you okay, little one?"

It was the man from before, you realized. He stood in front of you once more, slightly bending so you could see each other eye to eye. He must've seen you panicked and came to your rescue.

You noticed it the first time, but it really felt like the eyes of that man did glow. Such a nice golden color he had. It briefly reminded you of the landscape surrounding your village, the countless afternoons you spent with your brother playing around while the mountains watching over you from afar. It brought a feeling of peace along with it.

You wondered how long you were looking at them, for when you came back to yourself, he had his head tilted with amusement.

"I- I can't find my dad", you confessed, looking down in shame.

Oh, how he didn't like the loss of visual contact. A dangerous glint flashed before his eyes, quick enough to disappear just as you were raising your head again.

"I see," he said, smiling gently. "What does he look like? That way I can help you look for him."

It should be okay to tell him, right? Your mother always told you not to talk or go with strangers, but this one was trying to help you get back to your family's side. He had such gentle eyes, he surely couldn't be a bad guy.

The man nodded his head as you described your father's appearance. Though he maintained an amicable expression, you didn't fail to notice that his smile suddenly became strained. It was almost like he was feeling more disappointed as you rambled on.

"I say we look for him. He must be very close still." He extended his hand for you to take, and you didn't think twice. As you were just about to grab it, a voice calling your name made you stop. You turned to see the little figure of your brother calling your name and running straight to you, and the man closed his fist tightly.

"Where were you? Papa was worried when you left his side, mama scolded him a lot!" Your brother fussed, taking your hand in his as he started to make you follow him.

"Ah, wait!" The man at your side let his panic show for a moment, grabbing you both and making you stop in your tracks. He had his left hand on your shoulder, and his right one in your brother's arm, just above your linked hands.

The pair looked at him quizzically, but he refused to take his eyes off you both. You though they were glowing before, but now they were shining. They went back and forth between you two, and it was starting to get uncomfortable to be held by this stranger.

The hands grabbing you started to tremble.

The moment your sibling made up his mind to ask the man what did he want with you, the voice of your mother startled you. She came up running, your dad following her just behind. "I told you both to not get separated from us! Something could've happened!"

In an instant you both were set free. The man took a step backwards, as if he was suddenly shook awake from the trance he subconsciously put himself in. Looking back at him for barely a second you found him glaring intently at your mother. He seemed to assess her, looking up and down her appearance as if looking for something specific. Alas, he didn't find it, for his mood soured even more.

"Mister was going to help me find you, dad!" You exclaimed with excitement.

Your father turned to look at him, "Is that true? Well, thank you sir..."

"Mo- Zhongli. My name's Zhongli."

Neither of your parents realized that he was going to say another name. You and your brother looked at each other. At least he caught it too.

"Say goodbye to mister Zhongli children." Your mom ordered, patting your backs. "And remember to thank him."

You looked into his eyes once again and a chill ran through your whole body. His cold gaze was fixated into your mom's touch for barely a second before turning to you two. When he caught your gaze his mood changed so suddenly that it left you wandering if you imagined the previous hostility. He now smiled warmly and offered a shy wave of his hand. His expression was one of pure bliss at your acknowledgement of him.

"Goodbye mister Zhongli. Thank you." You shyly waved at him, hiding behind your mother due to the sudden weird feeling you were getting from him.

"Bye-bye. Thanks." Your brother imitated your action and ran to grab your father's hand.

The hand of your mother rested on your head, giving you a slight ruffle. You all started walking away from the market heading for home. Purely by curiosity both your brother and you looked behind you and had to quickly advert your eyes with a shiver running down your spines.

That man, Zhongli, was still looking at you two.

And the look he had was one of pure madness.

.

The curtain in the bedroom did nothing to stop the moonlight from barely illuminating the room. It was still pretty dark, the dim light only served to highlight the outline of the furniture, the walls and, most importantly, the two small figures resting in one bed.

The sight of the two kids hugging each other while sleeping made his heart ache with longing. It brought forth a deep sadness that was hurting his chest. He was staring right at them and he still couldn't believe he was seeing them.

Morax reached with his left hand and moved a wild strand of hair off your brother's face; all the while with the other he cupped your cheek and ran his thumb alongside with nothing but delicacy and love.

Oh, how he had missed them. His children.

It had to be fate, right? There was no other explanation for this.

He thanked Celestia time and time again, repeating it like a silent prayer. It must've been thanks to the kingdom in the sky that his children were allowed to reincarnate, albeit human but another life nonetheless. His mind wandered briefly to the memory of his long lost family, and especially to his late lover. How disappointed he was to find that neither your father nor your mother held her spirit. But it was okay, he told himself. There was still time. If his kids were given another chance at life then that meant he would see her again someday.

Until that happened he would make sure to properly protect you this time.

Your lazily opened your eyes. Even half asleep, you still had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You quickly scanned your room, finding nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no human, ghost or spirit watching you while you were sleeping. Your brother gave a soft groan and turned around, continuing his dream.

You must've imagined it then.

Your hand reached out to touch your cheek. For some reason it felt warm.

.

"Remember not to wander too far, okay kids?"

"Yes 妈!"

The two siblings ran along the busy street, chasing each other and laughing all the while. A group of kids passed by playing among themselves too. Your brother took notice of them and immediately approached what seemed to be the leader, asking for you both to join their game of tag. None of the children had any problem with it, they even seemed happy to have a few more people to play with. Giving a hand gesture to your parents indicating that you would be with them, the both of you started to follow the other kids.

A couple of hours passed. In the middle of the fun the game changed a few times, ultimately deciding to play a few rounds of hide and seek before having to return to their homes. It was your turn to hide. You took your brother's hand and made him follow you, going inside an alleyway to sit behind a few wooden crates. You giggled at each other, thinking that this was the perfect hiding spot. You were sure the girl counting wouldn't be able to find you-

"Found you!" A voice above startled you both.

Your brother stood up with a jump. You turned around, confused as to why it wasn't that girl's voice what you heard.

Gold filled your vision.

You were staring again at the gleaming eyes of the same man that helped you yesterday.

"It's... you again." You muttered. He brightened up at the thought of you recognizing him.

"Go away! We're playing hide and seek! You're going to give away our hiding spot!"

Even though your brother rudely tried to shoo him he remained in his place, a gentle smile resting on his face.

"Are you playing, then? Can I join?

Your brother and you stared at each other.

"We'd have to ask the others... I don't think adults are allowed to join."

He seemed to ponder over this.

"Don't mind the other kids. Let's play just the three of us."

Even though your brother was about to refuse something made him stop right in his tracks. You followed his line of vision and found yourself entranced by the dim glow of Zhongli's eyes. Suddenly they felt very familiar. It was exactly like those times that by cleaning your room you ended up finding a toy you really treasured but didn't know you had lost at one point. A sense of longing and love, the sensation of reuniting with something you believed was lost to time.

Overwhelmed by this strange feeling, you ended up giving in to his demand. "I... I- Sure..."

It was clear that at your side your brother was feeling the same way, for he didn't refuse a second time.

Two gloved hands extended in front of you. You hesitated momentarily, thinking that this wasn't a really good idea. The sudden memory of the first meeting with Zhongli flashed through your mind.

"I think that-"

"Yeah, let's go."

Your brother was quick to take one of the hands, letting the man pull him closer to him like your father would do.

They both turned to look at you. "Are you coming, 妹妹?"

If your brother thought that it was fine then it should be, right? You nodded slowly and decided to also take Zhongli's hand.

.

"兒子! 女儿! Where are you?"

Zhongli stopped walking. The distressed voice of your mortal mother managed to miraculously sour his whole mood. He was having such a good time with his children, how dare that woman interrupt him!

Your sleeping figure in his arms started to wake up at the familiar sound sound of her shouting. You looked above his shoulder, waking up even more once you recognized her figure wandering along the street. "妈!" You called for her.

