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thewriteblrlibrary · 1 year ago

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A Step-by-Step Marketing Guide so we can spite traditional publishers (and make people cry).

~ This is a guide specific for fiction/writeblr. All of this is for free and there is little social media posting/ads involved (unless you want to venture into that). ~

Within the writeblr spheres, there's this underlying hope that our stories will find their audience. Perhaps we'll have a fandom full of fanart and video essays, or maybe we'll be an instant classic and sit on collectors' beloved bookshelves. Our stories could sit within the deepest corners of someone's heart and maybe they never tell a soul about what's so special to them. Maybe our stories become those 'underrated masterpieces'.

Or we just want to see people ugly cry over our writing.

Whatever your hope may be, marketing is an important path to venture on (especially because traditional publishers are rejecting diverse books in favor of ones that are already famous + the whole sub-par machine thing they seem obsessed with.)

And thus, my childhood marketing obsession will hopefully be of use to you. This is all for free (unless you want to spend money) and you don't need to figure out social media platforms (unless you want to, and this guide works if you decide to take that route too.)

Step One: Characters

Marketing spheres will define these fictious people as 'avatars' or 'the target audience'. You could also call them characters. Because that's what they are: fictional people.

For this step, you shall create characters that would love your story.

And here's some great news: You've already done this.

Perhaps you wrote your story to comfort a prior version of yourself. Perhaps each character in your story holds an aspect of your personality. Perhaps you were ridiculously self-indulgent and made the story you would've loved to read. These are all possible characters you can reuse for marketing.

Write down 2-4 quick archetypes for these characters. You'll chose an aspect of your story (characters, themes, or the younger-self that you wrote it for) and write a thumbnail sketch. (Main issue, fears, wants, personality traits if they relate to the main issue.)

I'll do it for my story (the Land of the Fallen Fairies) down below:

Anuli-like (my MC): Overthinking and aloof. Wants a happy ending but thinks their current personality/character isn't good enough for one. The present stales in comparison to the past/the childhood they lost. The 'gifted theater kids'. Kamari-like (side character): Postpones happiness in favor of creating a perfect schedule/getting accomplishments. Heavy masking. Creative but doesn't create anymore. Promises themself they'll enjoy themselves later, when they've earned it. Workaholics. My younger self: Wanting a fantasy escapism to embody the traits they wish they had in real life. Dissatisfied and worried about reality. Perfectionists. Self-indulgent: People who love plants and forests and fantasy worlds far away from reality/humanity.

Great! Now it's time to find these characters.

Step Two: Setting.

(Let's assume you're using the internet for your marketing. But a similar method works for real life too.)

Where do the characters live?

In order to figure that out, we need to discover the characters' interests, what they watch to solve their problems, and who they find #relatable.

(You can do this for each character or for all the characters at once.)

For example:

Anuli-like -

interests: Stories. Analysis videos. Fantasy escapism. Things that remind them of their childhood. (so nature, warmth, comfort, play, imagination and the times they would actually enjoy learning.)

Places to look: Nature quotes, ambience videos, children's shows and fairytales (comfort shows). Fandom culture - fanfic video essays, fan art.

Solving problems (the problem being wanting a 'happy ending' but feeling that their personality/lifestyle/characteristics aren't right for one): Mindfulness things. Self-healing. Quotes and meditations and candles galore. Slow living. Nature vlogs. Self care. All that 'live in the moment' culture.

Places to look: Slow living. Nature vlogs. The 'softer self-help' (spirituality stuff. Magic/ overnight answers). Witchcraft. 'aesthetic nature' places. Guided meditations.

#relatable: Burnt out gifted kids. People who think so much that their life passes them by. Storytellers and creative who create to make sense of the world. People who like dark, gory things in spite of who they want to be. People who don't like reality.

Places to look: Those 'learn better and remember everything' places. (The 'burnt-out gifted kid' recovery places.) Stop overthinking spots. Those quotes on Pinterest from poetic people who think too much /aff. Storyteller places. Dark academia. Classical music. One off quotes/ poetry.

Okie dokie. Once you have this, find channels, social media accounts, blogs, songs, books, etc. that fit with the categories you wrote down. (They should appeal to the characters) You can search up some of the terms you listed into searches and see who pops up. Bonus points if you find people that overlap with multiple sections.

I know I didn't include booktube or booktok in here. You can if you want too. But those can be a bit... 'consume these 500 books'. You also want to find other places where people who would like you story live, even if they don't follow booktube or booktok.

Congrats! Now you know where your characters live!

Step Three: the scary part

Take everyone you found on your search for the settings and write them down a list. Make sure you get an email/contact info. (they usually list them somewhere under 'for business inquires') Also feel free to watch their content and get to know what attributes these settings have.

And now... we talk to them. about our stories. You can do it. I believe in you.

This called 'pitching your product' in marketing spheres. But you can be informal about it.

I know it can be difficult to talk about your work, so here's a tone to have:

'I made this thing I like and I think you'll like it too'.

What you'll do is send an email (or dm) that goes like this (inspired by Creative Hive on youtube):

Hi [name],

[Genuine compliment]

[Quick sentence or two about your story. Include the themes and who it appeals to. If you have a logline/sentence summary, include that. But I find that the underlying themes and 'who's it's for' is more engaging.

For my story, I might say something like.

I've written a story you might enjoy, since you like [interest]. It's called the Land of the Fallen Fairies. It's a nature-themed commentary on the pursuit of happiness and fixing yourself to deserve that happiness, told by an overthinking, unreliable, houseplant narrator. It was supposed to comfort me when I got frustrated with myself and my happiness chasing, and I hope it can comfort others too.

(That's probably a bit long and I can trim it down a bit.)

You can phrase it like a gift if you want too.]

[Call to action.

'If you like it, I'd appreciate a mention on your [platform].

I know this part may be difficult to mention (imposter syndrome is not fun.) But I promise that if they do like it, they'll be happy to mention it.]

If they don't respond within... four-ish days? (A week at most). then you can include a follow up. For this you can include a template with info about your story. This way it's easy for them to talk about your story.

The template:

title

genre

blurb

Author

where to find the book

Bonus points if you have an additional, physical thing to send them.

Congrats! Now do this pitching process a few times until you've covered most of your bases. (Pitch to as many people as you can. It will get more comfortable as you do it. Play your favorite song and don't let yourself think too hard about it.)

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The benefits of this process are that you find people that are already interested in the themes and vibes of your story (in comparison to to ads, which get shoved in everyone's faces.). Someone your audience already trusts will talk about it, which means you don't need to do all this trial and error to find your audience and make content for them.

It's basically a bunch of people talking about something they like!

AND you diversify your audience across niches, but with an underlying theme/interests. Booktok/booktube must appeal to everyone, so it's a hit or miss for recommendations. (Unless there is someone that specifically does one genre/type of story.)

From here you can do fun little things to build up hype and make the book launch feel like this fun event. (I love it when that happens so here's my thoughts about trying to create an event with your story... although that may require another post entirely.)

preorder goals

charity goals

Arg's and puzzles

fund with side plushies and trinkets

Book blog tour

book boxes

as many memes as you can make

rewards (like bookmarks or posters or smth) that people can get for supporting

Talk about the process of creating your story. I know this one channel called 'Dead Sound' that creates 'making of' videos for his short films and they are some of the best videos on youtube.

Okay dear storyteller! Now go forth and share your story with the world!

Additional resources:

Creative Hive <-- a youtube channel that goes through the pitching process.

This video is also very good <-- Haven't watched the rest of the channel but I assume it's also good.

One of the best marketing channels on the internet (the videos are actually entertianing to watch.

Seth Goldin <-- I read his book and took the parts I liked and modified for storytelling marketing.

Dead Sound <-- propaganda to watch the short film series he has (he did the whole 2-d 3-d style wayyyy before spiderverse did... and he's one person making these. One person. It's amazing.

Glitch <--- If someone can figure out how The Amazing Digital Circus was marketed then I will pay you money. It seems to be a lot of memes and funny things.

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inkandtension · 1 month ago

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Cupid’s Bow.

Request: Minho x fem reader, angst, Enemies to lovers, inspired by : the beach by the neighbourhood

requested by: @hannamoon143

this is kinda long…. Sorry it took a long time! 😀🧍🏽‍♀️

Y/N, a fiercely dedicated archer training for an upcoming national competition, finds her already packed schedule upended when she's forced to collaborate with Minho, a renowned digital artist, on a promotional campaign celebrating diverse skill sets. From the moment they meet, sparks fly—but not the good kind. Minho, known for his sharp tongue and stunning creativity, quickly dismisses archery as “a medieval hobby trying to stay relevant,” while Y/N fires back with equal venom, calling digital art nothing more than "drawing for lazy people who don't know how to use a pencil."

The tension is palpable during their first brainstorming session, held in a sleek, minimalist studio that feels worlds away from Y/N's earthy training grounds. Minho's snide remarks about her calloused fingers and outdated sport clash with Y/N's pointed criticisms of his reliance on technology. Neither wants to back down, their arguments simmering with the kind of intensity that draws everyone's attention.

“Guys, please stop, now’s not the time!” they’d all start complaining and half of them lose the will to work seeing the fight almost everyday.

Y/N is at the archery range, her focus razor-sharp as she nocks an arrow and lets it fly, hitting the bullseye with ease. As she adjusts her archer's glove, Minho strolls in, a sketchpad and tablet under his arm. His amused smirk makes her blood boil before he even speaks.

“So this is it? Shooting at a target over and over again? Sounds thrilling,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words.

She glares at him, holding up her glove-covered hand.

“This is precision and skill. Not that you’d understand with your stylus and Photoshop shortcuts.” Minho lifts his own gloved hand and wiggles it mockingly.

“Right, because my work, which takes hours of layering and digital rendering, is just so easy. Sure.”

Y/N narrows her eyes, stepping off the shooting line to face him fully, the faint creak of her leather glove breaking the silence. "It is easy," she fires back, her voice calm but cutting. "You make a mistake? Undo button. I make a mistake? That arrow’s gone. There's no second chance."

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he sets his sketchpad and tablet on the nearest bench. "You think every line I draw is perfect the first time? Newsflash, Robin Hood, creativity doesn’t come with a manual. At least you’ve got a fixed target to aim at. My job is creating something from nothing."

Her lips tighten into a thin line, the insult stinging despite her resolve to keep her cool. “Creating from nothing? Is that what you call copying filters and adding shadows? My three-year-old nephew could do that.”

Minho lets out a short laugh, the kind that feels more like a jab. “Oh, sure. And let me guess—he could also spend days conceptualizing a campaign while having to work with someone who thinks flinging pointy sticks at hay bales is the pinnacle of human achievement?”

Y/N’s jaw tightens, her patience thinning. She takes a slow step toward him, each word deliberate. “It’s not about flinging arrows, Minho. It’s about discipline, control, and hitting a goal with precision every single time. Something tells me that’s a little out of your league.”

He mimics her slow step, closing the distance between them, his smirk fading into something sharper, more competitive. “And you think shooting at the same target all day makes you superior? Try creating something people actually care about—something that’ll outlive you. That’s real skill.”

The air between them crackles with tension, their glares locked as if daring the other to make the next move. Finally, Y/N breaks the silence, her voice steady but icy. “You know, you talk a lot of trash for someone who’s never even held a bow.”

Minho’s eyes flash with challenge. “Oh, is that an invitation? Because I wouldn’t mind showing you up at your own game.”

Y/N crosses her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips now. “Go ahead. But don’t cry when you miss every shot.”

Minho picks up the nearest bow, holding it awkwardly as Y/N watches with thinly veiled amusement. The moment he tries to nock an arrow and fumbles, her laugh escapes, low and mocking.

“Precision and skill, huh?” he mutters, fumbling with the string again.

“And patience,” she says, leaning against a post as she watches him struggle. “But I wouldn’t expect you to have that, either.”

He tries once, his aim steady but completely off-target, and instead of hitting the mark, he accidentally strikes the ground near a worm. She gasps in mock horror, dramatically rushing toward the unsuspecting creature as if to shield it from further harm. Kneeling down, she peers at the worm, her expression turning to exaggerated relief.

“You didn’t even hit the worm. Not even close. The worm didn’t even flinch.” She raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re aiming at all, or are you just trying to give the worm a heart attack?” “I bet you won’t be good at drawing, either” He said.

“I never said I was.”

…

She’d just released a perfect arrow, the kind that sliced cleanly through the air and struck the target dead center, when her focus wavered. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Minho sitting a few feet away, cross-legged and absorbed in his tablet. His stylus moved deftly over the screen, his brow furrowed in concentration, though his expression carried a hint of annoyance.

“Don’t you have a real job to do?” she snapped, lowering her bow and fixing him with a sharp glare.

Minho didn’t even flinch at her tone. His eyes stayed locked on his screen as he added another stroke to his sketch, shading with meticulous precision. “Funny,” he murmured without looking up, “I thought the same about you.”

He tapped his screen once, then swiveled it around to face her. The drawing was a surprisingly detailed sketch of her—her stance, her bow mid-draw, and her intense focus on the target. But there was an unmistakable exaggeration in her expression: her eyes were wild, her jaw tense, her features twisted with mock ferocity.

“Look,” he said dryly, holding it out with a smirk. “It’s a very angry archer.”

Y/N bristled, her grip tightening on the bow. “At least I’m not hiding behind a screen all day, imagining what it’s like to actually do something,” she shot back, her voice clipped.

Finally, Minho tilted his head up to meet her glare, his lips curving into an infuriatingly slow smirk. “Well, some of us use our creativity a little more… digitally,” he countered, his tone maddeningly calm.

Her frustration flared, and she stepped closer, extending her gloved hand toward him. “You think this is just imagination?” she challenged, her voice low but charged with irritation. She held up her hand, pointing out the distinct design of her glove—the archer’s glove, snugly fitted to her hand, with the fingers for the index, middle, and thumb covered for grip and precision.

Minho’s gaze flicked to her hand and then to his own. He raised his hand slightly, revealing his own glove, sleek and minimal, with only the pinky and ring fingers covered to avoid smudging his screen.

“See?” she said, her tone icy. “We’re just cut from different cloths.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them as they stood there, their gloves a stark contrast to each other. Minho’s smirk softened, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. He let out a soft laugh, glancing down at their hands before meeting her eyes again.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice calmer now, almost musing. “But maybe that just means we could complement each other. I mean if you look closely, our gloves together make a whole.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion lingering. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching as if suppressing another smirk. “Who knows? Maybe you’re good at hitting targets, and I’m good at seeing the bigger picture. You never know what that could lead to.”

She scoffed, but there was a faint flush creeping up her neck that she didn’t care to explain. “Get back to your drawing, Minho,” she muttered, turning away before he could notice.

“Gladly,” he replied, his voice laced with amusement. As she stepped back to the range, she could still feel his gaze on her, a quiet tension lingering in the air between them.

…

something terrific happened.

Something that absolutely ruined well, everything.

Y/N arrived at the studio early, as always. She was already irritated, not just by the thought of spending the entire day with Minho, but by the very fact that he had been the one to suggest she’d be the problem. The studio itself was newly constructed, still echoing with the sounds of a place trying to find its identity. The walls were barely dry with paint, and the sharp scent of fresh lumber lingered in the air. There was an unfinished quality to everything—the kind of rawness that made her skin crawl.

She set her bag down with a sigh, pulling out her gear for the shoot—her bow and quiver, her leather gloves. The anticipation for the day’s work was drowned out by the vague sense of discomfort that settled in her chest. She was already imagining the hours ahead: forced smiles, shallow small talk, and of course, Minho’s smug attitude.

She didn’t have to wait long for him to arrive, though. Of course, he showed up late, walking through the door with the same casual stride, as if time was something he could bend to his will. He muttered something under his breath, loud enough for her to hear, though he likely didn’t care if she did. “What��s the rush? Archers must have nothing better to do than sit around and wait.”

Y/N shot him a look, her eyes narrowing with the same irritation that had already been brewing. He didn’t even seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. She ignored his comment, choosing to focus on the task at hand—setting up her gear, making sure everything was in place. She was too professional to get caught up in petty remarks.

Minho, on the other hand, took one look around and immediately began to complain. “This place looks like a construction zone,” he said loudly, as if no one else could hear. “How is anyone supposed to focus with all this mess? This is unprofessional.”

Y/N gritted her teeth but held her tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But her patience was wearing thin. “Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time doing your job, we’d already be done,” she snapped, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Minho’s gaze flicked toward her, his expression amused. “I’m just trying to make sure this whole thing doesn’t end up being a disaster,” he retorted, completely unfazed. The session proceeded like this, with them bickering back and forth—her quick to respond to his jabs, him seemingly incapable of shutting up for more than a few seconds at a time.

The photographer kept trying to get them both to focus, but the tension between them was palpable, and the shoot felt anything but smooth. Y/N’s frustration only grew as the minutes ticked by, with Minho’s commentary getting more and more grating. She was starting to wonder if this day would ever end.

Then, just as she was adjusting her stance for another shot, a loud creak echoed through the room. The noise was unsettling, like the very structure of the building was groaning under pressure. Y/N froze, her eyes darting upward as the ceiling above them groaned again, a deep, foreboding sound.

Before anyone could react, a loud crack rang through the room, followed by the distinct sound of something large and heavy breaking free from its supports. The floor beneath them seemed to shudder as part of the ceiling collapsed in a sudden crash, sending debris scattering in all directions. The dust clouded the air, making it impossible to see for a moment.

Y/N was on instinct, ducking as a chunk of wood fell inches from where she’d been standing. Her heart hammered in her chest as she scrambled to her feet, adrenaline flooding her system. She could hear Minho cursing, his voice rising above the chaos.

“What the hell?!” he yelled, coughing through the dust. He sounded genuinely rattled now, a rare occurrence for him. Y/N didn’t waste time looking back at him—her focus shifted entirely to the damage, the pieces of the ceiling that had fallen, some still dangling precariously from the exposed beams above.

“Is everyone alright?” the photographer called out, voice shaking.

As Y/N took a step back to assess the damage, her foot caught on a loose piece of rubble, sending her stumbling forward. She barely registered the movement before something heavy crashed down from above—a massive chunk of ceiling, debris still tumbling in its wake, slammed directly onto her arm.

The pain was immediate and sharp, a searing agony that shot through her entire body as she let out a strangled gasp. Her vision blurred for a moment, the weight of the fallen ceiling pressing down on her arm, pinning her to the floor.

Minho's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with panic. “Y/N!” He was at her side in an instant, his hands reaching to lift the debris, but it was heavy, too heavy for him to move alone. “Shit, are you okay?!” His voice was frantic now, the usual arrogance replaced by something far more raw and urgent.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to let the pain break her focus. She tried to shift her arm, but the pressure from the broken ceiling was relentless. The dust was thick in the air, and every breath she took seemed to make her chest tighten more.

Minho immediately reacted, pulling at the debris with all his strength, but the piece was large, and it barely budged. His face was taut with concentration, his usual smirk completely gone. “Hold on,” he said, voice shaky, but his hands were steady as he tried to lift the chunk of ceiling.

Y/N winced, biting back a cry of pain as the weight shifted slightly.

Finally, Minho managed to shift enough of the debris off, as staff rushed there to help and evacuate the place. It revealed her arm, now bruising quickly from the force. She inhaled sharply as the weight finally lifted, but the relief was short-lived. Her arm felt heavy, almost useless. She could feel the pain radiating from her wrist, where the ceiling had come down the hardest.

“Shit,” Minho muttered under his breath, looking at her arm with wide eyes. He knelt down beside her, his voice softer now. “Is it broken?”

Y/N clenched her teeth, unwilling to show how badly it hurt. “I don’t know,” she snapped, pulling her arm back slightly to test it. The pain flared up again, sharper this time. “Just help me get out of here.”

When the ambulance finally arrived, its sirens wailing in the distance, Y/N felt a mix of relief and anxiety wash over her. The pain in her arm had only intensified as the adrenaline began to wear off, but she clenched her teeth and focused on the paramedics as they carefully worked to stabilize her.

Minho, however, wasn’t about to let anyone else take charge. As the paramedics made their way to assess her injury, he immediately stepped forward, blocking their path with a protective glare. His usual aloofness had disappeared completely, replaced by a fierce determination.

“I'm coming with her,” he said, his voice low but firm. The paramedics exchanged a quick glance, but neither of them argued, clearly used to people being adamant about staying with loved ones.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch him, her mind a blur of pain and confusion. What was he doing? Why was he being so... concerned? He wasn’t supposed to care. They were just colleagues—rivals, even. Yet, here he was, hovering over her like he couldn’t bear to let go.

When the paramedics gently helped her onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance, Minho slid in beside her without a second thought, his hand immediately finding hers. He squeezed it gently, as though reassuring himself more than her.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly as the door slammed shut behind them, the engine roaring to life as they sped toward the hospital. She was grateful for the warmth of his hand, but she couldn’t quite understand why he was doing this. The words from earlier about how they were “cut from different cloths” echoed in her mind, but his actions now seemed to contradict that.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a comforting motion, his gaze fixed on her face. “You okay?” he asked softly, the usual teasing edge gone from his voice.

She didn’t answer right away, not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t sure how to respond. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of him. But his steady presence, the way he refused to let go of her hand, made something inside her shift.

“Do you think it’s broken?” she asked, her voice tight from the pain. She hadn’t even dared look at it yet, but she could feel the weight of the injury in every movement, a dull throb that was becoming sharper with each passing minute.

Minho’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw clenched as he looked at her arm. “I’m not sure. But we’ll know soon enough.” He shifted closer, almost unconsciously leaning over her, like he was willing to shield her from whatever came next.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, her mind swirling with thoughts she didn’t want to address. She could hear the ambulance’s sirens fading as they raced through the streets, and for a fleeting moment, everything outside of the small space between her and Minho seemed to vanish. The only thing that mattered was the pressure of his hand in hers, the soft rhythm of his breathing, and the unspoken understanding that had settled between them.

She glanced at him, catching his eye. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

Minho didn’t flinch or back away, his gaze unwavering as he held her stare. “Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he said with a small, but genuine, smile that reached his eyes. “And because I don’t think you’d let me, even if I tried.”

Y/N couldn’t suppress the tiny spark of warmth that flared up at his words, despite everything. She wanted to argue, to tell him to stop pretending like he cared, but deep down, a part of her was grateful for his presence.

The ambulance continued its swift journey toward the hospital, the distance between them closing in ways Y/N hadn’t expected. In that moment, the smirk, the teasing, the tension—all of it faded away, and she was left with only one undeniable truth: Minho wasn’t going anywhere.

The sterile, bright hospital room felt suffocating as Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the doctor’s words pressing down on her like a boulder. The doctor had just finished delivering the devastating news, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

“I’m sorry, but with these injuries, archery is not something you’ll be able to pursue again at the competitive level,” the doctor had said. His tone was gentle, but it made the words no less crushing. “Your fingers will need time to heal, but they may never fully recover.”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach as she processed what the doctor had said. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, her mind racing through a whirlwind of disbelief and dread. She stared at her arm, still wrapped in a cast, and then down at her fingers, which felt oddly stiff and foreign, as if they were no longer a part of her.

My fingers… Her mind spiraled. Archery had been her life, her passion—her future. She’d spent years working to get to this point, training endlessly, sacrificing everything for the sport. To hear that all of that could be taken away in an instant was like being ripped apart from the inside out.

The tears threatened to surface, but she refused to let them fall. She’d never been one to show weakness, not when everything she’d worked for was being stripped away in one cruel blow. Instead, she clenched her jaw, willing the tears to stay back, even as her chest tightened painfully.

The doctor gave her a sympathetic glance before walking out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She didn’t notice his departure; she couldn’t focus on anything but the silence that now filled the room, the stillness that matched the numbness creeping into her bones.

The only sound that broke through the heavy silence was the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, and the soft scrape of a chair being moved. She glanced up to see Minho standing by the door, his posture tense as he took in the situation.

He hadn’t said a word since the doctor left, but she could feel his presence like a weight in the room. He didn’t have to speak; his quiet support was enough. Y/N hated that, hated how much it comforted her, how much his silent understanding meant in that moment.

Minho took a few steps toward her, his eyes avoiding her gaze for a moment before locking with hers. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something deeper—something unspoken, but heavy. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or pretend to know how she felt. He simply stood there, a steady presence in the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Y/N muttered, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to herself. “I know what it means.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and he sat down in the chair beside her bed. For a moment, he said nothing, just letting the silence stretch between them. Then, quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself, he said, “I know how much it meant to you. It’s… it’s unfair.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t something she expected from him—not the way he usually teased her or the sharpness he often wore as armor. This felt different. Real.

“I’ve worked so damn hard for this,” she murmured, her voice shaking just a little. “And now… now I’ll never get it back.”

Minho didn’t say anything for a long time, his eyes fixed on her fingers, the ones that had been her lifeline, now broken and uncertain. Then, after a beat of silence, he spoke again, his words slow, deliberate.

“Maybe you don’t need to be an archer to be… you.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to shout, to tell him that he didn’t understand—that she was nothing without archery, that it was her whole identity. But another part of her, buried deep beneath the shock and grief, felt the pull of his words, like a lifeline thrown out in the dark.

He gave her hand a tentative squeeze, his thumb brushing against her skin gently. “Whatever happens… you’re not alone in this,” he said quietly.

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She was used to carrying everything on her own, used to handling things alone. But in that moment, she found herself reluctantly leaning into his presence, the weight of his words settling into her chest.

She didn’t say anything else, just looked at her casted arm and the mess of emotions swirling within her. Minho didn’t push her to talk. He stayed with her, silent and steady, his presence an anchor in the midst of a storm that threatened to tear her apart.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel quite as alone.

As the days blurred into weeks, Y/N’s world continued to shift beneath her. The weight of her injury hung heavily over her, a constant reminder of what she had lost. Archery had been her life, her identity, and now, it seemed as if that identity had been stripped away in the blink of an eye.

Her parents, furious and protective, rallied around her in their own way. They had always been fiercely invested in her success, and the sight of their daughter in pain triggered something primal in them. They couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering without justice. The idea of her future—her dreams—being destroyed without any accountability gnawed at them until they decided to take matters into their own hands.

They hired a lawyer and filed a lawsuit against the studio. The claim was simple: negligence. The studio had failed to properly inspect the building before using it for interviews and promotional shoots, and it was this failure that had caused the ceiling to collapse, injuring their daughter beyond repair. They argued that the accident wasn’t just a freak incident—it was a direct result of the company’s lack of care and attention.

Y/N hadn’t wanted to get involved. She wasn’t interested in dragging things out or seeking revenge. She just wanted to heal, to find a way to move forward. But her parents insisted, convinced that justice could only be found through legal action.

The court case dragged on for months, a bitter reminder that her life was no longer in her own hands. Every time she thought about the process, she felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t about the money, not for her. But her parents insisted it was a matter of principle. They fought for accountability, for the principle that a company shouldn’t get away with causing harm so carelessly.

And in the end, the court found the studio guilty. The evidence was clear—the building had not been properly inspected, and the structure had been deemed unsafe before being used for commercial purposes. The company was ordered to pay a significant settlement to Y/N, though the amount seemed paltry compared to the injury she’d suffered, the career she’d lost, and the dreams that had been shattered.

When Y/N found out about the ruling, she felt numb. She sat in the sterile waiting room of the hospital as the lawyer called her parents to relay the news. The words blurred together, but the impact was undeniable. The settlement was a victory for her parents, something they could hold on to, but to Y/N, it felt hollow. It didn’t change anything. The money wouldn’t heal her fingers. It wouldn’t erase the long nights of training, the years spent perfecting her craft, the agonizing loss of something that had been everything to her.

Her parents were thrilled, their anger temporarily quelled by the ruling. But Y/N couldn’t bring herself to share in their relief. All she could think about was how much the settlement had cost her. The studio had paid for their mistake, but the price for her was far steeper than any check could cover.

Later that evening, after the celebrations had died down, Minho came to visit her. His presence was a steady comfort, but tonight, it felt like there was an unspoken weight between them, something they hadn’t addressed in all the chaos that had surrounded the lawsuit and her recovery.

When Minho entered her room, he didn’t offer any words of congratulations. Instead, he sat beside her, his expression serious. “You okay?” he asked quietly, looking at her like he was waiting for her to crack.

Y/N stared out the window, watching the lights of the city twinkle in the distance. The hospital room felt cold, sterile, a place she never thought she’d be spending so much time in. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got money. I’ve got a settlement. But what’s it all worth? It doesn’t bring back what I lost.”

Minho didn’t try to offer words of comfort or reassurance. Instead, he just sat there, quietly, letting her process. He knew better than anyone how difficult it was to watch something you loved be taken from you. He had seen it in the way she held her bow before the accident, the way her whole body came alive when she shot, like she was a part of something bigger. The way her spirit had dimmed since the accident had left a mark on him too.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose something like that. But... I know you’ll find a way to get through it. Even if it takes time.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back against her pillow, her gaze distant. There were so many things she didn’t know anymore—so many things that had been ripped from her hands. But for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

The legal battle had given her parents what they wanted, but it hadn’t given her what she truly needed. Justice was one thing, but healing—true healing—was something only time could offer.

And, perhaps, with Minho’s quiet support, maybe even a little bit of hope.

In the days that followed the accident, Minho never stopped showing up, despite the fact that Y/N kept pushing him away. He came to her room with the quiet persistence of someone who understood more than he let on, but also respected her need for space—even if she didn’t realize it.

Each time he appeared at her door, a mixture of frustration and longing flickered in her chest. She didn’t want him here—not like this. She didn’t want his sympathy, his pity, or his attempts to help her in a way that only made her feel more helpless.

One evening, after he suggested helping her with simple tasks—like tying her shoelaces or even feeding her left-handed—Y/N snapped. The anger that had been building within her over the last few weeks finally erupted, spilling out in a sharp, jagged voice.

“I don’t need you to ‘teach’ me how to be anything,” she hissed, her gaze hard and unforgiving. Her fingers, stiff from the injury, curled into a fist. “Just… leave me alone.”

Minho took a step back, his expression unchanged but his eyes betraying a flicker of hurt. Yet, he didn’t leave. He never did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, as if letting her have her moment. But the silence that followed felt like a heavy weight, a shared understanding hanging in the air between them. He didn’t push any further that day, though he left behind a small package on her bedside table—one she hadn’t even noticed.

The next day, Y/N opened the package to find a book of poetry—one she had mentioned loving before. Her fingers brushed over the cover, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she softened. Minho was still finding ways to care for her without demanding anything in return. She knew he wasn’t expecting a thank-you, but she couldn’t help the pang of guilt that hit her.

Over the next week, his visits became a mix of awkwardness and tentative kindness. He’d show up with bags of food from her favorite takeout place—nothing fancy, just comfort food that somehow felt like a small balm for the chaos of her life. He even brought her a sketch one evening, left silently by her door.

It was of her—his hand-drawn portrait of her in her prime, holding her bow with the same fire that used to light up her world. His delicate lines captured the way she held herself, strong and focused. The drawing felt so real it almost hurt. It was like he had seen her, really seen her, not just the version of herself she had become after the accident. She swallowed back a lump in her throat.

Despite her resistance, despite her frustration, his quiet presence seeped into the cracks of her heart, mending parts she hadn’t even realized were broken. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t forced kindness. It was the kind of gentleness that spoke of understanding, of time spent in silence, waiting for her to heal at her own pace.

One evening, as she struggled with trying to tie her own shoelaces with her left hand, Minho appeared again, standing in the doorway, arms laden with a small basket of fresh fruit.

“You’re trying to tie your shoes with your non-dominant hand again?” he asked, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, the doctor said you’re supposed to take it easy for a while.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, not looking up, irritated by the truth she didn’t want to admit. “It’s just a stupid shoelace.”

Minho walked over slowly, setting the basket down on the table beside her. Without a word, he crouched down, taking the laces from her clumsy hands. He worked in silence, his movements deft as he tied the shoes with the care he had shown for her in the past few weeks. When he was done, he stood back up and met her gaze, his expression serious but soft.

“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders alone.”

She opened her mouth to snap at him again, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time in a long while, her anger faded into something else.

Minho wasn’t here because he thought she was weak. He wasn’t here because he pitied her. He was here because he saw her—he saw the woman who had been so strong before, and he believed she could be that woman again, even if it took time.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she muttered, but this time, it lacked the bite of her earlier words.

“I know,” Minho replied simply, his voice warm and steady. “But I’m not leaving.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t ready to admit that she might need him, but in the quiet moments that followed, she couldn’t deny the comfort his presence gave her. Even in her resistance, she felt something softening within her, a fragile thread of trust she hadn’t realized she was willing to weave again.

“I can help you, please let me, you know I’m ambidextrous.”