Your brother, who was walking alongside Zhongli and being guided by his hand, also turned to look at her. He rubbed the sleepiness off his eyes and waved to get her attention.

"Kids! There you are!"

It took all of Morax's willpower not to turn and smite her right there and then. He wanted nothing more than to take his children away, hide them where no one could find them ever again. It was bad luck that he was found by that woman as he was planning to leave the city; Morax believed that he wasn't such a violent god, now that the war was over. His displays of power were limited to deities and other mystical beings, never a human was a victim to his wrath. It would reflect badly on him if he decided to eliminate this human in front of his children. It could frighten them, make them scared of his power.

The last thing he wanted was the two of you fearing him.

"Thank you for looking after them!" She exclaimed, running up to him and taking you from his arms onto hers. Rage flashed through his eyes. He stilled his right hand that ached for the blood of the person that dares take his kid from him. Be calm, he told himself. He needed to be calm.

"It was no problem, madam." He forced a smile at her. "It was getting late and I found them wandering again, I just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to them until we found you."

She seemed to believe that he was helping you again just like yesterday. This would do. The boy let go of his hand and ran up to his mother, hugging her from the waist. His fist clenched tightly.

"We played all day, mom!" Your brother said with enthusiasm.

She gave a soft laugh. "Is that why you two are falling asleep standing?"

Morax faked a laugh. She turned to him.

"I have no words of gratitude. I was getting really worried when I saw that they weren't coming home once their curfew arrived!"

Such an irresponsible mother. If it were him he wouldn't take his eyes off his kids. He would make sure to stay besides them all day, forever...

"It's my pleasure to help." He gave a small bow. "They're lovely kids."

"Why, thank you!" She smiled brightly at his kind words. Your brother tugged her cheongsam to get her attention. She immediately got the massage and bowed to Morax. "It was a pleasure, mister Zhongli. Thank you again for your help."

She turned around and started walking heading for her home. Morax didn't bother to responder her goodbye. He only looked at her fading figure, one child in her arms and the other walking besides her.

It was okay.

He has waited all this time for them. He could wait a little more before bringing his children home.

.

A week had passed since then.

Your parents made sure to keep you both close to them or at least, somewhere they could keep an eye on you. During all this time you didn't encounter Zhongli, at least not directly. There were moments where you would spot his golden eyes in the middle of the crowd, or see his figure leaning against the wall, completely in silence with his gaze fixed on your brother or yourself. It would be for merely a few seconds; as soon as your mother or father got close to you he would disappear.

Those strange sightings plus the uncomfortable sensation of being watched all the time were starting to make you pretty nervous. It didn't feel like you two were actually in danger, but the hazard was still there nonetheless. It made you anxious not know where the danger actually was.

You eventually stopped going outside to play, preferring to stay and home with the company of your parents. They didn't complain, of course not, but you knew they were worried by the sudden change of attitude. Could have something happened?

Clouds covered the entire sky. It wasn't raining yet, but it was obvious that it would rain pretty soon.

You looked at the sky trough your bedroom's window, letting out a sigh.

"Feeling sad, 妹妹?" Your brother asked from the door before approaching you and standing at your side.

"Well, we weren't planning on going outside and play anyways. Maybe we could just read something?"

"We've been reading all week! Let's do some other thing. What about drawing?"

You pondered over that.

"Sure! Let's grab some paper from dad's study and-"

Your next words died in your throat. The ground started to shake violently, making your whole house vibrate with it. Stuff started to fall all around you, and parts of the ceiling crumbled before crashing to the floor.

"It's an earthquake!" You shouted, hugging your brother instantly.

"We have to get out!"

Nodding at his words, you quickly ran out of the bedroom. You clashed with your father while crossing the door, undoubtedly he was rushing in to help you. He grabbed you both from your arms and ran out of the house, your mother following just behind you.

Outside it was pure chaos. Not only buildings were crumbling on themselves, there were two dragons fighting as high as the clouds were. The adepti tried to guide the crowd as well as they could, signaling where to evacuate to escape from all the destruction.

You tried to hold onto your father's hand, but the swarm of panicked people didn't stop crashing against you, eventually weakening his hold and forcing him to release you with a horrified gasp. You both heard him call your names and try to reach you but the people didn't stop pushing you away from him.

You two just hoped you would be able to escape to reunite with your parents once you were safe.

.

Oh, how good it felt to quell his thirst of blood.

He looked at the inert body of the other god, watching as the blood flowed from where his polearm was thrusted in his back. This wouldn't kill him, no, but how good it still felt to try.

He briefly looked up to the mountains, glazing over the enormous hole the tallest had. He always knew that that evil god would break free from his seal, that all this time feigning sleep were only for the sole purpose of gaining his strength back.

But Morax had an advantage. The god had power that didn't belong to him, thus every time he tried to use it he would become unstable, open to attacks. It was a hard battle that's true, but it didn't matter to the Geo Lord. He would take him down as many times as it was needed.

He would protect his children this time. This and all the upcoming ones.

With one look around, all his adepti started working right away. A group of them focused on restraining the fallen god before he awakened, while the other, the physically stronger, helped the humans trapped below the rubble and destruction that was left behind.

Morax turned on his heels and started walking away. None of the presents said anything to him. Their master was emanating an ominous aura, a warning for them to stay away from him and just focus on their task ahead.

The streets that were once full of life now served as a cemetery for all the corpses laying everywhere. A few of them were barely clinging onto life, crying out due to their wounds or the fallen debris that imprisoned them against the floor.

But Morax didn't have time to waste with them. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. If he concentrated enough, the earth beneath him would answer his demands. He felt each pulsation like a beating heart; the earth was always carrying life, and if he tuned with it he could feel any being connected to it. Be it plants, animals or humans.

Two particular beats made his body tingle and suddenly Morax could breathe again. They were alive. They were safe. He protected them this time.

As soon as he mentally followed their life force located away from the city he was ready to go to them, but the sudden tug of the fabric of his torn hanfu made him look down.

A delicate hand was trying to get his attention; the woman trapped below a cart was weakly tugging his clothes, and he couldn't help but smile with nothing but insanity.

That was your mother right there, bleeding profusely from the head. The body of her husband laid barely a meter away from her. He didn't need to check his pulse or try to hear his breathing to know that that man was already dead.

This couldn't be better.

"Mis... Zhong... help..." She only managed to say, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He crouched in front of her, tilting his head as he assessed her wound.

"Poor thing. You would surely die if left alone in such condition."

His smile surely didn't convey the fake empathy from his words. A chill went down from the woman's spine, who just by looking at his eyes immediately knew that she wouldn't be getting out of there alive.

"You... them..."

"Ah, yes, them." He shrugged nonchalantly. "You don't have to worry about them. You can go in peace knowing that my children will be in safe hands, right where they belong."

He stood up as she started to trash around to try to break free. He only walked a few steps before a thud behind him made him look for a second. Her wound finally caught up to her and fell unconscious. How happy he was; he didn't even have to get his hands dirty to get rid of the false parents of his children. They were just... sad casualties of war.

He walked on.

.

A faraway temple was serving as a refuge for all the people running away from the city.

Alongside your brother, the two of you remained in a secluded group with all the other lost children, one of the locals comforting you and assuring all the kids that they were doing everything in their power to find their relatives. Your brother gripped your hand tightly, and you rested your head against his shoulder, numbly watching ahead for any sign of your mother or father.

You were expecting the gentle smile of your mom or the soft eyes of your father, but what instead stood before you two was gold.

Morax saluted the woman in charge of the group, and from where you were sitting you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying. She let out a relieved sigh and let him enter, following him with her gaze as he approached you two. He crouched to look at you in the eyes and extended his hand.

"Let's go home, my dears."