…

One night, Minho comes to her house, as he has so many times before. Y/N’s frustration has reached its peak, and she can’t hold it back anymore.

“I’m not a broken doll that needs fixing. I’m not someone you have to pity.”

Minho sits down across from her, knowing it’s her daily depressing hour. his expression unreadable. For a moment, the silence feels suffocating. Then, he speaks softly. “I can’t teach you archery, but I can teach you how to draw. I can teach you how to use your other hand.”

She looks at him, and for the first time, the bitterness fades just enough to let a tiny flicker of hope in. Maybe she can still create something. Maybe it won’t be the same as archery, but it could be something new. Later that evening, her mother enters the room with a tray of snacks, trying to lighten the mood. She sits down next to Y/N, looking between her and Minho.

“You should’ve been more careful, sweetie. You’re an archer. You should’ve known how to take care of yourself.”

That’s the breaking point.

Y/N stands up abruptly, the frustration boiling over. “It’s not my fault! I couldn’t have known the ceiling was going to fall! it’s not like I give everywhere assuming unexpected things happen !” She’s shaking with the intensity of it now.

“I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose for this to happen. I didn’t choose for everything I’ve worked for to get destroyed in an instant!” Minho watches her, his gaze soft but firm. He steps closer, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N’s breath is shaky, her chest tight with the rawness of her emotions. She blinks rapidly, trying to stop the tears that threaten to spill over, but they come anyway, hot and relentless. Her hands tremble as she wipes them away, but it’s futile—no amount of effort can hide the grief that swells inside her.

“I don’t know how to live without it,” she whispers, her voice cracking as the pain surges. “Archery wasn’t just something I did. It was who I was. It was everything to me. And now… now I’m just… broken.”

Her words crack like glass shattering, each one a reminder of the life she thought she had and the future that was ripped away in a single moment. She had spent years training, dedicating herself to something that made her feel whole, something that defined her in a world that often felt too large. And now, that piece of her was gone. The path she had been walking for so long had been torn away, leaving nothing but jagged edges and an aching emptiness.

Minho’s heart twists as he watches her, the storm of emotions in her eyes threatening to consume her. He doesn’t know what to say—he can’t fix this. He can’t give her back what she lost, no matter how much he wishes he could.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice soft but resolute. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now. But you’re not broken. You’re… you’re just lost. And it’s okay to feel like that. You don’t have to have all the answers right away.”

Y/N shakes her head. “You’re wrong. I am broken, Minho. I’ve lost the one thing that gave me purpose. How can I be anything but broken?”

Minho’s heart aches, but he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t let go of her shoulder, grounding her as she trembles. “I don’t think you’re broken, Y/N,” he says softly. “I think you’re hurting. And that’s okay. It’s okay to hurt.”

She pulls away from him abruptly, her face flushed with frustration and sorrow. “You don’t get it. You’re not the one who had everything—everything—taken away in an instant. You don’t know what it feels like to lose yourself.”

Minho stands still, the weight of her words settling deep into his chest. “No, I don’t know what it feels like,” he admits. “But I do know that I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I may not be able to fix what’s broken, but I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces. Even if you can’t see it now, I believe you’re strong enough to rebuild. I believe in you, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to respond. Her anger and sorrow have clouded her judgment, making her feel like she’s trapped in a storm she can’t escape. Her gaze drifts to the window, where the soft evening light pours through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The stillness of the world outside is so far removed from the chaos in her heart.

“I didn’t choose this,” she murmurs again, this time more quietly, as if the words are a confession rather than an accusation. “I didn’t choose to be here… like this.”

Minho watches her carefully, his voice gentle. “No, you didn’t. But sometimes, life doesn’t give us a choice. All we can do is keep going, one step at a time.”

Y/N is silent for a long moment, her thoughts tangled in the mess of her grief and anger. Finally, she lifts her eyes to meet his, her gaze softened by the exhaustion of it all. There’s a flicker of something—something small but there—inside of her.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” she admits softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Minho steps forward, his heart aching for her, and pulls her into a hug. She stiffens at first, not used to accepting comfort, but after a few moments, she melts into his embrace, her body trembling with the weight of everything she’s been holding back.

“Then let me help you find your way,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and steady. ��One step at a time.”

And for the first time in weeks, Y/N lets herself lean into someone, just a little, feeling the fragile thread of hope that Minho’s words offer. It’s not a solution. It’s not a cure. But it’s a start.

Minho knows that words won’t fix this. So, he takes her to the beach the next day—just the two of them, no distractions. Her arm is still in a sling, but they sit down on the shore, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence.

Y/N’s emotions are raw, and the weight of everything hits her again. The tears she’s been holding back finally spill over, and she doesn’t try to stop them. She doesn’t want him to look, but she can’t control it.

“I’m sorry,” she says through her sobs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to burden you with all this. I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to need anyone.”

Minho doesn’t look at her. He knows. But he stays by her side, silent and steady.

When she calms down, he reaches out, gently cupping her face in his hands. She looks up at him, her eyes red from crying.

“You’re not a burden to me, Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here.”

She shakes her head, her tears still fresh. “But I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know how to be anything without archery.”

Minho smiles, his eyes filled with an understanding that she’s not ready to face yet. “You’ll find a new way. And if you need me, I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You’re still you,” he says softly. “And you’re going to find a way to be even more.”

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat, feeling a flicker of something deep inside her—a spark, barely there, but present. It’s not a solution, not even close. It’s just the tiniest glimmer of hope. But right now, that’s enough.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and nods slowly. "I’m not sure what the future holds, Minho," she says, her voice quieter now. "But maybe, for the first time, I’m starting to think it’s okay not to have everything figured out."

Minho smiles, a small but genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “Good. Because you don’t have to have it all figured out. Not yet.”

They sit in silence again, letting the sound of the waves wash over them, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N doesn’t feel completely broken. She still doesn’t have all the answers, and she knows the road ahead won’t be easy. But with Minho by her side, maybe she doesn’t have to face it alone. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way forward after all.

You’re dangerous with your bow anyway, he thought, you’re Cupid.

And you close your eyes, in peace.

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #fics #skz scenarios #lee know #skz lee know #stray kids minho #skz minho #skz x you #skz stay #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #angst

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tepkunset · 1 year ago

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Representation vs. Appropriation

When I made a tumblr blog post pointing out that the character creator in Baldur’s Gate 3 included culturally appropriative face tattoos, lot of people decided to bend over backwards to defend this. Excuses I have found while giving my blocking finger a routine work-out thus far have ranged from “Larian Studios is European so they don’t know any better”, to a classic “it’s just a fantasy game, stop being so oversensitive”. But by far the most common poor reaction was, “what if it’s representation?”

Now, two Māori people were quick to jump into this post and say themselves, clear as day, that this is not representation, it is appropriation. That should be enough right there—settlers do not get to decide what is and isn’t representation for us Indigenous folks. But white people not listening to Indigenous voices is nothing new. I’ve been forced to learn that if you want to be taken seriously by settlers, your best chance is to coddle and appease their poor little delicate feelings. So, let’s pretend for a second that these “what if it’s representation?” questions are actually asked in good, albeit ignorant faith, and not just a pathetic gut-reaction to avoid having to critically think about a beloved game. (Which, by the way, I still overall adore myself, mind you.) Let’s pretend they actually want an answer, and give it to them.

It’s very easy to list the examples of positive Indigenous representation I’ve personally experienced in video games, not made by Indigenous folks ourselves, because there’s only one game that comes to mind: Assassin’s Creed 3. The protagonist of AC3 is Ratonhnhaké:ton of the Kanienʼkehá꞉ka people. Ubisoft is a terrible company for other reasons, but they did one thing right in the development of this game: They hired a cultural consultant, Thomas Deer. Deer was able to guide them through avoiding offensiveness and stereotypes, and include proper cultural touchstones that Indigenous players, especially Mohawk players, would want to see. For example, Ubisoft originally wanted to include sacred ceremonial masks in the game, but Deer told them that depictions of these masks would be taboo. He also helped them choose what clothing and jewellery was authentic to the Nation. This, among much more, helped create a truly representative experience. What makes it representation is that it features an Indigenous character in a positive way, without crossing lines into what should not be touched by outsiders. But had Ubisoft decided to ignore Deer’s consultation and go ahead with using those sacred masks… that would have been cultural appropriation.

Cultural appropriation is taking a closed cultural practice and using it yourself, despite not belonging to the culture it comes from. The key word there is closed, as in, something not for outsiders to touch. Eating frybread is not cultural appropriation, because it’s something freely shared by Natives to others. But wearing a fake headdress to your local musical festival is cultural appropriation, because headdresses are sacred regalia not freely shared by Natives to others. It really is that simple: just listen to boundaries set by the People.

“But my fake headdress is just clothing.” “But a fake kakiniit is just ink.” “But my fake totem pole is just decoration.” Except not, and the very fact that you have no respect for the history and meaning behind these things is the perfect example as to why they are not for you. But being told something isn’t for them has always been a hard a pill for settlers to swallow.

The phrase “nothing about us without us” is often used when advocating for rights and respect of minorities. It was first brought into English vocabulary by South Africa’s disability activism in the 1990’s, and has since been adapted across the world as a slogan to mean uplifting voices of the people you claim to want to help, instead of speaking over them. I personally first heard it through EDIRA work (Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, Reconciliation and Accessibility) at my job, and I feel like it can be applied in many different ways, this being one of them. The best representation comes from listening to the people you want to represent. Had Larian done that, they would have known that imitating those tattoos was off limits. But since they didn’t, they took what wasn’t theirs to take. And that’s appropriation.

#cultural appropriation #appropriation #representation #racism

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arcanarix · 4 months ago

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Fated Divergence, Ch.9 // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3 (+prev. chapter)

Word Count: 3.8K

Satoru Gojo sat in the worn, wooden chair, its legs creaking under his weight as he leaned back, trying to feign that air of nonchalance that didn’t reach his eyes. Not that anyone would notice through his blindfold. The steam from the cup of tea in his hand curled upwards, the aroma of jasmine wafting to his nose. It did little to soothe the storm brewing within him. His silver hair, a tangled mess from a night spent agonizing over the situation, peeked out over his blindfold. Across the table, Shoko Ieiri’s sharp, undeterred gaze flicked between him and Utahime Iori, whose usual calm demeanor was now full of concern for her colleague, her brows furrowed in thought.

Gojo swirled the cup of tea in his hand, smiling a little. Utahime prepared it—a gesture of kindness he didn’t expect from her, but it wasn’t like she really hated Gojo.

“I’ve been tracking Geto’s movements since I got back,” Gojo began, though he was lying through his teeth because he used his time more on unproductive displays. His voice, usually light and teasing and carefree, carried the weight of something far more serious now. He could be serious when it mattered, obviously. “He’s holding her hostage in his temple. He’s still up to something greater, though. Gathering curses any way he can. We can’t risk a direct confrontation right now. Not until she’s safe.”

Shoko’s undeterred and unbothered expression softened just a fraction, though her tone remained pragmatic and stoic. “Waiting might not be the best course of action. Every minute we delay is another moment he’s tightening his grip on her. How are we going to get her back if we can’t find away to neutralize him?”

Utahime’s lips pressed into a thin line, her cold gaze shifting to Gojo, who sat with a stillness to him that was entirely uncharacteristic for someone as obnoxious as he was.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Satoru’s right. We need to approach this carefully. If we move too soon, we’ll only be putting her in more dangerous. A direct confrontation now is too risky.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Satoru’s mouth—a rarity Utahime wasn’t accustomed to seeing from him since most of the time he just liked to troll her until she lost her mind.

“Perfect,” he murmured, nodding in agreement as he stroked his chin in thought. “We create a distraction. Pull him away from her. I can get her out of there in nanoseconds while he’s occupied. We’ll need some backup, though. Things could escalate quickly.”

Shoko leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can handle the diversion. Or I can get Nanami in on it. You know him—great at making waves.”

Satoru’s grin widened slightly, a flicker of his usual confidence returning, but his mind was still elsewhere, racing ahead, anxious over getting you to safety.

Everything in the temple grew silent—an almost eerie stillness hanging in the air, only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves outside. Those heavy wooden doors shut you out of the world, enclosing you now in this strange, secluded prison where time lost meaning. As you sat at the low wooden table, the sound of Mimiko and Nanako’s laughter rang softly in your ears. A smile eased on your tired features; they were your only key to sanity in these times. The twins, ever oblivious to the tension in the air, played with their expensive toys, their innocence a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside of you.

You snuck a glance at Geto, who sat across from you, his dark violet eyes soft as he watched the twins engage. Over time, he grew kinder to you, in his own weird wsay—you would even dare to call him gentler with you now. But you knew better than to fall for it. There was always that little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of how he only desired to control you, to possess you. Every praise uttered from his lips were laced with ulterior motives. You knew better than to trust the tenderness he showed you. All this was to him was a game, and you were just another piece on the chess board, moved and manipulated according to his grand design.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the temple’s vast halls, growing louder until Manami appeared at the doorway, her voice calm, but urgent: “Geto, there’s an emergency in Kyoto and Shinjuku. Several leaders have reported ambushes. You need to act immediately.”

Geto’s tender expression hardened, the softness in his eyes replaced by something cold and calculating. He turned to you, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of regret in his gaze, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he began, his voice low, tender, loving. You ignored the bile threatening to rise in your chest, forcing the disgust you possessed for him down. “I must go. It won’t be long—a few days at the most. I trust you’ll take care of the girls while I’m away.”

His hand reached out to you, brushing your cheek with a touch that sent a shiver dancing down your spine. While his touch seemed warm, there was something unsettling about the way his fingers lingered, and the way his gaze flickered to the gold band on your finger which gleamed each time it reflected the daylight peeping through the windows. You attempted to take it out numerous times when you were alone; your fingers trembling as you touched the band, but each time you were met with a wave of nausea so powerful it left you gasping for breath.

“I’ll be back soon,” Geto whispered, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering affectionate kiss that left a cold spot on your skin. He pulled away, his piercing violet gaze locking on yours, and for a moment, the world closed in on the two of you, his presence demanding, controlling.

“Don’t worry,” he added with a reassuring wink and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I always keep my promises.”

And with that, he went off with Manami in tow, the door closing behind him with a finality which left you feeling more alone than you ever did when you were with him.

Satoru moved through the temple like a phantom; his presence a mere flicker of cursed energy in the air, unnoticed by anyone or anything. His Six Eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, seeking out the faintest trace of your presence. He had warped into the temple in silence, his Infinity activated, his heart pounding erratically despite the calm exterior he sported for your sake.

When his eyes finally spotted you, seated at the low table with Geto’s adopted twins, his breath caught in his throat. Relief flooded through him, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of anger as he recalled the sort of things Geto had done to you, and then his senses zeroed in on the gold band encircling your finger. The rune etched into it? Unmistakable—Geto’s work. A low growl rumbled in Gojo’s chest, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

He waited until the twins left the room to reveal himself, their voices fading into the distance as they wandered off to another part of the temple. The moment they were gone, Gojo warped to your side in a flash, his presence a sudden and overwhelming.

You gasped, staggering backward a bit as your eyes widened in shock as you stared up at him, almost in disbelief that he was here.

“G-Gojo!”

Gojo stared at the gold band on your finger.

“That sick fucking bastard,” Gojo muttered under his breath, his fingers reaching out to brush against the cool metal of the band around your finger. The cursed energy embedded in it was powerful indeed, wrapping around your skin like chains. “To get this off of you, we’ll need to exorcise the cursed energy gluing it to your finger.”

You blinked up at him, your confusion evident as you tilted your head. Relief washed over you at the sight of him, but it was quickly replaced by the thousands of questions threatening to spill out of your mouth.

“So let me get this straight,” you began, your voice laden with sarcasm as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. “Geto was telling the truth? You haven’t been wholly honest with me either? Sorcery? Exorcisms? That shit is all real?”

Gojo gave you a small, almost apologetic smil, his voice low as he tried to keep the conversation from drawing any unwanted attention.

“Yep,” he replied, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a soft pop. He pulled down his blindfold, revealing the brilliant blue eyes of his, the intensity of them rivaling the sky on a perfect, clear day. There was a sort of sincerity in them, an openness you had never seen before on anyone, other than Mei. “I’m sorry for this, sweetheart. That private religious school thing I told you about? More of a cover-up for this organization. We can’t exactly let the public know what really goes on there. It would cause quite the controversy.”

You gave him a noncommittal hum in response, your fingers fiddling with the gold band in frustration. “So how do I believe you? How do I know this shit is real?”