You both hesitated. It should be okay, you thought shyly. Mister Zhongli wouldn't do anything to hurt neither of you.

You looked at each other before accepting the hand that was offered. Morax let a small laugh. He helped you stand up before giving a nod to the woman as a thanks, exiting the temple shortly after.

With each step you moved farther and farther away from your village. You glanced at it as it smaller and smaller, feeling like this would be the last time you would look at your home.

[atlabeth]

congratulations on 3k!!! could I get a cute lil 🧸 hurt/comfort with nikolai where reader is grisha (maybe heartrender or inferni) and she gets jurda parem in her system and nikolai stays with her while she waits it out (like nina and matthias??) also drink water <333

by your side

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem inferni!reader

summary: you end up as collateral in a plot against nikolai. he helps you through the aftermath.

a/n: so sorry this took so long but that’s going to be the case for all of these lol !!! oops. but i love this man and i hope you enjoy it

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): reader goes through parem withdrawal and is kinda mean to nikolai for a bit. mentions of kidnapping and drugging. hurt/comfort, nikolai is the sweetest

“Nikolai—”

“I know.”

“It hurts, Nikolai,” you breathed.

“I know, milaya.” He brushed loose strands of hair out of your eyes, matted to your forehead by sweat and blood, his heart breaking more with every passing second. “I know.”

Nikolai couldn’t stand to see you like this. You didn’t even want him to—you asked him to leave so you could go through it on your own, but he would sooner die than leave you alone. You had an iron grip on his hand, but he hardly felt it. After what had been done to you in the name of getting to him, Nikolai owed you this much.

“Everything burns,” you moaned. “My— my bones—”

You were cut off by a sharp gasp of pain and your grip on Nikolai’s hand tightened. The action made you grimace as your eyes screwed shut, but you didn’t lessen your hold.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to ease this pain for you. He understood little of jurda parem, if a cure even existed, but he did know that you were strong enough to weather what was meant to be an insurmountable storm.

“You can end it,” you said, your voice shaking. Bloodshot eyes met his own, wide and dilated and full of unimaginable pain. “You’ve got to still have some here.”

“You know I can’t do that, my love,” he murmured.

“Please, Nikolai,” you begged.

“It will only make it worse,” he said. “There is nothing we can do but wait. You are strong enough to get through it, milaya.”

“Then what are you good for?” you snarled, your voice rising with the sudden flash of anger. “You’re a damned king, but you can’t even stop this?”

You tried to rip your hand away but Nikolai wouldn’t let you. He laid his other hand on top of yours.

“Look at me, Nikolai,” you hissed. “You say you love me and you leave me like this.”

“It is because I love you that I cannot give anything to you,” he said. “I can’t imagine how this feels, but I will be here for you every second of the way.”

You shook your head as another pained gasp escaped you, and somehow your grip tightened even more.

“I just want it to stop,” you begged. “Please, please make it stop.”

You were drenched in sweat, the bedsheets and the undergarments you’d stripped down to soaked through, and yet you hadn’t been granted any reprieve.

You’d always found comfort in the blazes you could create—able to fight with unbelievable ferocity one moment and make a harmless, beautiful show out of it that summoned all the stars in Nikolai’s eyes the next—but now it threatened to consume you.

Nikolai couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

You should have never been involved in the first place. He should’ve done a better job at protecting you, should have kept your name hidden, should have never let anyone have the chance to do something like this in the first place.

It was his fault. Nikolai knew he had enemies, more than he could ever imagine after ascending to the throne. Some stupid, naive part of him hoped that you wouldn’t become a part of that, but that was all it was—naivety.

You were kidnapped to get to him. Drugged to get to him. The bastards must have hoped you would go up in flames once you were done, but they underestimated you. Your foes always did.

You didn’t deserve any of this. Those criminals knew one thing, at least, because Nikolai would have taken all your pain as his burden for the rest of his life if it meant one second of reprieve for you.

But he couldn’t. His enemies wanted him to suffer, and the best way to do that was to make you suffer.

“I know,” he whispered, and he raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I know.”

Your skin had all but ignited from the inside out, more intense than anything an Inferni could muster on their own. You could have plunged to the depths of the Isenvee and still burn the whole way down.

And it continued on.

You hurled every curse at him in your native Zemeni, and when you ran out you turned to what you knew in Ravkan. You tried to throw him off or get him to leave a hundred times, tried anything to make him hate you. He could never hate you.

You sobbed through your pain, begging Nikolai to make it end. You gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break. You asked him to kiss you to distract you for even a moment.

You endured every hellish, torturous second, and Nikolai stayed by your side through it all.

“Nikolai.” The sudden whisper was so soft he had to lean closer to hear you.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m so tired.”

“You can sleep,” he assured. “I will be right here with you.”

“Hold me.” Your voice cracked, and his heart twisted. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Every part of you had been so sensitive, practically ablaze, and he didn’t want to worsen your already sensitive condition.

“I… I feel so empty.” You blinked a few times, but he saw the tears shimmering in your eyes. “Like— like I lost a part of myself, and I need to feel something.”

Nikolai’s throat bobbed, and he nodded. “Of course, lapushka.”

He climbed into bed next to you and laid down, gathering you up in his arms as gently as possible.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly as he pulled you close.

You nodded. He could feel each beat of your heart with your back pressed against his chest, and he’d never been more grateful for the sound. Your skin still burned, but he welcomed the blaze.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

For a moment, the two of you laid there in silence. Only your heartbeat and your breathing interrupted it, yours still slightly harried.

“I’m not hurting you,” he asked, “am I?”

“…No.”

You paused before you answered, and Nikolai frowned as he said your name.

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “Everything hurts right now—I’m not going to let that keep you away from me.”

He let out a wry laugh, and he pulled you even closer. “There she is.”

He could almost feel your smile in the shift of energy, but another moment passed before you spoke.

“I’m so sorry about everything I said.” Your whisper came out as a rasp, your throat scratchy from your ordeal. “I love you, Nikolai. More than anything. You know that, right?”

“I could never forget,” he said. “Not with all the love I hold for you.”

“…Good.” He felt you swallow hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Nikolai said. “It was my fault all of this happened.”

“It was their fault,” you insisted. “You saved me, Nikolai. I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine,” he said. “So shall we call it even? No apologies necessary?”

You let out a soft laugh, followed by a grimace. “Even.”

Nikolai smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“…I’m tired,” you repeated, even softer this time.

“Rest, milaya,” Nikolai said. “I won’t leave your side.”

“You swear?”

“On every saint, new and old,” he said. “And every vlachka in the Lantsov coffers.”

He waited for your response, but there was nothing apart from your gentle, even breathing. He allowed a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

Nikolai would never let anyone hurt you again.

[i2ycat]

Trouble is a Band (TEASER)

synopsis being in a band was all you ever wanted, and so when you were able to fly across the globe to join your brother’s high school band, you jumped at the opportunity to show everyone everything that you’ve got. singing in a band? check. performing in front of a crowd? check. falling in love with your brother’s best friend, who is in a complicated relationship with one of your fellow bandmates? check?

pairing park jongseong x fem!reader genre high school!au, kind of band!au, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, brothers best friend trope, slow burn-ish? teaser word count 381 estimated word count 5-7k teaser warnings none lyn speaking wasn’t going to have a teaser but i just thought why not! it will probably take a few weeks before i publish it because i still need to actually finish writing, proofread it and all that jazz 🤓☝����

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

READ HERE

Jay. Even the way his name rolled off your tongue felt oddly bitter and sweet at the same time. Bitter because there was no way you could be falling for your bandmate’s boyfriend without the guilt that consumed you ever-so-slowly. Sweet because there was no way for you to stop your heart from beating at twice the speed whenever he was around — he was your high school daydream; everything you wished you had.

“I really want you to sing this song I’m writing. I mean, I’m not totally done yet, but I wrote it with your voice in mind. It’s for the upcoming music festival.” He pulls out his phone and earphones from his pocket, sliding his chair closer to yours and offering an earpiece, which you cautiously take.

You straighten your back in an attempt to keep yourself focused, not wanting to mind the way his shoulders are pushed up against yours, or the way you could practically make out every single feature on his face, or the fact that you would’ve felt his breath fan against your face if he turned just a bit to the left. You need to force yourself to focus solely on the music.

Don’t mind the confusion.

The sense of focusing.

The only sure thing is you.

So now, put it all behind.

I’m just going to walk according to how my heart beats.

Fatal trouble.

Jay’s voice fills your ears, alongside Jungwon and Sunghoon’s. You could appreciate their heavenly voices all day, but the striking lyrics seemed to be the main reason for taking your breath away. It sounded as if they were speaking to your troubled thoughts right in the face, tempting you to fall deeper. Deeper into what? You didn’t want to even think about it.

"So, what do you think?”

“It's... it’s good.”

“That’s it?”

“What did you want me to say?”

“No need to get so feisty, princess.” He ruffles your hair, and you inwardly sigh, feeling the overwhelming defeat take over you because, no matter how much you wanted to fight the feeling, you knew that all your efforts would come crashing down anyway.

You were a weak woman with many faults, and being attracted to someone who is obviously taken is the biggest one of them all.

taglist open! send an ask to be added

© i2ycat 2024

[murphy-kitt]

Ectober Day 7 - Unearth

Word Count: 3,082

Tags: Corpse AU, Description of Corpse, Mention of Blood & Violence

AO3

Coming to the conclusion that Phantom is the reason for Danny’s withdrawn behaviour, Maddie is forced to face the truth. Her son is dead—and it’s all their fault.

Something is very wrong with her son.

Maddie has observed it for months now, the way that something is not quite right. The frigid air that seems to be radiating from him, the pallid skin, his unblinking blue eyes. At first she thought he might’ve been overshadowed, but that ended up being dismissed as his eyes were still blue.

So, she doesn’t know what it could be. And she supposed the only way to find out is to confront him. She and Jack have given him plenty of months to say something, but to no avail.

“Danny?” Maddie’s breath hitches as she stands outside his bedroom door, her hand resting on the wood. There’s a faint rustling noise and the sound of something slamming.

“Yeah, mom?” Danny’s strained voice.

“Can I come in?” She asks, worried that she’s woken him up. He never seems to get much sleep these days, perpetual layers under his eyes.

“Uh…sure.” Danny’s voice trails off, developing into a hoarse cough. Not just tiredness, but he’s always fatigued and ill.

Maddie yanks the door open, preventing herself from the doubt beginning to form in her mind. She will confront him and she will do it now. Jazz’s voice of ‘giving Danny space’ rings in her head as she shuts the door, facing her son.

Danny is splayed out on his bed, his skin so pale she can even feel the cold radiating from him. A fever, but the opposite?

No.

“Good grief, Danny. You’re hypothermic!” Maddie reaches to press her hand to his forehead. The sudden icy contact makes a chill prickle down her spine.

“Mom! I-” He flinches back, holding his hands up defensively and blinking owlishly. This is the closest she’s gotten to him in months. Have his eyes always had the subtle greeness to them?

“What’s happened to you?” her voice trails off. None of this makes sense. Signs of ghostliness, the cold, the pale skin…yet he is still Danny. He consumes food, grows, goes to school. Doesn’t haunt Amity, or fly, or glow or show any signs of an obsession.

“I–” Danny grimaces, his hand resting on his neck, “I can’t tell you. Not now.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?! You won’t? Or is someone forcing you to stay silent?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” He shrugs haplessly, and Maddie swears she sees a flicker of neon green. “I want to tell you. So bad. I don’t want to be lik– living like this anymore. It’s not fair. But I don’t know what else to do. Until yo– they see past their beliefs and realise the truth, then I’m stuck.”

“Danny, you need to tell me. Now.” her eyes narrow and Maddie nearly reaches out to shake him by the shoulders. What sort of trouble is he in? Someone’s threatening him to stay silent. She can see the desperation in his eyes. He’s trapped. Her baby boy desperately wants to say something, but is scared to silence.

“Who is it? Who’s threatening you like this? Did you see something?” Maybe he was witness to a crime. Murder? Drugs?

“No, Mom, it’s not like that.” Danny shakes his head, hopping off his bed and trawling across the room. The teen seems almost…dejected? Disappointed?

“Then what is it?” It’s like talking to a wall.

“Until they realise the truth and see how blind they’ve been, I won’t budge.”

“Realise the truth–what do you mean? Who needs to realise they’ve done wrong?” Maddie pleads, the confusion rattling even her scientific brain. The more he talks, the more questions arise and become more enigmatic.

“You, Mom. You and Dad are the ones who are blind.�� Danny stares at her with a harshness she didn’t think he was capable of. “And until you see past your beliefs, I won’t tell you anything.”

He turns and walks out the door.

Maddie’s heart shatters.

What have we done?

—

“Get down and face us ghost!” Jack’s shout echoes through the streets of Amity Park, a shot of the bazooka following.

Phantom easily dances away from the shot, which lands and destroys a nearby building. The ghost twists to look at them, green eyes glaring with such ferocity that makes Maddie grip her gun tighter.

“Well I’m sorry that I’d rather not be shot at!” The ghost retorts, slugging a stolen thermos onto its belt. Her and Jack had been patrolling the streets, when in a rare chance, Phantom had been finishing up after another fight. Probably for territory.

“You’ve no other choice!” Maddie shouts back, strengthening her resolve as she surges forward. A green dot reflects on him as she takes perfect aim.

This is it, Maddie. This is all she’s ever wanted. To capture Phantom and stop the ghosts from terrorising Amity Park. At least by doing this, it might offer Danny some respite. He’s terrified of ghosts.

Danny… her prior helplessness returns in waves, making Maddie’s aim on the ghost falter. He stares at her with glowing green eyes, and she stares right back.

Just like Danny, even with a mischievous glower, deep down she can see the tiredness in Phantom’s eyes. That he’s sick of this too.

All the more reason to be rid of him. Her eyes narrow.

“Mads, what’s up?” Jack shouts, distracted from his shot as he turns to look at her and simultaneously fires. The shot veers off into a building, far off kilter from the intended target.

“I’m fine.” Maddie inhales, eyes narrowed. Since when did the air smell so strongly of decay? The stench is sweet and stings the back of her throat.

Holding her breath, Maddie points her ectogun at Phantom again. He’s not done anything, not tried to escape or make stupid remarks. He just remains there.

Floating. Staring.

Staring with those tired eyes.

Phantom floats down a little closer, maybe a foot or so infront of her. The aim on his chest is bright and burning, but Phantom doesn’t seem to care. Bile roses up Maddie’s throat as the smell becomes stronger.

The street is eerily silent, so much so that even Jack has put his gun down, letting it remain useless by his side.

Phantom stares.

“You need to see the truth.”

Just like Danny had said. Rage consumes her. How has he—how does he know what Danny said? She doesn’t know, she doesn’t care.

But now it makes sense. Why has Danny been like this.

Phantom’s been controlling him. Of course Danny wouldn’t say anything when Amity Park’s strongest ghost was threatening him to silence.

She looks at those eyes again. The tired green eyes. Almost pleading.

It’s just a ploy, and you know it.

Without hesitating, she points.

And shoots blankly in the chest.

Green and red everywhere.

—

She goes out at night, the full intention of finding Phantom. He’s downed and weak, lurking somewhere in Amity. It’s unlikely he has any sort of teleportation powers that can send him back to the ghost zone.

Her shot had surely been in close proximity.