Gojo crouched down to your level, his grin widening, though there seemed to be a flicker of amusement in his eyes at your disbelief. “Can you get the ring off yourself?”

You pouted, looking away, the frustration flashing across your face. “…No. I even contemplated cutting off my finger.”

And shoving the decaying finger down Geto’s throat, suffocating him with his love, you added in your mind, but kept to yourself.

“There’s your proof,” he affirmed, his tone gentle but firm. Then he put on an air of goofiness, perhaps in an effort to break the tension, pointing his thumb at himself. “But don’t worry! You’ve got the world’s strongest exorcist on your side. We’ll get that off of you in no time flat.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted when the air around you shifted; a dark, oppressive presence descending upon the temple. You recognized it immediately—a sensation that sent chills crawling down your spine like spiders. Geto returned, and far sooner than expected. A diversion? A false call? Gojo’s hand immediately flew to your shoulder, his gaze hardening and his body tensing as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation—one he hoped to avoid.

“He caught on quick. Hang on tight, pretty girl,” Gojo whispered, his voice low and urgent.

In a flash, the world around you blurred as Gojo warped you both outside the temple. The humid afternoon air clung to your skin. But you weren’t far away enough. Standing before the two of you, his dark robe billowing a bit in the wind, was Suguru Geto. His eyes were still cold, calculating, but there was a burning fury behind them when those violet eyes landed on you in Gojo’s protective hold. The sight of you there, with Gojo’s hands on your waist and shoulder, sent a tidal wave of rage through him.

“This doesn’t have to resort to violence, Satoru,” Geto growled, his voice low and threatening, though his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions raging within him.

Gojo shifted slightly, moving you further behind him, shielding you with his body.

“Let her go quietly,” he warned, his tone calm and even, but there was an underlying fury, a tension that burbled just beneath the surface. “This doesn’t have to get ugly, just like you said.”

A dark, twisted smile curled on Geto’s lips as his gaze flickered between you and Gojo. “Sorry, Satoru. I need her more than you do.” He extended his hand toward you, curling his finger in a beckoning motion. “Come to me, love.”

The ring on your finger began to glow a deep, ominous light that pulsed with pure, cursed energy. The rune etched into it flared to life, its power resonating deep within you, a force that you couldn’t resist even if you tried. Geto’s voice, smooth like dark chocolate and laced with dark promise, reverberated in your mind, compelling you to move against your will.

“Did I not promise I would protect you?” Geto murmured, his voice soft yet laden with underlying menace, those piercing eyes never leaving yours. “Did you not understand the depths of my devotion to you? This ring binds you to me. Quite literally, in fact.”

Before you could react, the cursed energy in the right surged, pulling you forward with an invisible force that dragged you toward Geto. Your body carried you against your will, your feet stumbling as you were hurtled toward him in a blur of motion. Geto’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping around your wrist, pulling you into an embrace.

The gold band on your finger burned, the searing heat causing you to gasp in shock and pain. You could feel the cursed energy crawling up your arm, wrapping around yo like chains, binding you to him even tighter.

Your eyes flitted to Gojo, his face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated fury. His usually confidence demeanor cracked under the weight of his raging emotions. But Geto merely chuckled, the sound low and dark like storm clouds, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered.

“Oh dear, Satoru… Whatever will you do now? If you attack me, she’ll get hurt. How will you protect her from me?”

Geto lifted your hand, displaying the gold band to Gojo, the cursed energy within it pulsing like a heartbeat. His eyes gleamed with malicious intent as he began to channel more of his own cursed energy into the ring, the ground beneath your feet trembling.

“With this ring,” Geto whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement, his sinister gaze never leaving Gojo’s. “I thee wed.”

The ring surged with power, its cursed energy swelling to a critical point, the force of it overpowering. You could feel it—the binding of the ring, Geto’s vows to you solidifying, a connection that seemed to thrum with life.

“You see,” Geto went on, his voice calm but laden with a sinister edge. “This ring does more than just serve as a symbol of our love. It’s not just about protecting her from this ugly world. It’s about our commitment to each other. I’m binding her to me, and there’s nothing you can ever do to break that bond we share, Satoru. She’s mine.”

Geto chuckled again, dark, terrifying.

“You’re too late as usual, Satoru.”

Gojo clenched his fists on either side, his jaw clenching as he glared down on his oldest, only friend, now his greatest enemy. The air crackled with tension like lightning. Your eyes glimmered as you glanced at Gojo, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Gojo!” you called, but Geto reacted with a growl, tightening his already iron grip around your waist.

“Don’t speak his name,” he sneered, “You only seek my support.”

The air between the three of you felt suffocating; the oppressive weight of cursed energy pressing down on everything around you. Geto’s cursed energy pulsed through the ring, searing your skin with its malevolent power. The ground beneath your feet still trembled, a physical manifestation of the immense forces at play, that you couldn’t see, as Geto’s eyes locked onto Gojo’s with challenge evident in the atmosphere.

But Gojo, you noticed, despite the fury burbling beneath his calm exterior, likely wasn’t regarded as the ‘strongest exorcist alive’ for nothing. His eyes, though concealed through his blindfold, missed nothing. He saw the slight tremor in Geto’s hand as he channeled the curse energy, the way the ring’s glow pulsed in time with your panicked heartbeat, and the slight crack in Geto’s usually impenetrable composure—all of it enough for Gojo to exploit.

“You’ve become way too cocky for your own good, Suguru,” Gojo his voice almost too calm. He stepped forward, his body language relaxed, but there was a deadly precision to his movements. “But you’re forgetting something here.”

Geto’s eyes narrowed into slits, his grip on you secured. “And what would that be, Satoru?”

Gojo gave him a slow, dangerous smile, as he reachd up to pull his blindfold off completely, revealing those piercing blue eyes that definitely saw through everything. “You’re outclassed compared to me. That’s why you defected, isn’t it?”

In an instant, Gojo’s cursed energy flared to life, a brilliant, blinding aura that seemed to envelope everything in a protective cocoon between the three of you. The air crackled again like lightning as he activated his Limitless technique, hands forming a gesture you didn’t recognize; the space between him, you, and Geto warping in a way that seemed to defy reality and everything you thought you knew.

Geto’s eyes widened in shock, impressed Gojo would go this far for your sake.

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Red!” Huh? What was that? Gojo’s voice rang out like a command, and the world seemed to explode in a burst of energy. You still didn’t seem to understand.

It all happened so quickly. It didn’t seem like the force of the attack was even aimed at Geto. Instead, the attack targeted the space around the ring, the cursed energy within it being neutralized for a split second. The overbearing pressure on your hand, the searing pain of the cursed bond—all of it disappeared in a flash, leaving you free—if only for a heartbeat.

In that fleeting moment, Gojo moved faster than a blink, his hand closing around your wrist and yanking you away from Geto’s grasp. The world blurred around you as he warped you both away, the temple and Geto vanishing into the distance as you were pulled into Gojo’s protective embrace.

But Geto didn’t seem deterred. Not in the slightest. He didn’t give up the good fight so easily. The moment Gojo’s Red had broken the bond, Geto’s cursed energy surged back with a vengeance, the ring on your finger flaring to life once more. Another violent tug, like an invisible chain tried to yank you back towards Geto, but Gojo’s hold didn’t relent.

“Too bad, so sad, Suguru,” Gojo taunted, sticking his tongue out at him like a child, his voice low but full of determination. His cursed energy surged again, a blinding light, and with a deft twist of his wrist, he activated another technique—another you didn’t quite understand the gravity of either. “You forget I’m the strongest in every sense of the word.”

Geto couldn’t even react before Gojo’s next move.

His hands formed another gesture. “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

The force of ‘Blue’ created an implosion of sorts, drawing in the cursed energy surrounding the ring and compressing it into nothingness. The ring on your finger finally shattered, the cursed energy binding you to Geto disintegrating in an instant. Not a single trace of its power left behind and you could almost cry tears of joy and relief.

When the ring broke, those invisible chains between you and Geto vanished, the oppressive weight lifting from your chest and you felt lighter like feathers. You gasped for breath, your body trembling from the release of the cursed energy, but Gojo’s presence beside you grounded you.

As Gojo warped you both away, you heard Geto’s furious roar echoing through the day. The anguished cry of a man who lost his most prized possession. By the time he regained composure, you and Gojo disappeared, this time warped to safety. The temple finally left behind as if nothing but a distant memory.

Gojo landed you back on solid ground, but not at your apartment or at your clinic. This seemed like a facility hidden in Tokyo. Was this that ‘private school’ Gojo spoke of? You looked around in awe. The ‘schoolgrounds’ felt welcoming in contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of Geto’s temple. You turned to Gojo, who was still inspecting you for any remnants of potential cursed energy clinging to your hand which once possessed the gold band. His expression seemed relieved, but also angry.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Tech,” Gojo announced softly, his eyes searching yours for any lingering fear. “You’re safe now.”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding erratically from everything that had just transpired. Everything that had happened in the last…who knew how long, replayed in your mind like a film, but all you could feel now was relief, gratitude, and something else far deeper.

“Thank you, Gojo,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked at you for a long moment, his usual playful and carefree demeanor replaced by his more serious side, more sincere side. He took your hand, and placed your phone over it. Fully charged. You saw on your home screen millions of worried calls and texts from Mei.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you,” he added. You were about to respond, but then the corners of his mouth quirked up into that familiar, playful smile. “But enough of that. We need to introduce you to the rest of the class!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “I thought the school was a coverup.”

“It is, but you still have classmates,” he replied with a wink. “Other sorcerers who’ll protect you in case Geto tries anything again. He’s a wanted man ‘round these parts, so it’s not like he’s going to come here unless he wants to face certain execution.”

“Did he really kill an entire village?” you inquired, scared of the answer.

That seemed to have caught him off guard. He likely didn’t expect you to find that out, or for Geto to admit that to you so openly.

“Yes, unfortunately,” he replied, hesitating for a moment before adding the next bit, deciding it was better now that you knew everything. “And his parents.”

Your eyes widened. Just when you thought Geto couldn’t be any more psychotic.

“That’s why I held off on telling you everything,” he went on, gripping your hands and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “But seriously, let’s get you settled here. There’s a lot of important people I’d like you to meet. I already spoke to our Principal and he’s on board with this being your safe house of sorts.”

“My hero,” you said, this time genuine, as a small smile tugged at your lips.

Gojo gave you a wry smile. “That’s me; don’t wear it out.”

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tippenfunkaport · 3 months ago

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Today Variety (see above) had an article naming Heidi Schreck as the new writer for the live action She-Ra series at Amazon that was announced back in Sept 2021 and, after seeing dozens of terrible takes and people who are fans of the Netflix's She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2017) freaking out, let's talk about this, shall we?

Disclaimer that I do not have any insider knowledge of this project specifically, this is just my educated perspective from my experience with IP and TV.

First and foremost, I will believe this project is actually happening when it is showing on my TV and not a moment sooner. Let's just say that.

Now assuming it IS happening, here's what you should understand...

IP is usually use it or lose it. If Dreamworks wants to keep the rights to make She-Ra content, they very likely must have something in active development or risk listing it. If Netflix isn't willing to make more of the animated series right now, then the Amazon deal is all they have or give She-Ra up entirely.

If you're an SPOP (2017) fan, you're in favor of Dreamworks retaining the license over losing it because, so long as they have it, the door is always open for more of our SPOP in one way or another. This reboot doesn't negate the possibility of a continuation of the animated version or vice versa. (Fans of frequently rebooted properties like TMNT and MLP would be happy to tell you about how there's been content for multiple gens at the same time.) It's not like the new version erases the old. If anything, a reboot often makes it more likely you get content of a past gen because of renewed interest in the property as a whole.

"But what if it's sexist trash!" The biggest fear people had about this reboot was that it would be some male gaze disaster made to please the worst kind of people who hate all kinds of diversity. Obviously, we'll see what we get, but the fact that they specifically got a feminist playwright as the writer is a big thing should alleviate some of that fear.

"But will it be gay????" I've seen lots of freaking out that Adora's going to kill Catra and marry a man on her grave and other equally unlikely fears. And the fact is: We don't know if it will be gay! With this writer, the gay door certainly isn't closed, but that doesn't mean it's open either. But honestly the real question you should be asking is: will it be explicitly gay? Because the rainbow homo-eroticism is baked right into She-Ra OG so even if we don't get an explicit same-sex kiss on screen... it's likely still gonna be pretty gay.

Even a bad or infuriating reboot will revitalize the fandom and bring new fans to SPOP (2017) AND increase the chances of continuation. Say the new show is terrible. Say they annoy everyone by giving Catra and Adora a supercorp queerbaiting thing and then never make it canon or make Catra and Hordak in love and everyone is mad. (Which I feel obligated to point out is *extremely* unlikely as this is literally still Dreamworks' show. They are the same people that gave you the gay. They are keenly aware of what their audience wants so, even if they are reluctant to make it canon, at the least they are probably going to tease it.) But even in the worst case scenario of the straightest possible version of She-Ra, what are people going to do if the new show pisses them off? Turn back to She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, create more fanworks, interact with what's already there, keep the fandom alive for everyone. You want that!

"Well SPOP (2017) was perfect and they should never be allowed to make another version of She-Ra again unless it's just like the thing we just got!" Wow, where have I heard something like that before? Oh yeah, that's exactly what the nightmare chuds said about Netflix's She-Ra and if they had gotten their way, we wouldn't have had this show we love. So maybe take a nice deep breath, chill tf out and look at that fact that there is no reason yet to see this announcement as anything other than a good thing for both this new reboot and the animated version's future.

#Heidi Schreck #she-ra #she ra and the princess of power #spop #amazon #dreamworks #netflix #catradora #live action #animated #i am on a deadline but I had to pause and write this bc y'all were being bananas about this

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supercorpkid · 7 months ago

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How You Get the Girl

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!, Kara Danvers.

Word Count: 2500.

Notes: I really love this fic, and part 2 (my favorite ever written) is coming soon :)

"Hey, remember my friend Barry?" Kara asks as you settle onto her couch, balancing containers of takeout food. The late hour has granted Kara a break from her Supergirl duties, allowing for a rare moment of tranquility.

"Barry Allen?" You confirm, and she nods. "The one from another Earth?"

"Yeah." She hands you your food and takes a seat beside you, facing you. "Sometimes we meet just to talk, instead of dealing with end-of-the-multiverse situations."

"Nice. I didn't know that." You start eating, but Kara hesitates, an uncommon occurrence as she's typically the one speaking with her mouth full. "Have you seen him recently?"

"Yeah, and he told me something amusing." Kara tilts her head, uncertain. "He ended up in the wrong universe, thinking he was coming here. He was very confused because everything was oddly similar. You know, there was me, you, Alex, Lena, J'onn…"

"Isn't that normal for different universes?" You furrow your brows. "I might not know much about it, but Lena explained once that when a diversion event occurs, a new Earth is created, so—"

"Yeah, yeah." Kara interrupts, contemplating her words as you watch curiously. "The weird part was that you and Lena were..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Together."

"Okay?" You return your attention to your food, losing interest. "We do spend a lot of time together."

"No, I mean, romantically together. Dating." Kara's revelation makes you snap your head up, heart racing. "More than that, actually. You guys were married! And had a kid!"

"A kid?" You laugh nervously. "Now that's absurd."

"Really? The kid part is absurd?" Kara sets aside her untouched food. "So you and Lena being married didn't strike you as absurd enough?"

You swallow hard, avoiding Kara's gaze as your cheeks flush. Is any of what Kara's saying absurd? Not entirely. Have you thought about you and Lena together before? Definitely. Have you secretly hoped for the day Lena will stop pining over Kara so you can do something about your love for her? Absolutely. Will you ever confess this to Kara? Not a chance.

"I mean," You take a deep breath, raising your head and trying to compose yourself. "Perhaps that's why the new Earth was created, right? A wild new scenario? Me and Lena."

Kara blinks, then chuckles. "I guess you're right." She finally picks up her food and begins eating. "I'm not sure if that's how a new Earth is created, but it's certainly wild enough."

Yeah. Wild enough.

Lena steps off the elevator, and you lift your head to admire her before she notices. Her hair is in perfect dark waves down her shoulders. She looks so tiny in her white sneakers, but you love them so dearly because you know how much more comfortable she's been ever since she stopped wearing those awful heels for work. Her lips, just a splash of red in them, as she's recently been dabbing with wearing less makeup than usual. You don't think she's ever looked this pretty.

The headquarters is unusually quiet; J'onn is in another room, Kara is at work, Alex is out with her girlfriend, and Winn is occupied in one of the computers. For now, it's just you and Lena, which means pining is almost allowed.

"Hey, Y/N." Lena approaches, carrying a gigantic book and sporting a playful grin. "I know you're gearing up to tease me about my book, so go ahead."

"Honestly, Lena. You think too little of me." She raises one eyebrow at you and you hold back your smile. You manage your best British accent. "Have you gone mad, Hermione? Are you a witch or not?"

"Ah. There it is—the Harry Potter quote I've been waiting for." Lena drops the book onto the table with a thud, and you glance at the cover. "Ironically, it's actually about magic." You offer her a smirk, earning an eye roll in return. "So, has Kara mentioned anything about her last encounter with The Flash?"

"Uh." Your mouth drops, why is Lena bringing this up? "She – She might've mentioned seeing him."

"Right. So apparently she told him about my theory on elseworlds and he doesn't agree with it." Lena opens her book, looking for a page. And you breathe out, relieved you won't need to have that fun conversation with someone else. "So, you know, obviously I have to prove him wrong."

"Obviously."

You stare at her lips, curving into a smile. So red and perfect. So close and yet so far away. She might be beside you, but the gap between you feels insurmountable.

"Oh, and he also said something about us being married!" She says and you choke on your own saliva and starts coughing violently. Lena's hand goes to your back and she soothes you, in a protective manner. "I mean, I know it's a little far-fetched, but that's an odd reaction."

"I just –" You try to breathe again, ignoring Lena's hands on your back and the way it makes your body shiver under her touch. "I wasn't expecting that. Sorry."

Lena chooses to ignore your awkwardness, which is very much appreciated, and you fall silent thinking about things you will not have, body parts you will not hold, and the reciprocated love that you won't feel. Thoughts etched in the inside of your mind, so addicted to the illusion of a love that never was and never will be.

"How –" You look back at her and she raises her head, previously nose buried in the book, and you swallow your nervousness. "How does a diversion event occur in order to create a new Earth? Is it something big and worldwide, or is it something small and insignificant?"

"Well, it is commonly thought to be big events. The small insignificant things that follow are usually in response to them."

"I see." You breathe deep one more time, mastering your best courage. "So, what would happen if I were to meet the other me or you from another universe? Would it be a paradox or something?"

"No. We're all different people." You bite the inside of your mouth thinking about it. Lena's voice brings you back from your trance. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just trying to understand more." You smile getting up from your place. "Thanks for explaining it to me." She looks at you curiously and you over explain things with your arms, like a lunatic. "Things are slow today. I'm just gonna head home. If there's an emergency, just hit me up."

"Oh, sure." Lena has barely noticed you're gone, nose buried in the book once again. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Is it madness? You pace the apartment floor, wrestling with your thoughts. Is it crazy to entertain the idea of venturing into another Earth just to witness a scenario where you and Lena are together? Is it reckless and irresponsible? Is it even fair?

But this love you feel for her has been eating you from the inside. You don't believe there's ever been a space quite as big as the one she wished into existence between your heart and hers. So how can you not? How can you not go on an excursion to find out how to summon this love into being?

"Hey!" Kara taps on your window and you turn around to look at her. "What's the emergency?"

"I need to go on a trip." You say. Packed bags at the edge of the couch, forced smile on your face. She flies in, landing close to it.

"Whe –"

"Can't tell you where. Just wanted to give you a heads-up so you won't worry."

Kara studies you, suspicion evident in her eyes. "Did something happen? Are you going on a mission?"

"No!" You rush to assure her, preventing any further questions. "No, no. Nothing happened, really. It's not a –" But it is a mission of sorts. "Not a real mission, maybe one just to answer a question that keeps me fast awake at night."

Kara squints her eyes looking at you, clearly finding your act extremely suspicious, and you curse yourself for your breath stuck in your lungs and the heart beating almost out of your body.

"Kara, you don't need to worry, I promise."

"Too late! Am worried!" She breathes out, sitting on your couch, right next to your bag. "What's going on? You've been acting weird these days. And DON'T –" She points at you accusingly, because she knows you were about to open your mouth and defend yourself. "say you're not, because I know you and you can't fool me, no matter how much you want to."

She's right. Kara knows you inside out. But there's one thing she's mistaken about: you've been successfully fooling her for months.

This pining over Lena, this ridiculous huge crush you've been nurturing for Lena Luthor has been going for far too long. You crave the way she smells and how she talks. You dream about green eyes and perfect arched eyebrows directed at you. You're consistently going out of your way just to see her. You jump on cases, and suggest team pairings. It's crazy the fact that no one noticed yet, because honestly? You don't think you're doing a far too good of a job when your mouth literally drops at the sight of her.

And yet, your best friends haven't figured it out. None of them. Not even the Kryptonian with super hearing and x-ray vision.

"You have nothing to worry about, really. But I can't tell you where I'm going, so you're just gonna have to trust me on this one." You try your best puppy eyes and sweet smile. "You do, right? You trust me?"

Kara's eyes soften immediately as she stands and comes closer to you, "Of course I do, Y/N. You're a strong, powerful woman and you can take care of yourself." She reaches for your arm and winks at you. "Plus, you have me on speed dial."

She means the watch.

You agree with your head and hug her goodbye.

You've never been to another Earth. Have heard enough about it, though, to not look completely lost and out of place. So you do your research, does Supergirl exist? Is Lena running some kind of business empire? Where do all the heroes meet up?

You're quick to find out, LuthorCorp is still very much a thing here, and it's run by yours truly, your so-called wife, Lena. So you make your way there first thing.

"Hi," You try, while talking to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Lena, I'm –"

"Mrs. Luthor!"

Startled, you glance behind, finding no one. "Where?" Then the realization dawns. "Oh. Oh! You mean me. Yeah, I never quite got used to it. Can I go up?"

"Of course, ma'am."

You step into the elevator, musing over how Lena's last name sounds rather fitting when associated with you. In fact, you might prefer it to your own.

"Mrs. Luthor," you overhear Lena's assistant on the phone as soon as she spots you. "Your wife is here."

You make a gesture to correct her, but she's already running to the door. "Mrs. Luthor, please." she nods at you.

"Oh, you don't have – it's ok. I can –" You finally smile back at her. "I'll take it from here, thanks."

As soon as the door closes behind you, Lena makes her way towards you.

Holy shit, she's a mirror image of your Lena. Not a single strand of hair out of place. She even wears the same style of heels your Lena used to, with a high ponytail and those perfect red lips curved into a smile.

"Darling, I didn't know you were dropping by." Before you can say anything, she's planting a kiss on you—a short, sweet peck that catches you off guard. It takes a few moments for you to close your eyes and reciprocate, only to find Lena pulling away. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not your wife!" The words burst out before she can lean in again, the realization hitting you hard. It hurts to say, especially when all you want is to kiss Lena once more, even though she's not truly your Lena.

"What?" Lena's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I'm a different Y/N. From another Earth." You point to yourself, trying to convey the truth. She stares at you in disbelief, so you rack your brain for ways to convince her. "Call your wife, and you'll see."

Lena blinks, then reaches for her phone on her desk. After a brief conversation, she hangs up. "You're not my wife," she confirms, setting her phone down. "Sorry for the unexpected kiss. You look exactly like her. Well, you are her."

"It's okay. I can't say I hated it." You admit, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at her amused smirk. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"Let me guess, your own world is in danger, and you need our help, or something equally insane?" Lena guesses with a sigh.

"My world is fine. But I do need your help with something insane."

Lena gestures toward the couch, and you follow suit. "Do tell, not-my-wife."

"How did we end up together in this universe? How did I win you over?" You're not even half seated yet and are blurting out questions.

"Win me over?" Lena chuckles at your choice of words. "Oh, darling. You fell in love with a Lena?"

"I'm afraid I did. Except mine is in love with Kara, so –"

"Oh, ok." This Lena shakes her head like that thought is insane. "Can't help you in that area. I was always in love with you – your version from here. In fact, you didn't win me over. I was the one who had to win you."

"Oh yeah, that was probably so hard. Flash those green eyes and a knowing smirk at me, and I'm already head over heels for you."

Lena nods in agreement, a smile playing on her lips. "To be honest, that was pretty much it."

Great, this entire excursion to another universe was useless. This Y/N finally got the girl, and you can't be helped.

"I'm sorry," Lena is quick to say. "I know I was of no help, but don't lose hope!"

"How do you know–"

"Please, Y/N. I am your wife." She reaches for your hand, smiling warmly. "If you fell in love with me here and in your universe, there's likely others where we end up together. I'm not saying you can visit them all—"

"I will visit them all!" You declare, rising from the couch, and you can practically feel Lena rolling her eyes. As you stand, she does too, and you share a goodbye hug. "Thanks for your help, not-my-wife! A pity kiss goodbye in case I never get the girl?"

She chuckles at your jest and plants a kiss on your cheek. "I'm certain you'll get her."

With renewed determination, you prepare for another journey to another Earth.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #lena x reader #reader insert #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl imagine

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goodgirlsdoithisway · 2 months ago

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The danger of friends and family.

Coming into my place as a woman has been difficult. I've been a feminist most of my life, believing I need to be free and do as I please. I surrounded myself with like-minded people, and kept pushing on even though I was suffering. These people had me convinced that I was unhappy because women have been "oppressed" by the patriarchy, and I just needed to rise above.

Here's the problem with this train of thought. Not everyone is capable or has the correct tools to survive alone in this world. Some people need structure and guidance to live. Most women fall into this category. Sure, we can do it, but it's incredibly hard, incredibly stressful, and it's a lifelong investment to work hard instead of smart.

Then, I looked into tradwife material. I started looking at how happy these women were. Sure, you occasionally see the sad ones living this life, but they are just full of resistance, like I was. These women made life look fun. What girl doesn't want to have a life where they don't have to worry about money, or politics, or drama? No internal struggles, just the calm acceptance of giving yourself to something bigger. A man.

My friends and family all called me out on this, saying I'm being red pilled. I told them I'm still committed to diversity and I love everybody, and I know I have the option to chase whatever dream I want, and that this was my dream. Not a single one believed in me. A few stopped talking to me altogether. I mean, I'm fucking trans for fucks sake. It's not like accepting my place under men means I'm all of a sudden A Trump supporter. No thank you, although I do hope to see some things revolving around women to pass, either way. We shouldn't be allowed to vote, hold jobs, or go anywhere without a man. Hell, Afghanistan just passed a law where no woman is allowed to speak in public, or to another woman at all. This would be great. No more toxicity spreading like wildfire, hurting our true place.

It's crazy how, when you go against the grain, you get demonized. It took its toll. I started thinking it was just a stupid fantasy I was grabbing onto because I wasn't working hard enough to make my life mine.

Then, with those few friends gone now, I started to realize I was feeling great in those moments I was embodying serving men. And without those extra comments, I was starting to be able to ignore the others saying those things. And as I cut more people off, I felt so much better. I felt deep inside that this was the right path. I knew that serving men was what I was created to do. It was like a certainty.

So I started reading more about it, embodying it, envisioning it. I set those feminist views aside and really devoted myself...I'm never going back.

Friends are toxic to a trad relationship. Family are toxic to a trad relationship. Even other trad wives can be turned, and in turn, turn you. Feminism is powerful because it promises unattainable visions of freedom. Friends and family can exacerbate that and poison your mind. When you devote yourself to this lifestyle, which I believe all women should, the adjustment is rough because there's so much propaganda out there, manipulating you into giving up the biggest, best, most fulfilling life a woman can have, a life of dedicated servitude.

It would be perfect to have a man who lives off grid with no electricity, no phone, no outside communication. To be taken by him, to his home, never allowed to leave or have visitors so that I may focus solely on Him would be the perfect life. Imagine forgetting people exist outside of Him. The only person you'll ever see again is the one you serve. No jealous friends to try to take you away or poison your mind. No family to pretend they know what's best for you. No. Only Him.

#men are superior #sexism #support the patriarchy #patriarchy kink #patriarchy #patriarchy slvt #patriarchy princess #serve the patriarchy

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dellalyra · 2 years ago

Text

Family Formation - Part Ten

Summary: The school’s exchange event endangers your family, but it’s okay, mom and dad are here to help.

CW: swearing, fluff, found family stuff, canon typical violence, I guess some angst ? megumi needs his mom rn

A/N: so!! It seems like nothings showing up in tags!!! If anyone can help pls do i am dumb and confused!! But ! Here is part 10 I have absolutely no impulse control and now you get 2 parts in one night bc adhd. I like this part nd pls don’t forget that requests are open and I love getting them!! Also! Just send shit idc I’m lonely man

Recommended Listening:

In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier

Masterlist

Nothing felt right.

You couldn’t sit still in your chair beside your husband.

There was a twisting in your gut. Akio, now 6 months old, was safe and sound with your parents – Grade One sorcerers and your home were hidden by your husband – so you knew Akio was safe.

But call it mother’s instinct – one of your kids was in danger.

You tried to pay attention to the exchange event, watching the fights but the feeling grew and grew and was soon confirmed when all the student’s lights burned red.

You sprung up from your chair and vaguely heard Mei Mei and Yaga speaking – you gripped Satoru’s arm and soon you, him and Utahime along with Gakuganji were running toward a descending curtain. Gojo reached out only to be violently rejected by the curtain, you frowned in confusion but realised a second too late as you too, were blasted backwards.

You looked at Satoru.

“An anti-Gojo veil, I just don’t think it specified which one.” He said, as you realised this was meant to keep you both out as Utahime managed to slide her arm through the veil.

Panic seized your stomach. Megumi. He was in there, he was in danger. Nobara, Yuuji. What about Maki and Toge, Panda too? All the Kyoto kids? You needed to get in. That anger panic soon turned to anger as you realised someone intentionally made this veil to keep you and Satoru from the kids.

“Utahime, gramps, you two go ahead. Protect the kids. I can break this down, but only with Y/N’s intellect.” He waves a hand at them, he may be calm but you can sense his frustration.

Utahime looks at you.

“Hime, please, get me, my kids.” She only nods and they disappear through the curtain.

“Okay, Satoru. What do you see?” You ask. You and your husband work together like a well-oiled machine by now – techniques working in perfect unison after so long of working together and the intimacy of marriage.

“Veil, the cursed spirit made, specifically meant to keep us both out. 2km radius.” He recites, knowing what you need.

“Okay, I’ll create a diversion – then red?” You don’t even realise it by now but you working on sheer instinct and muscle memory. Trying to clear the emotions swirling through your gut right now is taking everything you have.

“It’s a deal, sweet cheeks.” He replies. God, where would you be without this man beside you?

You activate one of your techniques, one of the more durable and as teenage Gojo when training said ‘damn annoying’ ones, Fae Conjuration, and shape an ancestral spirit’s cursed energy into a gigantic elephant.

“I love your flair for drama, princess,” Gojo says, kissing your hand.

“Go big or go home, right.” You reply, which makes him laugh.

As you send the elephant charging into the barrier, just as it hits and bursts into thousands of small blue petals, Satoru sends a bright red burst of energy into the curtain and you see it shrink back into itself.

You both immediately begin running toward the smoke and dust emanating from where you know the river lies. You pray to whoever might be listening that your kids are safe and that you weren’t, once again, too late.

“Y/N, get them out of the way,” Satoru says from behind you, before branching off behind you. You knew what he meant immediately.

Not far away, a series of flashes come and you see, your Yuuji, sweet, kind, loving Yuuji – has hit the curse with four consecutive black flashes. Pride swells in your chest and a giggle at how Kento will react. Next comes several confusing images which you recognise as Todo switching everyone’s places and before you know it the curse has greatly increased their cursed energy output. Yuuji comes running to Todo and just as the energy reaches its peak, you slid into the riverbed in front of the boys, using your cursed claws as anchors and shouting.

“Cursed technique: Wall of Thorns” comes tumbling from your voice, raw and powerful and the magnitude of energy pulsing from your technique quells the curses own but also wraps it up in piercing tendrils of impossibly thick, strong vines.

You look at the curse, a spirit imbued by nature – a being similar to yourself. You smile sadly at it.

“The Dryad. The monk warned me of you.” The curse speaks in a shockingly gentle voice.

“Hanami. I’m sorry it came to this. Return to the earth, and be at peace.” You say as you’ve spotted a shape lingering in the sky.