In the dark, Maddie stalks the streets, trying best to blend in with the surroundings. She notes the scene of earlier that day, with the ectoplasm dully shining in the night. And then some darker patches, which make her stomach turn.

Ectoplasm and red. Ectoplasm and blood.

It shouldn’t be possible. Is it a trait carried over? If Phantom overshadows Danny for so long does Phantom get Danny’s traits too?

Danny’s got the cold, the tiredness, the green sheen to his eyes.

So Phantom would get blue eyes, warmth, perhaps a heartbeat and red ectoplasm?

Yes. That’s what it is. Phantom’s simply got red ectoplasm. It’s not blood, and the citrusy smell indicates so.

She recalls dinner time, what Danny had said. He’d been strangely reserved this time, much more than usual. He’d clenched a hand to his chest, and eaten very little.

“You deny and deny. It won’t help you. All the signs are laid out for you.”

He’d put his hand on his chest, and it’d been then that Maddie had noticed the branching scar on his left palm, disappearing down his long sleeved shirt.

A lichtenberg figure.

How’d he even get that? She thinks again, wracking her mind. There’s nothing jumping out at her, no accident or event where Danny got injured.

No. Maybe it’s not.

Rethink. Recoup.

Danny isn’t overshadowed. Why would Phantom tell you the exact same thing Danny said if he was overshadowing Danny? That would and did expose his whole scheme—and even for a ghost he’s smarter than that.

Moving away from the scene, she brings out the ghost tracker to try and find where Phantom is. There’s a trace of a powerful ectosignature up in the park.

Bingo. She thinks.

When she arrives at the park, it’s a haunting sight. The skeletons of trees are barely visible by the outline of the moon, and birds and critters chirrup in the distance. And there, on the top of the hill in the midst of the park, is a beacon of a figure.

Phantom. Careful not to bring attention to herself, Maddie puts the ectotracker into a compartment in her jumpsuit, watching the ghost’s every move.

Phantom’s hunched over, his knees tucked up to his chest. His green eyes are the brightest she’s ever seen, gazing up to the stars above. No fighting. No other ghosts.

Just Phantom, the silence and the stars.

“Have you ever thought about what's up there?” Phantom’s voice is just a whisper, yet it fractures the silence of the night.

Maddie freezes, instinctively reaching for an ectogun on her hip. She can’t do that though, not when she’s in the midst of research. What good would it be destroying the ghost that might have a connection her her son?

“You saw me?” The woman instead inquires.

“Of course I did.” Phantom narrows his green eyes before turning to look back at the sky. “Now if you’re gonna shoot me, can you at least get it out of the way or leave? I’m trying to stargaze here.”

“You enjoy stargazing?” She blurts without thinking. A ghost having hobbies? It should be impossible. All ghosts are driven by their obsessions.

Yet, here Phantom is. No other ghosts to fight and now crowds of people to cheer his heroics on.

“Of course I do.” The ghost hmphs , shooting her another fleeting look. Maddie guesses he’s getting testy about her being out of his line of vision.

Fine. She’ll bite just this once.

She’s about to talk when Phantom interrupts.

”You still haven’t realised, have you?” The ghost tilts his head in such a passive way it makes Maddie instinctively go for the ectogun. His smarmy, know-it-all attitude.

”What don’t I know?” She grits, playing along. It’s about Danny, it has to be. How they’re connected.

“You need to figure that one out yourself.” Phantom says dully, expression almost disappointed. “I can’t tell you.”

Clenching her fists, Maddie holds back the instinct to fire her ectogun again. She can’t go destroying Phantom a second time.

Is it just like Danny? That he wants to tell her, but can’t?

“I know my son is too terrified to even speak to me anymore! He was too scared because you’re threatening him.” Maddie narrows her eyes.

Phantom has the audacity to scoff, “You keep telling yourself that, then. You’ll not get anywhere if you think I’m to blame for the reason Danny doesn’t talk.”

Danny said that, too. That her and Jack were to blame for his withdrawal, that they needed to see the truth.

Maddie lets herself slump to the grass, grip on ectogun loosening. For the first time in years, she feels completely stumped.

Phantom hasn’t controlled Danny. He’s not threatened him. So what is Danny’s secret? Why the injuries, the constant absences?

“I just—“ she takes an intake of breath, trying to hold back the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, “I want to know what happened to him. It’s been so long. Danny’s so distant now, and I feel like I can never reach him.”

Out of the corner of her bleary vision, she notices Phantom watching. His posture stiffens, as if in shock.

She supposes such talk of Danny may come as a surprise to his system. After all, Phantom had to have parents once. Perhaps they were the reason for his…early demise.

There’s no doubt Phantom is a similar age to Danny. Perhaps recently dead, even.

“What about your parents?” She finds herself asking.

“Mine?” Phantom blinks, then considers. “Wasn’t one of your main theories that ghosts can’t remember their past lives?”

“Well..” Maddie feels her cheeks flush, before steeling herself, “This is your time to prove me wrong, isn’t it? Do you remember them?”

“Touché. I do.” The ghost pulls his knees up to his chest. “They were kind for the most part. Very aloof, though. Got so carried away with work that sometimes I slipped as their priority.”

And that’s just what she and Jack have done, isn’t it?

“That’s what me and Jack have done to Danny, I think.” The moment the words are out in the night, Maddie feels a sense of relief. She’s admitted it.

Never putting him first, and when she did finally notice it was too far gone. Of course Danny won’t open up to her now, given ghosts have prioritised over the past months.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

“I’m sorry Phantom. That you had to go through that, I mean. And your parents should’ve cared for you. Just like me and Jack should’ve for Danny.” She replies. “I’ll apologise to him tonight.”

The ghost gives her a crooked smile, strangely familiar. “I think he’ll know already that you mean well.”

And with that, Phantom looks back up at the stars, green eyes glimmering with reflections of galaxies. Maddie, feeling intrusive, stands up.

Hesitantly, she backs away, trying not to disturb the ghost.

But then Phantom looks at her over his shoulder. The expression is so strikingly familiar but she doesn’t know why, and stifles it down.

The starry glimmer in his eyes, the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks.

“Have you ever thought about what’s behind the portal?” His voice is gentle, steady. His aura flickers at the edges, brighter and fuzzier.

“No. We’ve never gone into the Ghost Zone.”

“Imagine it’s like the galaxy. There’s like, infinite galaxies. Just going on and on. There’s little pieces too. Sure you know that the ghost zone is through the portal, but have you ever wondered how it worked?”

She doesn’t know if she’s hearing things, but Phantom’s voice is getting weaker. His aura fizzling away like a candle on the last of its wick.

“—did you ever wonder how it switched on? What’s at the end of the endless tunnel?”

She’s not sure what’s going on. Or maybe she does. Phantoms drawling about the portal and she’s sure he’s fading—it doesn’t make sense.

“Why would we need to? We’ve never needed to know what’s behind the portal!” She responds, frazzled, “It’s just a wall.”

The strong scent of decay hits her again, making her stomach flip. It makes her nose burn, head clammy. Maddie presses her hands to her face, spluttering.

The portal. Electricity.

The decay.

“Are you sure?” Phantom's voice is echoey now, distant. “Or have you been so blind that you never saw the truth rotting behind the green?”

When Maddie uncovers her hands, the overpowering smell is gone. As is Phantom.

Only her and the glimmering stars.

—

The litchenberg. Of course.

The portal is the only damned thing in that lab with a voltage strong enough to cause such damage.

Maddie doesn’t even process coming back from the park until she yanks open the house door and runs into the kitchen.

”Mads!” Jack says in surprise, halfway through a packet of fudge, “Where’ve you been?”

Danny. Danny.

He’s in his room, has to be. She ignores Jack, dashing up the stairs, pleading that she won’t find what she thinks.