You turn as fast as you can, as you spot a figure in the sky and grabbing Todo and Yuuji by the arms you shout again.

“Cursed technique: comments flora.” And with that, you and the boys are standing, by a camellia bush about 100ft away.

“Why have we run? Y/N-Sensei?! Todo?! It’s not dead!” Yuuji shouts and leaves to run but Aoi grabs his arm.

“Hold it, brother!” Todo says.

“Do not go closer, Yuuji. Satoru has it from here.” You say.

“Don’t take another step closer, or you’ll get caught in it.” Todo and you push Yuuji behind you both and just in time as a rumble comes through the ground and you’re all soon swathed in a deep purple light.

You giggle a little, Satoru has had a chance to play a little rough today, he’s probably in heaven.

“Ha, he’s as nonstandard as ever,” Todo says.

As the light clears and you release Yuuji from your grip, you look at them both.

“Where is Megumi? I can feel his cursed energy. Is he safe, is he hurt?” You say, patting them both down and spinning them to assess injuries.

“He’s been taken to Shoko Sensei, he was injured, along with Maki. Panda has escorted them to safety.” Todo informs you as you squeeze the (much taller than you) Itadori into your chest.

“Well, maybe I should have Aoi here as your Sensei if he managed to get a black flash from you.” Coke from behind you, as your husband floats down to stand beside you all. Yuuji immediately starts spouting at him about how cool the ‘purple neon flashy thingy’ was and how he’s ‘so OP Sensei’ and Aoi claps and agrees and admires his panache.

“Satoru – Satoru! Megumi! He’s hurt, Shoko has him.” He whips around and grabs your arm and the next thing you know you’re warping into Shoko’s office and you realise the last time you did that your waters had broken and Akio was on his way. But now, it’s your other son, and it’s fear – not joyous apprehension you’re feeling. Satoru is stock still and stiff beside you. You know you’re both worrying you didn’t get to him in time. Your darling boy.

But much to your relief, sitting up with a scowl in front of you is the spikey-haired boy – seemingly unscathed, with Maki opposite him.

You dive into him, wrapping him in your arms.

“Shoko! Ieiri Shoko! Come here now! SHOKO!” You’re shouting through the room and Megumi is hushing you Satoru is pulling at every limb on Megumi checking for damage and Maki is laughing her ass off at the look on her cousin’s face.

“Jesus, Y/N chill the fuck out, your kids fine. He got a nasty gash in his stomach but it’ll heal fine, was more of a cursed technique issue than a health one. 2 weeks bed rest and some painkillers and he’ll be all good.” Shoko says, wiping her hands on her doctors coat and rolling her eyes at you. A flash of a memory of you and Gojo fussing like this over an injured Geto back in the day with her only learning to heal passes through her mind as she witnesses the scene.

She’s soon knocked back by you tossing your arms around her neck and kissing her hair.

“Thank you, I chose the best best friend ever, thank you I love you.” You finally let her go and then begin to fuss over Maki and Megumi together. Telling them that you’re taking both of them and whoever else needs recovery time to you and Gojo’s house and you’ll take care of them.

Shoko raises an eyebrow at Gojo, wondering how he’ll react to this decision.

“What my princess wants, I’ll give her. And if it’s time to look after her kids, then that’s nothing I’ll object to.” He shrugs, grabbing a candy from her desk.

Shoko leaves to check on Inumaki and Noritoshi Kamo and Maki is given permission to leave back to her dorm, with an open invite to the Gojo Cottage to recuperate if she wants.

You sit beside Megumi, with Gojo sprawling his ridiculously long limbs over the legs of the chair he’s on, playing candy crush with one eye and observing you two with the other.

“You okay, ‘gumi?” You say.

“I’m good, don’t worry Mom.” He says, awkwardly patting the top of your hand.

“You did really good today kid, saved a lot of people. Proud of you.” Gojo says, beaming. “You really take after your old man, and by that I mean me, in your levels of extraordinary talent.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and you just laugh at the two boys. You text your mom that Satoru will be home to take Akio to bed tonight, but you’ll both be staying the night in the chairs beside your eldest before you can take him home to rest tomorrow. She replies, after crying for 10 minutes over him being hurt asking if ‘her darling Megumi needs his Nana’ and he blushes and says it’s okay he’ll see her when he’s home. She tells you she loves you, tells Gojo she loves him, and tells Megumi she loves him the mostest and then you hang up. All of you drifting off, you and Gojo curled together on the armchair beside your kid’s bed.

You guys would be okay.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

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astra-galaxie · 4 months ago

Note

So...quick question. How would you rank each CC game in terms of character design? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Oh! Good question! Let me get some pictures, and I'll come back with my list!

1st place: Mysteries of The Past

I LOVE the character designs of MotP! It does an amazing job at replicating the style of the late 19th century, which it's supposed to be set in, and while some things aren't entirely period-accurate, I love it regardless! Also, the characters' physical appearances are detailed and unique, creating a large diversity among this season's cast.

Plus, Victorian Steampunk is one of my favourite styles (even if I don't wear it), so that's an added bonus for me!

2nd place: The Conspiracy

This season showcases how much Pretty Simple's character designs have improved since its release, as it brought back many S1 characters. The details in the designs are beautiful, and this is also when PS started trying more facial expressions and poses for the characters. This season is a perfect example of how character designs can be improved with practice, so it earned second place!

3rd place: Travel in Time

S6 gets third place thanks to how many different periods' styles it's replicated. We had Ancient Times, the 1960s, the Renaissance, the future, the Age of Sails (which I love pirates, so bonus!) and Medieval Asia. This season had so many unique styles within it that it's only fair it should be in the top three! I think the only reason it's not higher up is because it's shorter than the other seasons, and while I don't know if I would want it to go for 60-ish cases, it would have been interesting to see what other times we could have visited.

(I still think we should have visited MotP during S6, but that's an idea for another time, so I'll shut up about it for now!)

4th place: Supernatural Investigations

S7 gets fourth place, as I love seeing its take on different supernatural creatures. I am a HUGE fan of the paranormal and magic, so this season is right up my alley! While some designs could use improvements (*cough* the demons *cough*), I still like seeing all the different mythical creatures. Regardless of the things I would choose to change to improve some of the characters' designs, it did an excellent job making characters who are so different than what we see in other seasons.

5th place: Save The World

Save The World is when I feel that Criminal Case really started to branch out with its diversity in character designs. We visit so many countries throughout the seasons that it makes sense for the characters to reflect the differences between nationalities. I won't speak for how accurate some of the designs are for all of the nationalities featured in this season, but I think PS did a good job designing characters to represent each country. You can even see it among the Bureau since few members originate from the same country. Overall, StW has fantastic character designs, even if the following seasons have more details.

6th place: City of Romance

OMG! Who would have thought we'd ever see the day CoR DIDN'T come in last place on a list?! (At least I don't recall them ever not being in last place...)

Even if CoR failed horribly at being the final season of CC, the character designs are good. Some characters I like more than others, but overall, they have plenty of details without being overwhelming. Had CoR gotten the chance to be a full 30-case season, we might have seen more characters come back from past seasons and see the design improvements like we did in S5 and S6. Like I always say, CoR had the potential to be better than it was, but at least the character designs weren't a total flop!

7th place: Pacific Bay

(AnxietyFluffy, please forgive me for putting S2 so low on this list.😭)

While I enjoy PB's plot and characters, unfortunately, I had to put it so low on the list since, compared to other seasons, its character designs aren't as impressive to me. Mainly, it's because it's only the second game, so PS was still working on improving character designs. While I can see an improvement between S1 and S2, it's just not enough for me to put PB higher on the list. But, I still think PB did a good job creating diversity between districts, and while I will always question how the climates of these districts coexist, it was nice to see the differences reflected in the character designs.

8th place: Grimsborough

Last but certainly not least is Grimsborough! While it's nostalgic and the game introduced me to CC, sadly, its character designs showcase the fact that it's the first game. I would never say the designs are bad, but they're not as good as they were in the following seasons. There's something simplistic about the designs compared to feature seasons, but I still enjoy them. However, I am glad that PS started making the characters more detailed and unique in the following seasons, and I wish we could have seen more S1 characters come back in future seasons to see how much their designs could have improved.

I loved seeing how PS's character designs improved over the course of their 8 games while staying true to their CC style. I've always enjoyed the style and characters of this series, and it was fun to pick which ones I liked most! I'm sure others would put the seasons in a different order based on character designs, but I'll stand by my choices.

Thank you for the ask, eggsandmasks! You always send me some fun brain teasers!😁

#criminal case #criminal case grimsborough #criminal case pacific bay #criminal case save the world #criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case the conspiracy #criminal case travel in time #criminal case supernatural investigations #criminal case city of romance #ask

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thisgremlintalkstoomuch · 5 months ago

Text

Hello, my name is Alex and before I start speaking my mind about the Natlan (&Sumeru) situation, I want you to know that I'm a white Italian and for that my opinion on racism will always be less important that POC opinions. Also, I'm aware that my anger is nothing compared to the anger and suffering of the minorities that are being misrepresented, but if I don't talk then I would be complicit in the racism that's spreading online.

I'm angry because I'm seeing white people talking about "forcing diversity" and removing "representation" from white people (geez, that's cringe bro). I've also seen really racist offences on every app I'm in.

To all these people: fuck you. We are the most privileged and represented group on this motherfucking planet, everything is about us.

Also, it's not forced diversity, they are using non-white cultures but refuse to properly represent them. This is cultural appropriation.

We stole everything from these cultures: their lands, their freedoms and now we still steal from them. And then we have the audacity to ignore their existence, because god forbid something is not for white people.

You are all quick to complain if there's a black protagonist in a game about Japan, even if he is an historical figure, because the reality is that you are racist, plain and simple. And if you think you are not, you probably can't understand your privilege and the fact that every one of us has been raised in a racist society, and we should listen and learn from others experiences. But noooo, you're all complaining because...what? Why does melanin bother you so much? Get over yourselves. You are trying to silence people, the same thing that we have done to them for hundreds of years. They are tired and they are fucking right to feel like this.

Also, saying that entire countries (Japan, China) are racist is generalising and, considering what's happening with racisms in a lot of weastern countries, we should stop infantilizing another country and start seeing how our governments are enforcing racist behaviours.

My personal story is different, but I know for a fact that if someone creates something with an all POC cast, you will be screaming and having a tantrum because you hate not being the center of attention. Why do I know that? Because it happened in my community with queer creators, where straight people complain if there's an all queer cast. Privileged people H A T E when something is not about them.

To all of the beautiful people who are fighting for their right to be represented correctly: you are incredible, strong and you deserve respect. And I'm deeply sorry for what you're going through.

(Sorry if my English isn't perfect)

#boycott hoyoverse #genshin impact #natlan #whitewashing #hoyoverse boycott #melanin is not your enemy

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kyleoreillylover · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 7- Part 2- The Battle Before the War

Series Summary/Masterlist

warnings: wrestling related violence, manipulation, drinking.

Summary: You are close to cracking under the pressure, so your girls treat you to a night out. They learn just how much you were affected by the Bloodline... and they leave you conflicted about your place in the Bloodline. We also learn a little bit more about your relationship with Sami while you are trying to heal your own one with Jey. Kevin tries to stir things up, and leaves Sami also conflicted about his place in the Bloodline.

word count: 8,479

tagged: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @empressdede @judgementdaysunshine @beeposts

a/n: guess who finally decied to update this!! I promise I haven't discontinued this lol. I just had writers block. hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!!

Over the next few days, the tension between the Bloodline was palpable. Roman's mistrust had cast a shadow over the group, creating an atmosphere thick with unease. The fallout from the incident on live television had repercussions that extended beyond personal relationships. The dynamics within the Bloodline were shifting, and everyone could feel it.

You and Jey didn't get into arguments, because you simply didn't talk to each other unless absolutely necessary. You wanted a man, not someone who would question your loyalty at every turn.

And Jey seemed to be keeping his distance as well, perhaps feeling guilty for his actions or simply trying to avoid further conflict, but also because when he did try to apologize, you would cut him off, unwilling to entertain excuses.

He lost to Sheamus due to interference tonight, and Roman and him had an argument that did not end well, and that made him even more unwilling to talk to you. The wounds were still fresh, and you needed time to heal.

Sami had lost against Kevin after Jey aired out your relaitonship issued on TV due to Jimmy, Jey, and Solo interfering right before he was about to win, courtesy of Roman's orders. He wanted to test the loyalty of the members, and unfortunately, Sami became a victim of that power play. The loss left a bitter taste, not just for Sami, but for the entire group.

Sami was rightfully angry, but he understood the complex dynamics at play within the Bloodline. Loyalty, power struggles, and the constant need to prove oneself were all part of the game. The internal strife within the Bloodline was becoming more evident with each passing day.

Trinity- one of your closest friends- visited to check on her husband Jimmy, but when she found the state you were in, she forced you to get out of your room to have a girls night with the rest of your friends.

As much as you wanted to wallow in the emotional turmoil, Trinity's insistence broke through the walls you had built around yourself. She brought you shopping with Liv and Mercedes, trying to distract you from the tension and drama. The four of you had mani-pedis, did your hair, makeup, and were now currently at a bar in the city, attempting to have a moment of reprieve from the chaos that had consumed the Bloodline.

"Girl, you look so fucking gorgeous tonight!" Liv gushed over your new look, giving you a playful nudge. You were wearing a stunning outfit that Trinity helped you pick out, your makeup impeccably done, and your hair styled to perfection. The girls had succeeded in creating a diversion from the heavy atmosphere that surrounded the Bloodline.

You gave Liv a smile, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. She noticed this and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "You guys didn't have to go through all this trouble for me," you said, your voice filled with gratitude.

Liv squeezed your shoulder gently, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "Don't you dare apologize for needing a distraction, Y/N," Liv interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. "We're here because we love you, and we want to see you smile again."

"We miss seeing you happy," Mercedes chimed in, her voice soft but earnest. "You've been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders for too long, Y/N. Tonight, let us carry it for you."

Your heart swelled with gratitude for your friends' unwavering support, even in the midst of your emotional turmoil. Despite your initial resistance, their persistence began to chip away at the walls you had erected around yourself. Trinity, sensing the heaviness lingering within you, leaned in closer, her expression filled with empathy.

"You are not allowed to be sad no more." Trinity declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Tonight, we're going to dance, laugh, and the only worry you'll have is what drink your'e gonna get next. Capiche?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Trinity's determined attitude, feeling a flicker of amusement amidst the heaviness in your heart. "Yes, ma'am," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

And not worry you guys did. You didn't remember how many drinks you all had, but what you did know was that you were throwing back on Liv as the two of you danced on the crowded dance floor. The music thumped loudly, drowning out the worries and tensions that had gripped the Bloodline. In that moment, surrounded by the pulsating beats and colorful lights, you allowed yourself to let loose, to forget the troubles waiting outside the confines of the bar.

Liv twirled you around, both of you laughing as you moved in sync with the rhythm. You left your phone with Trinity and Mercedes, who were watching with amused grins from a nearby table as Liv threw her ass back on you, the two of you lost in the music.

What you didn't know was that your phone was innecstantly ringing with multiple missed calls from Jey. He had been trying to reach out to you, perhaps with the intention of apologizing or sorting things out. However, in the midst of the lively atmosphere and the distraction provided by your friends, you remained blissfully unaware of the attempts to contact you.

Actually, you had missed calls from all of the guys. You… might have snuck away from the hotel without telling anywone where you and Trinity had gone, with the exception of Solo (because Solo was Solo and responsible and reliable when it came to keeping secrets).

Mercedes, feeling a bit too drunk and empowered to get revenge for Jey embarrassing you on TV, grabbed your phone, scrolling through the notifications and messages. Trinity noticed the smirk on her face and leaned over to see what she was up to.

"Girl, you real messy." Trinity cackled at Mercedes' mischievous expression. "What are you planning?"

Mercedes chuckled, holding up your phone. "Just a little payback for our girl here." She showed her the messages from Jey that read

"Y/N, where are you? We need to talk. Please pick up." "I messed up, babe. Just let me explain. Where are you?" "Seriously, answer your damn phone. I need to fix this." "Y/N, come on. Don't do this. Let's talk. I miss you."

Trinity raised an eyebrow, looking at Mercedes with a smirk. "What you gon' do?"

Mercedes smirked back, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, just gonna a little something to keep him on his toes." She quickly typed a response:

"Sorry, wrong number. I'm having a great time without you. Maybe you should learn to trust me for once."

Before posting some pics on Instagram of the four of you having the time of your life, making sure to send the one with your friends looking stunning and happy, emphasizing the fact that you were not alone and clearly enjoying yourself, and making sure to 'accidentally' tag Jey.

Mercedes showed Trinity the response, and they both burst into laughter. "Damn, girl! That's cold, but he kinda deserves it.

Mercedes winked, enjoying the mischief. "He'll survive. Maybe this will teach him a lesson." The two of them clinked glasses, before drinking the night away, reveling in the freedom of the moment.

liked by themercedesvarnado, TrinityWWE, SoloSikoaWWE, uceyjucey and 500,000 others

tagged: yaonlylivonce, TheMercedesVarnado, TrinityWWE, samizaynwwe & uceyjucey

Y/N: your biggest flex <3 never forget that 😘

view all comments:

bloodlinelover: mother is mothering

y/nstan: ooh she mad mad 😭 she tagged his ass

↳user1: I would be too tf 😭 he prolly wishes he kept that mouth shut 😭

comment liked by y/n

Solosikoawwe: appliyng the pressure 🔥

↳y/n: learned from the best <3

↳user1: lmaoo I love her ignoring jey but talking to solo 😭

uceyjucey: my girl <3

↳y/n: not for long if you keep this up <3

↳y/nstan: OMG!?? lmaooo she not playin with you

↳user1: LMAOOO WHO TOOK Y/N'S PHONE THIS IS NOT HER LOL

comment liked by y/n

samizaynwwe: the princess for a reason 🖤

You came back with you and Liv wrapped in each other's arms, buzzed and full of laughter. The night had been a much-needed escape, and you felt a sense of relief and lightness that had been absent for days. As you approached the table where Trinity and Mercedes sat, you noticed their mischievous grins and exchanged curious glances.

"What are you two up to?" you asked, still swaying slightly to the rhythm of the music.

Trinity and Mercedes shared a glance before bursting into laughter. Mercedes handed you back your phone, and you saw the exchanged messages with Jey, along with the pictures showcasing the fun you were having.

"Oh my god, you guys!" you exclaimed, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. "That's… that's something."

Trinity leaned in with a sly grin. "Consider it payback for the drama he put you through on TV. He needs to learn a lesson in trust."

You couldn't help but join in their laughter. It was a playful revenge, and for the moment, it felt satisfying to turn the tables, even if just a little. the tables, even if just a little. The night continued with more dancing, laughter, and the occasional cheeky glance at your phone to see if there were any more messages from Jey or the others.

As the hours passed, the drinks kept flowing, and the atmosphere became more carefree. You felt a little bit more than buzzed, which opened the conversation to more personal topics. Trinity, being the perceptive friend she was, looked at you with a knowing smile.

"Okay princess, only took a few drinks to finally get the old you." Trinity teased, nudging you playfully.

"What do you mean?" You asked, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension at Trinity's knowing smile.

Trinity chuckled, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You know exactly what I mean. When's the last time we even talked without you being wrapped up in your own head or stressing over Bloodline drama?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Trinity's blunt assessment. She had a way of cutting through the facade and getting straight to the point. "Fair point," you admitted, taking a sip of your drink. "I guess I've been a little… preoccupied lately."

Mercedes raised a brow, her expression thoughtful. "Preoccupied is an understatement, honey. You've been practically living and breathing the Bloodline drama. You barely even remembered how to relax and have fun until tonight."

Liv leaned against your shoulder, her voice gentle but firm. "Babe, she's right. We missed you, and you are just starting to come back to yourself again. We've all noticed how much you've been carrying on your shoulders lately. It's like you forgot how to be yourself outside of the Bloodline."

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt wash over you. They were right, of course. The weight of the Bloodline had consumed your thoughts and emotions, leaving little room for anything else. "I know," you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. "I guess I just… I don't know how to balance it all anymore."

Trinity felt a pang of sympathy seeing you struggle with the weight of your responsibilities. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. She knew how Roman could be, how he had a way of consuming the lives of those around him with his ambitions and demands.

You saw all 3 of your friends exchange a look with each other, and you furrowed your brow, curious about the silent communication passing between them.

Mercedes took a deep breath, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. "Y/N, we love you, and we've always supported your career and your dreams. But… maybe it's time to start thinking about what you want for yourself, outside of the Bloodline."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Mercedes' words. It was a sentiment you had heard before, but coming from your closest friends, it held a different weight. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Trinity nodded, her expression serious yet gentle. "Look, tonight was the first time in almost 2 years that you allowed yourself to let go and have fun without worrying about the Bloodline. And look at how happy you were," she pointed out, gesturing to your beaming smile. "You deserve to have more moments like this, Y/N. Moments where you can just be yourself, free from the weight of expectations and obligations."

Your eyes were slightly glassy as Trinity's words sank in, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you. For so long, you had been conditioned to prioritize the Bloodline above all else, to suppress your own desires and aspirations in service to Roman's ambitions. You didnt realize how you were acting: this depressed, closed-off version of yourself wasn't the real you. And it took the perspective of your friends to make you see it.

"I… I don't know how to do that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The idea of breaking away from the Bloodline, of pursuing your own happiness and fulfillment, felt simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.

Liv wrapped an arm around your shoulder, offering you a reassuring squeeze. "It's just that, seeing you with this little spark in your eyes again, Y/N," she said, her voice soft and encouraging. "It's like… you've been hiding behind this facade for so long, and tonight, it feels like you're finally starting to break free from it." Ever since you started hanging out with Sami while you and Jey were on tough terms, is what Liv wanted to say, but she refrained from bringing up Sami's name, sensing that it might complicate the conversation.

Trinity nodded in agreement, her expression filled with determination. "We're not saying you have to leave the Bloodline, Y/N. We just want you to remember who you are outside of it. You deserve to pursue your own happiness, whatever that may look like."

Mercedes slid you a fruity drink that she knew would help you relax, offering you a comforting smile. "And it starts with this. Drink up, babe. Tonight, we celebrate you. Tomorrow, we start figuring out what comes next."

You took the drink from Mercedes, feeling a mix of gratitude and apprehension swirling within you. It was a daunting prospect, to consider carving out a life for yourself outside of the Bloodline. But as you looked around at your friends, their unwavering support shining in their eyes, you felt a flicker of hope stirring within you.

"Okay," you said, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Okay, let's do this."

And with that, you raised your glass in a silent toast to the future, to the possibility of rediscovering yourself and finding happiness beyond the confines of the Bloodline. As the music pulsed around you and laughter filled the air, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a brighter path waiting for you on the other side.

Could you really see a path without Roman, or better yet, without Jey? (Or Sami, for that matter?)

"So, spill the tea, Y/N. What's going on between you and Jey? And don't give me the 'it's complicated' nonsense. I want details." Trinity asked after the four of you were considerably drunk, and lounging in the celebrity area of the bar, gossiping about your lives.

Liv had started a farm with her boyfriend, Mercedes was going to Stardom and walking fashion shows, and Trinity was killing it in Impact and telling hot stories from Impact's locker room. Unbeknownst to you, your phone kept going off with calls and messages, but Mercedes made sure to turn it off and make you promise to keep it locked in your pocked for the rest of the night.

You sighed, feeling a mix of emotions. The alcohol had certainly loosened your inhibitions, and you decided to share a bit of the turmoil you'd been experiencing.

"It's just… he's been jealous of Sami ever since he's tried to join the Bloodline. And I honestly don't even know why he's jealous. It's not like there's anything between Sami and me. Jey's just letting Roman's expectations mess with his head, and it's affecting us. I can't deal with the constant questioning and doubt." You poured another round of drinks for the table, needing the liquid courage to open up further.

Mercedes sipped her drinking, deciding whether or not to ask you her question. You saw the look on her face and raised an eyebrow, prompting her to go ahead.

"You and Sami do have some history, though, right?" Mercedes asked, her tone careful. "I mean, there's gotta be a reason Jey's so worked up about it."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we do have history. We were close friends before he even joined WWE. But it's just that – history. Sami and I have always been just friends. And yeah sure, Sami did kiss me-"

"Huh?"

"Girl!?"

"What?!"

You sighed as all three women reacted to your revelation, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity. The music continued to pulse in the background, creating a surreal backdrop to the unfolding conversation.

Liv was the first to respond, her eyes wide. "Wait, Sami kissed you? And you're wondering why Jey is so worked up?"

You nodded, feeling a bit exposed but also relieved to finally share this part of your past with your friends. "I know, I know! But hear me out…"

"This better be good," Trinity chimed in, her eyes focused on you as she took a sip of her drink.

You took another deep breath before continuing. "It happened a while ago. Sami was going through a tough time, and in a moment of vulnerability, he kissed me. I immediately made it clear that we were just friends, and nothing more ever happened between us. Jey knows about it, and he knows it wasn't something I reciprocated. But for some reason, he can't seem to let it go."

Mercedes leaned back, processing the information. "And did Sami ever apologize for that? Or clarify things with Jey?"

You sighed, a mix of frustration and understanding in your voice. "Yeah, he did. Sami apologized to both of us, and he made it clear that it was a mistake on his part. But Jey… I don't know. It's like he's holding onto it as this big betrayal, and it's driving a wedge between us."

Trinity shook her head, a disapproving look on her face. "That's on Jey, then. If Sami owned up to his mistake and you've made it clear where you stand, Jey needs to get over it. It's not fair to keep bringing it up and using it against you."

Liv, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "I get where Jey is coming from, but if he's still bitching about something that happened in the past, especially when both you and Sami have clarified it, then it's a problem. He needs to move past it and open up about it and stop holding onto resentment or you need to boot his ass to the curb. You don't deserve to be constantly questioned and doubted, especially if you've been honest and upfront about everything."

You appreciated the support from your friends. The alcohol, the dancing, and the candid conversation were all contributing to a sense of liberation. You felt a weight lifting off your shoulders, and for the first time in days, you could see a way forward.

"You guys are right," you admitted, a determined glint in your eyes.

"We are always right." Mercedes added with a playful smirk, and the four of you burst into laughter again.

"But… do you have feelings for Sami?" Trinity asked, her expression serious as she looked into your eyes.

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating your feelings. The atmosphere in the bar, the support from your friends, and the alcohol-induced courage encouraged you to be honest.

"I… no." You couldn't lie to yourself, and the honesty spilled out. "We used to be close. But we realized we're better off as friends. I care about him a lot, but I don't have romantic feelings for him anymore. Jey knows this, or at least he should." Even through the alcohol induced haze, you knew better than to reveal such personal details without some level of caution. There were things about your relationship with Sami that no one would know, and you weren't ready to share those intricacies.

Trinity nodded, seeming satisfied with your response. "Well, as long as you're clear about your feelings, and you've communicated that to Jey, he needs to respect it. If he can't trust you and let go of the past, then it's his loss."

Mercedes squeezed your hand, her touch conveying solidarity. "Exactly. You deserve someone who trusts and respects you. If Jey can't provide that, then maybe Sami is right, and he doesn't fully understand what he has."

You took a swing of is right, and your drink, appreciating the wisdom and support from your friends. The night had turned into more than just a distraction; it became a catalyst for clarity and self-realization.

"Thanks, guys," you said, your voice sincere. "I needed this. I needed to step back and see things more clearly. And you're right. If Jey can't trust me and keeps holding onto the past, then maybe it's time for a serious conversation or a decision."

Liv grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "That's the spirit! You're a badass, and you deserve someone who sees that and appreciates it."

Trinity raised her glass, a smile on her lips. "To badass women who know their worth and aren't afraid to demand the respect they deserve."

The four of you clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing in the bustling bar. In that moment, surrounded by the support and love of your friends, you felt empowered and ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Unbenwonst to you you accidentally dialed Sami's umber while fumbling with your phone. The loud music and the lively atmosphere of the bar made it difficult to notice the call connecting. As your friends continued to share laughs and words of encouragement, your phone rested on the table, unknowingly broadcasting the sounds of the bar to Sami.

On the other end of the line, Sami's phone rested on a table in his hotel room. He had been going through a mental replay of the match against Kevin and the events leading up to it. The tension within the Bloodline was palpable, and Sami couldn't shake the frustration of being used as a pawn in Roman's power play.

Suddenly, he heard the familiar sounds of a bustling bar, laughter, and clinking glasses. Confused, he picked up his phone, noticing the ongoing call with you. He brought the device closer, listening intently.

At first, he wasn't sure what he was hearing, but as the background noise became clearer, he realized he was unintentionally eavesdropping on your conversation with your friends. Sami's curiosity got the better of him, and he hesitated for a moment before deciding to continue listening.

"You and Sami are real close… huh?" Liv's teasing voice echoed through the phone, and Sami's eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the conversation.

You let out an airy giggle, taking another shot and letting the alcohol fuel your candidness. "Yeah, we were." Sami heard something shift before he heard Liv's voice again. "No offense but the two of ya'll seemed perfect for each other. What happened?"

Sami's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing as he continued to eavesdrop unintentionally. The revelation about your history with him was unexpected, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions.

You sighed, the alcohol loosening your tongue. "You promise not to tell anyone? Not even Trin or Cedes?" It seemed like Trinity and Mercedes weren't aware of the details you were about to share, and Sami's curiosity intensified.

"Cross my heart," Liv assured, her tone serious.

You took a deep breath, the honesty pouring out. "We dated. It was way before I even met Jey. Everyone kept telling us we had chemistry and that we should give it a shot. He confessed after I won the ROH title, I gave him a shot, and one thing led to another."

"And then what happened, girl?!?"

A pause. And then you continued.

"Then in the morning, we started dating. We took it slow, and everything was fine. But then Kevin got in his head when they were feuding. Told him that he needed to focus on his career and that being with me was a distraction. Sami started questioning what we had, and got insecure about it. I tried to assure him, but he started pulling away. Eventually, we both realized it wasn't working, and I broke it off with him." It seemed like there was more you wanted to say, but you bit your lip and refrained from spilling even more.

You took a sip of your drink, and there was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Sami's mind was racing, processing the unexpected revelation. The raw honesty in your voice sent a wave of emotions through him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the way things had unfolded between you two, but grateful that you hadn't revealed the full truth.

"But then we kept having the same chemistry, and he would look at me like he couldn't resist me, and I couldn't resist him either. It became this on-again, off-again thing for a while, and it was messing with my head. I cared about him a lot, but it was so damn complicated. But we stayed best friends, and then I left him behind for the Bloodline… and now Jey has this insecurity about Sami because of Roman's expectations," you continued, your voice carrying the weight of the past.

On the other end of the line, Sami's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt, regret, and a tinge of sadness gripped him as he listened to your candid confession. The history you shared with him suddenly unfolded in a way he hadn't fully understood before.

"And now, Jey can't seem to let go of the fact that Sami kissed me once. Even though we've moved past that, he keeps bringing it up!" Your voice broke out into a cry, and he imagined that Liv was giving you comforting words, trying to soothe the emotional turmoil you were experiencing.

"Shh, it's okay," Liv's voice came through the phone, offering comfort.

"I… I loved him, Liv." He heard Liv whispering words of support and understanding. "But he left me!"

"And now you need to focus on you, on what makes you happy, and on what you deserve," Liv replied, her voice filled with conviction. "You're a strong, independent woman, Y/N, and you don't need anyone who doesn't see your worth."

He heard your sniffles and the distant sounds of the bar, realizing that he was intruding on an intimate and vulnerable moment." Let's get back to the table, enjoy the night, and deal with all of this tomorrow when we're not drowning in alcohol and emotions, okay babe?"

As Liv led you back to the table, the background noise shifted, and Sami could hear the muffled voices of Trinity and Mercedes. The conversation continued, but he made a conscious decision to end the unintentional eavesdropping. Sami hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button to end the call, setting his phone down on the table.

Did you really love Sami once upon a time? A part of Sami felt a mix of emotions—surprise, regret, and a sense of longing. The raw honesty in your voice had stirred something within him, and he found himself grappling with the realization that your history ran deeper than he had initially understood.

He looked at his phone, where Jey was messaging him.

"Sami, I know yo dumbass knows where she is. Tell me."

Sami's eyes narrowed as he read Jey's messages. The tension within the Bloodline seemed to be reaching new heights, and he found himself caught in the middle of it all. Sami debated how to respond, considering the newfound insights he unintentionally gained into your past with him.

He hesitated before sending the message, aware that his words might not sit well with Jey. Sami couldn't shake the sense of responsibility he felt toward you, knowing that you deserved better than the constant questioning and doubts. Yet, he also understood the complex dynamics within the Bloodline and the potential repercussions of taking sides.