It can’t be true. None of this is right. Danny’s just...troubled. Sure, something is not right. But it’s none of this mess.

Behind her, Jack’s footsteps thump up the stairs, calling out for her in concern.

She rips the door open. Empty.

No unmade bed, or small lump of Danny under the sheets. No trash on the floor, strewn clothes.

”Is this about Danny?” Jack chatters, paling when he notices the absence, “Maybe he’s just ran off again?”

Maddie feels numb, heart sinking to her stomach. Her legs are heavy, weighted down by invisible anchors, chest feeling as fried as the portals shock.

God. The portal. That did this.

Their fault.

“Jack—it—it was the portal!” She finally manages to gasp out.

And then they’re in the lab, facing the green swirling vortex which reflects off of the tiles. Once a workplace, a sanctuary for her and Jack to make their weapons and research ghosts. Countless hours put into the Fenton brand.

How many of those are structured on lies?

Something catches her throat. There it is again, the putrid sweetness that claws into her lungs, makes her eyes water.

”Switch it off.” Maddie splutters, stumbling forward towards the green door. Once their pride and joy.

Now…

Jack presses the button. Sirens wail in her ears from the deployment.

And then they are in darkness. For the first time since initiation, the portal is still. No undertones of humming or neon green reflecting the walls.

Just stillness.

Maddie gulps, trying hold the bile rising in her throat.

”Mads…there’s something…” Jack whispers behind her, pointing directly at the back of the portal. Something small, a heap.

How long has it been here? Since the start? Just months?

Waiting. Decaying more by the day, desperately wanting them to set aside their blindness to realise what was lying infront of them the whole time.

Legs trembling, she traverses forward. The tang hits the back of her throat again, almost sickly sweet. Pasted into her memory for eternity.

And there something white juts up like a gnarled branch, gleaning slightly from the rubber material.

It’s irrefutable. HAZMAT.

And then the other, gnarled arm, withered and blackened, crisped like a branch in a bonfire. Black hair upon its head, once downy, now stiff as straw, inky as raven feathers. Skin—or what was, withered and twisted.

Eyes neither blue nor green.

Yet unmistakably Danny.

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Heyyy. I just got into the digital circus fandom and I'm HOOKED with how well you write down the characters (even if it's only a few works) Not really a request but I just got an idea to share y'know. What if the Reader found a way to get out of the digital circus but can only transport themselves out, leaving the circus gang behind. What do you think they would be like?

In my opinion I think they would go nuts, because now their friend (and emotional support) is gone and it would increase their risk of getting abstracted.

Anon, I love how generous you are about how you think their abstraction risk levels would merely increase, as if they wouldn't just already abstract by the mere moment the learn the reader somehow managed to leave the circus.

Most of the crew would have a similar reaction, that of initial shock & disbelief. But afterwards, emotions differ slightly between each before an inevitable abstraction happens, but who would be the very first is hard to say.

Characters like Pomni, Ragatha would absolutely deny the possibilities of you escaping at first. How could you escape? More so, How could you escape without them? Why without them? Between the two, it's a pretty close tie on who abstracts first, but I'm of the belief that Ragatha would beat Pomni.

Kinger & Gangle would have a complete mental breakdown by your disappearance. Everyone viewed you as emotional support, but this two in particular made it very obvious that you were their support through this. I can imagine Ragatha attempting (& failing) to keep this two calm while she's trying not to abstract as well, yet their screams & cries echoing all around them is making it very difficult for her to.

Then you have Zooble & Jax, who both show little to no concern about the sudden problem. Hell, Kinger or Ragatha might even call them heartless (they don't actually mean it, they're just full of so many conflicting emotions & thoughts). But they both do care, & they feel just as heartbroken & empty of the fact you've left without even telling any of them. To an extent, they feel slightly at fault, that maybe if they were there for you more, that if they were softer with you, less rude, more open, perhaps you would've stayed? Perhaps you would've turned your back at the opportunity to return to the real world? For them?

Ragatha is already very close to her breaking point by the digital realm & she's my pick for the first one of the crew to abstract first. She's most likely/definitely seen previous performers abstract right before her eyes, any sense of self identity & awareness fully gone by the shatter of the mind. She held on to her self well & seemingly even better with you around! But now? I truly hope deep down she'll be happy to at least see Kaufmo down there, somewhere.

Pomni, I feel like, would ponder if she did something, for you leave without anyone, without her. Did she upset you? Did she annoy you to the point of using the opportunity to escape her? Why didn't you at least leave a letter or something? Her mind, so full of endless questions & what if's, completely consumes her. She won't feel or notice her body shifting & contorting as she abstracts, or maybe she does, & somewhere deep down in her, she feels she deserves it. You were arguably the only reason she didn't abstract yet & she was grateful for that, but now? She'll at least finally meet the other perfomers down there.

Kinger might honestly be the first to abstract the moment such words are uttered out loud. How?! When?! ...Why? Getting him to quit screaming at the top of his lungs will be high feat alone, but keeping him from abstracting? That's close to impossible now. He can at least have the "title" of the oldest & longest lasting performer who's been in the realm without abstracting.

Gangle is, pure & simple, an absolute mess. I don't personally think she'd abstract immediately after hearing the news, but she does become a ticking time bomb until her abstraction. She's very similar to Kinger, only difference is she sobs profusely instead of screaming. She most likely can't find the strength to wear a newly fixed comedy mask, the tragedy mask permanent on her face, regardless of Caine's insistence that she puts on a smile for the "audience".

At first everyone would believe Jax simply didn't care about the fact that you're gone. It wouldn't help his case if he were to say some snarky remark along the lines of how now he has to find a no one but himself to execute his pranks. Whatever he says most likely gets him a slap on the back of his head from Zooble. Yet under all that I don't really care attitude he has, he is just as devastated as the rest, he feels like some form of void has been born within him, everything from astounded to seething to desolate, an ardent & overwhelming collision of emotions that threaten to rip out of him with sick firmness. He feels at fault, he feels he's pushed you too much, made you feel unwanted. His guilt eats him alive, but he won't show it, he can't, he's the "funny asshole" of the crew! He's got a image to uphold here! But sometimes, when no one is around to see, he might knock on your old door or leave something in there, maybe in the hopes you'll return? Reveal it was some sick & unfunny joke on all of them? I feel like he's abstraction would be slow, but when he does, he's much more violent & seems almost desperate, perhaps looking for you?

Zooble is very similar to Jax in the way that their tone & general attitude come off as they don't care. Unlike Jax however, it is possible to see that they are affected by us leaving if one looks closely. Zooble is moodier than usual, quicker to snap at others (especially Jax) & is more adamant at being left alone, yet there's a palpable tint of sadness in their voice –slight cracks even– & when not locked up in their room, their found in areas that we frequented or liked the most. We've essentially become a touchy subject for them & the moment we're brought up, the room becomes a landmine. Their abstraction is also a slow one, yet everyone feels & expects it to come at some point now, when Zooble's ticked off, most back away in fear they'll abstract & attack them. Zooble's incredibly hard to read, & that makes them scary when abstracted.

[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[campfam4lyfe]

I get that Brooklynn is your favorite, she used to be mine too, but what are your thoughts on her in chaos theory? Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it. I don't like her much anymore.

time to do my job as a brooklynn defender lol, alright here goes:

Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it.

So. Thinking about Brooklynn. About her death. You mention how she faked it. except, I don’t think saying she faked it is really an accurate or fair description.

Brooklynn didn’t fake anything—here is what we know, and here is what I mean. The facts that we are presented with through season 1. limited as they are, are that Brooklynn was at a Dino Drop, the allosaurus escaped, and that it "killed her." Except it didn't really kill her. It is framed as an accident--a random Dino attack. But Ben shows up and suddenly it's clear that maybe it wasn't an accident.