What did he want to do? He wanted to be the guy for you. The guy that understood you, supported you, and cherished you. He wanted to hold your hand through the turmoil, be the one you turned to in moments of vulnerability, and prove that he could be the pillar of support you needed. But he fucked up, and he needed to face the consequences. He wasn't glad you didn't tell Liv the full extent of your history with him.

Taking a deep breath, Sami typed a response to Jey.

"I don't know where she is, Jey. Maybe you should give her some space. It's not my place to meddle in your relationship.You're the one who said I need to stay out of your business, so that's what I am gonna do.Good luck finding her."

The tension within the Bloodline had reached a boiling point, and Sami couldn't ignore the weight of the decisions and revelations that had unfolded. His mind was a swirl of conflicting emotions – regret, guilt, longing, and a sense of responsibility for how this all went down.

Then he shut off his phone, and prayed that he could get over you. Sami needed to talk to you, to clarify his own feelings and perhaps offer support if you were ready to accept it, but it wouldn't be tonight.

Then he went to sleep, and hoped that he made the right decision.

You were wobbling on your heels of your shoes as you walked back into the hotel lobby. The four of you had gotten an uber, and they said bye to you with hugs, kisses and smiles, heading their separate ways for the night. The vibrant energy of the bar and the support of your friends had provided a temporary escape, but now reality was seeping back in.

As you entered the hotel elevator, and went up to your floor, you couldn't shake off the mix of emotions swirling within you. The alcohol-induced courage that allowed you to open up to your friends about your relationship struggles was now replaced with a sense of vulnerability.

The elevator doors opened, and you stumbled slightly as you made your way down the hallway to your room. The weight of the revelations and the emotional rollercoaster of the night began to take its toll.

You fumbled with the key card, but it beeped, indicating that it wans't working. You huffed as you tried again and again, but it wouldn't budge.

It wasn't until the 5th time you tried that the door swung open, and you almost fell had it not been for the arms that caught you just in time. A familiar voice spoke, filled with concern.

"Y/N, what are you doing? Easy there," Sami's voice was a steady presence, and his arms wrapped around you to steady you. The scent of his cologne and the warmth of his embrace felt both comforting and disorienting.

You looked up, your eyes meeting Sami's. The dim light in the hallway highlighted the worry etched on his face. His arms steadied you as you regained your balance.

"S-Sami?" you stammered, surprised by his sudden appearance. Your vision was a bit blurry, and the alcohol had made you more unsteady on your feet than you realized.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, guiding you into the room and closing the door behind you. The dim lighting in the hotel room revealed the aftermath of your earlier emotional journey – makeup smuged, and your hair was slightly tousled from the night's activities. Sami led you to the bed, helping you sit down.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

"Is this not my room?" you mumbled, still a bit disoriented.

Sami chuckled softly, his fingers gently brushing strands of hair away from your face. "No, it's not. The constant beeping in my room woke me up, and when I opened the door, I found you struggling with your key card."

You let out a small giggle, the alcohol still affecting your senses. "Oops. My bad."

Sami shook his head at your antics, a fond smile playing on his lips. You looked at him and could see the tiredness on his face, and your expression changed from giggly to serious in less than a second. "I-Im sorry that I woke you up!" Tears formed in your eyes as you felt a rush of emotions. The events of the night, the revelations, and the emotional rollercoaster had left you feeling vulnerable and raw.

Sami's heart dropped as he watched you cry, his concern deepening. He knelt down in front of you, his hand gently cupping your cheek.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Don't cry." He said softly, his voice filled with reassurance. He wiped away a tear with his thumb, his touch gentle against your skin. The vulnerability in your eyes tugged at something within him, a mix of regret and the desire to offer comfort.

"I'm not mad that you woke me up. Are you okay?" Sami asked, his tone soft and caring.

You nodded, sniffing and wiping away more tears. "I just... it's been a lot tonight, you know? The girls and the drinks and... everything." The emotions that you had kept at bay for most of the night now threatened to overwhelm you. "Did Jey ask you where I was?"

Sami nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, he did. He's worried about you."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I was just hanging with the girls, and-" You hiccuped- "To forget that me and Jey were fighting." Your eyes went teary again, and Sami's heart sank as he listened to your words. "But I just feel worse."

You peered up at him, and the tension between the two of you was palpable. Sami could sense the emotional turmoil within you, and a part of him longed to be the one to ease that pain. "Why does everyone keep questioning me? Why can't they just trust me?" you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice tearing at Sami's heart.

Sami sighed, his thumb gently tracing circles on your cheek. "People make mistakes, Y/N. Sometimes, they let their insecurities and doubts cloud their judgment. It's not a reflection of you. You're strong, and you deserve trust and respect."

You leaned into his touch, appreciating the comfort he offered. The emotional exhaustion of the night was catching up with you, and Sami's presence provided a sense of solace.

You started giggling, which made Sami smile in response. "What's so funny?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You wiped away another tear, chuckling softly. "Y'know, Liv asked me why Jey is so jealous of you, and I told her that *hiccup* we used to be real close, if you know what I mean." You looked at Sami with a tipsy grin, your words slightly slurred.

Sami's eyes widened slightly, surprised by your confession. The tipsy honesty in your words sent a shiver down Sami's spine. He wasn't prepared for this revelation, and the complexity of your history together suddenly became more apparent. He wondered how much Liv knew, how much she understood about the dynamics between you and him.

He remained silent, allowing you to continue. "And she told me that we seemed perfect for each other. And I started thinking, maybe we were. But then... Kevin got in your head, and you started questioning everything." You sighed, the alcohol making the words spill out more freely than you had intended.

Sami's expression shifted, a mix of regret and understanding. "I messed up, Y/N. I let the pressure get to me, and I let Kevin's words affect us. I should have trusted you."

You looked at him, your gaze sincere. "But you will always listen to Kevin, won't you? You'll always try not to hurt the people you care about, even if it means hurting yourself," you said, the alcohol making your words a bit more candid.

Sami sighed, his eyes meeting yours. "I made a mistake, and I let it affect our friendship. But that doesn't mean I'll always choose loyalty over the people I care about." He placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm. "Loyalty means nothing when you 're hurting the ones you love. I've learned that the hard way."

You nodded, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You looked at Sami, your eyes searching his for sincerity. The vulnerability in Sami's eyes mirrored your own, and for a moment, the weight of the past seemed to hang between you two.

Unlike Jey, he made his loyalty clear, but not at the expense of hurting those he cared about. The stark contrast made you realize the complexities of the relationships within the Bloodline. Sami's admission struck a chord, and you could see the genuine remorse in his eyes.

"I told her about us, Sami. About everything. And how Jey is so hung up on that one kiss, and it's like... it's like it's haunting us. Like it's this dark cloud that won't go away," you confessed, your voice trembling.

You tugged on your dress strap, making sure it was still in place. Sami watched as you adjusted your dress, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of your words lingered in the air, and Sami could sense the depth of the emotions you were experiencing. He remained silent, absorbing your confession and trying to find the right words to respond.

"I just don't know how to fix things anymore," you continued, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. The vulnerability in your eyes resonated with Sami, and he felt a strong desire to provide comfort and support.

Sami took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. You felt your skin prickle with the intensity of his stare. "Start by talking to him. C'mon, I'll take you to your room, and tomorrow you can have an honest conversation with Jey. Lay everything out on the table, Y/N. The misunderstandings, the insecurities, the mistakes. If you both care about each other, you owe it to yourselves to try and find a way through this."

Sami's words were sincere, and you could sense the genuine concern in his eyes. Despite the complexities of your history, there was an underlying friendship that neither of you could deny. His advice resonated with you, and a sense of determination flickered within.

You nodded, wiping away the last of your tears. Sami extended a hand to you, offering support. You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand, and he helped you stand up.

The room swayed a bit, but Sami's steadying presence anchored you. He let you lean on him as he led you towards the door. The hallway lights blurred as you walked, and Sami kept a protective arm around you.

"Thanks, Sami," you said, your voice a bit more composed. "I appreciate your honesty and, well, being here."

Sami smiled warmly, his hand still on your shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. Friends help each other through tough times." The word friend made his heart hurt, but he pushed aside his own feelings, focusing on being there for you in this moment of vulnerability.

As you reached your room, Sami stopped and faced you. "You got this, okay? Tomorrow is a new day, and you can work things out. Just be honest and true to yourself. He's a hothead, but he cares about you. Sometimes, he just needs things spelled out clearly."

He also knew Roman would have his head if you and Jey didn't work things out. He assigned his 'Honorary Uce' to look out for you, and Sami took that responsibility seriously.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Sami. I'll do my best."

Sami returned the smile, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's the spirit. Take care, okay?"

You smiled up at him, like the stars in the night sky were in his orbs, a mix of emotions twinkling in your eyes. The tension between you was as prominent as ever, and you could practically taste the anticipation in the air.

Sami was staring down at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. The unspoken words hung between you two, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history and the emotions that had surfaced during this unexpected encounter.

"You're a really good friend, you know that?'" You smiled at him, the lingering words between you and Sami hanging in the air. The atmosphere shifted, and there was a palpable tension.

The alcohol made you way more honest, but you were aware that you should snap out of whatever was building between you and Sami. You needed to focus on resolving things with Jey, not getting entangled in another emotional web. Sami's eyes softened as he looked at you, a mixture of emotions playing on his face.

Sami cleared his throat, his expression becoming more guarded. "I try my best," he replied, his voice a bit quieter.

You gave him a small nod, still feeling the weight of the emotional exchange. "Well, goodnight, Sami. And thanks again," you said, stepping into your room.

"Goodnight, Y/N. Take care," Sami replied, offering a final reassuring smile before turning away and heading back to his room.

As you closed the door behind you, the events of the night swirled in your mind. The encounter with Sami added an unexpected layer to the already complex emotions you were dealing with. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of Sami's advice to have an honest conversation with Jey. The challenges ahead seemed daunting, but with newfound determination, you were ready to face them.

Wargames was tomorrow, but you had never felt less prepared for the battles both inside and outside the ring. The emotional turmoil had taken a toll on you, and as you changed into more comfortable clothes, you couldn't help but replay the night's events in your mind.

Unbeknownst to you, Sami had run into Kevin in the hotel hallway as he made his way back to his room. He internally rolled his eyes at the sight of Kevin, a reminder of the tangled web of emotions and conflicts that had affected your relationship with Jey. Kevin, sensing Sami's presence, turned to face him with a sympathetic look on his face, as if he wasn't gonna go to war with him tomorrow.

"Rough night?" Kevin asked, swiping his card to get a late-night snack from the vending machine.

Sami glared at Kevin, his guard immediately up. "You're one to talk."

Kevin chuckled, paying for his snack and turning to face Sami. "Look Sami, I don't know what Roman told you to get you this brainwashed as his 'Honorary Uce,' but you're treading on thin ice. Y/N deserves better, and you know it."

Sami's jaw clenched at Kevin's words, a surge of frustration bubbling within him. The history and tensions between Kevin and himself were as intricate as the web of emotions surrounding your relationships with Jey and Sami.

"Stay out of it, Kevin. You don't know anything," Sami retorted, his tone sharp.

Kevin raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, I know more than you think. And I know I might have hurt you in the past-"

"Might have?' Kevin rolled his eyes at Sami, continuing. "Okay, I did. But I have never treated you like a second class citizen, Sami. Remember that when Roman has you picking up his dry cleaning," Kevin said, his tone a mixture of mockery and seriousness.

Sami's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration with Kevin palpable. He took a step closer, the tension between them escalating. "They are a family to each other, Kevin. Something you wouldn't understand. And I'm not doing this for Roman. I'm doing it for her, for Y/N-" Sami realized he said too much, his words hanging in the air. Kevin's eyes narrowed, processing Sami's slip of the tongue.

"And what do you think Roman is gonna do when he finds out how to use her against you? When he realizes you've gotten too close? You think he won't manipulate her to get what he wants?" Kevin's words cut through the tension, his gaze unwavering.

Sami's jaw tightened, and he shot back, "I'm not afraid of Roman. And Y/N is smarter than that."

Kevin scoffed, shaking his head. "The same one that went back to Jey after you, right? The same one that's caught in the crossfire of your loyalty to Roman? You're naive if you think Roman won't use that against you." Kevin stepped closer to Sami, their faces inches apart. The air was thick with tension, both men locked in a silent battle of wills.

"I don't need your advice, Kevin. You're not exactly a beacon of successful relationships," Sami spat, his voice low and controlled.

Kevin's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "At least I'm not letting the love of my life get hurt by a guy who will always pick his family over someone like her. Open your eyes, Sami. Roman might be your 'family,' but he won't hesitate to throw you under the bus if it serves him."

Sami's nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists, the intensity of the confrontation escalating. Kevin's words struck a nerve, awakening doubts and fears that Sami had tried to bury. The complexity of his loyalty to Roman and the tangled emotions involving you and Jey seemed to tighten its grip on him.

Kevin watched the emotions play out on Sami's face, each one revealing a different layer of the internal struggle. Despite their history, Kevin's words managed to penetrate Sami's defenses, sparking a seed of doubt in his mind.

"Jey is a snake, just like his piece of shit cousin. It might not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but eventually Roman will finish using Y/N and ask Jey to be the one to put her down. And what will he do?" Kevin's face was inches away from Sami's, filled with a mix of bitterness and concern.

Sami's mind raced, processing the weight of Kevin's words. The hallway seemed to close in around them as they stood locked in a silent battle of ideologies. "He will betray her, follow orders like a loyal dog, and leave her broken. And you will wondering if you could have done something to prevent it," Kevin concluded, his words hanging in the air.

Sami's gaze bore into Kevin's, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within him. The hallway was eerily silent, the tension between them almost tangible. Sami took a deep breath, trying to push aside the doubts and fears that Kevin's words had stirred.

"You don't know anything about my relationship with Roman, and you certainly don't know anything about Y/N and Jey," Sami retorted, his voice firm.

Kevin chuckled, a bitter edge to the sound. "I know that you have this kind of pull on Y/N that goes beyond friendship. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way you look at her. You may think you're doing the right thing, but you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak. And for what? Roman's approval? A place in his so-called family?"

Sami's expression hardened, a mixture of frustration and inner turmoil. Kevin's words were like a relentless assault on his convictions. The internal conflict reached a boiling point, and Sami's response was laced with a raw honesty.

"I don't need your approval or anyone else's. I'm doing what I think is right," Sami declared, his voice resolute.

Kevin shook his head, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "You're blinded by loyalty, Sami. It's gonna cost you more than you realize." He grabbed the food from the vending machine, before turning back to Sami, and Sami paused.

The confrontation in the hotel hallway had reached its peak, both men standing their ground with a shared history and conflicting loyalties. Sami realized that this Kevin was nothing he ever faced. He wasn't angry. He wasn't trying to tear Sami down with insults or physical threats. He was genuinly concerned, and it struck a chord with Sami.

"Tomorrow, you have the choice to either blindly follow orders and be a pawn in Roman's game or to bring both you and Y/N out of this mess." Kevin said, his tone more somber now. "If you leave, she'll realize that the Bloodline is not worth the sacrifice, and you'll get your girl back, our best fried back. If you stay, you'll be dragged down with her when Roman decides she's expendable. And I won't be there to pick up the pieces. The choice is yours."

Kevin's words lingered in the air, the weight of his advice settling on Sami's shoulders, and his gaze even more probing. With that, Kevin walked away, leaving Sami standing alone in the hotel hallway, wrestling with the internal turmoil sparked by their confrontation.

Sami took a deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to process the complex web of emotions and loyalties that surrounded him. The encounter with Kevin had shaken him to the core, forcing him to confront the potential consequences of his choices. The loyalty to Roman, the complicated history with you, and the growing realization of the impact on his own happiness all collided in his mind.

Should he listen to Kevin? Should he betray the Tribal Chief in the heat of battle so he could salvage his relationship/friendship with you? Should he risk everything for a chance at a different future? Should he ignore Kevin and stay true to the Bloodline, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness and potentially hurting you by Roman using one of you as a pawn to get the other in line? He didn't know what he was gonna do.

But he knew one thing.

He had to choose between you, Roman, and Kevin. And he didn't know which one would be the right path to take. Each option seemed to carry its own set of risks and consequences, and Sami found himself torn between his loyalty to Roman, his feelings for you, and the warnings Kevin had presented.

But no matter what... tomorrow, he needed to be prepared for war.

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