So let's run through the facts one more time. Brooklynn's 'death' at the hands of the allosaurus wasn't an accident. It was premeditated. The attack was an honest to goodness attempt on Brooklynn's life. One the camp fam--and the people who targeted Brooklynn in the first place--believed worked. You're going to want to keep this in mind, because now I am going to address the other part of your ask.

Don't you feel they destroyed her character? She's not herself anymore, and the fact that she can just. Fake her death and traumatize her friends/neglect her boyfriend like. I don't know, thats not it.

Brooklynn's character has not, to me, been destroyed.

We see little of Brooklynn and what she was doing throughout Chaos Theory, because we are learning about her again through the eyes and memories of the people who loved and mourned her--we are gathering bits and pieces, parts of the narrative that we, as the viewers, can piece together more efficiently than the actual players, because the knowledge the Camp Fam has is disjointed in that they are not all privy to the same information or how it connects--and it's not their fault at all! They are not working under the same information we have--that Brooklynn is alive--and so, don't know why certain things are more important. Even we don't have the full picture, although what we have is a little clearer.

But from what we see of Brooklynn throughout Chaos Theory, there is something there that you believe is not true to her previously established character. I disagree. I think what you are talking about, when you say that she is not herself anymore, is that Brooklynn is too invested in her conspiracies, so much so that she has thrown everything else away--her "life", her regard for her friends/family and her relationships with them.

But I think, that when it comes to Brooklynn, being obsessed with a conspiracy or mystery is in fact a major core part of her character. We saw it all throughout Camp Cretaceous. She sneaks away when they visit Wu's lab that first time to snoop--and yes, maybe it was for her followers, trying to find something juicy before everything went to shit, but what she saw clearly stood out to her. She was hooked, she reviewed that footage, and it stayed with her so much so that when she saw the label E750 again at a later date while on the security cameras, she lingered over the shot before having to move on to help the others. And even then, it was clear that it stayed with her--whatever Wu did, whatever E750 was, it was a mystery and Brooklynn wanted to solve it.

And we see the others are aware of this! Sammy recruits Brooklynn to help out in her quest to find information, and the mystery consumes Brooklynn so much that initially, she was steamrolling right over Sammy's input. We also see Brooklynn's thirst for mystery solving when she becomes so focused on the frozen flowers, something she mentioned so much so that the other campers could quote her on it. We see it with her suspicions regarding Mitch and Tiff, and even Mae. We see it again in the final episode, when we catch a glimpse of the campers as teenagers. Brooklynn mentions the Lockwood Estate, which, for those who don't know or remember, is where the later events of JW:Fallen Kingdom (timeline wise, this is three years after the first Jurassic World, so three years after the kids first got left behind in the Park.) The events at the Lockwood Estate and what was supposed to be happening there wasn't public knowledge. That was Brooklynn following a lead, as at that point in time when she brings it up, the dinosaurs hadn't been set loose yet.

The reason I mention all this is because I really don't think Brooklynn's obsessiveness or drive is new. She loves investigative work, and she's good at putting together pieces too. She's also been shown to have a love for mysteries, loving Esther Stone and having her videos following the pattern of being named "Brooklynn unboxes x." She likes knowing the whys, whens, wheres, and whats. She literally says that she is trying to make the transition from influencer/vlogger to investigative journalist. Which is why I am not at all surprised with her being so focused on this Dino smuggling rings, and why I believe it was in character.

Tying It All Together

Now I know what you may be thinking. "But she neglected Kenji! That's not good girlfriend behavior. She faked her death! That's horrible." Valid, but also, not fundamentally true.

I said earlier, that by "not herself" you might mean that "Brooklynn is too invested in her conspiracies, so much so that she has thrown everything else away--her "life", her regard for her friends/family and her relationships with them." I don't think she has though, and if it has ended up that way, it was never her intention.

Take in all the Brooklynn scenes from Chaos Theory. Each member of the Camp Fam has an interaction with her that is shown through flashback or hinted at. So let's put together a timeline.

Brooklynn is dead at the start of the show, but for how long, I don't actually remember. I will put it at 6 months to a year, but if anyone else knows for sure, just let me know and I'll fix it. Anyways. She is dead for six months to a year. And in the months leading up to her death, she was investigating something, but they don't know what. We know that it had something to do with Dark Jurassic, Kenji's father, and Dino Smuggling. We know Ben introduced her to Dark Jurassic. We know Brooklynn stayed with Darius, left her jacket at Sammy's, and visited Yaz.

So here goes a tentative undertaking:

Ben introduces Brooklynn to Dark Jurassic and she visits him at his college. He hasn't dropped out/left yet. She is mentioning conspiracy theories, some as a joke, but its clear something there has caught her attention.

Brooklynn gets deeper into Dark Jurassic, and at some point reads about Dino Immersive therapy, which she recommends to Yaz. She visits her at some point, but when, is unclear.

Brooklynn visits Sammy. She is on Dark Jurassic so often that when Sammy has a flashback of her, Brooklynn is visibly on the site.

Brooklynn is with Kenji, but has been so absorbed in her mystery that she has started to neglect Kenji, but doesn't realize it. This goes on for a while. He breaks up with her and they are both devastated.

Brooklynn stays with Darius. Is still embroiled in her mystery. Asks Darius to meet up with her. "Dies."

Now, at some point before 4 and 5, Brooklynn visits Daniel Kon, gets a secret apartment, and is undercover within the Dino Smuggling ring.

We know that she did not tell her friends, or her boyfriend, any of this. Why? Especially Kenji! He was her boyfriend, one of her biggest supporter's, and his father was the guy Brooklynn went to so she could get her in to the smuggling world. Kenji has always heard her out, like when he was the one who stayed behind with her when she accidentally hurt Darius with the 'cool dad' comment. Kenji is the one who agreed to snoop with her regardless of his feelings because it was important to her. So why would she not go to her biggest supporter?

I believe that Chaos Theory tackled the kids growing up and their respective trauma very well. Not all of them are dealing very well. Yaz is the only one who seems to have gone to therapy, while Ben, Darius, and Kenji are all isolating. Sammy is dealing with repression and toxic positivity. It's very possible that Brooklynn was also dealing, and not very well at that. It's possible that her trauma manifested in another way. Maybe she needed to push herself into a project so she could ignore what happened--or maybe she needed to push herself into a project so if something happened, she could be prepared? We don't know! And it's because we don't know that I am going to, for the time being, ignore this, and focus on the possible reasons as to why she didn't tell them from what we do know.

Yaz has PTSD, and struggled a lot with the hopelessness of having to put the dinosaurs first and it costing them their way home in the later seasons of CC. So maybe Brooklynn didn't tell her because she didn't want to halter Yaz's progress. Still, she let on that she was investigating something and about Dark Jurassic.

Sammy is worried about Yaz, and so maybe Brooklynn didn't tell her because involving Sammy might mean involving Yaz, or maybe she didn't want to put stress on their relationship by having Sammy lie to her. Still, she let on that she was investigating something and about Dark Jurassic.

Ben had college. What, was she just going to disrupt that? Still, she let on that she was investigating something and talked with him about Dark Jurassic, which he introduced her to.

Kenji. Kenji was her boyfriend, her rock, THE Brooklynn enabler. who has always heard her out. The only time he didn't hear her out immediately was when his father was interfering. The same father she would need to go to for a door into the smuggling world. The same father who Kenji lived close to but never visited. In the last season of CC, Brooklynn, when investigating Daniel Kim, says that she won't break Kenji's heart without a good reason. Maybe, she did not feel like going to him about his father was a good reason--Kenji was in a good place, how could she hurt him like that? Maybe she thought she was protecting him. So she doesn't tell him. Still, she let on that she was investigating something.

Darius. Darius is my biggest "Brooklynn's Fake Death Can't Be Classified As Willfully Malicious On Her Part" card. Because he is the one that proves that Brooklynn did not in fact get sucked in so deep in her mystery that she tossed away all bonds and relationships. Did her death fuck him up? Definitely. But guys! She called him there that night, they had plans, she was "going to show him something!!!" Guys. She went to Darius. She was going to show Darius. Do you get that. In Chaos Theory, they say "Brooklynn was there to buy the Allosaurus that night." They are heartbroken. Yaz and Sammy say no way, and Darius says it is true, that she had a secret apartment, cash, and a note from Mr.Kim. But guys. She was going to show Darius.

Every time Brooklynn is called out on her behavior and shown how her obsessiveness hurts her friends—the way Sammy called her out when they were investigating E750, or her feeling regret over the “cool dad” comment when investigating Mitch and Tiff—she takes a step back and reassesses. She starts to investigate again but with changed behavior. That’s growth. Kenji breaking up with her may have really been the catalyst to her trying to show Darius what she was up to. As Darius says, Brooklynn was really torn up about the breakup and it is so visible on her face that she is devastated—she loved Kenji. She loved her friends.

So Brooklynn’s behavior, it was not Brooklynn cutting out her friends. Was she 100% honest with all of them? No. And unfortunately, the one person who she was going to show what was going on, didn't get to make it, and Brooklynn was killed.

Except she lived. So why not tell them? Why let them stew in grief? Why abandon them? Look, I think a lot of you are forgetting that the kids are very very good at improv. Are we forgetting Darius and Kash?An attempt on Brooklynn's life was made, and she somehow miraculously survived. She adapted, and made a plan on the go, lying low, somehow creating a trusted network, while being unable to reach out to her friends--it would blow her cover, and also possibly put them in danger. Who knows? Besides. Let's not forget, Ben was not the one who called Darius in that first episode. I don't know, but I do think it could have been Brooklynn, or someone on behalf of her, like Ronnie. (Or it could have been raptor lady to make sure Darius was home but who knows!)

Look, ultimately, you don't have to like her, and I'm not forcing anyone to! I do love her though, and her choices are ones I will defend. Besides, I know we are talking about camp fam trauma reactions to Brooklynn's death, but guys, flip side? We have a character who was going to tell her friend what she was up to, only to have an assassination attempt on her life causing her to lose a limb and go into hiding, not being able to contact her loved ones. I cannot even begin to think of the trauma Brooklynn has.

I hope this answers your ask anon, I feel I rambled too much lol!

[rosieofcorona]

The Shape of Your Hands

Guess who's back with another soft Halsin x Tav fic. Literal (but very mild) hurt/comfort themes, so TWs for: blood, stitches, minor injury. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“You seem impatient,” Tav observes, as Halsin fiddles with his whittling knife.

In his opposite hand, he holds a piece of wood so sharp it could rival a blade. He had intended it to take the shape of something pleasing, something soft– a songbird, perhaps, or a poppy flower. The shape of her hands. The long fingers, the slender wrist. 

Instead, he has made a weapon. 

He is consumed by thoughts of Thaniel, resting fitfully in his tent, and of Oliver, somewhere out there beyond camp. Of the curse that split them, ripped the very fabric of nature down the middle, and cloaked them all in unending, unyielding night. He slices absently at the wood, over and over, the shavings piling in little coils at his feet. 

“It’s been a century of this,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “I am anxious to end it.”

“As we all are.” 

“Then why idle here in camp?” He takes a tone he doesn’t mean to, but cannot seem to help. 

“We are not idling,” Tav bristles. “We are spent. Even your magic– even Gale’s magic– is depleted in this place.” 

It’s the truth, though Halsin is loath to admit it. The Shadowlands weaken even the most powerful among them. Bend them. Break them. He has seen it. 

“We will gather ourselves,” she goes on, “And we will finish this. After a hundred years, what’s one more day?”

“What’s–?” Halsin’s frustration sneaks up on him, crashes over them both like a rogue wave. “You do not understand. One more day is one more day, when one more hour, one more moment is insufferable–” 

His knife cuts in, literally, the sharpened edge slipping past the grain and into his finger, deep enough to make him drop the wood, to suck in a breath through his teeth. 

It distracts him for a moment, forces his anger back onto himself. Or perhaps that’s where the anger’s always been. It is his fault, he knows, that this has gone on so long, that the shadow-curse has been allowed to linger. If he had been wiser, less distracted, less careless–

Careless. He almost laughs at the irony of the moment, the cut on his hand pulsing.

“Here,” says Tav, softening. “Let me help.”

She comes to kneel before him, takes his blade and sets it gingerly beside her on the ground. It glints in the firelight in a way that makes it look like it’s winking, taunting him as a little rivulet of blood flows down his palm. 

“It’s nothing,” Halsin insists, though the grimace on his face gives him away. “I can heal it.” 

“You ought to save your energy. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

She is holding his big hand in both of hers, turning it carefully this way and that, examining the damage. 

“I can stitch it, if you like,” she offers, flicking her eyes up to his. “Astarion’s been teaching me.”

“To stitch wounds?”

“Well, to embroider.” She gives a sheepish little grin. “But he says I’m very precise. And he’s not the type to lie to spare my feelings.” 

Halsin nods his consent. 

Tav stands and walks toward her tent, and Halsin presses his other hand into the cut to stem the bleeding. It would be easier to cast something simple, he thinks, but she’s right– to use his magic on so small a thing, with all that was still to come, would be a waste. 

Through the firelight he sees her silhouette returning, supplies in hand. 

“Come closer,” she says, settling cross-legged before the fire. “Put your hand here.” 

She shows him, places her own hand on the edge of her knee. 

“I’ll get blood on you,” he cautions, but she only laughs at that. 

“You would not be the first.” 

Halsin does what she asks of him, sits across from her and rests his hand, palm side-up, on her leg. She bends close to examine it again, to wipe away the blood with a soft white cloth. 

“I owe you an apology,” Tav says softly. “I forget, sometimes, how long you have been fighting, when I have only just picked up a sword.”

He feels the prick of the needle, the pull of the thread. The whisper of breath on his skin. 

It is equal parts reward and punishment to have her this close, this way. To have her tend to him, to touch him and not be able to touch her back. Not in all the ways he wants to. 

This is the part he doesn’t tell her, the part she doesn’t understand. It’s not the shadow-curse alone that feels so urgent. Each day in darkness is a day he cannot make his feelings known– a different kind of torment, but not lesser.

They sit in silence until she finishes. A final knot, a cut of the thread, and she sits back on her heels to inspect her work. Six tidy little sutures in a tidy little row. 

Astarion was right. 

This is the kind of thing he taught his students in the Grove, before the war, before the curse, when he was not yet named Archdruid. When things were simpler.

When he thanks her she relaxes, swipes at her brow with the back of her hand. She leaves the barest streak of blood trailed like a comet across her temple, and Halsin, without thinking, reaches forward to wipe it away. 

If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. Tav seems to turn into his touch, to feel as much of him as possible, to rest the softness of her cheek against his fingers. 

He wants to kiss her in this moment, just like this. 

It would be easy to lean forward and press his lips to hers– only gently, at least at first, harder if she reciprocated. He can imagine her soft hair woven between his fingers, later wrapped around his fist as his mouth moved down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. 

He can almost feel her weight on him, can almost hear the little sounds that he could draw from her if she would let him try. If he would let himself. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Tav smiles. 

She sweeps the thought from his mind like a hand passing through smoke. It’s for the best, Halsin thinks. They cannot afford distractions now. 

Still, it doesn’t stop him placing a kiss against her forehead, or stroking her cheek with his thumb one final time. 

He reassures her. “There is nothing to forgive.”

He resolves that when they leave here– if they leave here– he will tell her all the things he feels out loud.

One more day.